From Field Notes, the book:
I said to this man who happened to live on seventy-two acres,
"You have lots of room here for chickens."
"I would love to have chickens," he replied.
Actually, that could be the moment I truly fell in love with him.
You see? Birds of a feather want to have eggs together.
I was destined to marry the man who could make my dream
of a chicken coop in the backyard a reality.
I was reluctant to lose my yellow chicken coop so he suggested coloured steel. The closest colour to sunny yellow was bile gold and since we see this building from every window on that side of the house, and whenever we come and go from the house, there was no way I was spending the rest of my life looking at that hideous colour (it made chartreuse look good).
"Leave it with me," the country boy said, and while that's not always a good thing -- my sense of aesthetics being further advanced than his -- I trusted him.
The only glitch is that it doesn't look like a coop anymore; I think it's morphed into the chicken cabin.
My country boy designed the stone step himself with rock from the quarry in Wallace and surprised me by painting the door and windows to match our house. And he made sure to restring the Christmas lights. Collective "Aaaaahhhh...!"
And although I can't reveal details yet, this has inspired his next, most ambitious building project -- but that's top secret classified until next summer...