Today at Iten's Acres: Christmas Eve December 24, 2013

Looks as if it will be a white Christmas at the Acres. Cold as well. Bonnie has already been by this morning. What a beautiful dog--her black and white fits right into the snowy landscape--camouflage. She does love winter and snow. I'm sure she's on her way to see Gus. He's currently being a wimpy dog; I can see him sitting inside Ellie's playhouse watching the snow come down. He'll be frolicking as soon as Bonnie gets there. May take a little while. Dogs have no desire to be mathematicians. The shortest distance between two points thing is irrelevant. Who wants to meander in a straight line anyway?
Homesteader is enjoying making the birds scatter. She watches awhile and then her cat nature gets the best of her, and she jumps up against the doorwindow--a flurry of wings ensue. Such power! Then back in my lap with a word or two (or more!) explaining the situation. Two minutes later--ATTACK! ADD cat.
It is gorgeous outside. Hope the flurries continue all day and through the evening. Have to bundle up and take a walk. Won't have the Outlaws with me today since Gus is securely back home. The meadow and wild area will be a tracker's heaven. The wind will add to the flurries from the sky. Dennis' alpaca will be enjoying himself; he's a winter snow lover too. The Acres! Every day is a good day.

Today at Iten's Acres: The Prodigal Is Home December 23, 2013

For those of you who were losing sleep over worrying about it: Gus is back home inside his electric "cage" and quite pleased with the whole ordeal. As I write, he's singing a duet with Bonnie as a siren goes flying down the highway. Well, the old country road.

This Week at Iten's Acres: First Days December 21, 2013

First official day of "Christmas Vacation":

First official day of winter as well: Warm and rainy. I love the rain. I love melancholy. The melted snow and abundant rain have swollen the streams of Morrow County, begun to fill the swamp, turned the Acres into a bog. It will be wet and sloppy walking the place today. Don't worry--that's never stopped me before. Perhaps Gus will join me. He's been "locked out" of his place again for a few days. Sleeping in my shed. Protecting my place with his nightly howls. You would think they would just call him and let him back in the electric fence. I guess they just don't care about the little guy. I'll take care of him as best I can until they decide to look for him. We will enjoy our walks. Perhaps Bonnie will join us. Back to the Outlaw Days. And I'm sure winter will arrive again (it has unofficially been her for a few weeks already.) We would have had a splendid snow if this rain had been a few days ago!
What will I do with my days away from school? Miss the kids. (Don't you dare tell them.) Teacher things--planning, grading exams--a little each day. Hermit things. Lots of walks. Lots of reading and writing. Learning my place in life again--it has already been made clear--again--who owns the rights to the green chair in the daytime. Yep, it's not me. A few backroads of Morrow County excursions. Maybe--don't faint (or hold your breath--never a good idea unless you're under water)--clean and straighten up a LITTLE bit. (I always enjoy making something little into something big.) There's enough food around so I won't starve even if winter sends a December blizzard. (Hope, hope!) Maybe the kids will drop by for a visit? I have a duck hiding in the freezer. I'm sure the days will do the proverbially flying. Ahhh well. Off for one of those walks. Gus and I will enjoy ourselves I promise. Water and all. God never gives us a day that is not beautiful if we will just bother to look for--and embrace--the good that is there. After all, there is never a day that I cannot celebrate the coming of His Son and anticipate the coming of His Son. Never a day. Hope each of your days is a celebration.

Backroads of Morrow County: Dreaming? December 6, 2013

I keep having this recurring dream every few months--or years. Today, I dreamed that I filled up my gas tank at only $2.93 a gallon. Must have accidentally imbibed some coke somewhere, and it's messing with my brain. Guess I'll go home and have the elixir of life--a nice cold Pepsi. Maybe that will clear my mind. But . . . what if I get in my car and the tank is full? Hmm.

