I never took much notice of the few hens that have
been there since I remember, wandering around in our neighbor’s back garden.
But this Spring morning, picking some flowers for the living room, I am
suddenly moved by the remarkably pleasant sounds they make amongst eachother.
That ongoing soft and delicate clucking in a variety of tones, while they spend
their days in a way that once, for them, must have been predestined.
apple blossom petals
colour the table