All the books, all the birds, all the words
Headline news around the farmstead:
Really excited about a new project that has to do with that photograph and a whole trove of old cabinet cards, books, maps, and, yes, ephemera. That word. More on that soon. The luncheonette is branching out.
The aim is to finish my own book by early fall. Wish me luck and good writing. Have to thank some of the people keeping me on track. Thank you, people keeping me on track. I promise to not get too sidetracked by the chickens.
Lucy, my main mama hen, has gone broody again, so there will be more new chicks on the farm.
This is what happened to the grey chick that used to like roosting on his mama's back. He's three months here. He's a mutt, but we call him a Speckled Greentailed Nutjob. A new breed. He comes from bird man Barry down High Falls way. Or his egg did. If you want to know about feathered things, visit his site. It's addictive.
The yellow chick is tamer and is probably a rooster as well, but likes to follow me around the pen as I pick up rocks — there are worms under them there rocks. For some reason we didn't try to define this one. It/he/she doesn't seem so novel, so odd. Metaphors and chickens go together so well.
Some plumage on this one. His tailfeathers are starting to flow irridescent green. He has bell bottoms. I know there's a term for leg feathers. Shall look under some rocks for it.