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Character Development

September 18, 2012 by margaretsmn

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This summer I participated in the Teachers Write virtual writing camp made possible by author Kate Messner. She had many guest authors teaching and posting writing prompts. From one of the posts, I learned about the young adult character generator. Earlier this year, I introduced this tool to my students. They loved it, and much writing has been inspired by it.

Using kidblogs, my students are working on stories that develop their characters. I am pleased with how motivating this activity has been. One of my students, Matthew, was a reluctant second grade writer, usually satisfied with a few sentences. When asked to elaborate or incorporate figurative language, he would say, “I like it the way it is.”

Now a third grader, Matthew’s writing has taken off in the first few weeks of school. He wrote his whole story in his journal, posted it on kidblogs, pasted it onto paper, drew illustrations, and painted a cover for his book. I don’t know if a summer’s worth a maturity or the young adult character generator was the impetus, but this year Matthew is a writer.

Chapter 1 The Curse
It was a normal Tuesday morning at Denver Catholic High, or was it? Aiden was walking to gym, twitching as usual. Then out of nowhere, it started getting dark, really dark. Then, a giant ghost came out of the dark and said, “Da school curse is a spreading.”

Suddenly, Aiden’s friends came outside as zombies! “What happened?” said Aiden’s still human friend, Jenna.
“I… I don’t know,” said Aiden, frozen. for once in his life. He’s feeling a feeling he has never felt before, fear. He was so afraid, he couldn’t move. He could barely speak and refused to look away from the ghost or even blink.

Chapter 2 The Adventure

“Da only way to stop it is to get da gem of legend,” The ghost said in a country voice.
“What gem?” asked Aiden.

“Here, take da map.”said the ghost.

Aiden read the map and said, “Jenna, we’re going to the beach.”

“OK,” said Jenna.

“I’ll drive,” said the ghost.

“What?” said Jenna and Aiden.

They headed to the beach. As Aiden got out of the car, he said, “Hey, I’m not twitching!” He was happy, but then the ghost pushed them in a cave. They put on headlamps and started walking.

“OK,” said Aiden nervously. His head suddenly jerked to his shoulder, twitching again. ”We, uh, go that way?”

They stopped at a pool of…lava! Only a few rocks to jump on.

“Well, let’s get moving,” said Aiden.

They hopped across, rock to rock. Finally, they got to the other side. They walked until they stopped at the end of the cave.

“Look!” shouted Aiden. The gem was standing on top of a cone-shaped rock structure at the end of the cave.

“It’s beautiful!” cried Jenna, leaning back. The gem was a glowing baby blue color in the shape of a diamond.

Swiftly, Aiden grabbed the gem, “Got it!” He held the gem over his head in triumph. Then he heard a loud caw caw!

Aiden looked up and saw a blue-gray falcon swoop in toward him. Before he could draw the gem out of the bird’s reach, the bird quickly grabbed the gem with its talons.

“There goes all our hard work,” said Aiden. Of course, he was right. They had worked so hard.

They went after the bird. They hopped across the rocks. Aiden found a light, sharp stick and threw it at the bird, but before the stick could hit it, the falcon flew down and accidentally dropped the gem.

“Thanks,” said Jenna.

Chapter 3: Lifting the Curse

“Well, let’s get going!” said Aiden. ”It’s been a great day. I stopped twitching, we got the gem, we lost the gem and got it back. Now, we can lift the curse!”

So, they were off. They went back to school.

Chapter 4: Curse Gone

Aiden and Jenna lifted the curse by saying, “I here-by lift the curse of the Hex, and I shall face anything next! I will not say ‘no’ or ‘I’m afraid’ I’ll face anything, alive or slayed!”

But before the magic could work, a half moth half cat flew toward the gem. Aiden’s allergic to cats and hates moths.

“No!” Aiden yelled, then kicked the creature hard. Whack! The creature fainted in pain.

The curse was lifted! They had done it! Aiden said in triumph, “We did it, guys!”

Posted in Slice of Life, Teachers Write, Teaching, Writing | Tagged , , | 1 Comment »

Daisy, the Spider

September 11, 2012 by margaretsmn

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The first few weeks of school we had a visitor at our window, a huge garden spider. One day, my students decided that we needed to write about the spider. I teach gifted students, so I am always looking for ways to exercise and inspire their naturally curious minds. One of my students, a sixth grader Kaylie, decided to do some research about the spider. We all thought that our spider needed a name, so we gathered at the table and brainstormed names. We agreed on the name Daisy.

