The girls are going into molt. It’s early for them to lose their summer feathers and get ready for cold weather, but everything about this year, weather-wise, has been topsy-turvy.

How a hen molts is as varied as their personalities. Sometimes, it seems as if the hen huffs up and shakes and all of her feathers come off at once. Other hens lose their feathers in patches. like Agnes and Philomena, who are looking scraggly. It might take a month for those two to shed all of the old feathers.

I know that Twinkydink is molting, her black feathers are everywhere, and yet she looks as sleek and glossy as ever. Some girls are like that. Never a bad hair day for her.

Some hens don’t molt until the cold weather settles in. They’ll look partly naked, their skin will show, and you’ll worry about them. Don’t. They always seem to do fine. New feathers will appear. The feathers will look like porcupine quills, and the hen will be all prickly with them. It looks uncomfortable, way worse then stubble after shaving, but the chickens don’t seem to mind.

Hen keepers never look forward to the molt. The coop is a mess of feathers and the hens stop laying. Factory farms try to control it. They’ll withhold food to try to get all of the hens to molt at once. Chemical companies are developing additives to start the molt. Yet another reason to keep your own hens. I’d rather do without eggs than have them come from those conditions.

Chickens aren’t the only ones that grow a new coat for winter. Candy sheds out her old fur and will have a much warmer wrapper for the winter. Like the hens, the process is already starting. Just look at those tufts of fur coming off. What a bad hare day (ouch, sorry for that terrible joke – this heat is affecting my sense of humor!)

This should be tomato season. But, mine are still green.

However, the pumpkins are ripe. I harvested these today:

Pumpkins are not supposed to be ready until September. I like to decorate the front porch with them for Halloween. I’ve never had to store pumpkins – but we’ll try putting these in a cool corner of the basement and hope they’ll keep for the appropriate season!

Only one small pumpkin had a hole in it, and was filled with worms and other crawly things, and rotting flesh. I tossed it into the chicken yard. The hens were thrilled. They wish that the entire harvest was squishy and buggy. Sorry girls. You’ll get these in October, when they’ll be just the way you like them.

It was such a record-breaking wet spring, that this summer’s drought caught me totally by surprise. I know it hasn’t rained. But, it’s been humid. It feels damp. I’ve been watering the vegetable garden, but otherwise have left things alone. Yesterday, I noticed this:

The sun spire in the woodland border is about to expire.

This made me look around. Really look. What  I saw is scary. Bushes are turning yellow, which is something we like seeing in October, not the beginning of August. Oak leaves are brown and dropping. Maple trees are showing signs of stress – some leaves are turning orange.

I worry about the forest amphibians. They’ll have to go deep to find mud. At the normally swampy edges, the jewel weed is wilted. There’s a pine path into the woods. It smells like fire. It hasn’t burned – yet – but it has that toasty, dry, warm pine needle smell. Usually, I love that aroma, but now it’s making me nervous.

Some plants are doing fine. In the meadow across the street the golden rod is in full blaze. This is a haven for butterflies. And field mice. Lily loves sniffing here.

The weather report forecasts a thunderstorm. Let’s hope it pours.

I put 1,000 miles on my car last week. A good chunk of the traveling entailed taking boys to and fro summer programs. In other words, hauling laundry.

But, 466 miles were logged taking the chickens to the set of an Animal Planet show. Philomena and Agnes rode in one crate, and Coco in another. They like road trips.

They thought that the other chickens at the hotel were quite beautiful.

I can’t tell you about the filming until the show airs sometime this fall. Suffice it to say that I was upstaged by my chickens. I’m getting quite used to it. I don’t mind. They were brilliant!