Homesteader Update: Alarming December 6, 2013

I have to do something about my alarm clock. Somehow she--yes, she--knows precisely when I'm supposed to be getting up for work. I can hear her coming admonishing me to get up. Now! To the "noise" she adds paws, the sound of a motor, and a cold nose. And she's always in "snooze control." She gives me my first alert, jumps down off the bed so I get the idea, waits a couple minutes, and then back again--noise, motor, paws, cold. I know, sounds as if the "alarm clock" is working fairly well. The problem is that she has no concept of weekends--or like today, snow days off from school. All days are the same. At 5:30 it's time to get up lazy human. "After all, I need my daily can of cat food, the birds need to be fed so I have my morning entertainment, and you need to get out of my house so I can do whatever I please. Rise and moan old man." Got to get that alarm fixed.

Today at Iten's Acres: Quiet Activity November 28, 2013

It's a lovely day at the Acres. There's not a lot of snow but enough to paint the world white. The pines are particularly picturesque. Birds everywhere taking advantage of the feeders. I don't think I've ever seen so many snowbirds at one time at the place. I love their slate gray backs against the snowy landscape. Some flashes of red here and there. Tons of field, song, and white-capped sparrows. A dove or two--vacuums of the bird world. The Homesteader is especially impressed with their imagined tastiness. Woodpeckers, too, of course. In the winter they literally come out of the trees in flocks it seems. The bench and lamppost by the pond are looking Narniesh. There are sporadic snow showers to add to the beautiful activities of the day. It's a three walk day at least. Have to check the wild area for critter tracks. Wish the Outlaws could get out and join me. Maybe I can find--be found--by Bonnie. The three snows until spring legend--after the forsythia bloom--has been put to rest. I know they're not supposed to bloom in the fall but they did. (It is still officially fall you know?) Maybe it's three snows for each forsythia? That would mean we only have about twenty more to go. I do love the changing of the seasons and the beauty each one brings. Well, got to go. The Acres are calling. Hope you have a glorious Thanksgiving. Find some moments to enjoy life's silence--to find some rest--while you're still awake. He is a God of the quietness.

Today at Iten's Acres: Night Vigil November 26, 2013

It's starting to snow here at the Acres. A soft slow snow. I don't think we're supposed to get much--an inch maybe. A light blanket for the frigid temperatures later in the week. I think the Homesteader and I will turn off the lights for awhile and watch the world get dusted white. Gentleness. Serenity. Patience. All the signs of a soft loveliness on a dark night in the country. Ahhh. I can handle this I think.

Homesteader Update: Mysteries November 20, 2013

If a cat--I won't mention any names--sounds like an elephant when it jumps down from the window sill, does an elephant sound like a cat when it jumps down from the window sill? Or do cats secretly grow up to be the elephant in the room? Or elephants the cat's meow? Just wondering--pondering the great mysteries of life.

This Week at Iten's Acres: The Battle Ground November 16, 2013

Well, we have had two snows since my forsythia started blooming (yep, they're still blooming). So, you'll be happy to know--only one more snow until spring! I had to put this up to counteract the fact that my neighbor Dennis--he who rescues me when it snows--put his plow on his tractor today. The paranoia that feeds off my FAS must be fed. I love snows but since I have to drive into Worthington now--I can do with one more snow until spring. Well, I guess it can snow all it wants over Christmas break--that will be fine, even marvelous, but not now.
And I've figured out where the evil one spends her days now that I'm not here. On the weekends when I am here, if I sit in the chair by the doorwindows, she just sits and gives me her threatening yellowblue stare. The minute I get up--in she goes, curls up, and pretends to be instantly asleep. But I know fake cat napping when I see it.
The Battle of Thanksgiving Break and The Battle of Christmas Break should be interesting. I think I'll get one yellow contact lens. Two can play this game.

This Week at Iten's Acres: November Thankfulness

Iten's Acres Thankfulness: Sitting last night in the doorwindow watching the rain inundate the Acres, listening to the roaring of the wind as it danced and played its way through the trees, watching Bonnie oblivious to it all saunter over to visit Gus. Serenity in the storm. One of the gifts God has given me at Iten's Acres.

