One of my new favorite things happens to be my owl necklace.
It is from the 2010 fall line from Stella and Dot.
I love it! And what it reminds me of when I look at it.
As a child growing up in New Hampshire we lived in the woods at the base of the white mountains. My Father drove trucks for a time and one cold, stormy night brought home a bundle wrapped in his red flannel shirt. We (us four kids and Mom)gathered around closely as he unwrapped his bundle to reveal a dear, wise looking old owl with a broken wing. Immediately we all felt such compassion for this poor little creature who just looked back at us with that wised, aged look a New England Great horned owl was created with.
My Mother, quickly began making a splint for his poor broken wing while we listened to what happened to "Mr. Owl" (as of course he was already named). Due to the thunderstorm that night he had been flying low across the freeway and had been hit by the vehicle in front of my Dad's truck hitting his windshield. Dad, always having a heart for all of God's creatures, of course stopped to see what could be done.
My brother and I were sent out to find some bugs and worms while the girls sorted through our old baby blankets making him a cozy little bed in the twins old play-pen.
"Mr. Owl" made it through the first night, then the second and soon became quite a quiet little ficture in our living room. He spent the days watching us all go to and fro,his great head bobbing to the left and then to the right. He watched us kids, play,laugh and argue and whenever I would get ready to tell Mom "what really happened" i would look at "Mr. Owl" out of the corner of my eye and be forced to tell the whole truth.
Was I afraid he and my Mother had evening chats about the days events every night, after we went to bed? Where he would of course tell the "whole story"! "Mr. Owl"...so wise...
The day came when he should be released...oh the sadness our little hearts held as we said our goodbyes, even my Dad seemed reluctant. "It's what we have to do, he was created by God to fly high and hunt" said my always reassuring Mother.
Up, up,up... he flew, so high and powerful with broken wing strong and healed...to.... the very nearby crab-apple tree. "Yeah!!" we all shrieked so happy to have "Mr. Owl" choose such a close location. There he looked down at us with those old, wise eyes.
That night I kept running to my bedroom window to make sure he still was up in that tree. Weeks went by, "Mr. Owl" stayed in the crab-apple tree and continued his babysitting. He hunted at night gaining his strength back. He watched us run around with the chickens,play in the sprinkler,catch lightning bugs in the evenings and be ushered into the house for bed-time.
I do not remember the day when I looked up in that crab-apple tree and he finally wasn't there. It came, but maybe I had to block it from my memory.
I never have looked at an owl and not had a comforting feeling. Why do we say owls are wise? Is it those eyes that look like they have seen a lot of life? Is it there quiet manner?
"A wise old owl lived in an oak
The more he saw the less he spoke
the less he spoke the more he heard
why cant we all be like that wise old bird?"
So... thanks Stella and Dot for creating this cute little piece that reminds me of a sweet time in life.
