This morning’s cold fog straddles my back fields. Like a cautious horseback rider it eases towards the barnyard enshrouding the barn and outbuildings in grey mist. I am doing morning chores: speaking as I am wont to my hens just released from last evenings lockup into the chicken yard. I’ve tossed a small kitchen bucket of scraps from last night’s dinner leftovers. There’s always a mad scramble when I let them out in their rush to snatch up whatever tasty bits. Some hens have stayed in nest boxes, already laying or keeping an egg from the cold. The fog’s now beginning to retreat to the trees lining the creek bisecting the farm. Two young calves slip out of the still fog-shrouded field heading for the barn where I’ve put out a double scoop of grain and screening pellets for them. I’ve also cut the strings on a bale of hay dropping a couple of flakes into their feeder. The rest of the cows are still invisible out in the far field. I turn back toward the house needing a second cup of coffee to ease the rest of the morning fog away.

awaiting
coffee pot
bubbling

Ed Higgins