Photo Riff

My rooster-man is in love.  With me.  It started last week.  What a shameless display he puts on when I walk outside.  He races as fast as he can to my side and if my hands are down, he lovingly pecks my palms to see if I have food. He’s a boot licker.  If I turn sharply, I might step on him; he is that close.  He never leaves my side.   We’ve advanced to the petting stage and by next week I think he will sit in my lap.  For those of you who know roosters, you know why they call them cocks.  They are  Nasty Creatures.  You can’t trust them.  But MY rooster-man, he loves me so I gave him some pie.

Take a look at my goats.  This is why we can’t have nice things.  Once all the flowers and bushes exhaust themselves and the weather turns frosty, I let my goats out of their pen to do “yard work”.  They clean up on leaf piles, brush, and do a fine job of trimming.  This year, however, they crossed the line when they gorged on my big pumpkin.   They broke the skin and ate the flesh and the chickens stood at the ready to peck out all the big seeds.

The doorbell rang and standing on my porch was a Vietnam Vet who lives up the road.  He brought me a beautiful basket of garden goods he canned along with a sample of some of the herbs still surviving his winter garden.  In exchange, he asked if he could gather wood on our property to heat his home.   He and I made a deal:  we are going to trade the basket each month.  Next month I’m bringing him some homemade breads, cakes, and noodles and we are going to help him with the wood project.

Went down to “The Joe” to see the Wings play.  It was 60 degrees the day before.  It was supposed to be “a little cooler” on game day.  When we got to our cars after the game…there was a thick frost glaze on the windshields,  I needed a crowbar to get the driver’s door open, and it was snowing.   Thanks a lot.    The apple trees are loaded this year and bow down to the ground.  That doesn’t have anything to do with hockey, but is part of this riff.