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Herding Chickens

I have wonderful, stupendous, scrumdiddlyumptious news.

I.  Am.  Moving.  To.  Tennessee!

This is a very, very, veerrryy long-awaited move in my life.  Since 2008 I’ve lived in Chicago twice, in-between living in southern Michigan and alternately on the Appalachian Trail, in addition to a few dozen days living in the campgrounds and backcountry of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  I’ve been enchanted with the Smokies ever since my first visit and we’ve been planning to move down there eventually.  Eventually became This Week, and now, in the words of the marvelous Johnny Cash,

“I’m gonna set my feet on southern soil and breathe that southern air.”

My title is true, by the way.  With this stupid staph infection (or whatever it was) on the back of my left knee, I didn’t want to push it with hiking - so I dropped off my husband and father-in-law early on in the trip, amused myself in Cherokee for the day, and spent the evening at the visitor center, where I offered my chicken herding services to a park ranger.  The rooster wasn’t having it so after a quarter of an hour we figured the coyotes wouldn’t catch him either and left him to spend the night in the apple trees.

I can’t wait to spend my weekends in the mountains!

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2 thoughts on “Herding Chickens

  1. I was transplanted from Chicago to Knoxville in the late ’80s. The pace is a little slower, the winters are mild, and the people are invariably polite. I hope you love it!

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