Farm Girl Wannabe

I wish I could show you in a picture or video what it's like to wander out to your backyard chicken coop on a misty Oregon morning and hold a warm egg in your hand, fresh from the hen. I'm more city girl than country, but I do love gathering eggs. With my love of horses and all the stray or injured animals I took in as a girl (including a pigeon (!) - I have very patient parents), I think I would have loved being a farm girl. I wouldn't choose it as an adult profession (backyard city chickens are just right for me), but being raised on a farm would have suited me well.

I just couldn't resist posting another set of Elliot and Imogen comparison photos. Elliot is a couple months younger than Imogen in this set, but they are making the exact same "teething" face. Pretty cute, huh?



Many of you sent really nice comments about the autism poems I posted and asked for more. Here are two more that are completed, and you'll just have to wait until the rest are edited and done.

Hollows

The place in my body you used to be.
Now my heart is on the outside.

The quiet when you finally fall asleep
in my arms. If you are awake, you are crying.

The days, the months and months
of you not talking, your lack of words.

The silence after the meltdowns. We
wait out the calm for another storm.

The things you won't touch, won't
eat, won't do, won't tolerate. It is like

where we are when the birds
leave us in winter. But I remember

we planted things, we tended,
nurtured, nourished, and warmed.

The birds will come back to us.
All of this will bloom.

Brittney Corrigan, copyright 2007, all rights reserved.


This Way, Right Here

These are my three-year old son's
favorite phrases: this way, meaning,
do what I want you to do. And
right here, meaning, I want
that, now, exactly this way.

Every visit to the store is the same. Or rather,
needs to be the same. First, we will ride
the elevator. He likes to push
the buttons, number two, the one
with the star. When we get off, we will
go this way. Insistent pointing. Loud voice.

We will check over here. We will go
see the vacuums. We will find something
right here. He holds a baggie of crackers.
I will push the cart through the aisles, break
them into two triangles, two squares,
two diamonds. We will get in line.
He will demand a sticker.

The checker will ask his name,
and how old is he? I'll be scanning my card,
entering my code. I won't have time to explain
why he won't answer, though he knows
the answers. He will not look at her. He might
notice the letters on her name badge,
rattle off the numbers on the stands.

At home, we will unload groceries. We'll touch
the big fence, the little fence, then
the big blue sign, the little blue sign.
We'll go inside. He will take his shoes off
this way, put his hat away right here.

This way, mama. Most days, I don't mind
adjusting my route. Right here, mama.
Most times, I can interpret his want.
Then he laughs this way. Hugs me
right here. Some things are fine staying
the same, the same, the same.
This way. Right here.

Brittney Corrigan, copyright 2007, all rights reserved.


And finally, let me hear from you! I know y'all are out there reading, so leave me some comments, already! I love comments. Let me know what you like and what you'd like to see more of - I'll oblige! Now I'm off to pick up Elliot and try not to think about taxes...