And each day, I find this.
We've been rationing eggs since late November when the hens took an early holiday and stopped laying.
I broke down this morning, and had eggs for breakfast.
We are now down to one dozen eggs.
They've got to start laying soon, I reason. The daylight hours are getting longer.
And they're happy roaming the barnyard.
And yet they don't lay eggs.
"Who wants to sit on eggs and hatch chicks in this weather?" the husband asks.
"But they never go on strike for this long," I say.
Then I consult my notes. Last year, they didn't start laying eggs again until January 30.
"I love oatmeal," I say.
Twelve more days.