A friend and I stopped by Blogging Poet Billy Jones’ house on Tuesday afternoon, where he was waiting for the Bicentennial Torch Run to pass through. We went to Billy’s to pick up a bicycle that he repaired and was donating for another friend who needed transportation, after recently moving from homelessness to housing.

bike from Billy
photo: The first bike Billy donated. He already has a second one ready to donate.

While we were at Billy’s house, we met his chickens and I got to hand-feed two of them. (One is shy.) The neighbor kids saw us through the fence and called out, “Hey Santa, can we come feed the chickens?” The kids call Billy “Santa” because of his beard and because he plays Santa each year at Christmas. He told them to ask their moms and come over if it was OK, and it was, so they did. Soon there was a row of outstretched, corn-filled, young hands, accompanied by big eyes and quiet whispers, beckoning to Billy’s chickens.

feeding Billy's chickens
photo: A row of young hands reach out to feed Billy’s chickens.


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A quiet afternoon on Santa Billy’s bike and chicken (urban) farm. Way cool.

P.S. Thanks for the bike, Billy. Our friend had it taken apart in no time — cleaning, oiling and polishing the parts — and he’s already making plans to find some new handlebars. You’d be surprised what all gets thrown out over by the colleges. One of his housemates found a perfectly good mountain bike in the trash and repaired it with the help of a nice guy at a nearby service station. Our friend thinks he can find some good handlebars by scouting around what other people throw out. Gives a whole new meaning to “freecycling,” doesn’t it? ;)

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