Once in a Lifetime... Maybe

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Of all the things we humans will never get to do in our lifetimes, I think that going into outer space and seeing a chicken lay an egg… in person… are the two least likely to happen.

I can  now cross the latter off of that list.

So, this morning I go out to feed the chickens and gather the eggs that I didn’t gather last night. (Bad Farmer. Bad, bad Farmer).

There’s a hen sitting in the number one nesting box. I figure she’s thinking that since I didn’t collect the eggs last night, they’re hers to sit on. Think again Chicky.

I reach to get the eggs. She pecks me. Whatever. We spar a bit and finally I get her to stand up. She’s straddling three eggs. They’re gross. All muddy or poopy, I don’t know which, but I don’t want her sitting on them. And while I’m trying to find a clean spot to pick them up by, Fonk! A friggin’ egg flies out of no where and hits my hand.

At first I thought the egg was one of last night’s that had rolled up behind the hen when she stood, then rolled back down while she was harassing me for taking the poopy eggs. I guess my brain did not want to accept that I had just witnessed an egg shoot out of a chickens butt, let alone that I almost caught it. And I do mean shoot out. That hen was throwing some crazy heat.

And really, whose brain would want to accept this. The odds of this happening have got to be stupendous—at least as stupendous as getting to ride on the Space Shuttle. But there it was: a shiny wet, new brown egg. Fresh out of the oven.

I love possibilities.

Think: Spring Chicken

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That’s my thought for today. I have twenty some odd logs to saw up and I will need all the spring chicken that I can muster.

Also, I think I’ve conclude (just this morning) that I’m no longer interested in the Truth; only the Possibilities. I mean, isn’t there only supposed to be one Truth? Bore. Ing. Possibilities however, are endless. I’m all about that. In fact, possibly could possibly be my new favorite word.

Anyway, I would highly recommend an oilless deep fryer for your Thanksgiving turkey. And I would also highly recommend that you let Sherry make your stuffing. Yum!

How Great is it...

...to sleep in until 6:30 and find out it is only 5:30?

So yesterday, I wrote and wrote.

Then I worked on my shingle machine while I waited for Denny to get Garth Brooks tickets.

Then he and I went to Chuck and Sherry’s and cut down a tree that was going to squash their house someday.

We pulled it and pushed it and cut a notch in it and it didn’t fall on the house at all.

But the tree’s boyfriend caught it...

 like a Love story.

So we cut him down too.

And both of them fell right on the brush pile...

Like the end of a sad sad Love story.
But I didn't cry
because Lumberjacks don't do that kind of thing...
around other Lumberjacks anyway. 

And today...

(if I’m lucky),

(which I most always am)

I’ll get to have oilless deep fried turkey.

Which might be a Love story for someone.

The End.

oh... and I caught a baby bat.

I'm not sure but...

I think I have adogatickleosis. It's making it very difficult to get the Gypsy wagon ready.

Thanks to Axelle Red... and Stephanie

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Doggers and I are going to become Gypsy Kings and wear leather breeches and hoop earrings.

 

We’re going to build a wagon with shingles and a smoke stack and a honeybee, and hook it to a mule named Marcus Aurelius and travel from one end of the farm to the other...then back.

 

We’re going to camp out under full moons, new moons, blue moons and harvest moons.

 

We’re going to build bonfires and play mandolins with curly headstocks, and sing and dance like dust devils.

 

We’re going to make two Gypsy Queens out of smoke and starshine, and the four of us will see more of the World than has ever been seen.

 

We’re going to eat nothing but yogurt and raisins and peaches all year, and honey from bees in a tree.

 

We’ll laugh and we’ll stomp and we’ll never come home because home is right where we’ll be.

But not Delmar.

Delmar licked the butter.

Coincidence?

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I think not.

Let It Be

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Today, I will carry my mountain down with me in my pocket.

I will be seen… not heard.

And eventually they will forget about me…

Like they have the trees.