Mine. Mine Mine Mine.

Take a look at these two buildings. One of them is for my husband's hobby. One of them is for mine. Guess which building I got. And guess who's still crying foul.

The little shed here was a chicken coop when we moved in, complete with chicken wire nest boxes and a tiny door in the side for the hens to come and go. Visions of Martha Stewart's exotic flock of blue-egg-laying birds danced in my head, and I started making serious noises about buying chicks. The Hubby was horrified.

Suddenly, he was cutting big holes for windows in the side of the coop and tearing out the nest supports, "for the pottery studio you always wanted". He let me know I was supposed to be happy about this turn of events, but I know an intervention when I see one. I'm no dumb cluck.

And did he really think I was going to hole up in a tiny, converted chicken coop for hours at a time? Please. The pottery studio morphed into a potting shed, which I actually kind of wanted but also shunned on principle.

And so, it came as quite a surprise to the dear old boy when I started tossing his stuff out of "my" shed this weekend. Along with a pile of cast off hardware and miscellaneous machinery, I evicted a vole and a camping blanket that had apparently been the winter home of its entire clan.

Everything in there got thrown away, scrubbed, or relocated to the big barn. I hosed the place out and left the doors open to the spring sun and breeze. And you know what? It's not a bad little space.

I hauled in some of my treasures that couldn't go in the house but were too cool to toss, like this log with three big holes that are just begging to be planted with ferns, moss, and impatiens. And a skeletal, black bark strip that looks like driftwood. And rocks. Turkey feathers, of course. Paper wasp and bird nests... no chickens, but I'm over it. It'll make a great potting shed and play house.

However, for the pottery studio I have designs on the third bay of the garage. Don't tell The Hubby. It's gonna be a surprise.