I love black-capped chickadees. Their distinctive songs are the two-note descending major second and “chick-a-dee-dee-dee-dee-dee”. They fly around in happy little groups in the dead of winter, impervious to gloom and cold.
In another corner of my neighborhood, there is a robust icon of Milwaukee: Champion Chicken.
I’m not sure there’s a point to this post. Sometimes I just like to look at the juxtaposition of human stuff and non-human stuff on this planet because it brings up some questions and some emotions. Yeah, we ate their food. It’s very close to Steve’s mom’s house, so she treated us to lunch after we shoveled for her. It was tasty and greasy. I hadn’t had fried chicken in a long time. Steve remembers frequenting this place throughout his childhood. He has an appreciation of American kitsch and collects/recycles/sells it online. Is it history? Is it eyesore? Is it embarrassing?
What do you think?