This is What a Fairy Tale Looks Like

Written by Matthew on January 9th, 2010

I’ve been taking the new year in slowly, savoring the potential of new and reinforced goals, dwelling a bit longer in reflection. (That’s my excuse for not posting more.  What d’ya think?). The chickens have settled in and are producing some lovely little eggs with rich, deep yellow yolks. We’ve been able to give them a bit of free ranging in the dormant garden and watched them long enough to assess their potential for naming.

Here’s the line up: Godiva, coming in chocolate, boasting lead role as alpha hen, puffing her breast feathers and taking what she wants, when she wants. Bernadette, coming second in the pecking order, not quite as dark as Godiva with some creamy hues in her tail’s fan. And certainly not least, though last in pecking order, Maple coming in warm lighter tones reminiscent of coffee swirling with cream.

They seem happy, which makes us happy and the eggs delicious. There is something so marvelous about the taste of a food produced minutes earlier, acquired directly by the chef and consumed immediately. The complexities linger on the palate of the mind.

‡‡‡

After a fairly rough week returning to classes and work at Children’s Hospital I was ready for some time with River. He’ll be seven months old on Tuesday and is changing so much. Very discerning and delightful.

72248655gei1a3mt271206006

We took our usual two-ravine walk today just as the sky was breaking open to show some blue. The creek was high and everything had the lush damp smell of springing back from the rain. In the second ravine we paused under a cedar to regard a small waterfall. The sun poked over the lip of the ravine and lit the valley golden. Everything was dripping. Sun glinting off the creek. And the mist began to rise and turn to fog, splitting the sun into shafts of light.

We had to pause. Slow down. Linger at the edge of the moment. “This,” I said to River “is what a fairy tale looks like.” He sighed. Burbled like the creek in agreement I suppose. And we did the only thing one can do in the presence of overwhelming beauty. We took one last look, locked the image away, and turned toward home.

  • Share/Bookmark
 

Leave a Comment