I went to let the chickens out, to throw their scratch, to feed B.B. and well, B.B. isn't there. Completely disappeared.
What the damn hell?
I've circled that coop over and over and there are no tunnels into it. Mr. Moon sunk that wire into the ground. The gaps at top he filled in yesterday. And yet, there is no mistake about it- that chicken is gone.
Well. So it goes.
And yet, I am heartsore about it.
Beside that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?
Oh, it's a beautiful day. Not too hot yet, sweet air and sun, dirt still wet from yesterday's shower. September 1st and another month of birthdays begins. From the 25th until the 29th we have five- Shayla, Owen, Lily, Vergil and Billy. There is a plan afoot to take Owen and Gibson this month to see the mermaids at Weeki Wachee and that is always a favorite family trip. Simple and easy and two days is more than enough and that will include the water park. Mr. Moon is about to go gator hunting and so will spend his nights for the better part of a week cruising the back branches of the unbelievably beautiful rivers in Franklin County.
But what will I do with this quiet day given to me today? I am not sure. Perhaps I'll put on my overalls and get in the garden and do some more clean-up in preparation for fall's garden. It's time for that. Lily just called and wants to come over for a nap. She was up all night with Gibson and had to be at work at six and is suffering a funky sinus thing so yes, of course. I've tidied the bed and she can lay down in there, it's like a cave, cool and dark, and if she wants, I'll heat her up some soup I made the other night which has peppers enough to clear out sinuses, and garlic and lemon juice, too.
Maybe B.B. will show up. Maybe she flew the coop and is around here somewhere, being shy to come out.
Oh, I doubt it so but maybe.
Here's a blurry picture of what happens around here most mornings when I go outside to get the paper and feed the cat:
Miss Honey from next door who makes our place a second home who also enjoys a morning toss of cat food. She lays an egg almost every day in a nest in the garage that Mr. Moon set up for her but is never part of Elvis's harem. She goes her own way, that Miss Honey. She is a mild and lovely hen.
Lily is here now and settled into my bed, I am drinking a smoothie with fruit and yogurt and almonds. It's getting on into the morning. The train is going by, the magnificent iron beast which squeaks and squeals down the track beside the chicken coop many times a day and night. Every time I hear it now, I will think of how Gibson in the dark night, would hear the horn and grab me tight, not crying out, just wanting me close to protect him from the sound of that rolling thunder of a train.
I wish we could always protect our babies so easily but we cannot.
I hope you're having a good Labor Day weekend.