Elizabeth came to us with a messed up eye. She looked like she was always winking (my mother always said never trust a person who winks). I suppose we could have returned her to the breeder ( that was never going to happen!). Her eye lashes curled in when they should curl out which required surgery.
Anyway, here she is doing her best to stay calm and carry on. The vet warned us her eye would look worse before getting better. We felt sorry for her and let Elizabeth sleep with us. Two adults, an affectionate, bed-hog dog and a plastic cone. My husband moved to the couch after a while (he didn’t want to trouble Elizabeth’s sleep).
An August night’s rain brings a soft morning to our acreage. As the men go off to work and early football workouts and the girls awake at a camp on Lake George I spend a few magical moments with the animals and land I’ve neglected for the last few weeks. I won’t notice the weeds or the fly tapes in need of change. I’ll just dash off for my camera before the sun rises too high in the sky.
The mama goats complain now and the babies we lock up for the evening (so we can get first dibs on milk each morning) complain as well.
Blue Jays take over the mornings where robins have left off and everything is soft.
Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth–nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
the field by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand’s span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blossom under his touch
to which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over–
William Carlos Williams
“Legend has it that Queen Anne, the wife of King James I, was challenged by her friends to create lace as beautiful as a flower. While making the lace, she pricked her finger, and it’s said that the purple-red flower in the center of Queen Anne’s Lace represents a droplet of her blood.” Telaflora.Com
You may remember Chip-Chip as a tiny duckling rescued from our cat’s and dog’s mouths. He lived for a few weeks in my bedroom, then the garage , then the woodshed and finally in our pond. He’s free to go but for the time being he prefers waddling after me in the garden and having a chat. One day I was scolding a daughter for lopping off the head of a Brussels sprout plant and noticed Chip sitting at my feet (he’s very quiet when he wants to be!). I couldn’t stay mad about the sprouts, could I?
Chip is far friendlier than the domesticated ducks we raised and eagerly gave away (we still have two Khaki Campbells Sophie and Ferdinand–our one daughter calls him Ferdiler for some reason). he gets bonus points for coming when he’s called and napping on my lap. I see him stretching his wings now and again so he may leave us someday, but for now we’ll enjoy him.