Shades of Green (Acres)

Jimmy had not been out of the house for several days, but since he was feeling better, I talked him into riding in the car with me this afternoon while I ran errands. One of our stops was the farmers' market: the vegetables aren't as good as growing your own, but it beats the grocery store.

Several years ago, when we were spending a lot of time at the farm, Jimmy and I tried our hand at gardening, tilling up a small plot of land and planting some vegetables: tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, squash, peas, corn. We didn't produce much of anything but cucumbers (I should have pickled them but I was afraid they'd have a kerosene taste like Aunt Bee's on The Andy Griffith Show), and meager though our output was, we loved it.

During this same time, we had acquired some chickens. Converse Bright had given Jimmy a rooster named Jeff, who seemed lonely, so I drove to Dixie, Georgia, and bought Jeff six hens for companionship. Jeff and his harem of hens roamed freely, laying eggs in the Jeep, and pecking holes in the tomatoes as soon as they ripened.

One morning, as Jimmy left to get into his car to go to work, I heard an anguished, "AARRRGGGH!" Fearing that he had been bitten by a rattlesnake, or attacked by a rabid coyote, I ran outside to the spectacle of an enraged Jimmy chasing after the flapping, squawking chickens, a large stick in hand.

Seeing their reflections in the high gloss of Jimmy's beloved vintage Jaguar convertible, the chickens, in the throes of a fit of narcissism, had pecked off large patches of paint. Had he managed to catch one, we'd have had coq au vin that night, but as it was, Jimmy had to content himself with having a coop built, ASAP.