I’ve joined Facebook. I didn’t want to, but in order to access a party invite, I had to join. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. A writer doesn’t need more, easy ways to procrastinate while sitting at one’s desk. And, I feel guiltily voyeuristic following the lives of people that I barely know. Still, it’s a casual, quicker way to communicate than my blog. I’ve got some fun events coming up this summer that I can announce on Facebook (heads up HenCam fans in Los Angeles, I’m headed your way and am planning a party!) 

I also feel a bit awkward posting on Facebook. It’s a culture that I’m not familiar with. It has rules. My teenage son informs me that unlike the word, google, that facebook is not a verb. So, although I can say, for example, that “I googled for directions,” that  when I am typing on Facebook, I’m not “Facebooking.” 

Still, I am registered. I check my page daily (and often more frequently) and I need friends. Anyone interested?

The “little pond” here at Little Pond Farm was built six years ago. At the time, I imagined beautiful koi gracing the serene water feature. Koi are expensive and I had no experience with them. So, I bought a 2-inch koi for only $3.00. I liked that it was white with a big black spot on it’s head. Distinctive, like a paint horse. It grew and grew, but the spot didn’t. Now, that koi is huge and all pale peach in color and looks like an ugly, plain catfish. 

I also put a few cheap goldfish in the pond. They haven’t gotten as big as the  koi, but they have kept their pretty markings. They’ve been breeding, too. Last year, a neighbor’s fancy goldfish were all eaten up by a Great Blue Heron. It took some doing, but we managed to catch several of our biggest goldfish and restocked our friend’s pond. We still had plenty of small ones that were sure to get bigger soon enough. They have.

We’ve had a Heron here, too. I don’t mind, we have too many small goldfish in the pond, anyway,  and the Heron is a gorgeous, shy bird that I’m happy to feed. I’m not worried about the koi. If that fish were a trout, it’d be the one that the fishermen tell tales about. It’s wily and sure to outlive us all.

The lily in the pond bloomed today. Isn’t it a beauty? Next to it is the beast.

Most of the animals that we choose to live with have life spans shorter than our own. As youngsters, we often start with hamsters and guinea pigs. Sometimes called “pocket pets,” they never outlast a childhood. Dogs are longer lived; but you go into the relationship knowing that the entire arc of their lives, from puppyhood to grey muzzles. will be seen on a fast-forward button in comparison to our own, slower trajectory. 

There’s a built-in sadness to seeing animals age, but there is also the pleasure of familiarity – there’s an understanding of who they are that one gets only with time and observation.  As I step outside, I know exactly where Marge is by her raucous clucks. No other chicken sounds like her. Lulu’s crazy antics no longer hold the element of surprise, but  continue to have me shaking my head and smiling. (So, when I see her sail out of the coop’s window and hit the fence before landing, and then hurry off as if nothing has happened, I don’t panic. It’s just Lulu finding a Lulu-like way to exit the coop.) 

The animals that keep me company are getting old. I nursed Eleanor back from death’s door last year, and now she is ailing again, but this time, it is likely arthritis from old age that is slowing her down. Buffy, saved from a flock that bullied her five years ago, and having recovered from a mystery paralysis last year, is now the grand dame of the coop. She struts stately around the yard and is unflappable. Even Lulu doesn’t annoy her anymore. I honestly don’t know how long my old girls will continue on. They’re not laying many eggs, but I like having them in the backyard. I like knowing them.

Candy is the animal that I worry most about. She’s six and half-years old. Lately, she’s been showing her age. Her weight is good, but her bones are more prominent. She’s less playful. She takes long sun baths – I think to ease arthritis. This is sad, but there’s also an upside. In her old age she’s learned to enjoy it when I scratch her behind her ears. She likes gentle stroking on her back. She relishes the fresh timothy grass that I hand feed her. She’s mellowed out. Sometimes she plops herself in the middle of a group of chickens. They all laze about in the sun companionably. I watch those moments with appreciation – I know they aren’t going to last forever.

And then there are the goldfish. I have a six year old koi. Probably the ugliest koi ever. It is big, white and ungainly and lives outside in my small pond. A great blue heron often fishes there, but this koi is too big and savvy to be harmed. Yesterday I read that koi can live to be 200 years old. My son’s grandchildren might be caring for this fish! It’s a nice thought. But I still want dogs, chickens and rabbits, despite the fact that I know they won’t be here forever.

I don’t live in a spectacular part of the country. There aren’t mountains rising in the distance or dramatic vistas. My views are more intimate but beautiful in their own way. The small vignettes of wildflowers in the woods are so pretty that they stop me in my tracks. I notice the patterns of lichen and bark on tree trunks. I’ve been dumbstruck by orange fungi growing on a downed birch log. 

I try to capture some of that in my backyard garden. 

I planted this shady corner by the screened porch with (if I remember correctly) ajuga, sweet woodruff and cinnamon fern.

The roses and climbing hydrangea on the side of the coop are in bloom. This looks carefree and exuberant, but it actually required planning and editing.  For once I got the pruning right – the flowers are abundant and the shape of woody parts are just what I wanted.

If you look closely, you’ll see that the planter by the coop door is in the shape of a chicken. I confess to having chicken things everywhere. (The props in  Tillie Lays an Egg are only about a tenth of my collection.) Still, it is possible to overdo the chicken motif. I’m aiming for charming, not tacky. (If my friends think I’ve gone overboard, they have my permission to stage an intervention.)

Anyway, it’s been pretty here. There are many studies that show that the beauty of nature is beneficial for your health. It’s been proven that surgery patients have a faster recovery if they have a hospital bed near a window with a view of a park. So, for those of you stuck in cubicles and watching the HenCam, think of it this way – you’re not “wasting your time” – rather, you’re improving your physical well-being!

Like most authors, I’m thrilled to pieces to be invited to events to promote my writing. Libraries, bookstores and writers’ groups are all typical venues where we authors show up and hope to create word-of-mouth sales. I’ve gone to my fair share recently, and I’d like to think that it’s my brilliant writing that gets me the invites to these events, but I have to admit that my popularity lies elsewhere. I travel with Tillie, a celebrity chicken.

In all honesty, “Tillie” is one of three Bantam White Leghorns. I call them the “party girls.” They are always dressed to the nines in a white and red, and always personable. They look you in the eye and demand attention. Last night, it was Coco’s chance to have a night out on the town. Of the three, I knew she’d be most up for our most unusual outing yet – a Deviled Egg Cookoff at a bar in Somerville, MA.

Here we are at not the most glamorous of settings, but it sure was fun. By the time things got started, it was well past Coco’s bedtime. But, she meeted and greeted and charmed. 

This photo was taken early in the night, before about forty egg-lovers packed the bar. When it became noisy and crowded, I put Coco in her guinea pig crate on a table top, where she spent the rest of the evening having her photo taken. By 9 pm her eyes were drooping, the party was ending, and we headed home. 

We can’t wait for the next invitation.