Thursday, September 12, 2002

Eggs

Luna's eggs are delivered with boastful clucking. Rosie sits modestly, discreetly and she leaves behind brown, classically shaped eggs. Gracie peered curiously in to the boxes, and she sat quietly beside Rosie as she brooded. And yesterday Gracie's time came, and she laid her first egg, next to Rosie's. Rosie's brown egg is speckled, like chocolate flecks across cafe au lait, and Gracie's slightly smaller egg was speckled too, with chocolate flecks on muted mint green.

The boys gathered around Gracie and we all praised her lovely egg. Her breed is known to lay Easter eggs of blue and green. It is still an unexpected sight to see a perfect green egg in a bowl with other perfect, brown eggs. This morning we are listening to hear whether Gracie will cluck with effort and pride, or perhaps she will favor Rosie's humble and shy delivery.

Alex speculated; "Do you think it will have a different flavor, or will it taste the same as the brown eggs?" We are so conditioned to commercial packaging and presentation; I can't help but imagine that Gracie's egg might be chocolate mint flavored with perhaps a small drop of sweet cream filling. Or may be she has produced the first omelet in a shell, with a fresh hint of basil and cheese.

This morning all of the chickens, Sunshine too, are loose in the yard. They made a running dash at the gate when I went to feed them. They must have scratched their strategy in the dirt and rehearsed their escape all night, because they were committed and effective and fast. Moments ago, Sunshine sharpend his beak, pecking at the door beside this computer, and glared in through the window. He evidently has bigger plans; he puffed himself up and gave me one last zap of stink eye, before strutting off to check out the pool and spa.

I'd like to sit and write some more, but Geoff just called; I'm supposed to go to the dumpster and lighten the load for the trash man. The landscapers parting gift was to overload the trash and the pick up service won't haul it away until I have mucked around with it for awhile. Sometimes being witty, strong, and 'at home' is overrated.

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