In case anyone asks, the egg came first. But I want to talk about chicken eggs, the kind you eat, not evolution. There's an old farmstead in town that was the home of a revolutionary soldier that is famous for being a woman who disguised herself as a man so she could fight for our liberty. For years, decades maybe, I've been driving by this well-known landmark and seeing a sign for "fresh eggs for sale" without giving it much thought. We get our eggs at the supermarket. Well, as part of my new awareness of the wisdom of supporting local agriculture, I called last week and made arrangements to buy a dozen eggs produced about a mile from home. I even stopped on my way to another errand, so I didn't have to make a special trip.
The proprietor wasn't around when I picked up my eggs, leaving my payment in the honor system box, but I hope to chat with him soon so I can learn something about poultry husbandry. It feels good to eat food that comes from close to home, knowing the good people who grew it, and knowing the birds weren't abused or force-fed chemicals.
2 comments:
Excellent! Love those homegrown eggs. What a beautiful place for those chickens to live. I bet those eggs were yummy.
Yard eggs! We sold all we could get fresh from the nest at premium prices thirty years ago. I think gathering those eggs did my kids good.
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