In 2003 Heather had two goat kids, living in a Rubbermaid shed they’d soon be able to kick to pieces. We were thinking it’d be nice to build a stall in the machine shed for them, but the machine shed was full of family crap. So we planned and started building a goat shed. We got as far as sticking posts in the ground before Heather’s dad offered to work on clearing out a corner of the machine shed for a stall. So we said sure, helped clean out the corner, pulled the posts out (and, as a footnote, the last of the post holes finally got filled in a few weeks ago), and built a stall.
Forward five years:
No goats any more, but Heather has chickens. We finally counted them Sunday: there are 29. (They say “don’t count your chickens before they hatch”, but I suspect it wasn’t a chicken farmer who came up with that one. After they hatch is no time to count them either, because some of them probably will die in the first week or so; and anyway, they run around so much you can’t count them.) We were thinking it’d be nice to convert the goat stall into a chicken coop, but the goat stall was full of family crap — mostly Heather’s aunt Jean’s. (2006: “Can Jean put some stuff in the machine shed?” “Sure, as long as it’s not in the goat stall.” So it went in the goat stall.) So on Sunday we were pondering the question of whether the old outhouse could be straightened, repaired, and extended into a chicken coop when Heather’s dad turned up and offered to work on clearing out the goat stall. So we said sure, helped move the stuff out of the stall, and started working on making it chicken-friendly.
Also, Kenny returned home.