Tonight the clouds actually roiled into thunderheads before my eyes. The setting sun lit the clouds to the southeast brilliant pink. This picture doesn't capture how bright pink that cloud became- I had to put down the camera and do chicken chores as Mike ran down to the lake to help his dad. We have 60 broilers (raised for eatin') that have about 10 days of life left. As I moved the portable hutch I could see that the one with the gimpy leg was down-- too weak to move. I brought her over some water- tried to get her to drink. I could see she was dying. If I had the mettle I would have put her down. I don't.
So I petted her back and blessed her. Go in peace little one. Lord let this little guy pass in peace.
She'll be dead by morning.
Sometimes the contrast between City and farm is so great it make my heart ache.
Earler today I was having what would have been a 3 martini lunch (if not for the drive) with a very cool executive friend of mine. We sat at the window of a most comfortable, elegant restaurant enjoying good food and conversation.
I went down to the barn to care for the layers. As I walked back under roiling pink clouds, in the lush green of a late, wet June there was a song playing in head. As long as I can remember I've often had a tune in my mind. If I actually listen to that tune it usually has some meaning-- a subconcious connection to what I'm thinking, seeing, doing (as profound as the Wham hit "wake me up before you go go" when a kid gets me up 'cuz they have to go pee at night).
The song in my head was For the Beauty of the Earth (Folliot Pierpoint, 1864).
For the beauty of the earth
For the glory of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies.
Lord of all, to Thee we raise,
This our hymn of grateful praise.
For the beauty of each hour,
Of the day and of the night,
Hill and vale, and tree and flower,
Sun and moon, and stars of light.
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