A weed is just a plant out of place?
I think this is “henbit” – fascinating name, especially given my current fascination with chickens! I’ve always like this weed – it’s fuzzy, it’s purple-ish, and the tiny blossoms always light up in the sunshine. If you pick a stem, and look VERY close, you’ll see that those blossoms are almost like orchids, with deep purple spots down inside their fuzzy throats. Lovely!
Technicolor Betty
This IS Betty… I think. With chickens, it’s hard to say.
When I went to Tracy’s to take a few photos, she opened the nest box door of the Palais des Poulets and said, “Quick!” And there was Betty, reigning supreme. All fluffed up in the warmest, coziest corner. Talk about your photo op… I felt like such an intruder, but intrude I did. It was worth it, because now her simple form, her elegant shape, can be studied, capture, preserved, celebrated.
She is black, with a red comb, and a caramel beak. But black is in the eye of the beholder. I see feather upon feather, black over purple and green and pink. Layer upon layer of rich, fine line as filaments meet and link to form feathers. Have you ever really explored a feather? Pull the little lines apart, smooth them back. It’s nature’s zipper, reassembling itself magically.
And what is black? It is purple plus yellow, red plus green, orange plus blue. I was amazed to learn that all complementary colors in paint add up to black. A black feather is a rainbow on a quill.
Betty, you are not ugly.
"Do you think we should eat this stuff or not?"
I think it is one of the wonders of our time that you can order chicks from Back East, and they arrive in the mail alive and cheeping! And adorable. My favorites were the ones who looked like chipmunks, stripes starting at their eyeline and going all the way down their fuzzy backs.
Lesson from this sketch: just like baby people, baby chickens do not come with necks. I didn’t get the head close enough to the body… next time!