The beautiful wall hanging is now hanging behind our bed in our newly painted bedroom. The chicken is a different story. We saw this in a toy store window in Williamstown, Mass., and I bought it to give either to Maria, who loved it, or to Robin, my granddaughter.

That was a week or so, and it seems that I put the chicken right about my side of the bed, so I can see it. Sometimes, the hen comes down to my study when I write. Sometimes it sits next to me when I have my Peaceful Hour.

I can’t help but notice that it isn’t heading for New York and for Robin. I’m mulling the implications of this, and in the meantime, I call her Robin The Hen. I think Robin will understand one day, although I’m sure I’ll bring this chicken along when I next visit Robin in Brooklyn.