Yesterday’s Hard Lox festival in downtown Asheville proved to be the ultimate schmear campaign (I really wish I could take credit for such a witty phrase, but, ’twas not mine, ’twas the event’s organizer). It was lively, fragrant, tasty, pleasing to the ear, and well attended. The highlight, though, had to be the Free Hug man. Nicole and I both partook.
I meant to post again sooner, but, alas, life had other plans. Those plans, in no particular order, included: helping my friends make flower magic happen on 3 weddings, hosting my in-laws for 4 days, building a chicken tractor with my long-suffering husband, visiting the Biltmore estate for the first time since I was 16 and delighting in the Vanderbilt’s contribution to the establishment of the Pisgah national forest, writing 3 chapters for my “Raising Chickens” book, visiting an apple orchard with my grandmother and mom, tending to an injured chicken, making a pumpkin cake with brown butter and caramelized walnuts (thanks Martha!) for my brother, baking goodies for my friend Nicole’s fabulous birthday party (there was a 5-person accordion performance-need I say more?), buying firewood, and breaking in my new autumn coat. I also realized during this period that I am considerably less reclusive than I had imagined myself to be. I suppose I’d taken all my work-related social interactions for granted.
This goes out to Buffy, my Buff Orhphington. Our German Shepherd, Fly, attacked her the other day. Somehow the gate to the coop wasn’t properly latched and Fly saw the chickens in the yard at exactly the same moment I did. Buffy took a hit, but I think she’s going to be alright. I never imagined I’d find myself sitting inside a large dog crate with a sequestered chicken, administering poultry antibiotic (it’s cherry flavored, mind you..) by beak with a syringe. Her beak, not mine. She laid an egg last night, which promptly cracked on the bottom of the dog crate, but it’s a good sign nonetheless. Godspeed you, little Fluff.
**True story: This song used to make me weep as a child. For no apparent reason. I was struck by its profound beauty, or something akin, I suppose. Completely true. Ask my Dad. Thanks for the memories Vangelis.