Day 8: Spork

There were no fast food chains in Archbold, Ohio, where I grew up, until a McDonalds moved in when I was in something like 8^th grade.  A few Saturdays each summer, our family would drive our big green Ford twenty minutes to the next town over, where they had a Kentucky Fried Chicken. We’d get a bucket of chicken with all the trimmings (I wanted the mashed potatoes. My brother was all about the biscuits) and head to the park to eat and play catch with our baseball mitts. These outings always felt exotic and special. There was something about the light in those particular trees that was especially vivid and colorful that sparkled differently than any of the other parks where we would picnic or play. 

This painting is on a chicken feather. Chicken on chicken.

Length of Feather: 2 5/8”