Today I was given a lovely gift by someone I do not know. My husband knows this person, they worked together. Apparently my dear spouse has been talking about me. Hmmmm. Do I like this? I'm not quite sure.
Turns out this person was very much "in the know!" He knew that I wanted a raised bed garden. (I did not get one this year. In fact, I have no garden this year at all. Sadness.) He knew that I was interested in raising chickens and that the two sweet hens I had were killed by some unseen, stealth-like creature in the night. Kind of creepy. I mean, you think that your spouse has not paid any attention to your farmgirl wants and crazy ideas then....Gee whiz! You find out he's been talking about you behind your back! To strangers! Who raise chickens. And have gardens. Well, the nerve.
After a long day of being engaged in a very worthy cause- making curtains for an indigent care home- I came home tired and weary. I was looking forward to just sitting. And then, the news came from another room- "Oh, yeah. Mr. Miller is bringing you some of his fresh eggs."
"Eggs?" It could not possibly be. "Real eggs? Direct-from-the-chicken eggs?" (Well of course they were. Where else do they come from?) A very delighted smile began to cross my face. Fresh Eggs. (Deserving of capital letters.) Yum.
After meeting Mr. Miller and his lovely wife, and listening to him talk about his chickens and his garden with such a clear sense of pride, I was handed two dozen pale brown, smooth eggs. A declaration and promise that I was having eggs for dinner was uttered and we parted ways. I think I skipped to the kitchen.
Choosing three of these delectable delights, I took down a bowl from the shelf and cracked the first shell. Slipping into the bowl was the most beautiful sight- a perfect round yolk, the color of a setting sun. You don't get color like that from the shelf at the grocery store. The other two were just as vibrant and beautiful.
A quick swish with the whisk and I was ready to make a very satisfying supper of scrambled eggs and fruit. No seasoning, no butter- just plain and simple eggs. Ah, heaven.
They say that unexpected gifts are the best. You know them, the surprises that make your day, and breathe a bit of joy around you. Mr. Miller and his twenty-four little eggs did that for me today. That he went out of his way to hand-deliver them makes them more special.
I am now thinking that my husband can talk about me to whomever he chooses. As long as they have chickens. And share.