|Hens and Hens: |
Robbie, Barbara, Ingrid, Nancy, and Rhonda
|Ingrid: our Hen of the Year|
More Hens, in no particular order.
|Some other broad, with orbs floating around her noggin'|
|Hens invade my Kitchen|
|A sampling of why Hens eat like the Queens they are|
|Late Satuday Afternoon|
|Ingrid blows out the candle on her birthday cake|
Sunday morning the Hen festing began refreshed and renewed. Robbie ran orange after orange through a juicer and added Ingrid's blood oranges so we could enjoy what is now our traditional morning Hen elixer, freshly juiced citrus. I served up a HUGE artichoke, roasted pepper and herbed goat cheese quiche made with my hen's eggs (you know, the kind with feathers).
|Breakfast time - cause we were|
famished from Saturday's feasting
|Hens, in their jammies, lolling around Sunday morning|
|The Hens decide to venure into the wilderness that is my backyard|
|See you next year Hens!|
Robbie, 'moi', Ingrid Rhonda & Nancy