Kate Richards

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Visit Drinking with Chickens

I spend a lot of time in the garden. Probably too much. Most days I'm out there digging feverishly like a feral forest child--hissing at anyone who disturbs me during my garden Zen. LEAVE ME TO MY DIGGING! I'm burying magical things that will grow into...well, cocktails. Because, somewhere along the line, that's what the garden became: a place to grow happy hour ingredients. Furthermore, said cocktails are always consumed in said garden. It's the circle of life. And where do chickens fit into all this? E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. You can't make a move in this garden of ours without a feathered helper directly underfoot. The chickens play an integral role here, with all their bug-eating, and composting, and well-intended but slightly misdirected pruning skills. Their fresh, gorgeous eggs and happy-hour-in-the-garden comedic relief is worth the fact that they routinely make off with our drink garnishes.

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