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| I am doing early morning raspberry picking. The chickens come out of the coop and walk along the row of raspberries with me, taking a bug here and there. I stop picking to take a picture of them. |
She really likes them.
Walking back to her own from my home, Wyona stopped in to see how the chickens were roosting, and ask if they go back to the coop on their own every night.
The answer is yes.
Wyona said she is going to come over and take a picture of them.
Ouch.
If they give her a good shot, she will probably paint one of them.
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| When she wakes up, Betty grabs a pail and heads outside to pick raspberries. Here her raspberries are on bananas. I shall shortly add cream to them: 18% BF, not 33% that I really want. Betty has picked the raspberries for me. |
As if they have a connection to one another.
When I am out with the chickens, I usually have a broom, chasing them off the deck or trying to herd them out of my flower garden.
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| ... next morning, same chickens, same drill ... |
She has her arms outstretched as if holding me back and protecting them from the evil thoughts I am casting their way.
If I do 999 good things for Betty, all she will remember when I am dead is how I hated her chickens.
Life just isn’t fair.
Arta
this is a riot
ReplyDeleteWyona does like animals. She had a monkey for a pet while in Malaysia. As a child she loved to catch pollywogs. In China she could not watch while a street vendor slipped the skin off of a live frog. She used to have a shadow box filled with unusual butterflies -- one was called the Mormon butterfly. She is a woman with eclectic tastes.
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