I am wearing a long prairie skirt, sturdy wellies and an apron. The deep pockets of my skirt are filled with the crunchy grain of chicken feed. I step out of my house and into the yard where a chicken coop stands. As I approach, the chickens become excited. They rush forward as I open the fence and cluck noisily for their breakfast. The sun is peeking over the horizon and the air is warm and sweet.
With one hand I begin to spread the grain on the ground whispering softly to my chickens. They like it when I speak to them over breakfast. The dogs nose along the border of fence, curious and wanting to sniff these clucking bursts of feathers. I shush the dogs and continue past the chickens and into the hen house. In my hand is a basket and a soft dish towel. The hen house is dark and quiet. I make my way to the nests and reach into each one slowly, tentatively.
Some nests are empty, but most contain treasure. One by one the eggs, still warm, go into my basket. Once I have collected them all I say goodbye to the chickens and head back into the house.
That is the end. In my chicken fantasy the sun is always shining, I always have on an adorable prairie skirt and I never actually cook the eggs. I don't eat a lot of eggs come to think of it. And I am chronically overburdened by the pets I already have. However, it is a persistent fantasy, the kind of fantasy that can only be had by a certain kind of housewife. The kind of housewife who can romanticize being thrifty, who fantasizes about raising fowl, who longs not for flashy gems, but who can be content with all of the creatures of her queendom. She is the luckiest housewife of all.
5 comments:
My fantasy is of the chickens grazing on green grass around the yard, even though mine, when I kept them, usually were confined to a muddy and disgusting pen.
Get yourself a few chickens. That will resolve your chicken fantasies-delusions.
In a week you'll be posting about you, a chicken, an axe and a tree stump.
I like your fantasy! I think the ones that could come true are the best!
Hugs, Lisa
Fantasies are just so muh fun, aren't they? The best thing is there is no smell, and you can always imagine that you would actually be happy about being outside at dawn. And don't you feel just a little noble about having fantasies about feeding chickens instead of fantasies of lounging about a pool being served drinks with little umbrellas? Although I seem to be able to manage both..
That's funny. It's the scene from Cinderella. It also would seem to represent "contentment." It's a good fantasy/daydream. Some people pay a lot of money looking for contentment.
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