Word: hut
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...inhabited by thirty black hens which were delivered at dead of night by Mrs. Clement. "This is the best time to transport hens" apparently. Louis and I had been busy for a week putting up an escape proof fence (we hope) and turning one end of the play hut into a replica Hilton Hotel, roosts, nest boxes etc. So now we have the gentle chucking of hens and the occasional cackle when one or the other manages to lay an egg (eight today...
...evidence of the letters supports his dissent. Lawrence repeatedly expressed his abhorrence of physical contact with any fellow creature, female or male. He puzzled over fairly basic questions: "The period of enjoyment, in sex, seems to me a very doubtful one. I've asked the fellows in this hut (three or four go with women regularly). They are not sure: but they say it's all over in ten minutes: and the preliminaries -- which I discounted -- take up most of the ten minutes. For myself, I haven't tried it, & hope...
...Sammataro-Hutchinses would love to keep up with the Joneses. "Forms aren't long enough to accommodate my whole name," says Debra Sammataro- Hutchins, who owns a children's clothing store in Melrose, Mass. Says her husband Robert: "My credit cards have me as Sammataro Hut. When I try to sign a check, I run out of room." The family's insurance reimbursements are bogged down because records do not match. The couple have to maintain an extra listing in the phone book so their children's friends can find them under Hutchins. "Ten years ago, when I married...
...scraps of clothing, pieces of furniture and broken dishes. Women with colorful head scarves plodded along, carrying heavy bundles of clothing salvaged from the wreckage; some carried buckets of water from distribution trucks. Most people lived in military tents, but Manuel Lambaryan and seven friends stayed in a makeshift hut built from the beams of his crumpled house, with a roof stitched from clothing. "This was a beautiful town, full of friends," he said...
...first light Mercius Pierre rises and leaves the stuffy interior of his mud hut. He opens the door and window that have been shut tight against strangers and the loups-garous, the werewolves that stalk the nights of the superstitious. Pierre's movement stirs up the rats nesting in the thatched roof, as well as his wife Annaise and three young daughters. Annaise lights a fire with a few scarce twigs, then boils coffee with the last drops of water from a gourd and sweetens it with a piece of sugarcane. Her daughter Melina, 6, places the gourd...