Never a more perfect time to spring the girls from the clink than after the tornado sirens stopped wailing this afternoon. I spent the alert over at the airport terminal basement, waiting for the horror movie to start in that dank, drafty, people-packed, adrenaline-tinged space. It was like Titanic where all the exits are blocked by a fence or gate; freedom visible but unattainable. It really was fine, but had possibilities for trouble.
By the time I got home, the sun was bright in the late afternoon sky, the chickens were done cowering in the roost boxes, and they weren’t that impressed with the cast-off spinach leaves I dumped in their coop. I went to get Ang and we decided today was a perfect day to let them out.
“Error saving media file”. That’s why you don’t see the riveting video of them stepping first gingerly, then carefully, then gleefully around the backyard. That is 4 minutes of your life that I saved you; you are welcome. Ah, but someday, you will be forced to watch them walk around the backyard. Just count on it.
Herding them back into the coop with our two bamboo sticks made me feel very Asian, as in taking ducks to the market which is a day’s walk from my home village where my people have lived for 5 generations and raised rice in paddies. Just read “This Good Earth”, by Pearl Buck, you’ll know what I mean.
The sun always shines after the storm, doesn’t it?
Our Recalcitrant Jalapeno