Continuing in the everything chick department. Some time back I had gotten a wine goblet that was hand painted with a baby chick on it. It was a chick’s chick glass.
I’m not really a wine drinker preferring my good friend Bud to wine any day but sometimes, like this weekend, when the sun shines bright and the breeze blows warm, when all the kids are on the back porch playing games we haven’t pulled out for months and food is cooking on the grill – well sometimes, it’s just the perfect time for a glass of wine.
I poured a glass of pink chablis (ever the chick) and sat in the sun warming my winter-chilled bones and listening to the kids roll dice and shake word cubes. Between scratching in the dirt, the chickens in the open pen occasionally sputtered, clucking alarm at last autumn’s forgotten leaves taken to wind by gusts of a spring trying to make headway.
I stretched out my uncovered arms and legs soaking up what I could to store for the cold nights still to come.
I should be raking the lawn (before this year’s autumn leaves arrive). I should be cleaning the windows that in sun show every dot of dirt. Tasks nag at me, I should be doing something constructive but I push those thoughts away. For now, I’ll sit with my flock enjoying the time together that we have. It happens so rarely these days but is so very welcome when it unexpectedly comes upon us.