When we were done and the well water smelled of New Hampshire granite, my brother-in-law walked up the slope saying, 'If this were my house, digging a hole that deep would have taken me hours.'
I smiled as I hosed down the area that we had processed chickens at sunrise. 'My property is good for digging holes.'
Prior to this, we processed four broilers and while I cleaned them inside, he dispatched my hen-beating rooster with a .22. The overall work was simple today and one of the broilers had, as I suspected, some type of birth defect as evidenced by a short neck and a curved torso.
I saved the chicken livers for my friend to make pate (I look forward to tasting it) and I also look forward to a chicken dinner at the picnic later today.
I expect over 80 people since my first cousin once removed is getting married next weekend. I think that many additional people will come to the picnic who will be enjoying the whole week for a late-summer vacation.
When I associate with people at work or in my volunteer efforts, my lifestyle both amuses and shocks people. Some people cannot see me as a farmer responsible for raising some of my own food. And others wonder if having 80 of my relatives here for a picnic is a good thing or a bad thing.
Usually the Family Picnic is the best day of the year.
The day didn't disappoint.
Although, as most of us huddled under canopies during a ten-minute rain shower, I asked my second-eldest aunt, 'Do you remember a time when a Family Picnic was rained out?'
Without even blinking, she replied. 'No never.'