I looked out on my chook yard earlier this week at twilight
and admired the string of solar lights strung along the fence.
“They look quite nice,” I commented to Scotto in a vague,
half-hearted manner.
And they did. They were a subtle and delicate, ornamental
addition to our idyllic little garden.
Scotto must have really cherished the uncommon praise
because the very next night, after I arrived home from work, he dragged me to
the window and gestured out to the yard with the type of expectant, hopeful
look on his face that invited gushing admiration.
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| Does not show what it actually looks like! |
Festooned with a plethora of glittering lights rivalling
Clark Griswold’s elaborate and decorative creation in National Lampoon’s Christmas
Vacation, my chook yard glowed like Kiev after the Chernobyl meltdown. Chicken
Kiev.
“Was there a sale on at Bunnings?” I asked in astonished
wonder. “Do you think the neighbours might complain?”
Scotto grinned and shrugged.
“Oh well,” I sighed. “As long as the chickens don’t mind
sleeping in downtown Las Vegas every night. And as long as we don’t have a
Jumbo Jet land in our backyard because the pilot mistakes it for the
Coolangatta airport runway, it should be alright.”
Scotto loves colourful lights. Don’t get me wrong, so do I,
but clearly my husband is secretly harbouring a desire to live in Santa’s
workshop.
“Wait until Christmas!” he enthused, his eyes taking in the
display with rapture. “You should see what I’ve planned for the front yard!”
Since the installation of this spectacular light exhibition,
I’ve noticed a lot of strange looking and various shaped poops in the garden. I’m
imagining all the tiny rainforest critters are emerging from the leafy foliage
at night and converging on our backyard for Mardi gras time.
No wonder the dogs are so restless
at night.
I can just picture all the little bandicoots, koalas and
possums frolicking around, getting high on bottle brush and terrorising the
wild eyed chooks every night.
At least they’re solar lights and don’t use electricity, I
suppose.
Even so, some people should not be allowed to go to Bunnings
without a responsible carer.