I have started using kidblog in my classroom. I love how this forum is making my students want to write. I encouraged Kaylie to share her research in a blog post. I will copy it here. Teachers, if you use this post as a model for writing, please leave a comment that I can share with Kaylie.

On the first day of Gifted and Talented in Mrs. Simon’s classroom, we were all amazed to look out the window. A black and yellow spider had spun a web outside our window. We watched it through the morning, spinning its web. That was the first day.

On the second day, when I walked into the room, Matthew burst with joy and guided me to the window. The web was covered (and I mean COVERED ) in flies and gnats. And there, sitting in the middle of the beautifully spun web, yours truly, our spider was chomping on a grasshopper. It was so interesting, because none of us had ever seen something like it before. We got a good view of the spider, because it was facing the window, and we could see it from our desks. We marveled over the ‘banana spider’. I wasn’t so sure about its species, so I went on the internet to do some research.

It turns out that the spider was no banana spider at all, but a garden spider. Our little buddy perfectly matched the picture on the internet. Garden spiders have large abdomens that have intricate patterns of yellow and black. Its long legs are nearly two inches long. The eight legs are black with yellow tips. Its head, what you would expect to be yellow is actually a dusty gray. The spider created a 5×4 silk web, completely flawless. That was the end of day 2.

This morning, I wanted to post a poem about our spider on this blog. We needed a picture of it so you can get a clear image of our amazement. Matthew, Mrs. Simon and I took a little ‘field trip’ to the playground, where our window was. She snapped a picture, but after, we noticed something unusual. A plump brown sac, about two inches in diameter, was hanging in the corner of the window, where we couldn’t see from indoors. I threw out the suggestion that it was an egg sac. For further reference, I went back to the computer and searched ‘garden spider egg sacs’. Sure enough, a picture came up looking very similar to the one we saw out side.

I read on. The paragraph said that garden spiders lay their egg sacs at the beginning of fall, and that they hatch in the spring. Sadly, it also said that the grown garden spiders die shortly after they spin their egg sacs, so the spider might die soon. With that in mind, we looked toward our spider who was hanging solemnly from its web. I couldn’t stand that it had been our pet for so long without a name. After a classroom vote and a lot of bad names, we finaly came up with Daisy. I think she seemed to like that name.That was the end of day three.

On Friday, we didn’t have G.T., so we could not check on Daisy and see if she was still hanging in the window. On Monday, we came back. We saw an egg sac hanging in the window. The other empty sacs weren’t Daisy’s. They were of other spiders.

Our spider was starting to wilt. Her abdomen was shriveled up. I didn’t think she would last any longer.

Yet again, our spider has surprised us. Another egg sac was added to the window, so now there are two egg sacs from our Daisy spider.

Sadly, four days after hurricane Isaac, Daisy disappeared. Her memory will live on in her hundreds of beautiful babies that will hatch in the spring. We will look forward to watching many little garden spiders crawl away. Thank you, Daisy.

Posted in Slice of Life, Teaching | Tagged , , | 4 Comments »

Better to Have Loved

September 4, 2012 by margaretsmn

Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved a tall.
—Brian Rhoades, 6’10”

Read other Slice of Life writers at The Two Writing Teachers

This weekend I attended two memorial services. One for a beloved coach gone too soon at only age 54. The other for a beloved patriarch of our church and town, passing slowly a week before his 91st birthday. In both services, these things resonated with me: community, legacy, and faith.

Brian Rhoades was a pillar of the school community at the Episcopal School of Acadiana. All three of my daughters received the caring encouragement of Coach Rhoades. Our girls were with us Friday night along with many hundreds who weathered the heat of the gym to share, remember, and cry together. Since our last graduated in 2008, we have kept some ties to the school. As sad as we all were to lose a friend, we were comforted by the closeness and love of the community there.

On Saturday, our church community came together to honor George King Pratt Munson. What a great name for such a wonderful man! We sang together and listened to the long history of Pratt’s life in New Iberia. Then we celebrated with a feast and conversation in the parish hall. Pratt’s ashes were the first to be placed in the columbarium outside in the courtyard. I love knowing that a part of him remains with us.

Both Coach Rhoades and Mr. Pratt leave behind a legacy, not only in their children and grandchildren, but in the kind of people they were. I heard words like kind, compassionate, gentle, funny, always smiling, honest, genuine, mentor, and friend. If any of us could embody half of these words, we would be grateful. When we were leaving the memorial at ESA, my husband said, “I think someone should have said, ‘Be Brian Rhoades.'” You could say that about Pratt, too. The legacy of being the best that you can be.

