Just a few of my favorite pics.

Sweet Glory. She is so cute!


"The stand off". Milo giving Brewster the stink eye before he draws his pistol from his holster.


Brewster telling me he is the king of the castle.

Black Copper Marans

I must admit that raising chicks is my very least favorite thing to do. They poop a lot. For some reason, their water is their toilet of choice. They also like to kick their feed out of the feeder. They must have a heat lamp on them. Their brooder must be cleaned daily, other wise it is just disgusting. In short, they can be a lot of work.

There are some perks. Raising chicks is economical. I like making sure my chickens come from respectable blood lines. Chickens of those sorts can come with a price tag too. It's cheaper to get them young. I have to admit it isn't all for practical reasons. They are a lot of fun too. With each new clutch we learn something new and exciting.

So we all have to make sacrifices in order to get what we want. In the meantime, I am going to be scrubbing off the chicken poo for at least ten more weeks!


If you are interested in learning more about this breed check out www.maransofamericaclub.com

Play for me.

Play for me.

Through the woods I hear the melody.
Yes, its calling me.
As leaves rustle beneath my bare feet,
I search for the sounds I hear.
Each strum draws me near.


O' play another one, baby.
Play another one for me.
O' please no "maybe".
Play me a sweet sweet melody.

Your radiant smile I finally reach.
I am close enough to hear your heart beat.
Sitting at your feet,
putting each care to rest.
I curl my knees close to my chest.



O' play another one, baby
Play another one for me.
O' please no "maybe".
Play me a sweet sweet melody.


Fighting back the tears to cry.
I close my eyes,
still, tears drip down off my chin,
Just for a thousand more to drip down again.
O, tell me when.

Play another one, baby.
Play another one for me.
O' please no "maybe's"
Play me a sweet sweet melody.

Bring me to my knees.
Play just for me . . . .just for me baby,
my melody.

- Leigh

He slips

He slips out the back,
trying to find his way in.
He jumps over the hands that were ment to hold him up.

Searching for his place
where his soul is found.

The grass waves and coils against his face,
as he barries his heart in the ground.

The golden leaves tremble as he waits alone.
Little does he know she also waits,
With tiny dimonds spread across her face.
Prayers boardcast the sky.

As the suspicion starts to blow
She bows down to hide.

He runs through the fields
The wind tangles him in leaves and mud.
Screams to heaven "enough".

The branches sway
crackling through the breeze.

He ancitpates the crashing of his knees.
"Dont leave me", sissy pleads

and she runs,
She runs. She runs to him. She runs.

Eyes are empty as his grave.
We wait,
while little red rubbies drip down his face.
waiting for him,
waiting to find his place.

Connotation

Securing, cradling, embracing,



gradually forcing, piece by piece to grow weary and fall...

Matters of the Heart

Your sweet kisses on my brow,
have me feeling now.

My chest rises and falls for the love of you.
Familiar is fate,
but desire . . .deep . . .true.

Your gentle breath leaves dew on my lips,
as you run your fingers along my hips.

Just . . dont say it now.
I am feeling it some how.

Your chest rises and falls with the beat of my heart.
Centers touch,
gravity lifts apart.

The tingle on your skin
starts to blend.

Sha. . .the sounds we hear.
The bitter sweet end is near.

I glide my hand across your chin,
as we dance this dance again.

Tears whisk across my face,
I let go of our last embrace.

So, I kiss you, the last ounce of my heart.
Not a word is whispered,
Sweet placid silence,
Our wasted bodies shift apart.

-Leigh

Beyond This Face

I listen to him breathe,
Trace his lips with mine.
There is no other Place,
Beyond this face.

I count to ten,
As I try to pretend.
There is no other place,
Beyond this face.

I pray that eternity is a friend of mine
Once careful paths begin to divide
There is no other Place
Above . . . Below . . . .Beyond this face.

I inhale the heat of each touch.
I see them watching me.
As I sway through the crowd.
Parting a sea.

There is no leaving
No loving but needing
There is no other place,
Beyond his face.

Leigh