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!