Our neighbor, who we call Father Goose, loves birds, and raises new varieties of chickens and other domestics, from eggs every year. He mostly gives them away to friends with farms, and doesn't eat any of them. Here are this years' chickens:
The rooster this year is just learning to crow, and has the sweetest, softest, most mournful little song. Here he's showing his girls some little treat he's unearthed.
One of the permanent residents is a pea-hen named Rosie. She is the foster mama for all of the hatchlings, and takes chickens, ducks, geese, whatever, under her wing. Last year she fostered another pea-fowl, who has turned out to be a handsome young man-pea, Jack. It will be another year before he is mature, but he's already starting to flash his tail feathers. Even though we live within city limits, our little neighborhood has a lovely rustic feel and sound to it. I love waking up to the sound of all the wild birds, as well as the domestics.
We've been so swamped-busy with work, I come home too tired to knit. Horrible state of affairs. I do try to pause and enjoy some of the gardens, and smell the roses. Today there was a delightful little cottage garden at an older post-adobe vacation rental we did:
The fragrance of the blooming lemon and roses was divine.