All about the eggs

The autumnal sinus joy has descended along with snot and coughing. People pull out hand sanitizer when they see me coming. I try to keep a respectful distance.

Really this is to explain why Murphy and I were walking down an alley. He needed a walk badly and showed signs of becoming a wild animal without more exercise. I made it a block and a half before I broke into a cold sweat. For a shortcut, we turned down an alley, which all dogs love. It must be some kind of super highway for cats, squirrels, possums, and other dog delicacies. Murphy snorted, sniffled, and made grunting pig-like noises of joy at all of the scents. The yards were surprisingly dog-free, and our little trek was quiet until near the end.

I was startled by a large black dog that jumped up and down behind a fence. In the yard with the dog were six chickens. Six, lovely, free-range hens that all live within a block of my house. I wonder if they would like to share some eggs?

More about eggs and a doggy update

I may be a little obsessed with those fresh eggs. They taste really good. A coworker said she knows someone who works in our building that sells her eggs. I've got a fresh egg dealer for when the Farmers' Market closes.

Murphy the Wonder Beagle headed back to school this evening for intermediate obedience training. As a 5+ year old dog, he reminded me of myself when I went back to college for computer training in my late 20s. I couldn't abide by chatter in the back of the class room and tedious questions were just annoying. For his part, Murphy will touch noses with the pups but if they wiggle or get excited, he is very sharp with them.

Perhaps he was just focusing on the teacher. He did everything she asked very well. He completely ignored me and wouldn't even look at me. I was starting to get offended until the teacher pointed out that he just didn't like my treats. Apparently the beef liver treats that were all the rage in June are passe in September. The new trend is chicken something or other. And because he's an older dog, he fell asleep in the car on the way home. The dog whisperer is right. A tired dog is a good dog.

Farmer's Market

Each Saturday in the summer the Farmers' Market at 21st and Ridge is open. They have mountains of tomatoes and zucchini this time of year. One person was even selling kohl rabi, which I found very exciting. Without a clear idea of how to cook it, I left it to a more sophisticated cook.

Mostly I enjoy looking and seeing other people who are also enjoying a Saturday morning outside. Rows and rows of fresh herbs and produce combined with home-grown bouquets of zinnias, sunflowers, and Queen Anne's lace are so beautiful.

I haven't purchased any meat yet, but it is tempting. They have local grass-fed, grass-finished beef which has completely eluded me at local groceries and health food stores. No offense to Argentina, but that's a long way from here. Kansas has good beef too. When I make to South America, I'll be delighted to eat the Argentinian beef. The emu doesn't hold any attraction for me, but the bison and lamb are tempting.

The real attraction has been the eggs. The eggs from free-range, cage-free hens that have been scratching around in the pasture all summer are delicious. They have the bright orange-yellow yolks of summer time eggs. Hard-boiled, served with a slice of buttered toast and slices of tomato, they make a very satisfying breakfast. I'm already feeling sad that the Farmer's Market will close at the end of October. I'm not quite ready to start raising chickens myself.