I've invented a new colour. It's Meadowplace Blue. It's the wide, uninterrupted blue of the sky over our heads when the weather is glorious and you feel you shall never again wear more than two layers. It's the blue you get when you're not even wearing socks.
Yes, I did neglect to remove the laundry draped over every possible outdoor surface. Although you feel you shall never again wear more than two layers or need to dry clothes anywhere but outside, a small voice whispers that this could nonetheless be an opportunity not to be missed.
We continue to struggle with illness in this house. It definitely gets better as Spring takes firm hold, but a dose more vigour would not go amiss. Great encouragement to the morale arrived on Monday night with Cooking Catherine and two great goose eggs. Never before has such a sight been seen in our little lives. Our meadow-dwelling must surely be complete?
Number one went the way of all eggs, well most eggs, well, most eggs in this house, except for baking. Egg A got into some hot water tonight. I kept waiting for it to jump up in true Gingerbread Man fashion and rush out to have adventures through the fields with the goats, the chickens and a ubiquitous fox.
But it didn't. The white of a goose egg is very different: discuss. The white shell is incredibly white, much tougher and held on by a significantly thicker layer of membrane? Then the cooked white was much thinner around the yolk, I found. Taste-wise, no remarkable difference. Except that it was lovely, and very, very yellow at its core.
What should we do with Egg B? Unless it decides sit on a wall...