Just last week, our new bishop, Jake Owensby, spoke to us about faith. He said faith is plunging in to God’s grace. I love the word plunge. And plunging I did when I held Brian’s wife and Pratt’s granddaughter. What can you say? What words are there to comfort the grieving? None, really, except love. I offered love with all my being. I have faith that they are both with God now, shining like the rainbow, offering us each hope in God’s eternal grace.

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Spinning like a Hurricane

August 28, 2012 by margaretsmn

Read other Slice of Life writers at The Two Writing Teachers

With all the stuff going on right now, there is no way I can make this Slice of Life post about one subject. Today, my head is spinning like the Tropical Storm/ Hurricane Isaac out in the Gulf ready to strike our state. Once again, we are in the path. We prepare by unplugging technology and putting trash bags over our classroom computers. We buy food and gas. We check with our relatives. As of this moment, my daughter in New Orleans has decided to stay. Hopefully, by the time you read this, she will be on her way home. For those of you outside of LA, we live in the arch of the boot two or so hours west of New Orleans. We will get wind and rain, lose some tree limbs, and the bayou will rise in the backyard. But our house is a fortress with a trusted generator named Sparky. We will be fine!

An afternoon chat with Coach Rhoades.


The other spin in my head is the sudden death of a friend, fellow teacher, Coach Brian Rhoades. Brian and his wife Eileen attended my book signing on Saturday night. They were all about supporting me in my new project. They talked to me about me, and now, Brian is gone. Shocked and sad, my heart goes out to Eileen, their children and grandchildren, and all of ESA’s faculty and students. He will be remembered for his kindness, humor, and love. What a terrible loss!

I was literally spinning Sunday night as Jeff and I attended the Lache Pas, a fundraiser for CODOFIL (Council for the Development oF French in Louisiana). What a huge success! The state funding for CODOFIL was cut by our governor by $100,000. So what does an Acadian community do? Have a party! We listened to Cajun jokes, danced the two-step and jitterbug to amazing bands, and ate fresh summer salad from Saint Street Inn. One thing that we love about our culture is the diversity. You have all kinds of people dancing with all kinds of people. I took a video that shows two little boys twirling around to the music.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PePv-bKFI2o&feature=youtu.be

So spinning I go into a hurricane remembering the kind smile of Coach Rhoades and the fine fun people of Acadiana who support our unique culture. No hurricane, especially Isaac, can destroy the strength of the people in Louisiana.

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Writing in Verse

August 21, 2012 by margaretsmn

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On Friday Feedback with Gae Polisner, author of Pull of Gravity, the guest author was Caroline Star Rose who wrote May B. May B. is written in verse, like Love That Dog and Heartbeat by Sharon Creech, two of my favorite books. It was such a serendipitous stop. Like Caroline, I first wrote poetry. Only lately, the last 3 years with the work of Blessen, have I written fiction for young readers. So imagine my thrill to think about writing a young readers novel in verse.

I read all of Caroline’s advice about writing in verse. The two things that stood out most for me were 1) Each chapter or verse must be able to stand alone, and yet 2) Each verse must move the story along. I considered a book I had started ages ago and put aside. Now I think I have discovered the key that will open this old book to a new life–verse. So I tried it out. I posted one chapter that I had reworked into a verse. Before I even hung around long enough to get feedback, I was reworking more chapters until Friday night at 8 PM, I had 16 verses. I am hooked. The process has come alive for me.

I am posting the verse/chapter I posted on Friday Feedback. The main character, Jean, is writing letters to God because her best friend Simone has lymphoma. She is struggling with her own self-doubts as any 13-year-old would as well as the illness of her friend. Let me know what you think.

Dear God,
Simone’s hair,
soft and thick,
wavy blond curls I envy,
started falling today,
in handfuls she handed to me.
We looked in the mirror,
side by side.
My hair, short and bobbed,
looked shiny and healthy
next to her balding spots
appearing and frightening.
At the wig store, we had laughed
at the large lady drawling out
r-e-e-e-a-a-l hair,
The wigs are made with REAL hair!
I chose a wig, too,
I’ve always wanted long hair.
Simone handed me a lock.
It fell over my fingers.
I held it to my face,
so soft, so long,
so sad.

