Monday, July 22, 2013

For Small Creatures Such As We

The baby chicks survived the storm quite well and when I went out to check on them when I got back from town, they were under their mama's feathers like children beneath a mother's skirts and that always makes me smile. Such a protected place, completely invisible and one would think, so very warm and soft.
Mr. Moon brought home baby-food for chickens, or as it is called, Chick Starter/Grower and I took some out and spread it around and left more in a little dish for them. The yellow one was trying to make an escape, it appeared, walking around the perimeter of the coop but Mr. Moon placed chicken wire there to prevent such a thing back last year when we had the other babies. I see her mama in her, this little yellow one, not in appearance, but in the desire not to be kept in by man-made boundaries. Or, of course, she could be a rooster. Some people say you can sex a chicken (i.e. determine its gender) when it is a baby but in my experience, the only true way is to be patient and wait to see if it crows or lays eggs which is the definitive method in my opinion. The more I think about having a tiny Elvis, the more charmed I am but I cannot afford to get too attached to these babies. I just can't.

I had a good time in town with Lily and the boys although Owen was in a mood. He refused to eat more than a few bites of pizza at the place we went where they make your pizza to order and the whole-wheat crust must indeed be whole-wheat and not fake whole-wheat because, as I said to Lily, eating it sort of makes you wish you were eating the white flour crust. It's fine, it's good, it has to be at least a little bit healthier and so we choose it. As if eating whole-wheat pizza crust is going to keep us alive forever. We went to the library and to Publix as well and then I stopped by Costco on my way home for vitamins and frozen blueberries and barely beat my husband back to the house. He is going to auction and so I made his snack bag and his coffee drink and his popcorn and kissed him good-bye and washed the dishes and finished the laundry and now it is six-thirty at night.
I am not cooking salmon tonight. I could not care less about what I eat tonight and have no energy to cook anyway. I actually bought some sort of "all-natural" chicken pot pie (I am such a hypocrite) but I don't know if I'll eat that or not. It may be "natural" but it has plenty of calories and fat and it may well be that it's the chemicals that make frozen chicken pot pies so delicious anyway.
We'll see.
I am not a food snob. To add to last night's post about restaurants, let me just say that one of my most memorable meals ever in my life came from Hardee's and consisted of two pieces of fried chicken and a biscuit. I will think about that supper on my death bed and I will be glad I ate it. I like food that tastes like it's supposed to taste but what I don't like is when restaurants tell you what the chef has prepared in terms like "aged balsamic-infused golden raisins" and then to eat the salad those raisins are in and to find it bitter and not in a good way, like an arugula-way which is a fantastic bitter that I never grow tired of. The best food we ate in Apalachicola was a tray of oysters baked with crab and parmesan cheese and they were so good that after I ate the oysters from their shells I tipped the shells up and swallowed the liquid. The liquor of them. They were perfect. If Mr. Moon and I do build our house down there and live there, I hope to eat lots of delicious seafood, and most of it caught or harvested by my husband and cooked by me. I will cook it simply and let the freshness and flavor of it be its glory and yes, I will use balsamic vinegar but I doubt I'll be infusing anything which makes me think of nursing school, that term. Infusion. 

And so it has been another day on this planet. I tickled my grandson's face with my hair and I made him laugh and I was shocked and delighted when my other grandson figured out what his mother and I were talking about when we spelled words out because we didn't WANT him to know what we were talking about and how can he have done that? Owen is still not quite clear on the difference between letters and numbers and yet, suddenly, he seems to be grasping phonetics and I guess it's like with Gibson who doesn't say a whole lot but who seems to understand about fifty percent of what WE are saying and who any day now, will start spouting language like a pro.
(Does it bother me that he can and does frequently say "Boppa" referring to his grandfather and yet hardly ever says anything even resembling MerMer? Not really. Okay. A little. But I love the way he says Boppa. I love how he loves his grandfather.)

The human brain is (not to put too fine a point on it) amazing and watching how it develops in my grandchildren is a continual wonder and delight.


That's Mrs. Baby and the yellow chick. I am assuming the black one is huddled under her wings. The chicks are peeping in their high, loud voices and Baby is crooning comforting nightsongs to them. I can't help but think of the new heir to the throne in Great Britain, safely born and hopefully snuggled into his mother's breast now.

We are animals. We love and want to protect and sooth our babies if nothing has interfered with that process. We do the best we can. We are completely blessed with our ability to love and be loved.

Here is a Carl Sagan quote which was delivered to me via Matt Haig's The Humans:

"For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love."

I think that says everything I am feeling tonight.

And I am honoring love in its many forms, even the ones we can't begin to grasp in our infinite smallness, even with what we are convinced are our amazing brains.


  1. Should have told them what Owen comprehended when we spelled it. Too funny! Love you, and thanks again for accompanying us on our errands.

  2. Lily- God. I can't even grasp how he learned that. At a gas station? No. I do not think so. I always have a good time with you and the boys and when the day arrives that Owen doesn't want me to sit in the back of the van with him will be a very, very sad day.
    Oh. My babies. I love you all so very much.

  3. We love and protect ... If nothing has interfered with that process made me cry. Been feeling a lot of sadness lately. I want to know what Brilliant Owen made out. It seems ok wit his mama.... Sweet Jo

  4. Sweet Jo- He pulls his shirt up, Mardi Gras style and says, Mo' Money!" We were discussing that and how and where he might have learned it. We asked him, when he figured out what we were talking about and he said, "The gas station!" but we knew he was making that up.

  5. Awww, Ms Baby! I love how she has turned out to be mother material after all. (At least, so far.) Does the color of a chick have anything to do with its gender? Could the black one be a rooster, maybe? I guess that would make sexing chicks much easier, though, wouldn't it?

    Kids are amazing, how they can discern what we're saying. I've learned that with my nieces and nephews. Spelling things out never seems to work.

  6. That little peep is so cute and fuzzy, I wanna brush it against my cheek (kinda like you tickling your grandson's face with your hair).

    Also, I have a friend who still spells S-E-X around her thirteen-year-old daughter. She says she does it out of habit. The daughter, full to the brim with attitude, justs sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes.

  7. Anonymous- He is pretty darn funny.

    Steve Reed- Actually, in some breeds of chickens, color is an indication of sex. I don't understand how this works. Not in Baby's case, though. I'm pretty sure. Or...her babies.

    Nancy- Ha! Thirteen-year olds definitely know how what S-E-X spells and that cracks me up. I can just see the whole eye-rolling scenario.

  8. Baby is a beauty! And Owen, omg, lolz. Just hilarious! You gotta wonder, what is he thinking?


  9. I saw Bruce twice in a very small venue right before he hit the big time and he was awesome. His 'Greetings From Asbury Park' is still one of my favorite albums.

  10. Invisigal- I have no idea sometimes what he is thinking but it amuses me no end to try and figure it out.

    Ellen Abbott- He continues to be awesome. I bet he's never put on a bad show in his life.

  11. I look at that little yellow chick and feel sad that it has died. What a sweet little baby. I'm sorry about his dying.

    I want to go see Bruce's movie too. It can't be better than Shine a Light though. Can't be.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.