Sacred Chickens
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SACRED CHICKENS
It's back to blogging after the holidays! Except...I think my brain is still on a holiday. Early January is time for my yearly affliction...hibernation brain. I have always advocated for a period of hibernation for humans in temperate zones. After Christmas, if we could all curl up under the blankets for a long two month siesta, it would be so comfortable and sensible. I have typically eaten enough to sustain myself through these months and I hate being cold so I can't imagine why this idea does not catch on. I suspect it is because people lazy enough to advocate for hibernation are too lazy to become activists. At any rate, knowing how anxious everyone must be to see me return to blogging, I made a very serious attempt to think of something clever yesterday morning on my way back from taking Essie to school. But there was sunshine, and a soft rising fog steaming over the wet roads, which were strangely lovely and sparkling, and pink smoke rising from the chimney of a little white house with peeling pain making pastels swirls that twisted through the mist. And then, as though someone had shaken them out of a pepper shaker, a flock of birds synchronized themselves into an odd dance pattern in the sky and...in short, my brain shut down and refused to focus itself on producing advice or coherent thought of any sort and began focusing instead on the pastel landscape and pale blue sky and the pale brown fields softly smudging themselves against the horizon with no clear line of demarcation in the same way that the soft, soft blankets on my bed fade into the fluffy pillows... I will try again tomorrow. If you don't hear from me soon...wake me around March.
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