Month: March 2016

New Featured Sunset Header for March 2016

Reblogging from Before Sundown about one of my good blogging friends. Please check both of them out.

C.E.Robinson's avatarBefore Sundown

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Sunset by David Brian Paley

Vancouver Visions

http://vancouvervisions.com

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David Brian Paley is from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. David believes that he lives “ In one of the best metropolitan areas on this planet.” His photography proves it.

Not only does he take beautiful photos, he also writes. He’s been inspired to get back to writing, and trying his hand at a full-length novel. The working title is Shadow Warrior, a Science Fiction Fantasy with an emphasis on fantasy. At the start of 2016 he “managed to cross the first 3,000-word threshold.” Welcome to the writing world, David.

You’ll want to visit his blog site and check out his photo gallery. There are beaches, birds, flowers, seagulls, sunsets, Vancouver sites, and much more.

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The Sticky Tricks of Dirty Chicks

imageNo little kid should ever be allowed a small, defenseless duck, chick, or bunny for a pet. One of those four hundred pound tortoises would be a far better choice. It could protect itself and the kid couldn’t pick it up. Porcupines or crocodiles should be fine, too. They could probably hold their own against a four year old. Case in point, when I was four, Mother went to the farm supply store to get baby chicks to raise for the freezer. They came in a brown cardboard box with air holes. Naturally, I fell in love with the chicks and begged for one of my own. Thinking I would quickly lose interest, Mother had one put in a paper bag just for me.

As I sat on the backseat of the car with my chick, I took it out and admired it, putting its tiny, fluffy body next to my cheek. It was so sweet and smelled so chicky. Mother made me put it back in the bag, saying it needed to rest. Reluctantly, I set it to the side. We stopped by another store and Mother let me get some gum. I can’t imagine why she couldn’t predict the future. I was well-pleased with the situation since I usually never got two goodies in one day. I chomped the gum till my jaws were tired. As we headed home, Mother noticed I was getting sleepy. She told me, “Don’t swallow that gum. Just wrap it in the gum wrapper and drop it in one of the grocery bags in the back next to you.” I couldn’t find my gum wrapper, so I just dropped the wad of gum in the nearest bag, the one with the chick, and nodded off.

When we got home, I woke up and remembered my precious chickie. I opened the bag and found the chick, gum in his fluff. His tiny feet stuck to the bottom of the bag. When I pulled him out, gum ribbons stretched from the bag to his little feet. I wailed in dismay. Mother was disgusted and took the chick, cleaned the gum off the best she could, confiscated him and returned him to the troop of chicks as she’d intended from the beginning. I wanted to trade for one of the fresh, clean chicks, but Mother said, “NO!!!!!!” He suffered no real harm; just shared his gum with the other chicks till quite a few of them had combination chicken poop, dirt, and gummy fluff accessorized with tiny bits of biddy food. The gummy little chicks stuck together when they touched and sometimes had to struggle a bit to get apart. I was ashamed of my former friend as he scurried around the nastiest of all his little biddy friends. However, in a few days, once all the chicks feathered out, I couldn’t tell him from the rest. I was a little hurt he didn’t seem to have any special feelings for me, after all we’d been through together.

The Tragic Tale of the Hen-Flogged Indian Princess

This is a story my mother told us dozens of times of her experience with a Mother Hen.  It didn’t save me from having the same problem.  This is her original art.indian-dress-and-henFor my birthday, Mama made me an Indian outfit. By now, I’d been around the chickens long enough to know a mother hen would jump all over anyone getting near their chicks.  I’d already been flogged trying it.  This was different.  In my Indian dress, I was brave and invincible.  I played pretend in the yard shooting several  buffaloes  with my bow, saving the tribe from starvation, single-handedly.  As I rode my horse, Midnight, bareback across the prairie, my long black braids flowed behind me. I had actually imagined myself up two horses. Midnight, a black stallion with a white mane and tail and Silver a white stallion with black mane and tail. If only I’d thought to imagine Silver was a mare, they could have created their own imaginary colt, but that never crossed my mind. They were both wild and would allow no one else to ride them.  When I rode one, the other ran along with us.  Deep in my fantasy, I slaughtered a bear and saved the chief, who by the way, was desperate to marry me.  I was having none of it.   I rode into the chicken yard, bravely scooping up a baby chick.  Mother Hen ignored my two stallions,  Indian dress, and the long black braids flowing behind me. In a split second, she was on my head, squawking, pecking, flogging, and scratching till I gladly dropped her baby.  I’d never been so disillusioned in my life.  That hen had no imagination whatsoever!!!