Of a Wednesday

Our little eden needed some weeding, and we needed exercise. It could not have been a much more perfect day and evening. On the way back from an after dinner walk, I came upon a little girl pulling a clunky plastic wagon; there seemed to be something loaded into a pile of blankets in the wagon car. It was a chicken, which she introduce to me as "Mrs. Grumbles."
"We have a rooster," she informed me. " And we're going to have thousands of baby chicks, which will be a lot of work." As if on cue, there was a rooster crow from a nearby yard. Good luck to their neighbors.
Eliot's Middlemarch is drawing me in more with every chapter.