Sorry I'm late
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I usually write these newsletters on Sunday, often in the morning. Now it's Monday. Yesterday was a busy day for me. I had both a picnic and rehearsal with the choir yesterday, so I got up early to make the pasta salad I brought to the picnic. It was also time for me to bake the bars of birth control I feed the rats. (That's a story for another time.) By the time everything was cooked, baked, or made, I had to get ready and leave the house.
The picnic was lovely. The park was beautiful, and shady. The weather was sunny, not hot. We played a bingo game that forced us to walk around and get to know each other. I found so much joy in talking with the guys. I was surprised. I sit with the women, and I generally only chat with the women around me. The men and I had conversations. I enjoyed it so much. We are an LGBTQIA+2S group, and sorted out by voice. I hadn't had the chance to meet so many of the guys until the game forced us all to talk to each other. Such a fun time.
Then we had rehearsal and ran our upcoming show all the way through. Wow. Our director, Dr. Tim Seelig (renowned, you can google him) came out of retirement to become our director. We are so very lucky to have him. He knows how to get the best from each of us, and how to blend our voices.
Then I came home expecting to finish my writing, do my Spanish lessons, and relax. But when I drove up, my daughter was standing in the front yard, sobbing. She said she thought our hen Lizz was dying. She wasn't wrong, though we spent hours trying to make Lizz better, then I held her and she died in my arms.
My only photo today is one of our three wonderful hens. French Marrons, three years old. Now we have only two: Lola and Ida.
I hope you have wonderful living beings in your life, whether plant, animal, insect, or from the waters. I'd love to hear about the living things you love.
A fantastic post Sandra. I passed the post to Susan as soon as I saw the photo of Liz, Lola and Ida. It was a couple of minutes before she passed my iPad back to me with a look on her face and I knew! I knew it was not a happy ending but, then again, you have Lizz to remember forever, like I remember Henny Penny and Darkie from my childhood days. I could not go out into the garden without them following and waiting for me outside the scullery door if they had been let out of their chicken run. They all look beautiful and your description of the day and the picnic made me feel as if I was there. A great piece of writing and, like Susan in comments before me, we would love to know more about your rat birth control bars, as we have a family of rats living in our rockery which we would like to see ‘relocated’ instead of killed. A story I told some time ago which, maybe, I should tell again. A lovely photo that, seeing my Susan’s face, made me think immediately of John Berger’s ‘Ways of Seeing’ and his essay on photography. Maybe the best yet, up there with some of your memorable ‘life’ stories. ❤️🐰Robert.
I lost both my elderly Barred Rocks--Roxie and Moxie--last fall, within 3 days of one another, a couple of weeks *before* avian flu was announced in the county south of us. No idea if it was flu or not, but it does seem sadly coincidental. I still miss them. First time I've been without chickens since 2005, when we built the "new" coop. Decided against baby chicks--just too much work for somebody (me) with a bad back.
We need that story about the rat birth control bars, Sandra! Please reveal all!