The green rocking chair has been taken over by farm animals. Minnie and Flo, our barn cats, take turns napping there, in the afternoon the hens come by and settle on the chair. They always seem to be conferring earnestly, like members of congressional committees, only they are a lot more productive. I imagine they are talking about the roots, about what a pest Strut is and men are generally, about the obnoxious dogs who keep running around. Or perhaps they are content with their lives, and simply like to shoot the breeze.