Chickens, for Days

The sprinklers were sprinkling, the sun was up, the breeze cool. I was tending to something when Frank said “There’s a chicken in the yard.”

I looked out and there was a nice looking white chicken walking up and down the little drive.

She is still out there, passing back and forth through the oleander hedge. I put some cracked corn out there. She had a bit but seems to be finding lots of other interesting items to nibble.

What’s odd is that last night Frank and I watched the new Roseanne show on the Lifetime channel. Chickens were a big part of both episodes we watched.

This show is mellower, though the bitching is still part of Roseanne’s natural expression. She and her extended family — son, daughter, grandkids, and Roseanne’s live-in musician boyfriend interact on  a cool macadamia nut farm in Hawaii.

Roseanne’s Nuts also has visiting royalty, aka the soulful, funky Bonnie Bramlett, and laid back native Hawaiian neighbors/musicians who perform little narrative tunes in between segments none of which are too loaded with important content.  Johnny Argent, the beau, keeps the chickens. They are his pets/pet project.

I would like to have chickens but I don’t think the landlord would dig  a lawn dotted with little chicken domiciles.

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