Scam and Eggs

Comment or not, as you will- (thanks for reading)

The best years of my childhood were spent at my grandparents home on the coast. It was an old cape cod built in the early 1900's by relatives long passed. It was bordered on the north side by a tall cedar hedge that acted as a windbreak against a mean northeast wind in winter. Chick-a-dees would flit from branch to branch in the summer, weaving their a- dee-dee-dees around poor phoebe who just couldn't console herself. On sultry summer days, I'd amble out in the orchard, serenaded by the honeybees and crickets. I would lay in the tall grass and soak in the sun and the feeling that something good was just about to happen. The wind would whisper secrets off in the distant pines. We all went out as a family to sit outside the summerhouse in the evenings to watch the sunset. It was a frequent ritual. Inside, the smell of brown bread baking in the oven filled the kitchen and spilled out onto the back patio. To this day, the smell of brown bread takes me back to a simpler and happier time. There were two barns, the older one collapsed in on itself, the other an endless place of adventure and mystery for a young boy to explore.

There was a small henhouse where Aunt Jane's chickens used to live. Aunt Jane was quite "nervous" and prone to fits of excitement from time to time. Folks in the family referred to it as "the condition" with knowing nods and quiet sighs. She had several dozen hens, none of which ever laid an egg. She fed and cared for those hens like they were her children. They all had names. They would come running when she called out "here biddy-biddy-biddy," in a high tremolo. She would stand out in the field tossing cracked corn and telling stories and whispering her "secrets", then she'd laugh a big laugh, and clap her hands in sudden glee.

She was disappointed that they didn't lay any eggs, and she often complained about it. Her twin brother Joe lived across the road from us. He snuck over one night after dark and placed a few procelain eggs in the nests, hoping that it would encourage the hens to lay. The next morning, Aunt Jane came whooping into the house with those ceramic eggs clutched tightly in her hand.

"Look!" "Looky-look!" "My girls made some eggs!" she exclaimed.

Gramp patiently explained to her that those were special eggs, and couldn't be eaten. Later that day, Joe came by the house and bought those special eggs for his collection. Once a week, for as long as I can remember, he'd sneak those eggs back into the chickenhouse, then buy them from Auntie J. later. When company would come, she'd insist they go out and meet her special hens, who laid those porcelain eggs. Those were the best eggs in the world, Jane would proudly say, and it took me many years to appreciate the love they gave.

[Shea Ryhai]

I love how you can write a story so simple and short, and yet the images of it come out so easily. I grew up in the country on a small farm. Goats, geese, chickens, rabbits, and the usual cat and dog. I enjoyed this read I think I would love about anything you wrote.

Only one part near the beginning caught my eye. The double use of "It" to begin your second and third sentence. It's just the repetition, and I doubt it is too important.

Lovely read

Shea

Thanks Shea,
I do seem to have a case of the its today. Good catch, and thanks for reading.

[Inklogic]

I was smiling after reading this piece. Apart from the vivid imagery, I found it a bit amusing. Aunt Jane was one strange queen of chickens. Thanks for the piece.

Originally Posted by Inklogic

I was smiling after reading this piece. Apart from the vivid imagery, I found it a bit amusing. Aunt Jane was one strange queen of chickens. Thanks for the piece.

Thanks. I wanted this to be a feel good piece. Nothing brings it home like wacky Aunts and chickens.....

[tony_a20]

I liked it! It's a nice wistful nostalgia piece. I liked your style and use of words. My only suggestion would be to add a bit more remembrance to each thought, (as nearly every sentence presents a new one), and allow the reader to savour the memory a little more. I'd like to invite you to visit my website - see my profile.

Tony

Originally Posted by tony_a20

I liked it! It's a nice wistful nostalgia piece. I liked your style and use of words. My only suggestion would be to add a bit more remembrance to each thought, (as nearly every sentence presents a new one), and allow the reader to savour the memory a little more. I'd like to invite you to visit my website - see my profile.

Tony

Thanks Tony-

I have revised this several times since posting here, I just haven't put up the revision. I'll give the website a peek, thanks for the heads up.