The Most Prolific Lilac, and Chicken Pen Addition

I expanded the chicken pen so that it is twice the size that it was. When I took down the old fence that divided the two sections, the chickens lined up along the edge of the new area, but wouldn't go into it. They walked up and down, stretching their necks to look and sample the grass. After several attempts to convince them to cross the line, I finally grabbed some chicken feed and enticed them to venture forth. Once they realized that the space was theirs, they loved it. For the two days that it has been there, they have not wanted to spend any time in the old area, which has been scratched bare. They like the grassy area and spend their time lying in it of eating the greenery.

Today I made a good gate using the wood I once tried to use for a ladder for the chickens. This gives a stable piece of fence that I can open and close. I secure it with a bungee cord, which is much better than curling the floppy wire around a post like I did before. Feeling accomplished, I turned to look at my late-blooming lilac which is beside the pen. It is loaded with blossoms which are just beginning to fade, long after the rest of the lilacs in Eastport have died. It is a huge tree heavily laden with blooms, dragging spring into the summer.

The fourth of July looms. The normally empty streets are beginning to fill up with the cars of visitors here for the festivities. The road out onto the breakwater is blocked off to traffic so that vendors can set up their fried dough, hot sausage, funnel cake, lemonade, and other festival food booths. Flags fly from the telephone poles and signs advertise the pancake breakfast or the strawberry shortcake sale on the library steps. Everywhere there is evidence of preparation . It's the familiar atmosphere of Eastport readying itself for the huge celebration.

David and I went to the Moose Island Follies tonight. My enthusiasm for the town, my love of the people here, was brought to the fore once again as I marvelled at the talent evident here. I marveled at the three girls I have watched grow from babies barely able to hold their violins, into beautiful, accomplished musicians. What gorgeous girls, what incredible talent. How could I not have hope for the future when I see them, or the little boy who hugged me at age five, now a young man getting ready to leave for college, performing a haunting cello piece. Other young people worked alongside the adults as actors, performers, stage hands, food servers, and any other jobs that needed doing. It makes me worry that the world may not be worthy of them, that things may have already gone to far to be salvaged, that generations of human beings have ruined the earth for them and they may not have futures they ought to be able to take for granted.