One never knows when I will pop in and post, being an empty nester, and highly creative of different mediums, time has no relevance on my space. I go with the wind which ever way it blows and sleep when I want, create, do everything when a want. A privilege that comes with aging.
I have raised the children, divorced, had an other half pass this year, a place I thought I'd be for awhile then life comes along and does what she's suppose to life and death go hand in hand, never easy, and can not be stopped.
The other day I went outside to gather the girl's back to the coop. Everyone came, but, Bessie and Ruby. Walking around checking pine tree after pine tree, looking under this and that, calling as I made my way. In my search I stumbled across a flock of loose feather. Knowing in my heart it had to be one of my girl's. I resigned myself to this thing called life and death went back to the coop. Still looking and counting the girls, where are the two. I continued yelling, counting, hoping somehow they just didn't hear me. And there she was, Bessie, my golden girl, eating the oatmeal with raisins I had made for cold days.
Still searching for Ruby not to be found, again I was resigned the hawk had gotten one now. Walking around the back of the pen looking at the girl's and counting, I noticed Bessie, bent over eating from the bowl, neck covered in blood. Running quickly to scoop her up, took her inside saying out loud, oh my God, Bessie. Pouring peroxide on the gaping wound, trying to figure out to mend it, put it back together. This live chicken, wounded, yet not making a sound, I cleaned and covered in neosporin took to the medical pen outside.
Laying her in upon the straw she settled, I walking out as quiet and dark is good for a wounded animal. Opening the door hoping she would survive there stool Ruby, in my delight and sadness, I knew somehow Bessie protected Ruby, she is after all the leader. All were home and one wounded badly.
Bessie nearly five days later is resting with the girls in the coop again. She seems more content, she had lost weight in the drama of it all and I felt she needed to get back to herself, after all, she was doing well despite the fact the wound is healing, yet remains large. My girls free range, however, since Bessie's incident I have kept them closed in the pen, I suppose as a mother would her own children protecting each one.
Yesterday was the first snow experience for them all. Not quite sure what they think, but, nothing seems to faze them. They stand in the rain, soaked, like nothing is happening. Try it sometime, set yourself free and give it a whirl. I've done it many times in the summer, it settles the soul offers inner peace. I even made my first snow angel of the year. How is it we ever get to old to do anything, there is that inner child, she is there, let her play. I do, it just takes a bit of adjusting the aging body, yet it works, and she smiles or laughs. As I did, when I bought a new crocheting book which has a delightful little story and wonderful knowledge.
Thanking all of you for visiting my blog, I am so blessed and grateful.
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