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The chickens and ducks have been eating pretty good on the byproducts of my harvest preservation efforts.

Which got me thinking……

Why am I blanching and peeling tomatoes? Where is my little red hen? You know, the one who does all the work? I NEED A BREAK.
I went looking for her. Little Red Hen? LITTLE RED HEN!

I know she was here eating tomatoes just a minute ago– WHERE’D SHE GO? She has work to do!

I think the other chickens are covering for her.
Clover: “You know you can’t trust a chicken.”

LITTLE RED HEN!

Little Red Hen?

Wait…… THERE SHE IS!!!

“I’ve got work for you, missy! Tomatoes to peel, zucchini to slice, peppers to chop! Corn to cut, apples to core, peaches to freeze!”

“And when you’re done with that, you can rub my feet.”

GET BACK HERE, LITTLE RED HEN!!!!!
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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