There's nothing "static" about our nights at home. . .

. . .Well, maybe there is.

Five children, one fleece blanket.  The possibilities are endless.

We like the UPS truck. . .for different reasons

I like the brown packages they bring me; my kids like the packing material inside them.

Right before the sun goes down. . .

. . .there is a magical moment that occurs just outside our back door.  The sun is normally hidden behind our hill during this time in the winter, but for a few evenings each year it manages to break out and touch the surrounding hills with light just as it disappears below the horizon.  Our backyard is in shadow, the sky is falling into darkness, but the hills just beyond our property line are awash with light.  This is one of those achingly beautiful moments that puts me in awe of the world around me.

How do you like your eggs: scrambled, poached, or. . .frozen?

It's so cold right now (it was around -11F this morning) that when our chickens lay eggs, they freeze. When my husband picked these eggs up they had cracked, so he opened them up and dropped them into a bowl. . .in a solid chunk. They still taste yummy, though.

By the way, the chickens are fine.  We have a heat lamp on them where they roost, and they huddle together for warmth.  It's just the "abandoned" eggs that suffer.  If we don't collect them right away, this is how we find them.