oh

I wander out at sunrise to water making my way through a flock of yard grazing chickens.

At the garden the gate hangs open.

Beyond more chickens.

I am afraid to enter and find what I know is waiting for me.

Carnage.

I step inside the fence. 

Chickens are working away like mini tornadoes.

They are in the tomatoes, in the carrots, in the onions, in melon and cucumber patch.

Anything ripe is eaten or uprooted.

Even the radish tops are picked clean.

I look back to the sleeping house.  

My eyes follow the garden hose running the wrong way out the gate.  

The hose with its black loopy coils is pulling the gate wide open.  

Whoever borrowed the garden hose unknowingly also opened the garden.

I follow the hose it snakes the grass ending connected to a machine I don’t recognize- is that snowblower in September?

Then I look closer.

Oh.

BC’s power washer.

>sigh<

should have known