We love that show-as much as you can love a reality show about murders. We just get hooked every time we see that it’s on.

So, if you are a fan of the show, here is The First 48-DaisyPatch version.

North Hampton, NH

For homestead detectives, the clock starts ticking the moment they are called. Their chance of solving the crime is cut in half if they don’t get a lead within the first 48 hours. It is North Hampton, NH. The owner of DaisyPatch farm returns home late at night and is shocked to discover one chicken hasn’t returned home. He had heard a noise earlier, but couldn’t figure out the sound. The chicken is presumed dead.

Time remaining: 48:00

The owner calls the chicken. There is no reply. He calls again, but still there is no reply.

Time remaining: 46:28

He goes into the house and texts his wife to break the news. She is out of town.

He calls the chicken again. Still, there is no reply. The other chickens in the gang are called in for questioning. He has no suspects.

Time remaining: 46:27

The rest of the chicken gang refuse to to answer any questions. The leads have all run dry. The owner will have to wait until morning to see if there are any clues.

Time remaining: 36:44

It’s the next morning. The chicken gang leave the coop and roam the neighborhood. The owner follows at a safe distance, hoping for clues. He isn’t able to find anything. Investigating the location he thought was the source of the noise, he does not uncover any leads.

Time remaining: 36:21

His wife just received the message and texts him back to see if there is any news. She wants to know which chicken has died. He texts her back that he doesn’t know. She will have to come home to identify the missing chicken.

Time remaining: 00:32

The owner’s wife has come home and has identified which chicken is missing. It was a no-name chicken with distinguishing white marks. They are most likely gang symbols.

Time remaining: 00:04

The clock winds down on the first 48. The chicken still has not returned. With no body or leads, he may never know what happened. The chicken gang now has 8 members. None of them will talk.

All suspects are innocent until proven guilty in a coop of law.

Doodles in the Winter

I started calling them “Chickie Doodles,” then I just shortened it to “Doodles.” “Keith, have you let the Doodles in?” “I’m going to feed the Doodles.” Anyway, I looked out my home office window to this little scene.

I know I promised several posts, but this just happened…


Me: Babe, you look tired. Why don’t you go to bed and I’ll put the chickens away tonight.

Him (Already up and out of his chair): OK! Good night. (Kissing me good night). 

Here I sit. For the next and 1/2. By myself. Waiting to put chickens away. 

Me and my big mouth. 



Keith and I attended the Hampton Area Chamber of Commerce Toast to the Coast at the Ashworth by the Sea in Hampton Beach.

The Old Salt had a splendidly decorated table.

BEHOLD! The Great Kale Caper. GO HERE FOR PART 2

Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. DaisyPatch fans of all walks of life (ok, there’s ladies, then there’s gentlemen and then there’s boys, and…we have girls. What other walks of life might there be reading this here post in cyberspace? Manatees? Probably not. Opposable thumbs aren’t necessary to log onto the Internet, so I guess it IS a possibility, but it doesn’t seem likely. Also, they don’t walk, really. Don’t they sort of pull themselves by their front fins. Feet? Paddles? Fins is probably correct. I hope manatees ARE reading my blog. I HAVE had some new followers find me as of late. Hi! Welcome. Are you manatees? If so, I will try to make the DaisyPatch more manatee-friendly for you.) Where was I? Right. (God, I do that a lot, don’t I?) Um. RIGHT! You heard it here first. Drum roll please…

edible South Shore has given me my own column. I get to continue to inflict my self-deprecating stories on the readers of this fine, fine publication. My column starts in the Fall of 2012. I have proposed several topics for the first article and have been told to do whatever I want. (Insert evil laugh here.) Really? REALLY? REALLY? Really? (the one in italics denotes a squeaky voice. So, first it was a normal voice. Really? Then it was louder. REALLY? Then it was a shout. REALLY? Then bring it on down to a squeak of surprise. Really? With me?)

No big deal. Piece of cake. Ready for the name of the column? Brace yourself. It is the epitome of cuteness. It is a play on words which is exactly my style. I thought of it in the middle of the night. Home Sweet Homestead. I know, right? F’ing brilliant. I am looking forward to it. The Fall article in the column is TBD, but GUESS what the following 4 articles will be about. Guess. Yup. Cluckers. They will arrive in about 6 weeks and I will cataloguing (‘guing or ‘ging? Hm. Going with ‘guing) everything we’re going through to get ready for them. Then I will be diligently documenting every little peep, squeak and chicken scratch they make as we assimilate them into the Patch, and into our family. Our homestead. I will also promise to be honest and make note of every screw up made by yours truly. Because that’s what this is all about…learning as we go.

(So, was this manatee-friendly enough?)

We’re thinking about raising chickens. Thinking so much about raising chickens, in fact, that Keith has already started talking coop architecture with a handy friend of ours (you know who you are!)

Our neighbor (2 doors up) has chickens and they don’t seem to be much trouble. Last Summer, my niece and I saw a dog killing one of the chickens and Keith and the neighbor confronted the dog owner, I guess that is one of the down-sides.  Up-side – and I think this is a big up-side – EGGS! Fresh ones. If you have never cracked a fresh egg, and I will admit, even the fresh ones I’ve used were still at least 1 day old, you’re in for a treat. We want this.

Apparently, a few other people in my town do as well. Keith sent me an article today about a little legal scuffle in North Hampton that will directly impact our nesting (pun fully intended) dreams.  Here’s the article. http://bit.ly/5Igx4L

I love all the comments after the article – some get a bit nasty, as is bound to happen in social media with no editing, but some are spot on. I like this one from DF in Brentwood, “I hope he wins so I can sue the town due to mosquitos keeping me up at night during the summer!” Isn’t that true? The mosquitoes in this town (we have a lot of wetlands) are ferocious and since I’m really reactive to mosquito bites, the mosquitoes are really the one thing I am fearing the most about the backyard farm/homestead/garden/whatever-we’re-going-to-call-it. Enough about that, back to the roosters.

I find it fascinating that something like this goes in front of a judge in the first place. I didn’t say I was surprised, just fascinated. We’re going to watch this closely. In the meanwhile, I’ll dream of nestling freshly collected, still-warm eggs in the fold of my apron to the sounds of clucking hens (insert Disney-like heroine scene now complete with bluebirds tying the strands of that apron while bunnies hop around my feet) while the Fullerston/Marston and Cheever battle wages on.

Go Ms. Cheever.