It is an absolutely clear and beautiful day here in Lloyd. We ate our pancakes and bacon on the back porch and watched the birds and chickens. It would be perfect if Elvis wasn't sick. We have come to think that he has something stuck in his craw. He goes to eat but then lets the food dangle out of his beak and simply closes his eyes. The color of his comb and wattle has gone from its usual bright scarlet to almost burgundy. He does not crow but makes a throat-stretching action. After a little internet research, we have determined that we should try to get some water with apple cider down him as well as some olive oil.
I got out the eye dropper and a little dish with the vinegar water and one with the olive oil but after surveying the situation (the size of his spurs) and trying twice to catch him, we decided to wait until tonight when he's in the roost drowse. I did tear up a pancake into little pieces and soak it in the olive oil and he has eaten that. So worrisome. Such a magnificent rooster he's been. Looking up the lifespan of a rooster has proven to be vague, at best. Some sources say three years. Some say up to twelve. He is almost six.
And it was Miss Sharon that was taken from us this past week. A long string of soft black feathers leads from one part of the yard to another. I have a feeling it was that damn stray cat again. I have seen her about recently.
I know that if we went to the Farm and Feed we could get some new chicks and I am sorely tempted. Which is completely ridiculous. We are drowning in eggs as it is. But the chicken-love disease is strong upon me and I think of Kathleen, just last spring, getting new chicks.
Well, for now, I am staying far away from the Farm and Feed.
It is Palm Sunday and so I have taken pictures of some of the palms I have planted in this yard. I love palms and am pretty sure I could never live in a place where they do not grow.
There are more, but they are not as photogenic in this day's light.
I remember as a child that on Palm Sunday, my mother would cut small pieces of palmetto fronds and pin them to our church clothes. As we all know, the legend of Jesus is not one that I believe in. The Palm Sunday services where his triumphant entry into Jerusalem is celebrated- I mean, we know how that story turns out. Good Friday which I always announce by saying, "Happy Day they crucified our Lord!" And then Easter itself with its so obvious borrowings from pagan rituals and symbols.
Oh. Poor Jesus. Having to go through all of that in order to save us poor humans from our perceived sins and guarantee us life eternal.
Look around. Every palm, every fern, every chicken, every egg, every one of us is proof that life is eternal.
Until, you know, we bomb ourselves and planet into oblivion or heat our planet into dead lifelessness.
And even then, somewhere, there will be another miraculous meeting of hydrogen and oxygen or something else that will lead to more of something we might call life. It's probably already happened.
And quite frankly, the idea that I would have to spend eternity with some of my relatives does not please me at all. Not one damn bit. It would be interesting to see some of them. Have a little chat. But eternity?
I always hate that argument for religion- what if you're wrong, you unbeliever? What if you're wrong and thus don't get to live forever in heaven?
What a strange carrot on a stick. What a waste of a lifetime if the believers are wrong. Spending a life completely consumed with what their own version of a god would want instead of worshipping that which is here and now and worth worshipping and glorifying in. The sun, the dirt, the rain, the sea, the trees, the creatures, the love between us that we might be blessed to have.
Demanding that we have the right to discriminate against our fellow humans based on some bullshit written before people even knew the earth was round.
There are religious people I do admire and respect very much. They love the coming together in fellowship and they do good deeds. They manifest a godliness which I can respect.
I am sure their number is legion although unfortunately, those who use religion as a weapon to defend their prejudices, their ignorance, their inability to imagine that there are those of us who do not need carrots-on-a-stick to do what is right, what is loving, are so very vocal that we forget that not all of the religious are insane idiots.
And quite frankly, I do not need the death of anyone to save me from my sins. I refuse to celebrate the cruel death of any human as a fine thing, even if he did supposedly get resurrected which frankly, I find a creepy myth, rather than a redeeming one.
But I do love palms and I do love my chickens and as I have said over and over again, I believe that chickens have done more to provide for the continuation of our species than Jesus Christ ever did.
Bless his heart.
And besides, chickens are beautiful and soothing and are the closest living relatives to dinosaurs.
That's about all the magic I need.
I hope we can resurrect our beautiful Elvis from whatever is ailing him.
I am going to dig in the dirt today. I am going to hold my man close to me. I am going to be so very grateful for this beautiful day in spring living this life where I am so honored to love and be loved. I am going to recognize and believe in that which I can see and touch and know for certain and am satisfied beyond anything I can imagine to call these things miracles, to be content in their promise. Not believing in an afterlife allows me to believe that I should live in this one here and now as fully as I can.
Happy Palm Sunday.