Autumn life at Golden Unicorn Farm is ablaze with uncountable vibrant hues of colour. The sumac trees, Virginia Creepers are seething crimsons; the birches garish golds; the maples magnificently glowing with every colour imaginable and the firs retain their gorgeous greens. And, very soon, when the leaves have blown away, the ground is covered with snow; a pure white shroud for the countless fallen leaves, I shall begin to fill some canvases with brilliant colours to retain the autumn spirit and give meaningful pleasure to my soul.
I hear the black Australorp rooster crowing loudly as sunlight glitters across the pasture upon the fallen leaves and mounds of grass; still green from all the rain that's fallen during this past summer. I expect he's gathering his harem of hens; still very young, virginal and not yet laying. The Rhode Island Red rooster has yet to utter a crowing sound, either he is still too young or does not want his presence overly known in case the black one should challenge him. And there should be one more rooster amidst the clucking flock but he has yet to show a bright red crown or make any sound of authority - and then again - perhaps there are no roosters amongst the tufted Ameraucanas, only more hens to be divided between the red and black roosters. The three Polish hens, Flopsy, Topsy and Mopsy (named by Jessica, Sarah's youngest daughter) are on their own; no rooster to make amorous advances towards them. For the most part, since they don't seem to be as smart as the other barnyard hens (more pretty than brainy) it's just as well they don't produce any more like themselves, otherwise, like most evenings, when all the other chickens have returned to their coop to roost, I have to go find them and put them inside.
Since Jack the billy goat was auctioned off awhile back, his Nubian girlfriend Freya doesn't infuriate Luki, (Great Pyrenees guard dog) quite so much; she's learned to keep her distance when he roars defiantly like a miniature lion; especially when their bowls of food are set before them. Next spring, Sarah and I are thinking of adding some ducks to our barnyard menagerie, which means I'll have to dig a small pond for them. I understand, besides being real characters, their eggs are just as delicious as the chicken's and if memory serves me right, less cholesterol too.
So far, and hopefully as the years go by, Sarah and I will continue enjoying our little farm and make it a place that the locals and summertime visitors that inhabit the camps (cottages) along the nearby lakes can enjoy as well. Of course Sarah's little cafe will be open then but it's not all about money, earning a buck; I see the way my Sarah's face lights up when someone complements her on her baking and canning wares. And, we're planning on hosting the Golden Unicorn Arts Festival again next year. Being an artist, I may never have been a starving artist but I know about being a struggling artist, which most of us are, so we're hoping to make the art festival a yearly event so that artists in the surrounding area can produce and sell their wares in a relaxing and friendly atmosphere - make it worthwhile for them to travel the distance to our little art oasis at the base of Green Mountain.
Speaking of Green Mountain, since it's now ablaze with colourful reds, oranges, golds and ocher, perhaps we should temporarily change its name to Fire Mountain - cheers - eh!
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