En havelektion -- A Gardening Lesson

     I dag, medens jeg sad og strikkede, opdagede Skribenten pludselig en høne ude i haven. Naturligvis måtte jeg ud og fange den ind igen. Medbringende hønsespanden gik jeg ud i haven, og der kom en enkelt høne farende. Hm. To mere manglede der i hvert fald. De var omme bag naboens hæk, men inden jeg var nået derom, var hønsene som sunket i jorden. Det var tid for formiddagskaffe, og bagefter kiggede jeg ud gennem vinduet. Der gik en enlig høne bag hækken, men igen ... før jeg havde fået vanter og hue på, var hønen væk. Lidt efter kom naboen ud med en hest. Jeg spurgte hende om hun havde set en høne. Hun svarede nej, og så - Jo, der går to heromme. Jeg løb derom og sammen fik vi gennet en høne ind i vores have, og jeg fik fat på den anden. Det var åbenbart den mest eventyrlystne høne, for den anden fulgte roligt med hen til hønsegården. Alle hønsene fik vand og mad og der faldt ro på i hønsegården.
     Så så jeg mig omkring. Der lå små dynger halvspiste, smattede og halvrådne æbler over det meste af plænen. Nogle lå i små dynger, hvor jeg havde opgivet at rive dem sammen forleden dag, da det tøede. Nu var æblerne frosne! Jeg greb en løvrive, og måtte erkende at det er nemmere og væsentligt mindre lugtende at rive æbler sammen i frostvejr, men vablerne gror lige så hurtigt i kulden.

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Today, as I sat knitting the Writer told me that our hens was out in the garden. Iran out carrying the small bucket with household leftovers for them. One hen came running, I counted, only four, at least two more missing. There they were, behind that hedge in our neighbour's horse paddock. I went to the hedge after getting my mittens, as my fingers were frozen. The hens had disappeared. The writer had made coffee, I went inside and had coffee with him and the Walrus. Then I looked out the window and saw a hen behind the hegde. I once again dressed and went out. No hens to be seen. I felt as if this was hidden camera.
The neighbour lady came out from the stable with a horse some minutes later, I asked her if she had seen any of our hens. She answered No, but after a few seconds - Yes I can see two hens over here. I went to her at top speed, and together we drowe one of the hens into or garden and the other one into my arms. I carried the hen home, and the other lost its taste for adventure and meekly followed. I fed and watered the hens, and peace fell over the chicken coop.

I looked around and noticed that all the half eaten, half rotten apples on our lawn, were frozen. It was a nasty job raking some of them together when it was thawing a week ago. I grasped the rake, and I discovered that raking together apple remains when they're frozen is easier, less smelly, but just as blister raising.

• De fleste af æbleresterne blev revet hen om foden af vores troldpil, der også huser en minikiwi.  Vores have ser vel nok trist ud på denne tid af året. 
• The biggest part of the apple remains were raked up around our corkscrew willow. A hardy kiwi uses the tree as a climbing aid.   Our garden looks bleak and uninviting this time of year.