On Monday I hosted a 4th of July bbq (my first), very spur of the moment. We made fried chicken and homemade ice cream, played backyard games, drank copious amounts of beer, and went swimming in the river behind my house. In the evening, my landlord/neighbor (who has many pet chickens which run around my backyard and wake me up emphatically in the mornings) came up holding a rooster. One of her favorites. It had a name. She said,
I finally understood just how much these roosters are tearing up the hens and decided it's time to get rid of them. I put them all in the truck last night and drove them two miles down the farm road and left them there. This one showed up outside the coop in the morning. Do you want to eat him? And so she got a cone and I got a knife, and I killed the chicken in front of all the (startled) guests, and I cleaned him and she put the kids to bed and then came over for ice cream. So tonight I'm making soup.
Actually, this afternoon I saw a cloud front coming over the fields and took myself out for a run before it hit. I breathed hard and watched the distant lightning roll closer. When I got back, I brought some things inside and did some tai chi on the back porch as the wind picked up. The air whipped itself into an ecstatic frenzy, and finally I dashed inside as hard drops of rain started to fall.
Then I made soup. And damn, if that rooster isn't delicious.
Here's hoping that the title of this post is totally about the weather and has no predictive qualities about my emotional state.
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