I have realized pinecones are like me. No wonder I like them! When they get wet, they close up. And they close up tightly. I am not keen on being wet either. My husband, on the other hand, loves the water and being in it. I have always told him I would not mind being in the water if I did not have to get wet. He thinks I am humorous and weird.
Pinecones can be found placed all around our house. I put them inside and outside around the house and gardens. There was an especially pretty one sitting on the bench outside our kitchen door. We have had terrific winds these past few days, whereupon, I found that pinecone completely soaked in the dogs water bowl.
Picking the poor soaked thing up, I put it in the kitchen to watch it dry out. What a pretty process it was watching it dry out and unfold.
Here is the photographic study that was three days in the process:
So teach us (me) to number our (my) days, That we (I) may gain a heart of wisdon. Ps. 90:12.
This having always been a fervent prayer of mine through every stage of life. Time is an enigma that has pierced my thought life always. It is a “burn in my belly” desire, as a friend explained it once to me. To be keenly aware of every day given to me. To savor and love and thank God for everyday.
I have determined to savor each and every day. For life truly is but a vapor…
It has been said that ‘It is not possible to sit at two different tables at the same time.’
This analogy carries into the murder of babies (aka abortion) as well. One cannot call themselves a Christ follower and believe abortion is ok. It is not possible. Jesus is life. He gave life to the dead man Lazarus. Babies are gifts to us from God for His Glory.
I have often thought what would the baby say if asked “Do you want to be killed today?” I can think of no other sin that must give our Lord such sadness as this. We are killing His children.
“People need people. God does His best work through people” Dr. David Jeremiah.
True, so true I thought as I quickly scribbled it on a scrap of paper before it got lost in the busyness of the early morning. How fun and exciting it is to see and visit with neighbors out in their yards, or on a stroll around our little valley. We were designed for community. So, post on your favorite media photos of you and your neighbors. Be sure to use hashtag:
We are getting out more with this lovely weather. Take a photo and post it:
What color is brown? This question gets even more interesting with chicken eggs.
We do not have a large flock of chickens, but they are happy, clucky girls. They make the sweetest sound when they are happy. When fed treats they especially make happy sounds. Sorta like we folks do when eating our treats, “Yum! Yummy!” They have many different voices and sounds. #chickensmakeuschuckle when the one Isa Brown, Dot, chases our dog through the barn. She makes a sharp, directive, short sound while staring him down and following him with a threatening hearty peck. He gets out of her way. If I did not know better, I would believe she comes after me at times with her sassy look and quick pace!
Eggs are the same way, they come in different sizes, shapes and color. All the chickens we have owned have laid brown eggs. We have Rhode Island Reds, Barred Rocks, Black Sex-link, Australorps, and Isa Browns. Chickens are curious, given a multi-roomed laying area, more times than not they will each lay their eggs in the same nest. It seems to be a favorite to all. This can and does change over time, which makes for many a morning to feel like an Easter Egg Hunt (for the free-range birds that is). There have been times I thought the chickens were not laying , only to catch a glimpse of one coming from a different quiet place singing her “I’ve laid my egg!” song and found, all neatly tucked in a small pile of a sweet nest, over a dozen eggs!
Never will I forget visiting a horse farm full of pretty horses, dogs, cats, chickens and baby chicks everywhere and going into one of the horse stalls to find a nest full of eggs right in the corner on the floor. They were safe among the horses the owner told me. Our hens live around our horses, dogs and cats without worry but they have not made a nest on the stall floors. Max, our big black & white cat will often give them a chase, but it is all in jest. He likes the barn mice better.
I have watched a couple of the hens lay their eggs. One must stand quietly and out of sight so as not to disturb her. They sit so still and make a quiet, hardly audible sound, while at the same time plucking a piece of hay here and there to make the nest comfy. Just before laying the egg, their back end rises up to deposit the warm egg in the soft bedding. A moment or two later, up they get and sing their ‘egg laying’ song. The egg looks brown. I suppose it is brown until I gather them all at the end of the day and give them one big admiring stare. It is then I notice just how different in color and shape they truly are. Some have hints of pink, others more dark, some a little more yellow, a few have tiny speckles, some are big and round, others slim and pointed.
Call me simple, but I never grow tired of looking at them. To me they are a wonder.