A couple of weeks back, I went out the back door to our makeshift chicken coop to change the water and feed the chickens. It seems like overnight the baby chicks had grown in to adolescent chicks. The baby chick poop had changed to adolescent chick poop. The smell was almost unbearable. It didn't blend well with the Creme Brulee' candle burning in the kitchen window. It was time for a move into the big boy and girl chicken house. Hannah, Rachel, and I grabbed up some chicks and headed out to the barn. Bogey and Bacall (the grownups already in the chicken yard) weren't too sure they like the new residents, so I stayed out there with them while the girls made several trips back and forth with their arms full of chicken. I was standing in somewhat of a daze watching the chickens running around finding things to eat off the ground. The horses were in the pen next to us and I thought to myself, "Is this my life? Really? Standing in a chicken yard and loving it?" I kind of time travelled back to the halls of Denver City High School, and don't recall one time ever thinking I would one day own a horse or come up with movie star names for chickens. But I do. And I really like it. Then reality hit again when I had to go back to the house and move the 6 foot tub we used for a nursery. The girls and I lifted it up on its side and they rolled it to the back of the yard behind the trampoline. I shoveled most of the stuff out of it and threw it over the fence. I forgot about it until last Saturday when we were cleaning up outside. I walked over with the hose to finish cleaning it out. It smelled awful, but as the water hit it and spilled out on the ground it was exactly the color I've been wanting to put on my living room walls!
A real pale shade of green. I believe that Lowes wouldn't appreciate me bringing a sample of that to put in their color match machine. I'll just have to find a color swatch like most other people do. Anyway, my back porch is finally back to normal. Smell and all.
Here are a few chicks that already have names. George and Martha Washington, and Phyllis Diller. Obvious, huh? It looks like George is sitting for his presidential portrait!