The Story Garden with Mrs. Sandoz

The “King” is dead.    We got home from vacation to discover the disturbing news that Elvis, our rooster, was savagely taken by a coyote.   All that remained of him was a few drops of blood and a pile of his beautiful tail feathers.   We were all in denial.   We walked our property calling for him.   We tried luring him with food scraps.   We waited to see if he would make his way into the coop for the night.   He never did.    That night, as we toasted to my husband’s 40 th Birthday with sparkling cider,  Thing 1 calls out, “And to Elvis, the bravest rooster alive...or dead. I guess, " and we had a moment of silence for the sacrifice he made for his hens.  All of us knew what kind of rooster he was.   He was big and regal.   He had gorgeous, clean white feathers with a bit of silver around his neck and in his tail.   He reminded us of “The King of Rock' n Roll” in his famous white and silver jumpsuit, henc...

The Egg By Kristen S. Sandoz 2013   The other day my five-year-old son had a friend over and they spent a lot of time with our hens.   Later that day when I went to check on the ladies I found two eggs smashed against the fence and evidence of a cover up.   If you have ever raised your own chickens you know how precious eggs are.   I was not happy about this and handled the whole thing very poorly.   That night I was really disturbed by my reaction and it brought to mind an experience I had as a five year old.   It was small, black, exquisitely hand painted, and edged with gold gilding.   It was lovely and delicate much like a teacup with gold trim.   You know the kind that even as an adult you’re afraid to touch its dainty handle with your comparatively large and clumsy fingers.   Only a teacup doesn’t quite compare with the fragility of nature.   In my hand I was holding an egg.   It was a gift to my mother f...

  Now that Thing 3 is almost 3 months old I'm hoping to be able to post a bit more often.  That is, if my brain isn't sucked right out of my boobs, which happens every day.  I think it should be a bonafide diagnosed disease.  Can I hear and Amen! Here is an idea that is better late than never.  It is totally fun!  Wait for it...wait for it... The Easter Story hidden within a dozen plastic eggs! Brilliant!  I've never hated anything that comes out of an egg. Easter has kinda been an uninspired holiday for me.  Which is kinda ironic considering the meaning behind all the fluff.  But for some reason I've kinda lacked creative energy around this hippity-hoppity holiday. (Can I say kinda just one more time?) Enter my mom.  She cut back on the candy this year and instead has organized a hunt with "Resurrection Eggs" for all her grand kids.  Thank you mom!  Any time I can take a bit of sugar out of a hol...