Silent Sunday…cock o’ the walk

In which our heroine goes to France

(Have you read any of the old books where the chapter titles are like my post title?) While waiting to find out whether or not our daughter’s flight will eventually leave Philadelphia (some weather issues somewhere), let’s look at my thankfully not-delayed flight to France three weeks ago.

Check-in went fine, but for some reason, both my carry-on bags were pulled aside to be hand-checked.  I have no idea why and of course, they’re not about to tell me, but finally they realized that I am an innocent (wo)man (thanks, Billy Joel) and I was through, onto my wait on the other side.  I spent as much time as possible walking, as I’d be sitting for most of the six hour or so flight.  Here’s a bit of O’Hare Airport art I passed a number of times.

A new creation

There’s a family at our farmer’s market who sells pork, beef and chicken, without hormones or antibiotics, sausages and other products with no MSG or nitrates, eggs with dark yellow yolks that stand up when you cook them and, lately, breakfast sandwiches at the market, all of which taste amazing.  But their story is even more interesting.  They have seven children, six of whom are adopted.  They started with  a small farm (a cow, a pig and some chickens) to help reach foster and adoptive children and somehow along the way, ended up with a full-blown family and farm.  This is New Creation Farm, (http://www.newcreationfarms.com/index.html), a wonderful place for children to grow up, be loved, and learn to work.

Down on the farm. The first part.

While I was growing up, my grandparents lived on a farm in Nebraska, about an hour from our house in Omaha.   My grandfather told my father when he was growing up, not to be a farmer because it was too hard and, for that or for some other reason, my dad became an accountant.  But we went to the farm to visit regularly and as a child, it was great.  We got all the fun of the farm without the work.