Ode To The Egg

Arriving at my little rural farm retreat where I’m spending a few nights, I found a bowl of fresh eggs awaiting me. The pale brown ones are gently speckled, the white ones appear to have a faint tinge of blue. I’ve never seen eggs like these in a grocery store carton. Isn’t it wonderful how a bowl of fresh eggs can bring such joy? 

But isn’t that what we all want? The ability to find pleasure in the little everyday things. Although these were not everyday eggs.

I cooked up a couple of them the next morning, wishing I’d thought to bring some bacon. They were delicious, the yolks a deep yellow. Later that afternoon I took a walk around the farm to see the chickens that laid the eggs that I consumed for breakfast. To say a little thank you. The hens were in their coop, separated from the roosters who roamed more freely. But I know nothing about the formalities or practices of chicken and rooster get-togethers (simple urban-dweller that I am). The hens seemed happy, the roosters appeared cocky and sure of themselves, strutting around as only roosters can.

When I contemplate why the fresh eggs brought such delight, I realize the mind needs to be serene to see the beauty in the ordinary. Not in the quick ‘oh look that’s lovely’ kind of way, but slower and more focused. And all around here, on this rural farm retreat, there is serenity, that feeling of being unhurried with no distractions. Perhaps that is why nature is so nourishing and activities like forest-bathing so popular. Nature quiets our minds, soothes our souls and brings into focus small things we might otherwise miss.

I know I will never look at eggs in a grocery store the same way again.