We have a garage chicken...a pet hen if you will. Clancy, aka Gimpy, broke her leg. We have no idea HOW. She just did. The others began to pick on her. She couldn't walk. Her fate seemed settled. Except Michael and I simply couldn't bring ourself to kill her...this fall. We got her comfortable in the garage...and babied her...and one day she jumped out of her box. Now she's messy. HOWEVER, she is walking on the leg - better and better. The others are still determined to kill her. It appears we have a pet chicken. She gets her run of the garage and yard. We are trying to figure out a way to keep her housed and happy during the upcoming winter.
 |
| Benny & Gimpy 📷by Jared or Arielle |
Grief...
Grief is odd. It is silent or raging. It can drive you to people or away. In other words, it's unsettled, ever-changing. Tonight, I needed to be loud and raw and alone. I went for a drive and predictably ended up at the cemetery. I've never been at this time of day... There is more and more snow on the mountains. The moon was beautiful.
GRACE NOTES:
1. Much was accomplished, the day is done.
