Every day we check in on the broody chicken. Sometimes it seems as if she’s fading away to nothing. She doesn’t eat. She doesn’t drink. She just flattens herself in the corner sitting on whatever egg she can find. Today when I checked I thought I saw her standing. But no. It was Big Red hovering in that same corner, standing up, her backside to me, making cooing noises. Then I saw it — an egg emitting from her behind. Seconds later I saw a beak emerge scooping the egg away from Big Red and, presumably, under her flattened, broody self. Red stood there a few seconds, then turned herself around, walked down the ramp and looked around as if to say, “What’s for lunch?”
Don’t you just love nature and the shapes she provides? Once I popped in on myWest Boundary street garden and found a very serious SCAD photography student. I asked, “OK, what’s your assignment this time?” She was to find letters in nature that approximate the alphabet. Sounded like fun to me. This morning I picked up my weekly load of compost material from Walls’ Barbecue, thanks to the persistent and steady Margaret Weston who calls me each Wednesday night alerting me to a new load. “I’ll leave it on the bench,” she says. This was her idea, btw. She read somewhere about the brilliance of recycling non-meat items and I picked up on it faster than you can say pork sandwich. Margaret’s father started this hole-in-the-wall take-out joint in the middle of chi-chi downtown Savannah in the mid-60’s as a business venture for his wife and daughter, Margaret. Now Margaret and her daughter, Teresa, run it. This morning’s load had potato skins — white and sweet — the frilly ends of celery, egg shells (from their famous red velvet cake), and the candelabra-like collard spines, which, now that I think about it, kind of resembles a menorah on steroids. As it happens, this week I transferred the old composted fixings — all broken down and rich — to my new driveway garden on 50th street making room for more raw material. Thank you, Margaret!