We’ve had a lot of rain, so much that the garden is constantly too wet to weed. Yesterday afternoon it was not raining, and the soil was getting dry enough to sit on. When I walked to the garden with my white weed pail, the chickens clucked excitedly. They know that pail often holds treats for them, grasses and lamb’s quarters and other yummy weeds.
I weeded. Purple clouds hung in the sky and drifted by. The three little misses hurried on past the garden on their way to pick the few wild blackberries that grow behind our place. The chickens paced back and forth, waiting for their salad. After carefully tucking the poisonous weeds into my pocket, I tossed a pail of healthy greens into the coop, and the chickens murmured happily as they nibbled. I weeded some more. The little misses came back, chattering happily but without a single blackberry. A while later the gentle murmur of our duck girl and the answering quacks of her ducks floated through the asparagus fronds.
Tiny splats sounded from the squash leaves, but I felt no rain. A bit later, thousands of tiny feet tiptoed across the metal barn roof and little bits of rain drifted down. The chickens kept on eating. When I stopped my work to enjoy the fresh coolness, I heard a new wave of tiny wet feet, dancing joyfully toward me across the barn roof. The chickens didn’t care, and I kept on weeding. Then the big heavy footsteps of huge raindrops came marching, marching, marching along the metal barn roof. The chickens raced inside, clucking indignantly, and I got up regretfully.
Little Miss came running to rescue me with a striped blue parasol and, laughing together, we entered the house, to be greeted by the rich voices of the Irish Tenors.
May your day be full of simple joys. Have a wonderful weekend and may God bless you.
What a lovely description of the joys of gardening and enjoying God's outdoors.
We were suprised to learn how much our chickens like the rain. They don't like downpours, but will strut around happily in the chicken yard during a shower.