Hardware-Cloth

She said, “But yeah…chicken-coops.” “Chicken-coops in Idaho,” she said.
“Yes,” I said, “Chicken-coops.”
“Chicken-coops in Idaho,” I said.
I told her there were things. Familiar things.
Right angles, and form stakes, and such.
“But does it suit you?” she said. “Your situation,” she said.
“The coops suit me,” I said. “Idaho and chicken-coops suit me.”
“Are you drinking?” she said. “Are you drinking again?” she said.
“I am not drinking,” I said. “There are critters.” I said.
“Raccoons, Weasels and Hawks,” I said. “To account for,” I said.
“Are you taking your vitamins?” she said. “Your vitamins, have you been taking them?”
“I have not,” I said. “I have not been taking them.” “The vitamins,” I said.
“You should, you know,” she said.
“I know,” I said.
I told her there were a number of other things.
Un-familiar things. Things to scrutinize.
Things one might examine. But I was not specific.
The fall colors,” she said. “Spectacular, the canyon,” she said.
“Snow soon I suppose,” I said. “Winter,” I said.
“The tomatoes,” she said. “The tomatoes did real good.”
I told her about the soil. Her dirt.
The carbon/nitrogen ratio. I told her of this one thing.
But there were the chickens to consider.

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