Me Little Hearties

Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
Sing me a song, O Please!
A song of ships, and sailor men,
And parrots, and tropical trees,
Of islands lost in the Spanish Main
Which no man ever may find again,
Of fishes and corals under the waves,
And seahorses stabled in great green caves.
Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
Sing of the things you know so well.

-Amy Lowell

Arrrrren't they cute?

-ak

Conversation With Jed

This is a video I took a few months ago, wherein I have a candid conversation with my little brother Jed, about teeth. I love talking to my little brothers; they really have such unique and fresh perspectives, not to mention the beautiful simple joy they get from life. I've got a lot to learn from them.

Anyway, enjoy the cuteness.

Winged Ramblings

So far, raising 30 chickens been a great learning experience. I feel a bit more country now, ya'll. But I admit that my feelings as I watched the chicks tossed into shoeboxes for the ride home were less than confident. Some of my siblings, who will remain anonymous, made their cordial dislike for chickens known. I would be flying solo. I wasn't eggs-actly crowing at the idea of cleaning a coop and all that, but:

"Where there are no hens, the coop is clean.

But much increase comes by the eggs of a hen."

The idea of gathering healthy home-raised eggs was romantic enough that I was fairly undaunted by the dirty side of it. Except for the prospect of butchering. Since I got a mostly straight-run (50-50 hens/roosters), we thought we could have an unfortunate amount of roosters that we would make the best of by putting in the freezer. And all the gory stories happily told by friends with chicken-slaying experience left me balking. So far though, I believe (I hope) we only have 4 roosters, so we're all safe for the moment from the strain that impending butchering puts on relationships.

I'm interested in nutrition and in being self-conscious about food. A good resource is the documentary "Food, Inc." But here is some info about eggs from free-range hens, as opposed to caged hens producing mass-marketed eggs.

Eggs from free range hens had up to:

• 1/3 less cholesterol
• 1/4 less saturated fat
• 2/3 more vitamin A
• 2 times more omega-3 fatty acids
• 3 times more vitamin E
• 7 times more beta carotene

And, they taste better.

We turned an old tackroom in our 80 year old barn into a Chicken Suite, and the chickens strut in and out and find pasture. We shut them in the coop at night as a precautionary measure against a remix of Nickel Creek's "The Fox", except with chickens instead of geese. ;)

Maybe it takes some long-term vision to look at dirty chicks and see the culinary possibilities to come from their eggs. I think I've learned about how God must view we stinky people; He sees the His glory displayed in the end product of His loving sanctification in His long-term vision, so He rolls up His sleeves for the dirty work of lovingly sanctifying us.

Will and Jed have lots of fun with the chickens. Maybe sometimes a little too much fun...

Picture this: Two boys. One chicken. A trampoline.

True story.

No chickens were harmed. Honest.

Dec. 10th: Jed's 5th Birthday

I hope Jed forgives me for blogging his birthday belated. :) It is hard to believe it was 5 years ago that we brought him home from the hospital...

It was December 10th, 2004. We were just about to go on our tradition of Christmas tree hunting in the mountains. The snow thickly blanketed the ground, perfect for snowmobiling to the forest. Bundled up against the -15 degree weather, Dad would drive 80 mph through the fields. It was just like flying. Then we would hike through creek bottoms looking for a worthy pine tree. We never found it, but one part of the tradition was complaining about how "Charlie Brown" it looked. We would each take 5 whacks with the hatchet till the tree broke the silence of the winter wonderland and crashed softly to the snow.

But just before we went tree hunting that year, Mom was feeling a little...hesitant to let us go. We all stared at her. Was she or wasn't she? Suddenly, she knew. Our tree-getting was postponed for little Jedidiah Wayne King. Dad quickly drove Mom an hour and half over the Chief Joseph mountain pass, dropped Mom off in time at the hospital, and came back to get the rest of us to await the arrival of another little brother.

It was so amazing to meet the new member of the family, fresh from the hands of God. Dad held Jed, and knelt down to let 1 2/3rds year old Will meet his brother. Will promptly pinched Jed's nose in what we assume was angst. Jed hollered back, and it was the start of a beautiful relationship. (They really are best friends now.)

So for his birthday this year, here's what we did:


At the water park.

Will and Jed - can't tell they're having a blast, can you? ;)


We had a party with just the fam. A very piratey party! Arrrr!

Captain Jed, terror of the seven seas and even the bath tub too. :)

Love this little guy! My favorite blond-haired blue-eyed 5 year old.

The Amazing Pirate Cake. Hannah made most of it, I contributed a modest amount. Definitely one cool cake for one sweet little boy!

Of Yellowstone and Skipping Stones

The past few days we Kings have been down in Yellowstone National Park, relaxing. Dad, JD, and Cody went down early Friday to pick up a 5th wheel camper, and try it out while flyfishing and barely avoiding a close encounter with a grizzly bear. We ladies and little boys met them after church on Sunday in the Lamar valley of YNP.

Upon meeting them, we split into the 2 vehicles: Dad, Mom, Wyatt, Will and Jed in the big old Ford pulling the camper, and JD, Cody, Hannah and I in the Suburban, in which we would have followed Dad. I say "would have" because Mom had forgotten she had the 'burban keys in her pocket. However, if one must be abandoned by one's parents for half an hour, the Lamar valley has a lovely view. Finally they realized we weren't following and came back to fetch us. We spent the night at Fishing Bridge, all 9 of us cozied up in the camper.

I've got to say this before I go on: a buffalo is almost a cow; if you've seen one, you've seen them all. They are really not that exciting, and definitely not exciting enough to stop traffic for 5 miles and cause a 45 minute delay for everyone who has already seen the past 476 buffalo. Anyway...


Yellowstone is a beautiful place, and I enjoy getting to go there once in a while. Hot springs, wild animals, rugged terrain, rushing rivers, mountains, cliffs, and canyons all stand testimony to their Creator as a shadow of His power, majesty, and creativity. We took the little boys to see Old Faithful for their first times. We also saw a black bear, lots of buffalo, and 2 elk.


Yesterday evening, we went to the Imax theatre and saw the film "Bears." As JD put it, "I felt alienated in the first minute of the show." It opened with Native American's mystical view of bears, and later the propaganda of global warming endangering cute cuddly polar bears touted as truth without any statistics or facts. (Perhaps we should be brainwashed enough we shouldn't catch things like that. Oops.) Grizzlys were portrayed as "more like a cow than a killer" and severely misunderstood, with we "bad" humans forcing them out of their habitat and hunting them too extensively. There is a reason the bear's habitat has shrunk: people have taken dominion of the wilderness, and have gardenized it. Of course, there is still a place for the grizzly bear: in National Parks or on remote mountains with a healthy fear of man and his .360 Winchester magnum. The whole film disappointingly yet predictably smacked of environmental activism and modern-day creature worship. It brought to mind Romans 1:25 : "[they] exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Amen." I was glad the propaganda flew over the heads of the little guys, and we could at least enjoy their simple delight at seeing fearsome bears on a 6-story screen.


One thing that didn't fly over Jed's head happened this morning as we were getting ready to leave. We went down to the Madison river to skip rocks, and Will accidentally threw a bad one off poor Jeddie's head and hit him hard. He had a good flow of blood down his blonde hair, but he is alright now. I am so thankful for the Lord's kind providence that it wasn't worse. Just goes to show that skipping rocks is an extreme sport.


Well, that was kind of a lengthy post, but I'm still learning how good blogging works. ;)


Grace and peace,

Audrey