The new acrylic painting, trying some different subject matter while staying in the aviary mood. My grandparents had an egg ranch when I was little, five hen houses. It was an everyday of the week job, gathering the eggs, candling them, washing them, buffing them, packing them. I hated the chickens, though. They were mean to me, pecking me when I tried to help with the gathering. Then I came on my first soft-shelled one. Ick. And spent the rest of my time playing in the feed bin or sussing out litters of feral kittens that were hidden all over the ranch. So here is an homage to the Mill Station Road ranch, and a big raspberry to the guy in the egg truck that ran over my doll in her buggy, even if I did happen to leave it in the driveway.
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