Posted in Slice of Life, Writing | Tagged , , | 15 Comments »

Birthday Retreat

August 14, 2012 by margaretsmn

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Dancing with Leon at Cafe des Amis.

Beginning with Zydeco Breakfast at Cafe des Amis, dancing and eating, to Bonne Terre Cottage in the afternoon, my birthday celebration was all about me.

My new friend (We only just connected this summer even though she’s been a friend of my husband since he was a child.) invited me to enjoy a writing retreat at her cottage inn in the country. I accepted her offer and invited some of my writing buddies to come along. For one reason or another, only one of them was able to come out to the cottage.

I had never been to my friend’s cottage before. When I walked up to the door, I immediately felt peace. Next to the steps was a huge sugar kettle goldfish pond. A large metal sign with a Louisiana scene held fast to the cottage wall. Once inside, I was greeted by a salvaged silver tray made into a chalkboard and saw “Happy Birthday Margaret!” My own book Blessen sat on the top of a stack of books on the coffee table. In a corner of the living room stood an easel with a stool, a perfect spot for my computer with a view of the yard outside. The backyard was scattered with various bird feeders and houses. Hummingbirds flew to the red liquid while cardinals perched at the bird feeder. Bluebirds are nesting in houses and sat on the fencing. Beyond in the pond surrounded by elephant ears and cattails, a great white egret flew in to a landing. What a gift this place was!

Blessen waits for me on the coffee table.

Solid cypress walls smelled like a summer camp cabin. Beautiful art intrigued and inspired me. Along with her writing journal, Kay brought some chilled Pinot Noir, and we snacked on goat cheese and crackers. We talked about the new school year, writing, and the cottage. Kay said, “I can’t believe the art here. I love it. Jen’s love of horses comes through.”

We could look out the window and see Jen’s two horses in the paddock. And inside a colorful painting of carousel horses. I told Jen her cottage was a poem, full of personal details that could be universally enjoyed. I could have stayed all day. And I did!

Kay wrote this poem about Bonne Terre Cottage:

With God’s Prayers

I see beauty
I see cypress crafted
with glass peeking out
to the porch with a red
hummingbird feeder
and a thirsty bird three feet from me.

I see Clementine Hunter dishes,
lime green fused glass,
a black rectangular record player,
a writing desk looking out to a backyard
barn of horses housed on the Bayou Teche.

I see beauty woven from life experiences.
I feel rebuilding, strength, the ground reassuring me
all will be well– I see a little boy
with curls
on a tricycle.
I feel beauty woven out of history.

Wisdom interlaced with authentic metal,
reworked stainless staircase,
and a vintage yellow telephone.

I am reminded to be
all of me, to embrace
what is
to be me.

View from the writing desk

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Making Connections

August 7, 2012 by margaretsmn

Read other Slice of Life writers at The Two Writing Teachers

Today is the first day back to school for teachers. Kids come on Friday. So naturally, I am thinking about how I can make a difference in my students’ lives this year. A lofty goal, I know, but I am all tuned in to Common Core and challenging students to be responsive readers. One of the ways students can respond to a text is to make a connection from one text to another.
While reading about Gabby Douglas this weekend in the USA Today, I felt a connection between the “significance” of her accomplishments to those of other African American sports heroes.

One of my favorite middle grade novelists is Christopher Paul Curtis. He wrote the Newbery winner, Bud, not Buddy, and Newbery Honor Book, The Watsons Go to Birmingham-1963. Both are in my classroom library. His latest novel is The Mighty Miss Malone. Like his other novels, Miss Malone is set in historical context, the Great Depression. Deza’s family is struggling to make ends meet. Her father is injured and is unable to work. The town is all tuned in to the big fight starring Joe Louis, the Brown Bomber. I have to admit, I did not know that Joe Louis was a real hero until my husband told me about it. He looked up an article for me on ESPN.

I enjoyed reading about Joe Louis. One quote stood out for me. His son said, “What my father did was enable white America to think of him as an American, not as a black. By winning, he became white America’s first black hero.”

In The Mighty Miss Malone, Deza asks her father what “a credit to your race” means. He says that it has to do with intentions. What he points out to her is that someone who says that is probably not to be trusted.

Gabby Douglas said she didn’t think about being the first African-American to win the title. She didn’t, but others have, even so far as to argue about her hair. What century are we in, people? I think Gabby Douglas is a sports hero, like Joe Louis, as an American.

