So my final fridays are a little different than they used to be. No art walks and wine tastings here. On the last Friday of every month, we go to the Yoder chicken auction. Mennonites to methheads, and everything in between. It’s a trip.
Some sort of pheasant. Looks like someone got a new box of 64 crayons and went to town. There were peacocks and parakeets, bunnies on a date and a goat on a leash. We bought four bales of straw, an axe, ten crates, two heated chicken waterers, and 26 planks of cedar.
Also, I’m not quite sure, but I think you could buy tribbles.
Then everybody goes to Carriage Crossing, a restaurant with two parking lots: one for carriages and tractors, and one for cars.