A big storm moved in yesterday afternoon and knocked out our power for about five hours. I finished my run this morning in pouring rain with thunder and lightening. That’s one way to cool down fast.

The most disturbing part of the entire scenario is that my computer refuses to turn on. Remember my book? Well it’s on there. I have a backup on a jump drive but it’s not as current as it should be. When these realizations hit me, I nearly started to hyperventilate. That is until I remembered I had emailed my book to my sister for further critiques. Thank goodness, or I might be passed out on the floor instead of using my husband’s laptop to make this post.

Since I’m still conscious and I know how to retrieve my manuscript if my husband can’t get the computer functioning again, I’ll post a few pictures of my garden. I’ve been wanting to brag about it for some time because it’s so exciting to see things growing like I’ve seen in other people’s gardens. I have to take a deep breath and stand in awe each time I go down there.

Pretty exciting, huh? Pretend…just for me, please?

Here’s an up close shot. I thought I planted a lot of broccoli, but guess what? We eat it as fast as the plants produce it. I was hoping to freeze some. Oh well.

Technically these are not considered garden produce, but look how big they’re getting. We’re expecting to find eggs any day now. These chickens serve an important function in our garden: Eating every last earwig! At least I hope they eat every last one. I’m looking forward to the day I bring lettuce or cabbage into the house sans earwigs.

Monday evening my husband decided to move the pest control, aka the chickens, into the raspberries and strawberries. Later that night he took the children with him to help relocate the chickens back inside the electric fence for the night. It’s their protection against critters like coyotes and racoons…and yes even our dog. Although, he must have gotten a pretty good shock from the fence because he won’t even follow us to the garden area anymore.

Anyway, Nate handed a chicken to my son who headed to the garden with it. Then Nate handed another chicken to my daughter. Just before she reached the garden, my son let go of his chicken. Not into the pen he was standing next to, but into the garden with the renegade chicken who had escaped when Nate moved the chickens to the berrries in the first place. My daughter suddenly couldn’t keep ahold of her chicken either. And you guessed it. There were now three chickens loose in the garden with the sun sinking behind the mountains.

I like to be helpful so I took the baby inside and gave him a bath and put him to bed while Nate and the children participated in a circus round up of chickens.