> jumping into life.

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At six-thirty, there was light enough to feed the chickens by, and a salmon stain spreading at the edge of the east. The morning smelled like a day that intended to be warm. Two more of the chickens suffered to let me touch them, and the boldest one nearly knocked the compost container straight out of my hands with her enthusiasm. They all take on the same squatting stance when I pet them - all the ones that will be petted - and I wonder if they think me some sort of giant rooster.

The sun broke over the hills just after seven, and suddenly the world was awash in gilt. The birds made chorus and that beguiling morning-smell increased. You will think me a fool, standing there in my knit hat and steaming breath, but it smelled like summer, like a cool summer morning promising heat to come.

Within minutes, the light became just morning light, pale and lovely, no longer charged with gold. A pair of downy woodpeckers came to investigate the feeder, and doves searched the ground for fallen treasure. The morning smelled of dirt and earth, frost, and chickens. I went back inside.

i havent visited your blog in over a month and there seems to have been so much happening! and you have chickens!!!!!!! totally cool.


The day did not turn into anything like summer, for the record.

I feel like a voyeuristic neighbor sneaking a peek from my upstairs balcony while having my morning coffee.


How lovely!

i had an involuntarily conjured image of a world awash with guilt instead of gilt.

now that would be interesting...

nika x

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