All About Hens / Chickens

Have you ever seen a pessimistic hen?   I have; just once, around Eastertime...

I go on working for the same reason that a hen goes on laying eggs. -- H L Mencken

Gentleness doesn't get work done unless you happen to be a hen laying eggs. -- Coco Chanel

Noise proves nothing. Often a hen who has merely laid an egg cackles as if she laid an asteroid. -- Mark Twain

Just to settle it once and for all: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The egg, laid by a bird that was not a chicken. -- Neil deGrasse Tyson

Patriotism is as fierce as a fever, pitiless as the grave, blind as a stone, and irrational as a headless hen. --Ambrose Bierce

It may be the cock that crows, but it is the hen that lays the eggs. -- Margaret Thatcher

I fondly remember a favourite hen in my youth who was a prolific egg-producer.  She gave and she gave. We'd eat and eat.  (I do recall seeing her followed by a bunch of little, yellow chicks at least once). 

She did what was expected of her and knew to whom she belonged.  She'd come running when I called for din-din time.   I could count on seeing her  (and our 3 dogs, kitty and 2 pigs)  like clockwork. Day in, day out.

Life was consistent and good in our little corner of the Province.  It didn't last.  We moved to the USA and left everything behind except for a couple of suitcases and the clothes on our back. Who took care of our beloved pets/animals?  I never heard my parents discuss it, but one animal was butchered. News conveyed thru a letter. Damn.  The house and lot went back to the legal owners.  I resorted to praying for the other animals' well-being for months afterwards, but I never knew what befell the rest of them.

O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.

 So is this great and wide sea, wherein are things creeping innumerable, both small and great beasts.

Ps 104:24-25

Figural Chicken Plate

6.10.2.18

Why I do not ♥ this picture

Sept 5, 2009

There's Dad...as usual.  Standing by the door of my childhood home as we piled into our van for the return trip home. It would have been the end of a long and wonderful day with he and Mom. We would have had Lunch or dinner, or both; with the requisite dish made of vegetables from their garden.  Around them, we had no need for permission to lounge around...and gossip...and reminisce...and joke...and laugh out loud. Time to let our hair down and let go of our adult responsibilities.  Grown-ups having fun --no wonder the children never minded visiting Grandma and Grandpa's house.  We were all happy.


And there's the Jungle, aka the front lawn. The object of envy in the whole neighborhood. No square-foot unused/unturned. Such abundance. Flowers. Plants. Colors. And the bees....they ♥ the Jungle and the back yard. It must have been front-page news in the Bee Times.  The Bee internet must have been  a-buzz with the news:  Come one, come all.  This small plot is the next best thing to our hive.  Sweet stuff from bee heaven.  The bees were happy too.

Alas, this was the last known picture of Dad taken by my Brother-in-Law, Chris.

The house has been sold
The front garden has been replaced by sod

There is no repeating of this scene. A season of life has ended.  Forever
Is it such a surprise that I do not heart this picture?

9.7.23.18