Lay Ladies Lay

Sorry, couldn't resist.
Remember those tiny pullet eggs my aunt and uncle brought from Keene, NH? Well, apparently they're not kidding around up there (all counties blue! Yeah!), because when Joe and Nicki came back to stay last Thursday, they brought us these:Impressive, right? Those girls know what they're doing. The Keene harvest was bountiful in all respects, and we were also lucky enough to receive a tub of Joe's pesto (frozen earlier in the season, and so delicious), and a big ol' spaghetti squash, currently awaiting its demise by decorating our dining room table. Ah, but the eggs. Only one thing to do with those.

I don't know if I've mentioned this, but Matt makes superlative scrambled eggs. Here they are with some turkey sausage, mushrooms, and soup chicken bits.

Perfect, tiny, new.

My aunt and uncle came to visit last week. They were our first real overnight guests in this incarnation of the household (though they won't be the last). This is the first time in my adult life that I've had anything resembling a suitable guest room to offer, and it's gone to my head so much I've been considering opening an impromptu bed and breakfast. The B&B couldn't have had a better debut, especially as it featured a very special present from the new women in Uncle Joe's life. On the right is one of two tiny eggs, the first efforts of a new flock of gararge-residing hens from New Hampshire. The second tiny egg here below, in a tiny pan.
Pullet eggs are sometimes misshapen, or too soft, or reflect a slow learning curve in other ways. Clearly Joe and Nicki have genius hens, who got it right the first time and blessed our little B&B with their impressive efforts (seriously, can any of you do that?).
Now I really want chickens. Except I'm afraid that my imaginary dog might chase them. But don't worry, being imaginary means neither of them present allergy problems for guests. So come over anytime.