This Christmas, I decided to give an embroidered linen handkerchief (with a bar of my homemade chocolate-mint soap).
At first I was really excited about giving the hankies. I love little vintage hankies. I collect and use them. (I have a very small collection.) But then I started to wonder and fear if this was a weird thing to give people. After all, I'm sure not everyone shares my affinity with hankies.
I still wonder what people think about them. And if they know what is is. One teacher sent home a thank-you note and thanked my son for the monogrammed "cloth."
You can see years' past here. My sister, Kate, reminded me last year that I gifted a gold-gilded picture of the temple one year. But there is one year that still eludes us both.
* * As I was typing this, I looked out to the chicken coop and saw an odd thing. We had a hen that was acting strange yesterday. She was very still and standing. Carter tried to pick her up, but she panicked and made some sad sounds. We patted her and told her we loved her, but I didn't expect her to make it through the night. Sadly, the "odd" thing I saw in the chicken run was more horrifying than just a chicken who died in the night. And more horrifying than a dead chicken who was eaten by her fellow hens ... It appears there was a predator last night and took the poor defenseless hen and dragged her to the chicken run door. She was too large to fit through the opening, so it ate her where it was: wedged in the doorway. It was gruesome. I am ever so glad that Joe is home today. (Just recently Joe shot an intruding opossum who was scaling down the chicken wire of the chicken run.)* *