Last night's shimmering black sky, sparkling stars and
glowing moon warned of a chilly fall morning coming, and it seems that
foretelling was indeed correct. A quick glance at the thermometer this morning verified
the frosty temp to be thirty six. It's long been my habit to check the temp as
one of my first duties each morning and report to Ravishin' Robbie, who this
morning called out, "Burrr" and pulled the blanket over her head. I
dug out my insulated coveralls and gloves.
Thermos filled with piping hot Folgers, and all bundled up I
headed to the barn for "Coffee With Kessy" and the critters.
As is his habit, Saturday greeted me on the back porch
bouncing, tail wagging and begging for hugs. The spider webs on the lawn looked
like so many tiny tents covered in a fine lacy ice. Scarlet leaves lightly
dusted with white frosting smiled down on us from the tall maple by the barn. Kessy's
breath streamed from her nostrils in friendly dragon fashion as she urged me to
hurry with her breakfast and hay. The chickens, who are normally scattered far
and wide, huddled just outside the barn waiting for me to get their scratch
corn, some even waited at the feeding station. I reckon they needed some fuel
to warm up.
Sure in a month or so thirty six will feel plenty warm, but
this morning it felt mighty cool. I settled into my chair, poured a steaming
cup from the thermos, and as I do each morning at this time, looked skyward, between
the big oak's branches, and thanked God for a beautiful morning. I do that each
day, hot cold, rainy or drought, because, frankly, each morning is beautiful. Especially
from the vantage point of the barn.
Most of the chickens wandered into the barn, some scratched
around near Kessy looking for hay seeds, while others huddled under the picnic
table. The roosters sat on the ledge and commenced the Crow Boy's Choir. Tigger
curled in a tight ball in my lap, and Saturday dug a nest in the straw in
Kessy's corner. I remember last winter too, he'd abandon his post next to my
chair for his nest in the straw on chilly mornings. Miss Kitty never left the
house this morning. Frosty breath drifted up from the hay as Kessy munched and
chomped.
By the time Coffee Clutch ended a half our later it had
warmed all the way up to forty degrees. The chickens had scattered mostly out
of sight on their search and devour mission. Tigger still curled tight on my
lap. Saturday had burrowed deeper into his nest. Kessy continued to munch hay.
Have a perfect day, stay warm & God Bless!
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