The husband and I took a lovely drive into the Piedmont area of Virginia (
Fluvanna County) today to pick up new chickens. The small flock that we had before (which I had grown
way too attached to, by the way) fell victim to the perils of suburban life - two perished because of a dog, and the third to the extended 105 degree and up days of this past summer. The dog has since moved on to greener pastures and we're prepared to install misting hoses and fans outdoors this year if the excessive heat decides to make a reappearance, so there is a much-celebrated return of poultry to the Brown homestead this evening.
We took the truck on our outing, and the family generally operates by the rule that the primary driver of the vehicle determines the musical accompaniment of the voyage. Paul decided a great way to enjoy the green countryside and rolling farmland was with his rather extensive collection of Irish rebel tunes. All of those songs about dear old Ireland and its independence must have seeped into by subconscious because the bright green mother of pearl and silver clovers were the first things I grabbed from the supply stash when we got home!
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