By Guest Blogger Chicken Wrangler Sara
As I was walking back to the chicken yard last week a feather fell from the sky. It was quite small and very white. In fact, if it were colder outside I might have mistaken it for a snowflake.
I stood still for a minute to see if more were forthcoming. Or perhaps an entire bird was soon to follow. That would be one way to increase our flock.
Neither of these things happened. I picked the feather up and put it in my pocket thus confirming that it was not a snowflake.
I remember as a child taking walks with my grandfather around the lake near their apartment in Austin. One time I picked up a feather. This one was not white and was much larger. My grandfather put it in his Bible where it remained until his death.
As life gets more hectic and being a grownup becomes harder, it was nice to reconnect with a childhood pastime of picking up feathers. Perhaps I should keep this little white feather in my Bible for when I feel childish.
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