January in Maine.....

Dead Chicken

When I went out to check the chickens this morning only three came running to meet me. For a horrible moment I thought I might have closed one of them outside somehow. We have had sub-zero temperatures for several days now and I was afraid she somehow slipped past me, got outside, and froze to death. I climbed inside the coop, which isn't high enough for me to stand up in, and saw her on the floor behind the feed dish, obviously dead for a while since she was frozen to the floor. I picked her up, praying that she wouldn't be so frozen that she would come apart. I had to unstick her head and tail from the floor, but she did remain intact.

In tears, I wrapped her in plastic and put her in a box, then in the cellar to wait for trash day. I will never get used to this........

Bad Idea

This is my Indian flute, hand made by a craftsman in New Mexico. I've treasured it for many years. I like the fact that it's the only instrument I can play without sheet music in front of me. I was told that you play this just by letting your mind go, let your feelings be reflected naturally in the notes you make. I was totally skeptical, yet I can actually do it. A few days ago I decided to see if the tone of it would be better if I warmed it up, since the house is so cold. I wrapped it in a dish towel and put it on one of the floor registers in the kitchen. I forgot about it until this morning, when I saw the towel in the middle of the floor. The flute was nearby, the carved bird that had been attached to it was broken off, and looking closer I saw that the tail of the bird had been chewed.

As long as I have had dogs, one has to wonder why I didn't think about such an eventuality when I put such a valuable thing made of wood on the floor. If I thought anything, I suppose I thought the towel would protect it, though I really didn't think at all. Luckily the damage doesn't affect the playability of the flute, but its aesthetic quality has certainly been compromised. Whenever something like this happens, as when I have lost contact lenses and hearing aids as well as a multitude of less expensive objects to the exuberance of animals, it reminds me of the value, or lack of value, of the "things" that surround us. Dogs, who don't know or care about the difference between a hand-carved flute and a stick that fell off the nearest tree, show us how to keep our belongings in perspective.

Fashion Plate

My mother would roll over in her grave if she could see me in this outfit. I saw myself in the mirror as I started upstairs this morning and noticed the array of patterns I was wearing. I thought of all the years I was taught how to properly combine elements of dress and how much it has always influenced what I wore. Little by little I have discarded the rules I adhered to so vigilantly. Now I put on whatever is handy and warm without giving much thought to how I look. Sometimes I believe it is a not-so-unconscious way of rebelling against my mother. I hate to see myself in the kind of outfit she would have approved of, so it is either she or my former self that I try to defy. Whatever........