Perhaps As the Oldest Star....

...as fragile as hope,

..as impermanent as a breath in the wind,

as fleeting as a split second:

She captures the fog and the morning air. She weaves the stars and light. She is Penelope, Ariadne and Athena. She is Elaine of Astolat, and we are her daughters when the wind rocks our world, taking away our life lines. We pick up like her, weave our hopes and dreams back together, and in the process, create beauty. At our best we are filled with patience and determination. We are able to hold the beauty of the world. We know that all in life passes too quickly, but we hold fast to that which matters when we are able.

We know that there is strength in fragility. The warp and the weft of our lives forms our purpose and intent.

Best to all, e.

Chicken Tails....

.....Well, as usual here at the Bumbling Blogger, I do get my photos mixed up, but I will ignore this and soldier on.

 Sometime after I put this little space to bed I got some chickens. They were almost adolescents by the time my pen was ready. Hence, the inability to tame them and still the problem of sexing them. I started with an "A" and went through the alphabet. That rooster that you see was named Alice. He has subsequently been called Alice the Phallus. He is a good rooster;not a mean bone in his body.

There is Betty the little Leghorn, so dependable. She is the postal person of the chicken world. Neither snow nor sleet nor darkness of the night gets in the way of her appointed rounds. She damned well lays. Hooray for tiny Betty.

There is Carmen, the Sex Link (I think) who delivers the most huge eggs. It's a wonder that she can still walk. Oh, the pain!

 And, then there is Mrs. Dickens, as in Mrs. Charles Dickens who lost her counterpoint because Charles Dickens was meaner than a snake, untrustworthy and a general degenerate of the highest order. He was capable of striking fear into the heart of the most brave of chickens, not to mention the hearts of the humans who live here. Mrs. Dickens was never one to overwhelm you with eggs: One here, mark four or five days or maybe six... sometimes twelve days later; and then Mrs. D. disappeared. She disappeared into nowhere. I was convinced that she was dead as a doornail. A week went by and she finally appeared and all of the little chicken brains from the rest  of the flock did not recognize her. They pecked at her (oh, the loser of The Dances with the Chickens). She ran off again, came back, disappeared again, was lost forever, or so I thought.

And then, that little Dickens won Survivor. She came back with FOURTEEN, mark it 14 babies.

She did it all herself. I don't know where she put those beautiful cerulean eggs, but she did it! Everyone left them alone.She was in charge. Go, Mrs. Dickens.  They grew and grew and grew.

Mrs. Dickens is a hero. The Little Dickens flourished.

I am sorry to end the story with a bit of ghoulishness.

Our hen house could not support the addition of those fourteen.

They grew and grew, and eventually they fed a family that needed some food and nourishment. 

Mrs. D. has gone on to lay more and more eggs. She's a good girl as is my beloved Betty, Carmen, Delilah, Edith, Francine, Georgianna, Hester, Iris and Jasmine. There was one of Mrs. D's children to escape the Grim Reaper. I am sorry to note that he is an absolute carbon copy of Charles. I regret to say that his days are numbered, his candle burns at both ends and that he will soon grace another simmering pot for a deserving family.

I would recommend chickens to anyone who is able to have them. They perk you up, they make you laugh, they bring joy to your world as you watch the spraddled walk and run they do. It's all good, though I do not wish you a Charles. Oh, and of course, there are the yummy eggs.

Best to all, e.

It Was My Birthday A Few Days Ago.....

I can't believe I am here.

If I were a house, I would need a new roof, new windows and plumbing.

If I were a cheese, the bloom would be a mold.

If I were a bottle of wine, no one would be able to afford me.

If I were a book, I would be collectible or out of print.

If I were a movie, I would be in black and white.

If I were a candle, I would have burned and burned and burned, out and out and out and out and out.

If I were a radio, I would be big and huge and I would be blasting out The Lone Ranger, Boston Blackie,  The Shadow, Stella Dallas, and Bull Dog Drummond, Hopalong Cassidy (sp? for all of these).

I would be able to go to the movies for eleven cents.

I would be forbidden to swim or go to the movies when during Polio Season.

If I were a dresser, a table, or a desk, there would be scratches, nicks, ink stains and a hundred memories etched in to my beautiful patina.

If I were a tree in a small village, I might be surrounded by a beautiful fence and be declared a treasure.

I am all of these things, and none of these things.

I am so amazed that I was once that little tiny girl with the small kitten:Barefoot, unaware, open to so much that was to come. Joys, sadness, flight and always coming back home.

I didn't have a smile there..too much concentration on the kitten, 

but my smile is wide now and one can take a ride on it. That wee person is still me, though like a book, my binding is cracked and the words on my spine disappear.

I am at once amazed, afraid and so very, very grateful for all that has been given to me.

best to all, e.

Mother Nature's Gifts.....

We have a fairly good sized wholesale nursery.

Each winter my husband and oldest son spend weeks pruning our Japanese Maples.

Sometimes they find beautiful treasures in those maples. The birds have moved on. The nests have been empty for several months.

I am so happy to have them. All year long I gather moss, leaves, acorns and oak galls. I dry some of my sunflowers and then put them in these gorgeous jars. My pictures do not do justice to the nests...such intricate beauty;so fragile in appearance. Birds and spiders, Mother Nature's finest engineers.

Best to all, e.

Visitors...

 .....some are unexpected gifts,

 ....some are fleeting and so welcome. They bless my life for a moment.

Some will stay on my book shelf, staring at me with affection and beauty.

Best to all, e. (Can you all tell that I am still unable to separate photos and words the way I want to? Oh, for a mentor.)

Happy New Year

2010 wasn't the easiest year for me. It dropped an emergency surgery my way and then when I was finally getting up to speed, a broken leg. All in all, it kept me housebound for about six months. It's a good thing that I love being home.

It also brought lots of joy, kindness from many people and hysterically funny and warm moments with my dear family.

It was a good year and I am hoping for another gift of a good year, though I'd like to skip the medical traumas.

 

May the new year be filled with many blessings for all and for those you hold dear.

Best to all, e.