The diary of no. 2221 - or, Clucky, as she names herself

When I woke up this morning, I was terribly itchy. All the feathers I had tried to save had rubbed off during my fretful night asleep. It was pretty horrible, because Jonty was kicking me whilst she dreamed, and I dreamed that my mother hen was kicking me away, and kicking me into the small, dung-smelling metal cage with Jonty and Glassy.
Anyway, I was very upset. I could see them wedged between me and the thin bars of the cage, and I went to pick them up with my severed beak. It was quite tough, but in the end I made a quite comfortable cushion with them. My beak, which was very raw after being slapped a bit by the horrible owner, felt dreadful, and I was still sniffling as Glassy opened one bleary eye.
"Will you shut up?" she clucked sleepily, and tried to shuffle away from me. Jonty woke when Glassy turned, and said "Oh you silly goose, Clucky."
Just then, in the rather yellow lights of the farm, a door opened. A horrible, clanging open, and all the hens shielded their eyes as white light flooded into the room. I grimaced as the shadowy figure of the owner - Jack - stepped into view. He slammed the door shut behind him, smirking at the deafening BOOM that sounded around. Then, he tipped feed into the long chute.
Glassy, Jonty and I all stuffed ourselves into a painful line, and began pecking furiously at the grain that had begun to roll dully down the cute. I snipped at the sesame seeds, gnawed at the poppy seeds and cracked the sunflower seeds, until my stomach was full. Then, I fell back into a bit of empty space while the others kept snacking.
That was the worst bit of the day - the bit where feed was deposited. We had to line up to receive it, and that was very hard, because there was not enough room. Our feathers would rub into each other, and even though you would think it was comforting, the sharp bits poked in like Jack's fingers.
When the others had finished, we tried to make ourselves as comfortable as possible for laying. We sat there, feeling only slightly broody, as the lights flickered and we sat, bored, tired and annoyed.
I tried for the hundredth time to scratch and peck at the hard metal floor, which was my favourite past time when the others were away at their doctor appointments, but had no luck, for I was squashed. I tried grooming Jonty's filthy feathers, but my beak wouldn't ruffle through the gunk that was stuck there.
We talked to each other, pretending we were about to be rescued by lots of people in black, who were kind to us, and would take us to a farm, with lots of grain and worms to pull and peck at, and our beaks would miraculously grow back, and we would have an acre of land just to ourselves.
Then, as we had a little nap, the egg-collector came around. Her eyes were filled with the daily tears she always had when she came around with the trays, on the trolley. She gave my feathers a quick ruffle as she collected the eggs. Then, we heard the creak and clang, and Jack stood in the doorway again.
I was shocked. He never came at this time of day. He seemed very dishevelled, and said in that weird, human way of saying things, "Open cage 71 Anna."
Anna started to cry, but opened our cage. I was stiff with fear. The whole house held their breath.
Then, screeching, Jonty was pulled out, and another, younger hen was thrust in, her feathers thick and full, but her eyes very wide with fear.
Glassy began to cry, and Jonty yelled "I will never forget you!"
"We won't either!" we called back.
The neighbours were very sympathetic.
"We are sorry love," the next door neighbour said sadly, "But, today was just her day!"
I was crying out loud, chicken tears falling down my cheeks. My beak was flapping about in a frenzy of clucks and crooks.
I gave the newcomer a hug.
"Who are you?" I asked in a friendly, smiling voice.
"Dunno," she said, but her voice was soft and kind, "Do you have a name for me?"
I thought hard, then I whispered in Glassy's ear. She nodded, and tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Remembrance," I answered.
"Remembrance," repeated the new chicken, "I like it."
Then, the lights went out, and we all arranged to go to bed for the night.
Love to y'all,
neina-marie, a buzzin' bee

Two new (and rather interesting rhymes)

Have you noticed that 'Mary's little lamb' is just not cutting the top ten in our country? That Georgie Porgie is getting a little big for his boots? That the rain outside does not have ANYTHING to do with the old, snoring man? Well, this is why - those poems above have been modernized!!!

Mary had a little lamb
Her father shot it dead
Mary still took it to school
Between two chunks of bread.

It's raining, it's pouring, oh drat it's golbal warming

Georgie Porgie pudding and pie,
kissed the girls and made them cry
And when the boys came out to play
He kissed them too because he's gay.

Priceless!

Love to y'all,
neina-marie, a buzzin' bee

Amazing-but-true!

• The name Wendy was made up for the book "Peter Pan."
• Paul Hunn holds the record for the loudest burp, which was 118.1 decibels, which is as loud as a chainsaw
• The word "toy" comes from an old English word that means "tool."
• Throughout the South, peanuts were known as "Monkey Nuts," and "Goober peas," before the civil war
• A chicken with red earlobes will produce brown eggs, and a chicken with white earlobes will produce white eggs
• Instead of a Birthday Cake, many Russian children are given a Birthday Pie
• Chinese Crested dogs can get acne
• Colgate faced a big obstacle marketing toothpaste in Spanish speaking countries. Colgate translates into the command "go hang yourself."
• Macadamia nuts are not sold in their shells because it takes 300 pounds per square inch of pressure to break the shell
• Infants spend more time dreaming than adults do
• The letter J does not appear anywhere on the periodic table of the elements
• The word "lethologica" describes the state of not being able to remember the word you want
• In Belgium, there is a museum just for strawberries
• The national anthem of Greece has 158 verses
• Crayola is a French word that means "Oily chalk."
• Sylvia Plath was a famous poet who killed herself at age thirty-one by sticking her head into a gas oven
• Leonardo Da Vinci invented the scissors
• The word "checkmate" in chess comes from the Persian phrase "Shah-Mat," which means the king is dead
• In Albania, nodding your head means "no" and shaking your head means "yes."
• Ringo Starr appeared in a Japanese advertisement for apple sauce. Ironically his name means "apple sauce" in Japanese
• The only 15 letter word that can be spelled without repeating a letter is "uncopyrightable."

