Another little shower during the night, then sunny & pleasant today. I wash clothes, including my heavy bedroll. Can't really get it through the wringer, so I rinse it outdoors in the clean garbage can, wringing by hand and muscling it up onto the lines to dry.
Then turn my attention to patching together the inside of the chicken coop, especially the big gaps around the bottom and other spots that could admit predators or winter winds. Limited time & resources make me adopt - shall we say - somewhat diminished standards. That is to say, I'm cobbling this together with whatever scraps of wood and metal and other material that come easily to hand. I stand back and cluck my tongue at my handiwork - a real Dogpatch look, I have to admit (thinking of Li'l Abner and Daisy Mae and their rickety sheds). But it's functional.
Late afternoon, Mike drives up as promised for a little visit. I greet him with "Welcome to Dogpatch!" Mike looks around at my coop, tarpaper pump house and wood shed, and replies, "I like it. I like Dogpatch."
As I show Mike around, I notice the first few beets are emerging, and some wheat and oats in front. The chicks come back after a full day of scratching & pecking, and appear a little confused by the interior remodeling, but quickly settle down OK.
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