We've had some odd winter weather here in the Ozarks. Of course, I have heard many people comment on the strange weather in their little corner of the world. Last Sunday it was 12 degrees (it later reached -9) and snowing. Today...just a week later...we had great wind gusts and 66 degrees.
I wanted to share with you a little bit of adventure. If you are a regular reader of my blog, you have no doubt read some of my postings about my father's other children...his chickens. He is a product of his own upbringing and those hillbilly ways of "using what you have." Dad didn't want a traditional chicken coop. He wanted one he could move about the yard. He wanted the chickens to be able to take advantage of fresh bugs and grass, yet have the privacy of some sort enclosure. Plus, his chickens are kind of dingy (as most chickens are). I won't bore you with tales of his dingy chickens. This story is really about the wind. And an unfortunate event.
Josiah came running in the house...eyes wide, panting slightly. "The Chicken Coop blew away and the chickens are running all over the yard." Immediately, Mom and The Muffin sprang into action. He in his dress shirt, pants and tie (and leather dress shoes) straight from delivering the Sunday Morning message. Mom in her festive Rudolph the Red-nose Reindeer Fuzzy Pants. I stayed behind where I could safely take pictures from back kitchen door and snicker.
I know my limits.
The following photograph is my view. I've also added a few clues to help you see what is going on. I'm waiting for the late night showing of Downton Abbey to come on..I had nothing better to do. Nobody tell me what happened.
I mentioned before that Dad constructed the chicken coop out of some of this and that. A tarp covers one whole end and the top of it. It also was a great sail in the wind. It landed on one of his prize pear trees and broke it in half
The Chicken Coop fixers spent the next few minutes deciding how to approach the whole thing. After all, they themselves are not the designer of the Chicken Coop. Nor are they accustomed to such goings on.
They finally decided to set the Chicken Coop back up. They also kept having to chase the chickens away from the coop so it wouldn't blow over again on them. We were having ham for lunch...not fried chicken.
Ah! I finally figured out how to make my camera phone zoom in. Not the best picture quality, but if you squint hard enough you can make out the Rudolph's Red Nose on Mom's Fuzzy Pants.
I will say that they wound up having to lay the Coop on it's side. It kept trying to blow closer to the pond. And closer to another fruit tree.
Poor girls. The wind was blowing so hard it looked as if their feathers were billow skirts waiting to take them away.
The Chicken Coop Brigade decided to leave well enough alone and wait for Dad (aka the Chicken Whisperer) to set the whole thing right again
A man can only do so much in his Sunday best. There was football to watch, after all.
And where was Solomon (the big black dog) during the whole adventure? Sunning himself on the hill. He can't possibly be bothered with all this mess when there is a nap to be had. Can't say that I blame him.