Mostly fine, with rainy intervals, cold in the evening.
Applied more sodium chlorate. Nettles treated previously have blackened.
One hen refuses to sit. Took her home, as she may go broody again in familiar surroundings. The other sitting well on 11 eggs. She broke one in getting off to feed, so gave her one from the other sitting. Not certain of the effect of this-it will be 12-24 hours behind the others.
Preparing ground for turnips etc. Where the potatoes were last year there are practically no weeds.
A few strawberries beginning to blossom.
Fourteen eggs. (76 in this week-as from Sat. next week shall begin ending week on Saturday.)
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Orwell Diaries 1938-1942 
I’ve been wondering where everyone has gone, and now I’m first–disturbing!
Has everyone gone outside to enjoy the spring?
It is true, I am missing all the comments on the egg counts!
I’m still here lurking. I feel like George has jumped the shark with the egg counts. He’s actually making it work. After so many months of one egg I feel a little weird seeing 76 eggs in a week.
George~~
This post should have been accompanied by one of your world-renowned sketches. As an avid Egg Eater, I am forced to fantasize using my
poultrypaltry imagination.[fade to the other end of the wormhole]
A hen, balanced atop a pyramid of a dozen eggs, singing lullabies under her breath, with an idyllic, Hieronymus Bosch-like, English countryside as the panoramic backdrop and 16 million colors represented by a plethora of buds and blooms and fruits and vegetables. Yes, she is knitting booties; no blue ones as yet.
Springtime. The world is awash in eggs and everyone is wearing bibs. The Skull of the Jackal is safe on the mantle.
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