It's true. I hate the chickens. I should probably think of a nicer way to describe my dislike for them but I can't. When comes right down to it I hate, hate, hate them.

I don't know why I thought I would enjoy having chickens. Being the proud animal hater that I am, owning chickens goes against everything in my body. I say body because my dislike for animals generates a physical reaction of disgust. Of course, I know that is probably going to be an unpopular statement but I've got to be me. And me hates animals.

Don't get me wrong. I can appreciate the beauty and magnificence of animals. Some animals. Mostly wild animals. I can also appreciate that most people love animals, particularly their domesticated pets. That's just not me.

And although I hate animals in general, there are some very specific reasons why I hate the chickens.

• They shit all over the yard, the deck, the front porch, the front walk, the back walk, and the drive way and the water is turned off right now making it incredibly difficult to clean up after them
• Elliott, the black one, has been molting, which means there are gross black feathers all over the place
• They make noise, particularly Cathy, who seems to be very bossy
• Sometimes I have to change their water
• We now have hay strewn around the back yard and sometimes it gets tracked into the house
• Only one of them consistently lays eggs; the other two are worthless

So when the boys go away for the weekend and I wake up early to enjoy a peaceful morning, I am none to pleased to see those pesky chickens huddled by the door looking in as though the need something from me.



Chickens.

We spent the weekend with my family in Stanley. I always enjoy having both my brothers around and, as you can see by the pictures, we had lots of family fun on Saturday.

We started Saturday morning with a hike around the cabin. The boys wanted to show us the blood rock they found a day earlier while exploring with TomTom. It was a great morning adventure, although Blood Rock failed to live up to all the hype.








(Jack took this one, not me. Happy, Jack?)















Back at the cabin Jack and I hooked up killer sandwiches, made-to-order, and we all headed out to find some hot springs. I had wanted to take the boys hot springing back in July while we were in Condo Town for our stay-cation but it didn't work out. This is something my family did throughout my childhood and I can't believe the boys didn't experience a hot spring until now.

Extra info: the first time Stephen and I kissed was in a hot spring way back in 1997. Wait--it was actually 1996!

This particular hot spring had a big, gross tub that I wouldn't allow the boys to get in. I doubted that the tub had been drained and refilled within the last year--there was a scummy film lining the water. However, other people thoroughly enjoyed the scummy tub.

























After our soak it was time for those killer sandwiches. There are no picnic tables on the side of the road, so we decided to drive to Custer, an old abandoned mining town. A ghost town. It's actually pretty cool. The town is closed for the season but there is a walking tour with lots of old rusted things to see. This was also a first for the boys.


(The picnic table was in the shade so we still ended up sitting on the ground to eat)





















We spent the rest of the afternoon riding bikes, building puzzles, and doing a lot of nothing. On a whim, we decided to forgo a sit-down dinner for what we likened to a more European experience of standing around a table outside eating small bites of bread, cheese, salmon, and fresh garden vegetables. Jack actually prepared some tasty salads and the supplied the cheese, which came from a sheep he milked outside of Prague this summer.








(Dylan took this photo, although I don't think he cares whether he gets credit. It's just a picture of my head.)















And there you have it, our family fun weekend getaway. I have to admit that I am tired of summer. I am tired of long days, traveling each weekend, and social gatherings. Of course, I enjoy all these things immensely and wait for them each spring but I am always ready to change course with the arrival of fall. Now I am looking forward to chilly nights, soups on the stove, sweaters, and leaf piles. It felt a little like fall up in Stanley and with my family there it was a good farewell to summer.

The flower beds in our front yard are xeiriscaped. One of our no-to-little-water-needed bushes has purple flowers. The flowers kind of look like lavender but it's not a lavender plant. It's my favorite of the xeiriscape plants, most of which just look like weeds in my opinion. The purple bush is huge this year and it seems to be attracting honey bees like never before!

I love the honey bees, too. They just buzz about. They never bother us even though all sorts of toys get lost and looked for in that bush. Not to mention that anyone using our front door practically has to walk through the bush because it's grown so big.

Monday evening Wyatt came bursting through the door to tell Stephen that he caught a bee with his fingers.

What!?

Yes, come see Dad. I am the bee master.















He has continued to master bees all week. It's his new party trick. And he must be the master because the bees don't seem to mind at all.