Posted in Slice of Life, Teaching | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments »

Beginnings

August 3, 2012 by margaretsmn

Friday is feedback day at the Teachers Write virtual writing camp. I am now friends with Gae Polisner on Facebook. She is the author of Pull of Gravity, and she hosts the Friday Feedback on her blog. She gave me a heads up about today’s feedback theme, hooking your readers.

The best first line ever written was written by E.B. White in Charlotte’s Web which celebrates 100 years this year. “Where is Papa going with that ax?” Who could put down a book like that? You are invested in knowing what Papa is going to do with that ax.

Here is the first line of Blessen.

Blue is cackling something awful this morning. That’s how she tells me she laid an egg.”

In the Teachers Write Camp a few days ago, we were asked to find an object in our work that has significance. I decided that object would be an egg. Imagine my thrill at reading Kay Ryan’s poem Eggs in this week’s New Yorker. “We turn out as tippy as eggs.” I would love to use her poem as an epigraph for Sunshine. Because here lies the theme: We are tippy as eggs. We are fragile, and we must have love to nurture us and hold us together.

With all this to think about, beginnings, symbols, themes, and the gosh-darn-hard work of crafting a novel, I place here for you to see the possible beginning and end of Chapter one of Sunshine. Does it hook you? Are you ready for another Blessen adventure?

First part:

Sunshine flutters her feathers on my cheek. She doesn’t wriggle or cackle. She’s still and calm, letting me hold her close and feel the warmth of her down. And on her nest, shining like a diamond in the dust is a light blue egg, soft as the clouds above my head on this new day.

According to my momma, chickens don’t like to be held.

“Why you carry your chicken around like that all day, Blessen? Don’t you know chickens are born to roam, not be carried around like a baby doll?”

Last part

A.J. reaches down to gather up my hen. Surveying her like a sculpture, he turns her all the way around.

“This is a fine chicken you have. Guess who knows how to pick ‘em?”

I smile and say, “You have good taste in chicks.” A.J. lets out a loud laugh at the double meaning. Then he crows like a rooster.

“Have you met Tux?” I ask.

“Don’t know that I have. Who’s Tux?”

“Mae Mae’s stray kitty she rescued. He and Sunshine are working on becoming friends.”
“A chicken and a kitten, that’s an unlikely pair.”

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Service Work

July 31, 2012 by margaretsmn

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Ms. G. sorts food donations at Solomon House.


Why do we do service work? I could probably go to the Bible and find some cool verses, such as “Love thy neighbor,” and “Whenever you do this for the least of these…” I’d like to be able to say that I do service work because the Bible tells me to, but that’s just not it. It’s the right thing to do. Yes, but that’s still not why. Someone once told me I had a heart for ministry. Not sure if that’s the reason either. What I am sure of, though, is every time I show up, I’m glad I did. My heart is filled with gladness and fulfillment.

Every Tuesday for the last five years, I have gone to Solomon House, a local food bank, a mission for my church, the Episcopal Church of the Epiphany. I took over the job of greeting each client and having them sign on the list. The list is for data-collecting purposes, but, for me, it provides a way to get to know each person who comes through the line, by name. These people have become people I recognize, people I know, people I care about.

I have also met volunteers at Solomon House. Yesterday morning, I went to the Monday morning packing day. I went for two reasons: 1) to take pictures for our new Facebook Page, and 2) as Board president, I felt it was about time. I was put to work immediately by Ms. G. She knows the ropes as she has been volunteering for four years. Miss Tony was working next to me. I started talking to her about her involvement. As someone who is constantly on the lookout for new volunteers, I was curious about how she became involved. Basically, I was looking for a formula to emulate.

Soon I discovered that there was no magic formula that I could duplicate to get more volunteers. Miss Tony came to Solomon House to deliver some canned goods. She simply asked the question, “Can I help in any way?” And of course, you know the answer.

Tony is a cancer survivor. She told me that God has always been in her life, but she never really took notice. She said she wasn’t really listening. Until she needed Him. “Cancer halted my life,” she said, “I turned to Him, and He worked wonders. I know it could’ve been worse for me. He’s been talking, and now I am listening.”

Now, Tony wants to put her hands into everything. She volunteers twice a week at Solomon House. She serves at St. Francis Diner. She is giving back. She does not want recognition or praise. She did not even let me take her picture. She says, “I am doing this for God.”

I don’t need a Bible verse to tell me to do service. I only need to talk to the people in the trenches, the needy and the volunteers. They are here to show me God’s love in a very real way.

