Every day is Easter here at the Oaktown Egg Ranch.  Four hens of four different varieties = four eggs, each one a different color, nearly every single day.  Apparently having a stronger sense of aesthetics than you might think, the hens neatly arrange their eggs like this^^ in the nest area or ovarium or whatever chicken ranchers call it.

Pretty girls!


Chicken Condo

Chicken Condo on the right, tool shed on the left, raised planting beds in the center.  I helped build the shed when Lee first bought this place three years ago, but the planting beds and the coop were entirely his babies.  Lee has a PhD in molecular genetics but used to frame houses for a living just like I did, so building a house for his chickens wasn't no kinda thang for him. 

We've been eating home-grown lettuce and greens for a couple weeks now. 

So have the squirrels

The plum tree behind the coop was shading out the planting beds and giving the chickens Seasonal Affective Disorder, so I pruned it with a Milwaukee Sawz-All last week.

I then rendered the limbs into cordwood for the fire pit with a 24" Fiskars medium duty machete, which, if you're in the market for a good machete, is worth every bit of the $19.95 it costs at Home Despot. Kee-yi n stuff. 

The tree and the coop both looked way better once that was done.


This being the Bay Area, whenever I take Matilda for a walk we see something beautiful even though we kinda live in the hood. 

Right up the hill is a yard that is entirely landscaped in succulents, and how bad-ass is that?

Common houseplants grow to the size of pick-up trucks out here, it's like the Lost World of Roraima or something.  And, on the property just to the right of the monstroid curb geranium in this shot, I'll be building another shed like Lee's next week.  

All of which is pretty cool, especially when I think back on how four months ago Tildy and I were living in this^^ Honda Civic. 


all images ©2017 by nanatehay except "squirrel raider" courtesy of lee smith

Views: 649

Comment by nanatehay on April 18, 2017 at 11:02pm

and another.

Comment by nanatehay on April 18, 2017 at 11:06pm

holy shit i was a fat fucker in those days

Comment by nanatehay on April 19, 2017 at 12:05am

Darling remember, when you come to me
That I'm the pretender,
I'm not what I'm supposed to be
But who could know, if I'm a traitor?
Time's the revelator

They caught the Katy, and left me a mule to ride.
Fortune's lady came along, she walked beside
But every word seemed to date her.
Time's the revelator

Up in the morning up and on the line.
I drive in to Corning and all the spindles whine
And every day is getting straighter.
Time's the revelator

Leaving the valley fucking out of sight
I'll go back to Cali where I can sleep out every night
And watch the waves and move the fader.

Queen of fakes and Imitators
Time's the Revelator




Comment by Foolish Monkey on April 20, 2017 at 12:02pm

nice.  music is holding everything together at this point.  that, and cake.  

cake or death?

I'll take cake no question about it. 

my feeling today is being a fat fuck isn't the worst thing in the world.

(said by a woman who hasn't burned a calorie in three months)

Comment by Foolish Monkey on April 20, 2017 at 12:23pm

the mention of salinas in bobby mcgee, for me is incidental.  it's that entire stanza that just breaks my heart and of course, janis's stylizing.  she was nearly a master at the blues, damn her, if she would have let herself be.  fucking artists.  amy winehouse pisses me off when I hear me and mr jones...it just drives me to distraction.  what kind of fuckery?  Stupid fucking woman so fucking young, LIKE JANIS and the rest... and she killed herself and it's unfathomable, these incredible losses.  goddamn I understand pain and sinking into it, but it's the height indulgence I don't get - letting it get the better of you to the point of death.  cake or death.  they went for the fucking death.

Comment by nanatehay on April 22, 2017 at 5:08pm

cake or death - for some people, in certain situations, i'm sure it's like that.  still, sometimes when i try to put myself in the mind of someone like janis, or kurt cobain, or just one of the millions of ordinary, anonymous people who chose death over whatever it was they were facing, i can, almost, understand what they were thinking and why they were thinking it. i doubt most people who kill themselves with heroin or [insert substance here] are actually planning to die, not right at that moment anyway, but i think many of them have reached some tipping point where their spirit has said, "Fuck it, if this is how it is, if this is how it's going to be from now on, i'm taking my ball and going the fuck home."  i think about that moment, what it must be like to be there so completely without hope and so completely by yourself, and though i don't want to die myself, ever at all if i can help it, i can relate to that moment of grace when you just let go, when you detach enough that it doesn't hurt anymore. 

Comment by nanatehay on April 22, 2017 at 5:27pm

sarah wrote this for the smashing pumpkins' keyboardist when he died of an o.d. i realize it's not fashionable to like sarah mclachlan, and she misses a couple of the high notes in this performance, but she's one of my favorite songwriters and she nailed that feeling i was talking about^^ with this one.  also, for the record, that restraining order against me for allegedly  lurking in the bushes outside her house was a totally unjustified, egregious miscarriage of justice... 


Comment by nanatehay on April 22, 2017 at 6:06pm

then, other times, it's like this, but you still aren't allowed to die 


Comment by Safe Bet's Amy on April 22, 2017 at 6:31pm

Who is the poster child for Dumbass-ism that thinks Sarah McLachlan ain't about the coolest chick on two feet?  

She started the freakin Lilith Fair, FFS!  Anyone who puts together the best Lez-Pa-Looza of all times is anything but "not fashionable"!!!!

Comment by nanatehay on April 22, 2017 at 7:11pm

Exactly! And, see, this is what I'm talking about when I curse God for making me be born into a giant-headed, hairy, cracker's body with no uvula. I mean, seriously, here I am, totally got no uvula, yet society won't even allow me to lurk in the bushes outside Hope Sandoval's house, wtf man ???



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