At the chicken coop
I just realized that I completely forgot to post these last photos from our weekend at Carlton Landing. Which I am still obsessing over and lamenting that we do not live there in the lake house of my dreams.
Here’s a little-known fact: I am slightly obsessed/intrigued/whatever you want to call it with chickens. Not enough that I want you to start giving me chicken-related gifts at Christmas or that I want to actually have chickens in my backyard. No no no. But I do love sitting with my sister-in-law Chrysi and perusing the Instagram feeds of Simply Seleta and Kristin Rogers because they treat these chickens the same way I would’ve when I was a kid (read: dressing them up in outfits and pushing them in strollers). I cannot get enough. It is absolutely hilarious.
So. When we got to Carlton Landing, Jude was thrilled to see REAL(!) LIVE(!) ANIMALS(!) that we could get up close and personal with. In other words, we visited the chickens approximately 72 times in as many hours. But how could we resist when they lived in such a lovely abode?
The best part, naturally, was the picking of the eggs. The birds were, in general, quite friendly. I kind of wanted to hug one. Is that weird?
Actually, don’t answer that.
This last one cracks me up — Jude clutching his eggs in glee, hugging them to himself. You can’t hear it, but in the background I was saying, “DON’T SQUEEZE THEM TOO TIGHT!”
I cannot tell you the amount of fear I had that we would accidentally free the chickens and be unable to get them back in their coop. So there was lots of me squealing, “DON’T OPEN THE HATCH TOO WIDE!”
Ahhh chickens. So pastoral. So … delicious.
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