This post is next in a sequence which began with a previous post about Bessie that you may want to read as well.
It was definitely way past Bessie’s bedtime, but sometimes there are more important things than getting tucked in for the night on schedule. This was one of those times.
Bessie had been shedding feathers everywhere over the previous few days, and that morning as I headed off to work, she was looking and feeling miserable. With so many feathers missing, it was turning out to be an especially tough molting season for her.
So in the evening, I helped her on with her apron and chef’s cap and said, “Come on, Sweetheart. Come, follow me.”
She was hesitant at first, partly because of it being close to bedtime, and partly because chickens like to stick with their bedtime roosting friends in the evening hours.
She had not been inside my house since she was a very young chick, and even then it had only been in the sunroom brooder box at the back of the house. Although there had been a few close calls with baby chicks wanting to do a little too much exploring, none had ever been anywhere else in the house.
As we went into the sunroom, Bessie shared a few dim memories. “Oh, yes. I remember that spot. Lefty flew there the time he got out when you were cleaning the brooder box. You were flapping like a baby chick yourself when he did that!”
She also shared some of her clearer memories which I had almost forgotten. “And there’s where you had the television set that kept us up way past our bedtime…when you didn’t understand why we were peeping in such a loud annoying way during all of your favorite shows! We wanted to go to sleep!” Bessie and I both chuckled.
All of my chickens get chatty like this when they are excited, but Bessie became silent as she stood on the threshold between the sunroom and the kitchen.
I honestly don’t know how to draw that moment when all of her dreams and imaginings were coming true right before her eyes. It was all more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. It was her moment, hers and hers alone.
For me, it was just a kitchen, just the room where I prepare food for myself and my chickens. For Bessie, it was a world filled with endless wonder.
Isn’t it strange how something plain, everyday, and totally ordinary to us can be so special to someone else? But it’s that way more times than we may realize.
Bessie wanted to see and do and know everything all at once. We didn’t stop until we were both yawning much too much.
We ended our tour and first tutorial with some words from Julia Child. “What makes a great chef? Well, training and technique, of course, plus a great love of food, a generous personality, and the ability to invent.”
Bessie asked me with such great concern in her voice, almost afraid to hear the answer but willing to risk it, “Do I have those things?”
“Oh, yes, you do. You definitely do,” I said. “We just need to work a little on the training and technique part since this was your first time visiting a real kitchen. Everyone knows what a generous personality you have and how everything you do is done from your heart. What matters more than anything is your generous heart.”
I heard her whispering breathlessly to the others after getting tucked in for the night, “You just won’t believe it. You just will not believe it all.” For me, the endless wonder I felt came from sharing this delightful evening with Bessie.
My Life With Gracie (and especially Bessie) filled me with endless wonder.
I will do my best to post each Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Every “Like,” “Follow,” and “Comment” is truly appreciated! You may want to skip to the next post about Bessie’s dream of being a master chef.