When I was a child, I had a fairly accurate sense of time. Time was something concrete, something stationary. A day was this BIG chunk of time to work ones way through. I remember sitting in Mrs. K's 6th grade classroom, watching the clock (starting at about 2:20) make that PAINFULLY slower-than-a-slug trek towards the 3:05 dismissal bell. It . . . took . . . F-O-R-E-V-E-R.
Oh, how I wish time ticked by that slowly now.
I no longer have a handle on Time. Time is elusive. Time is slippery. Time is gone in the blink of an eye. Nothing delineates one too-busy day from the next but a few hours (certainly never enough) of sleep in between.
Last night as I was driving home, I passed the little crick where I photograph Blue Flag Irises each spring. I automatically thought, "I wonder how long it will be until things green up and they're in bloom?" WAIT A MINUTE! It's already early winter! You MISSED it!
That said, yes, it is early winter! We've been in the single digits at night lately, and last night the temperature bottomed out at 0°. Going out to do chores this morning in the 14° weather felt positively balmy!
And, speaking of balmy (ohh, my segues are GOOD this morning!) . . . I have some balmy chickens. As in daft. Stupid. Dumb. Not the brightest birds in the coop. A group of 6-8 of this spring's pullets have decided that flying up to the top of the chicken house - and from there into the trees on the OUTSIDE of the fence - and roosting there for the night is the way to go. The only way. (Yeah, they're gonna "go" alright . . . as soon as an owl figures out where the buffet is!)
Anyway, dummy me finally figured out that they were getting up to the top of the chicken house via the half of an old wooden ladder than I had propped against the side. (Yes, chickens can climb ladders.) So, I took that down. And, just to be on the safe side (after Tucker's plucker attack on Tom the Turkey and that hen), I had Tom (the Husband) trim the branches of the little tree that were overhanging the chicken house roof.
The results? See for yourself:
Yeah. Not exactly a blazing success.
Annie Blue came out to help me with chores. (Who forgot to paint the inside of the gate?!)
Lastly, although it's a bit blurry, here is a close-up of the White Crested Black Polish pictured above (on the top of the chicken house). I think it's a rooster although I've never heard him crow. It's very hard to tell with these crested birds since you can't see their combs. Anyway, heavily crested birds tend to be a little daft by virtue of the fact that they can't SEE a thing! And that problem is only exacerbated by drinking . . . and then not going inside to warm up, melt, and dry off at night. See, when this dummy drinks, his crest falls into the water. Then, it freezes. And then, since he doesn't sleep inside, the frozen crest never thaws . . . and more and more ice accumulates! As I said: Dummy!