February 11th
Today we made the executive decision—by “we,” I mean Kiwi stood on the back of a chair, puffed up like a tiny green foreman, and screamed until everyone agreed—that it was time to get serious about the backyard waterfall. Fall may feel far away, but according to Kiwi, planning season waits for no one.
So off we went to Rural King, the one place where you can buy chicken feed, fencing, and a tractor part you didn’t know existed—all in the same aisle.
Kiwi rode in like royalty, perched high and scanning shelves like he was pricing materials in his head. Gravel? Approved. Pond liner? Questionable. Solar pump? He stared at it for a full thirty seconds, which I’ve learned means yes but later.
The Quackers, however, did not make it past the livestock section with their dignity intact.
That’s where they saw them.
The ducklings.
Tiny. Yellow. Peeping like squeaky toys possessed by joy.
The Quackers froze.
All four of them.
One whispered, “Haven’t we… been here before?”
Another swore they remembered choosing ducklings once.
The third looked deeply unsettled and muttered something about “the timeline repeating itself.”
The fourth tried to adopt one before I could blink.
Full-blown déjà vu hit them like a feed-bin to the soul. For a moment, I genuinely thought we were about to relive history in aisle seven.
Peanut, observing from the cart like a judgmental gargoyle, seemed disappointed we weren’t bringing home chaos in a cardboard box.
Eventually, we regrouped in the lumber aisle. Kiwi began outlining the waterfall design by knocking small boards onto the floor in what I assume was a very advanced engineering language. The Quackers recovered enough to debate whether the waterfall should have vibes or mystical energy. Peanut voted for “something fish-adjacent.”
We left with pond stones, tubing, and a suspicious amount of zip ties—because every project requires faith and zip ties.
No ducklings followed us home.
The timeline remains intact.
For now.
Kiwi spent the evening staring out the back window, already imagining the waterfall. I swear I heard him whisper, “Fall is coming.”
I believe him.
No comments:
Post a Comment