{"id":439,"date":"2018-06-02T07:56:33","date_gmt":"2018-06-02T11:56:33","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/?page_id=439"},"modified":"2018-06-02T07:56:33","modified_gmt":"2018-06-02T11:56:33","slug":"bacon-and-eggs","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/bacon-and-eggs\/","title":{"rendered":"Bacon and Eggs"},"content":{"rendered":"

My brother has chickens, lots of them and a pretty good size chicken coop. The chickens get to run around and free range. My brother sells the eggs to neighbors. When he was little he had a pet rooster. I don\u2019t remember how it came about or where the rooster came from. I\u2019m pretty sure my parents didn\u2019t buy it for him. At the time, we lived in the suburbs. We did have a big yard which included a pretty good size vegetable garden, so there was room for a rooster to walk about and be free. <\/span><\/p>\n

My brother is a country boy at heart although he wasn\u2019t the one who lived on the farm. We moved to the city long before he was born. It must be in the blood though because he likes all things rural. Now his son has chickens too and the grandsons gather the eggs. It\u2019s all good.<\/span><\/p>\n

Back when we did<\/em> have the farm–it was small–we had a cow, pigs and chickens. To plant the garden, Daddy used a horse to pull the plow. The horse was our Grandmother\u2019s. She lived at the top of the hill on her farm. We lived at the bottom. Our house was cinder-block. Her\u2019s was wood and leaned a little. In fact Granddaddy trimmed the kitchen table legs, on one side, so the table would be level. There\u2019s always more than one way to skin a cat, they say (which is kind of a disturbing expression, if you think about it). <\/span><\/p>\n

On hog killing day, the whole family would show up to help. Grandma had nine children. So when everyone came (including husbands and wives and kids) it was like a church reunion with plenty of helping hands. There\u2019s a snapshot of one of my aunts holding up a hog\u2019s head in front of her face so she looked like a person with a hog head. When I was a kid, we all thought it was very clever of her. Back in the day, before Photoshop, you had to actually <\/span>act <\/span><\/i>bizarre to <\/span>achieve <\/span><\/i>bizarre. \u00a0I try to imagine what her view of the back of the hog\u2019s head looked like, holding it up like that. I reckon she had a strong stomach. It makes me a little queasy just thinking about that bloody side of the hog\u2019s head. And back then we didn\u2019t have disposal rubber gloves. So she had to pick that thing up with her bare hands. Think about it. <\/span><\/p>\n

Anyway, it\u2019s nice to have those memories of the farm, the smokehouse (to smoke the hams, you know), the garden, apple butter making day, big Sunday dinners around Grandma\u2019s table (at the top of the hill). And of course the chickens, fresh eggs, hand-churned butter and buttermilk. How many people have those kinds of memories these days when food comes in a plastic wrapper from the grocery store and their ain\u2019t no small farms to speak of? \u00a0I guess that\u2019s why my brother has chickens. <\/span><\/p>\n

Saturday is Farmer\u2019s Market day. I\u2019m going to mossie on out to highway 33 and get some fresh eggs and tomatoes. I wonder if they have buttermilk?<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a9 Glenda Kotchish<\/span><\/p>\n

June 2, 2018<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My brother has chickens, lots of them and a pretty good size chicken coop. The chickens get to run around and free range. My brother sells the eggs to neighbors. When he was little he had a pet rooster. I don\u2019t remember how it came about or where the rooster came from. I\u2019m pretty sure […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":440,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-439","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/439","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=439"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/439\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":441,"href":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/439\/revisions\/441"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/440"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=439"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}