If you have no idea what in the Fabiola is going on here --
the story starts here
Continues here
then goes to there
wound around here
And now it continues ... (but doesn't end, somehow you knew that would happen dealing with the Fab, now didn't you?)
Root-beer (the traveling chicken) Goes to Austin Part 4
Awaking from her long nap safe in the branches of the Treaty Oak, Root-beer realized that she was a little peckish. "What chicken wouldn’t be after all the adventures I have had" clucked Root-beer to herself. Fanning the air towards her nose with her wing, Root-beer realized that she could smell peach cobbler baking somewhere nearby. You may not know this but chickens have a fine ability to detect scents and Root-beer had a particularly acute sense of smell and wild fondness for fresh baked peach cobbler.
Root-beer carefully put her hat back on top of her head and re-fastened it with the hat pin that helped her to escape from the mini-van then jumped down from her perch in the Treaty Oak to the lawn.
Root-beer’s fine sense of chicken smell told her that the peach cobbler was baking to the south- west, so she trotted down Baylor Street to 5th street where her nose turned her left. Just a few hundred feet later, a right turn took her to North Lamar Boulevard. Root-beer followed North Lamar Boulevard for about a half mile smiling and waving at the folks out and about on this fine evening, almost everyone waved back, although some of them looked a little confused. In a hurry now, Root-beer scampered left on Riverside and followed that until Haywood Avenue and the smell of peach cobbler were just to the right.
As Root-beer was just arriving, someone was exiting a door that lead to the wonderful smell that she had been following, so in she scooted and sat down at a table at the world famous Threadgill’s. Being a well brought up chicken, Root-beer ordered glazed carrots for dinner (Root-beer’s mother, like all mothers everywhere and every when, told Root-beer to eat all her vegetables before desert), and the wonderful peach cobbler the smell of which she had been following all the way from the Treaty Oak.
When dinner was done and every last scrap of carrots and cobbler was cleaned up, Root-beer headed out the door to the sidewalk where she started planning how she was going to get back to the Farmer’s market.
the story starts here
Continues here
then goes to there
wound around here
And now it continues ... (but doesn't end, somehow you knew that would happen dealing with the Fab, now didn't you?)
Root-beer (the traveling chicken) Goes to Austin Part 4
Awaking from her long nap safe in the branches of the Treaty Oak, Root-beer realized that she was a little peckish. "What chicken wouldn’t be after all the adventures I have had" clucked Root-beer to herself. Fanning the air towards her nose with her wing, Root-beer realized that she could smell peach cobbler baking somewhere nearby. You may not know this but chickens have a fine ability to detect scents and Root-beer had a particularly acute sense of smell and wild fondness for fresh baked peach cobbler.
Root-beer carefully put her hat back on top of her head and re-fastened it with the hat pin that helped her to escape from the mini-van then jumped down from her perch in the Treaty Oak to the lawn.
Root-beer’s fine sense of chicken smell told her that the peach cobbler was baking to the south- west, so she trotted down Baylor Street to 5th street where her nose turned her left. Just a few hundred feet later, a right turn took her to North Lamar Boulevard. Root-beer followed North Lamar Boulevard for about a half mile smiling and waving at the folks out and about on this fine evening, almost everyone waved back, although some of them looked a little confused. In a hurry now, Root-beer scampered left on Riverside and followed that until Haywood Avenue and the smell of peach cobbler were just to the right.
As Root-beer was just arriving, someone was exiting a door that lead to the wonderful smell that she had been following, so in she scooted and sat down at a table at the world famous Threadgill’s. Being a well brought up chicken, Root-beer ordered glazed carrots for dinner (Root-beer’s mother, like all mothers everywhere and every when, told Root-beer to eat all her vegetables before desert), and the wonderful peach cobbler the smell of which she had been following all the way from the Treaty Oak.
When dinner was done and every last scrap of carrots and cobbler was cleaned up, Root-beer headed out the door to the sidewalk where she started planning how she was going to get back to the Farmer’s market.