Isn't it just awesome! Click here for the page (thousands of pages of facts!)

Love to y'all,
neina-marie, a buzzin' bee

The rain down the window

Books for writers. Try it. I love it! A great blog.

From that blog, I have written a small piece.

From the dark grey clouds, which crackle with sadness, with dispair, with anger, the clear water falls. Rain gracefully dives from their cloudy homes, distorting blurred images as they whizz down. Through the air the drops cut, slicing like hot knifes through butter, maybe faster.
When the drop finally hits something, it splatters, sending tiny droplets to a similar fate. In puddles it merges, water to water, two making one, bigger than before.
On the ground it lies, wounded, crying silently for help. Soaking down through the dirt, trying to seep through the hard concrete, rolling dismally down blades of slippery grass.
And down the same slippery-like surface, the rain rolls, water splashing on the window, then slipping down, to collect in the holes of the window-sill. And eyes stare out the window, splattered with rain, and the horrible, empty, dark-down feeling penatrating the very mind, the very soul.

Love to y'all,
neina-marie, a buzzin' bee

A song just for... people?

Some people like to ask me:
"What's the point of singing a melody?"
Other's too, seem to think
That dancing cool is easy on a plain ice-rink

Many people also say
That you can't beat Shakespeare on a good day
Many others say too
That all the scripts should be down the loo

Pre-chorus
I wonder... how they got things in their heads
like "Just because you sing in tune...
doesn't mean you should be called super that soon."
Many don't seem to realize
That to criticize
Makes them very unwise
They would get a dose of this:

Chrous
It's talent, talent, I concur,
But it isn't to appreciated, no sir!
You wouldn't find a person in the world who like everybody
Everyone says
That some things are a waste of time
Like the point of juggling multiple balls
Who cares when all three of them fall?

Some people like to say
What the point of tapping in hard shoes all day?
The sound is hideous anyway
Where's the talent in that?

So what if they can cook up a storm?
Even if it keeps you in reasonable form
There has to be a downside
Your future has a rough ride!

Pre-chrous
I wonder... how they got things in their heads
like "Just because you sing in tune...
doesn't mean you should be called super that soon."
Many don't seem to realize
That to critisize
Makes them very unwise
They would get a dose of this:

Chrous
But it's talent, talent I concur,
But it isn't to appreciated, no sir!
You wouldn't find a person in the world who like everybody
Everyone says
That some things are a waste of time
Like the point of juggling multiple balls
Who cares when all three of them fall?

Bridge
When two notes fit harmoniously...
Someone must have said (boringly)...
"Who cares if it's joyous and jolly...
It's still a waste of lolly..."

So next time a person snaps at you
"Who cares if you can do what you do?"
You say politely, with a smile on your face
"It's talent... a thing in the human race
So what is the disgrace?"

Love to y'all,
neina-marie, a buzzin' bee

Hiya, hiya Erkinschinder, A SCADAL!

Have you heard? The pretty Chinese girl who sang Ode to the motherland didn't sing it! The voice was a pre-recorded voice of a magnificent singer named Yang Peiyi, who was unfortunately not cute enough to play the part of the singing in the Olympic Opening ceremony.
The cute girl named Lin Miaoke had mimed Yang's song, whilst being hailed a 'rising star', amongst media, the gorgeous singer Yang sulked in the corner!

This is what I call OUTRAGEOUS. If Yang isn't pretty enough, get a prettier girl! Or, it was good of you to choose that sort of mix. I don't know how to react, but I feel so sorry for the seven-year-old. She had a great, fantastic, INCREDIBLE voice, and it was shown to the world. However, a nine-year-old posed and pouted to perfection for her, and got the limelight!!!
What do you think, guys?

Love to y'all,
neina-marie, a buzzin' bee

Hangin' flower-baskets

Hiya. I think the greenhouse needs a bit o' sprucing up, so here is my idea - hanging flowerbaskets! Look great, especially if you know what flowers and colours go where. I got all this from this website.

ABOUT THE BASKET
"1. Size - too big and it will detract from the rest of your garden. Too small and it could get lost.
2. Weight - and structure required - when the hanging basket is complete and the flowers are blooming profusely, will it still be able to be supported?
3. Location - full-sun, part-shade, full-shade? Plus, will it be knocked about by the prevailing afternoon wind?
4. Longevity - will the hanging basket last longer than one season?
5. Maneuverability - in relation to the Size and Weight issues is whether this planter is able to moved by yourself or will it require a small team of weightlifters to prop it in place?
6. Material - will it need a liner or is it already lined? Will you need anything else to start this project?"

Oh, and people, please note a man made this up.

"Plant choice is paramount to making this project a success. You will find that the location of your planter will depend entirely upon which plants you choose. It's no good purchasing shade lovers if they're sitting in full-sun all day and vice versa."

But I also found this website - very helpful indeed! It is rather long, so please click on the link provided.

Using this idea, maybe this:

Could turn to be this:

Now, MY manual -

Colour!
Nothing is more important than the colours you choose to have in your garden. As you may already know, greens go well with scarlet,deep blue mixes sweetly with soft yellows and firey oranges partner brilliantly with a hardcore purple. So, lets see what the plants have to say:

Told you so!

Please also note this was all done with love and care by... ME! I think hanging baskets would really benifit to the greenhouse, please oh please oh pleeeeease Mr Woody?

Love to y'all,
neina-marie, a buzzin' bee