Saturday, October 24, 2009

Another Weird Bee Post

We have a small overflow pond that hydrates all of the local deer, our cats and the bees. This body of water keeps us endlessly entertained. We head outside to visit tadpoles, fish, snails and eggs on a daily basis. Last Thursday we found a drowning bee at dusk. Oliver pulled her out of the water and named her "Mac."

It was cold and Mac was wet, so we took her inside. Oliver read her a book as she sat drying on a pillow.

We figured she would recover faster with a belly full of honey. She perked right up!

It was getting dark, so Mac wouldn't fly back to the hive. Oliver was thrilled when I told him Mac would be sleeping inside with us.

He made her a bed and syringe fed her some water. We tucked Mac in next to the heater and went to bed.

The next morning, Mac happily flew back to the hive. To thank us, she circled back around and pooped on Glenn. No, thank YOU Mac.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

I got this crazy idea that I could actually write a picture book. Then reality set in. I learned some interesting facts about the children's book industry. Apparently, celebrities use ghost writers. And editors receive more manuscripts in one day than they publish all year. There are also a few topics/styles to avoid: rhyming books, stories about anthropomorphic animals and stories about your pet. In conclusion, I have decided not to send my story to editors. I wrote a rhyming story about my pet-the horror! I spent so much time on it that I decided to publish it on my blog instead.

Oliver's Hen

Lou Ellen was sick; no one knew why.
She wobbled and struggled; she would not fly.

We gave her water, medicine and melon.
We’d do anything to help our Lou Ellen.

Oliver fed her and treated her with care.
Think he’d leave her side? Oliver wouldn’t dare.

Lou Ellen, she loved her Oliver, too,
Happy doing what he wanted to do.

Lou Ellen started to walk; she seemed to heal.
And she even began to finish each meal.

Daddy always liked Lou Ellen next to his feet,
A help in the garden, many bugs she could eat.

Oliver will remember one warm Saturday,
When he and his hen began to explore and play.

First, Lou Ellen listened to Oliver’s sweet song.
I’m sure on the inside she was singing along.

It is true that illness can be healed with a touch.
A massage from Oliver was enjoyed so much.

Then off to his trampoline to jump around.
Lou Ellen watched her friend, safely from the ground.

Next, Oliver and his hen hopped on his swing.
Just look at the bliss an old tire can bring.

They wandered around and climbed in a tree.
How much more wonderful could one day be?

Oliver said “Goodnight” to his fine hen,
Knowing what a perfect day it had been.

Something heartbreaking happened the very next morning,
It was something that happened without any warning.

Oliver found his hen covered in dirt.
It looked as though poor Lou Ellen was hurt.

He ran to check her, her feet in the air.
He called out “LOU ELLEN,” but she wasn’t there.

Oliver comforted, “Mommy, don’t cry.”
“I love her the same. I know that inside.”

So grandpa came to help dig a small hole,
And he laid to rest her beautiful soul.

Oliver cut flowers to cover her grave.
At three years old, he was amazingly brave.

Most chickens, you know, live their lives in a coop,
And some even end up in vegetable soup.

There was one exception; it was Oliver’s pet.
Her three weeks in our garden, we’ll never forget.

Lou Ellen’s short life was one filled with joy.
How many chickens are loved by a boy?

Friday, October 9, 2009

Cats With No Nipples, Eating Placentas, and Bees on Farm Equipment

Every so often I thank my lucky stars that I was able to find a man who supports my sometimes unusual behavior. For example, in the early years of our relationship, I rescued a feral cat and let her give birth in my closet. She delivered six adorable kittens but did not have a single working mammary gland. I bottle fed all of her babies until the day she went nuts and tried to tear my eyes out. Who do you think bottle fed the kittens while I was recovering in the hospital? Glenn.

And later, when I told Glenn of my plans to write my thesis about placentophagia, was he disgusted? Yes. But after reading my thesis, it was Glenn who offered to fry up some of my placenta and serve it to me after the birth of our child (although we never actually followed through with those plans). Just last night he surprised me yet again. I decided to dress up one of our bees for my friend Doris’s pet costume contest. Did Glenn roll his eyes at my picture of a bee on a tiny John Deere? No. He enhanced the photo with the most amazing bee-sized boots and hat. Man, I am one lucky girl.