The little red hen

You know this story, right? The little red hen finds some wheat, plants it, tends it, harvests it and carries it to the miller to be ground into flour, then bakes it into bread. That's when all of her friends are suddenly interested in helping her. You know, because it's time to eat the bread. She tells them to take a hike while she eats it by herself.

What a story. So opposite of the wise ant who worked hard all summer and then found that he had sympathy in his heart for the foolish grasshopper who had wasted his time playing his fiddle all summer. The ant shared his food with the hungry grasshopper who then played music for the ant during the long, cold winter.

I baked bread today with flour that I ground from grains of wheat. I did not grow the wheat but I have it carefully stored away. Then I finished canning the rest of my chicken and got it all cleaned up and put away. I have 43 pints of cooked chicken in my store room.

Take that, little red hen.

I took a picture of my bottles of chicken but decided not to share it - it looks like some sort of science-experiment-gone-wrong. That's okay though. I know it will be delicious.