When I graduated from college, I didn’t know what to do with my life and so I went back to school. During the day I worked on another Bachelor’s degree (a B.S. this time) and at night I worked on my Masters.
It wasn’t so much that I was an overachiever, as much as it was I just didn’t know what path to follow.
One of the graduate classes I took was a photography class.
I dug out my camera and took the required photos. The best thing about the class was the dark room where I learned how to develop film – I still get a chill thinking about that capsule door leading into that quiet red-lit darkness.
One of the photos I took was this one. My kids have recently been going through old clutter and found it. This is a photo of a statue I had discovered in a nearby Connecticut graveyard.
Obviously the subject matter spoke to me.
I don’t know who or what age person it was intended for but I empathized with the absolute resigned attitude of that little angel. The deep sigh just about to escape those tender marble lips.
The picture now sits in my office, reminding me of the melancholy that is this winter (snow is being predicted *again*.).
The cold, the damp, the deep, deep sigh of resignation. ‘Ain’t nothing you can do, but soldier on.
But boy, has it been tough.
As I mentioned yesterday, we’ve lost a few birds and some of our others are starting to look on the other side of ragged. We need Spring and we need it soon. Although I’m pragmatic about our flock (they are outdoor chickens and are not going to last forever) it still stings to see some of our flock members die.
These have been our friends who have eaten out of our hands and kept us company. They’ve been our memories.
They will be missed.
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.
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