Posted in Slice of Life, Solomon House | Tagged , , | 4 Comments »

Broody Hen

July 24, 2012 by margaretsmn

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On Friday I went to a pool party celebrating the Teachers Write Virtual Writing Camp. Still wearing my tie-dyed t-shirt from art camp, I sat in my kitchen with my laptop and talked with other teacher authors and read aloud a piece I had written this summer. What a fun party! It has been very rewarding for me to find a community of people like me. The support is valuable. The enthusiasm for the work of writing and the sharing of works in progress has filled my quiet writing world with encouraging voices and clapping hands. I have to thank Kate Messner and all her wonderful guest authors. Thanks also to Gae Polisner and Jen Vincent who led the Spreecast video party.

I read this excerpt from my work in progress, a sequel to Blessen. If you have followed this blog, you read about my chicken research. This chapter resulted from my visit with Harvey and Opal and their brood of hens.

Taking care of a chicken requires some expertise. Mae Mae has been helpful. When she was a little girl growing up in St. Martinville, she ordered 50 chicks of the heritage variety.

“We just went down to the post office and picked up the chicks, newly hatched. These were butchering chickens, grown for food. Of course, as a little girl, I had no idea what went into killing a chicken.”

Mae Mae told me all about caring for her chickens, what she fed them, how she cleaned up their poop, and all about their strange ways of taking a bath in the dust. I listened, all the while knowing my chicken would never be butchered.

Mae Mae said when she came home from school one day, she went out to care for her flock, and they were all gone. Her momma had butchered every one of them and put them in the freezer.
“I told my momma I would never eat another chicken, unless it came from the grocery store.”

Mae Mae raised her fist in the air and turned it up quickly. Snap! Just like that! Chicken for dinner.

Right then and there I decided I would never kill a chicken. I can’t even eat one without thinking about its suffering. Momma says death is a part of life and how would we live without the sacrifice of animals. She says that’s why God made them.

I say that may be why God made cows and pigs, but chickens are just too cute to butcher.

A few weeks ago, A.J. brought me a chicken-raising book from the public library. I am learning all kinds of stuff about Sunshine. For example, do you know how to tell if an egg is fertilized? Well, now I do. And there are illustrations to help.

Candling an egg: (Maybe in the old days they used a candle?) Use a flashlight. Shine it on the egg and look for a dark spot with veins spiraling off of it. A straight line with no black spot means no baby chick. Seeing as how we don’t have a rooster around and knowing what I know about the birds and the bees, there’s not much chance that Sunshine’s eggs have babies in them. But I check anyway.

Sunshine is acting so weird I may need to consult with my resource. I open the coop and call for her. She doesn’t move. She just sits still and makes a strange rumbling growling sound. No clucking, no happy head-bob. Her golden white feathers are fluffed so she’s all full and fat. I decide to give Mae Mae a call.

“Mae Mae, something is wrong with Sunshine!” I cry louder than I expected. Lowering my voice, I describe the symptoms, “She doesn’t want to move off her nest. She’s all fluffed up; her head is tucked down. She seems depressed. I’m really worried.”

Mae Mae is calm. “Blessen, listen carefully. I think Sunshine is broody.”

“Broody? What’s that mean?”

“She wants to nest. It’s her instinct as a woman. You need to pay close attention to her for the next few days.”

“What do I need to do?”

“As often as you can, take her off of the nest and wet her down. Be sure she eats. Give her her favorite foods. She could starve herself if you don’t help her.”

I’m in a panic. I barely take the time to say my thanks to my grandmother and run outside to attend to my ailing hen.

There she is, right on her nest. No egg is under her. I gently grab her on either side and carry her to the water bowl. She’s still growling. Brr, brr…

The water calms her a bit. She jumps out and walks about head bobbing some, but no talking. She finds her way to the coop and starts scratching under it. I grab the bag of feed corn and toss some on the ground, but she’s focused on her scratching.

“Come on, Sunshine. Eat somethin’. Don’t you go dyin’ on me like Blue did. Poor Blue didn’t have a chance against that hawk. But you, you’re my little Sunshine hen. You just gotta make it. You hear me. Now eat some corn here.”

Sunshine looks at me as if she understands. Her head turns this way and that. She bocks in her normal voice, takes about two bites, and hops back up in the chicken coop to roost on her nest.

This is going to be a tough job!

Posted in Blessen, Slice of Life | Tagged , , | 11 Comments »

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