You have to live in Florida to appreciate Fall Fever. If you will, imagine Spring Fever–but the opposite. (Who else would cherish the end of summer?) The first whiff of a campfire at night, the first 5:00 glass of Cabernet in the backyard in an 84-degree breeze, the pure, unadulterated joy of being able to sit outside–yes, OUTSIDE!!–without breaking a sweat for the first time in four months, the first draft of this year’s anonymous “please-shut-your-dogs-up” letters hitting the neighborly post… Who enjoys this season? Me. Floridians.
And, of course, a certain flock of hens. Goldie’s laying an egg a day now, Marge is growing her downy butt feathers again (we won’t go into detail about that), and Mabel, well, Mabel still hasn’t delivered a green-shelled orb of happiness in four months; but, hey–three outta four ain’t bad.
My only bit of consternation at this peaceful backyard moment of wine, hens, and the mosquito-less promise if Fall is the ear-shattering hyper barking of the rat dogs nextdoor. (I’m sorry, by the way, if I sound like i don’t like dogs–just not the ones who split your eardrum at every drop of a leaf. And might I add that there are a lot of trees here?) Ahh, they are quiet now. Thank the Lord. But my wine glass is empty and my gullet screaming for dinner. So off I go in search of healthy sustainability to offset my Argentine cabernet.
Hail to the backyard-roaming chickens!