Wednesday, November 21, 2012


Varying levels of silliness were going on towards the end of dinner the other night when I mentioned that one day I might like to have chickens.

"I would like a chicken," my dear brown-eyed four-year old piped up earnestly.  "A big black one and I would find the eggs," he added.

Seeking to relish the moment a bit longer I asked, "And what would you call your hen?"

His sister suggested a few things and he tried them out before finally settling on a name.  "Miss Margaret," he said warmly.

A little boy hunting for eggs from a fat black hen with satiny feathers called Miss Margaret?  Swoon! It was such a delicious picture that it was only the fact that it was 6 o'clock on a Sunday night that stopped me from rushing out to find him a hen and a hutch right away.


Jean said...


Anonymous said...

Too cute! J

Gary Ware said...

Surely the subsequent image of gathering eggs yourself (along with other hen related duties) once the novelty has worn off mitigates the romance just a little?

Sarah said...

Oh I love it! I can picture a nice hen called Miss Margaret. :)

Deb said...

I'm more concerned about the possible bird poo in my pergola.