In this, there is no conundrum: You must begin with the chicken. An Appenzeller Spitzhauben is best; silver birds, if you can obtain them, make the most picturesque backdrop for dining out of doors. We understand one another, this chicken and I. I can look into one of her eyes and know her father wished for her to become a surgeon, and into the other and see her conflicting dreams of becoming an astronaut. Instead, she busies herself in the poultry yard, patrolling for insects and pausing only to cock her head at the sky, observe a passing satellite, and wish, and wonder.
(Read the rest at Grantland.)
I'm a multi-platform journalist and story producer, a Tennessee Volunteer by birth, a West Virginia Mountaineer by blood, an occasional Angelena, a current ATLien, and an Aquarius, if you're interested. Past work samples to the left, where all the words are.