I've struggled getting this post started. Trying to find the words behind this picture has me all over the place. I started off writing about how we first ventured into the whole "chicken thing". Then I began thinking about how this egg stand has so many things about it that I could use as my topic. Topics seemingly unrelated, except for the fact that they all intersect in my brain at this egg stand.
Like how that sign leaning up against my egg stand started off as scrap wood at my parents' house in NY. They were getting ready to sell the house I grew up in, and my mom, a realtor since I was in 5th grade, was listing the house as 'for sale by owner'. I'm not even sure if she even still had her license at that time. But she still had the knowledge to be able to negotiate a deal. She only got her real estate license to pay for my private school tuition starting in 6th grade - and at this point I was out of college. But either way - she was going to sell it herself. So they didn't have the benefit of a real estate office's commercial sign. My dad, being a close to life-long carpenter, built this sign as their "For Sale" sign. Once they sold the house (and moved into an apartment) they no longer had a need for it - so somehow it came into my possession. It was transformed into a garage sale sign at one point and in the early 2000s it was moved along with the rest of my stuff to Oklahoma. Stored away for many years, it was eventually painted and used as a "For Rent" sign for one of our rental properties. And then finally (so far?) it became my egg stand sign. But every time I look at it I think of my parents. The sacrifice my mom made by working in real estate for me to go to school. All the evenings she was out with clients looking for their "perfect home", the Sundays she spent holding "Open Houses", and the hours she spent at the office as the "Realtor on Call". And all my dad's talent in being able to just "whip out" a sign from scrap material. The vision he had to be able to look at a task and to know just how to go about completing it. And not just completing it but doing it well. So well that this "temporary" sign has lasted more than 25 years.
When I look at this picture I also see the chains stretch from the roof to the ground. Some may wonder why I chained it down. No, I'm not afraid of someone stealing it. That's not it at all. What I am protecting it from is the Oklahoma winds. This small stand with its "wing" of a roof would become lighter than air with just the most average day's wind. One thing we have definitely grown used to over the last 17 years is the wind. And everything we leave outside has to be built, stored or placed with the wind in mind. If not, we will sooner or later lose said items. The wind though is like a beautiful sculptor's hand. The fields of grasses become full of dancing waves as the breeze blows the grains to and fro like the ocean in the waves . But it also can push the dirt of a bare field so high it looks like the edge of an approaching rain storm. And the wind can stir up the same bare dirt into a funnel cloud - not the dangerous kind, but definitely one that makes a dirty mess of everything - a dust-devil. But the best part about the wind it that it makes our flag always wave. Very rarely are they limply hanging on a flag pole. They are unfurled and waving day in and day out.
This picture obviously also makes me think of my chickens. And of a little thing chicken-owners call chicken-therapy. As with most animals, chickens are very therapeutic. I never wanted chickens. My husband did. But when a friend who owned 3 chickens was looking to re-home them and all their housing , food and accessories I didn't have much of a reason to say "no" any longer. When we first got them we would spend our evenings as a family "chicken-watching" while we let them explore their new yard. I came to realize that they each have unique personalities. And that caring for them can be very rewarding when you are gifted each day with eggs. Safely getting them through a hard winter is an awesome feeling. Watching a hen raise babies is a miracle. And it is all therapeutic. I know of people who have worked through anxiety and depression with the aid of their chickens. They run to you when they see you. They are great listeners. They enjoy your company. But they only ask that you feed and water and keep them safe. They don't notice your faults, or know about your past. They just know you're important to them. And sometimes that's all we need.
So I guess that's some of the story behind this picture. There's more. And with any picture, I'm sure it will reveal more and more to me as time goes on.....