Iten's Acres Thankfulness: I love slipping home late at night in the darkness. The starry sky is resplendent. I meander by the pond to see their reflection--stars on earth. Usually I walk out to the "hill" in the meadow and sit on the green throne for a few minutes. Stillness. Infinite beauty. Even the sliver of new moon is brilliant--especially sliding in and out of the movement of dark clouds. I imagine a young shepherd boy, small fire pulsating in the Judean breeze, his sling by his side, his sheep confident in his protection, a lyre in his hand, singing, "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows His handwork." There is so much to be thankful for--for the beauty of the earth that surrounds us and whispers His presence. Another one of the many gifts God gives me here on the Acres.

Iten's Acres Thankfulness: November walk. After a week of frosts, some phlox are still blooming, a monk's hood is still blooming, the dianthis in Mom's Container Garden (that will forever be its name) are thrilled at the colder temperatures and ablaze in pinks, reds, whites. The small pin oak in the meadow is a deep red earthbound cloud. The burning bushes are ablaze as well. I can stand on my back patio and see through the leafless trees all the way to the back of the meadow. November is beautiful at the Acres. Another gift for which I am thankful to the God of good gifts. 

 Iten's Acres thankfulness: AH after harvest is one of my favorite times of the year. The soy beans are all in; most of the corn. Some fields have been replanted with something that is green and carpet lush--winter wheat? Some have been re-plowed. The majesty of churned soil. Yes, majesty. Life. Waiting. Patiently. What I love the most is the newold openness. The contour of each field is now visible again. The farm houses on the other side of the fields are now visible again. My country world has "grown." Wide, wide, as the ocean. It seems as if you can see forever. I would love some day to just park my car by the road and trek out into the middle of one those vast fields and just stand alone and feel the emptiness of a forever view. Be a shadow standing on the edge of everywhere. AH. AHHHHHH. Another one of His gifts to me out here at the Acres.

Iten's Acres Thankfulness:
Alarm clock with unremitting persistent snooze paw--I mean button
Daily amusement
Audubon enthusiast--and chipmunk
Chair thief--arrogant chair thief
Non-stop, ten minute lecturer on how her day went
White shadow
Do I dare put in writing that I'm thankful for the little varmint? At least, she can't read this. I hope.

 Iten's Acres Thankfulness: Late January. Cold. I've turned off the porch light and settled into the chair in front of the doorwindow. I know it's coming. A wind in the trees--whispering not wailing tonight. It starts lightly. Simple elegance. A few flakes. Intensity rises. Softly and slowly the Acres turn white. Dark limbs--white. Bench and lamp by the pond--white. Ground--white. The Sentinel and Ancient Maple--white. The cattails in the pond--white. The green of the pines--white. The deep darkness of a cloud-filled night turns into a wonderland of soft, white petals immersing everything in strings of pearls, mounds of frigid cotton, a warm cold blanket for the earth. Lightness without light. A winter snow at the Acres--breathtaking, moment by moment breathtaking. Another gift from the Giver who does all things well.

 Iten's Acres Thankfulness:
It's the last week of February. Snow is still on the ground. I rise early--it's called old age--and layer up for my morning stroll. Flannel shirt. Old gray fleece. Coat. Stocking hat. Black gloves. Gotta have the boots--over two pair of socks. As I meander by the pond, it is still frozen solid. The monstrous pussy willow on its edge is already arrayed in its silver majesty. It always ignores the calender. The Sentinel with its white scarves is, as always, oblivious to all things but its own grandeur. No sign of my favorite, though I'm sure Bonnie is up and about somewhere. She is a lover of winter and snow. The skies are mottled gray. It's one of those glorious mornings when sunshine and snow flurries share the Acres. Simultaneously at times. I have no expectations. The pussy willow's beauty is a given. But today as I meander back to the wild area, there it is. The miracle of late winter. Sticking through the snow, the deepest purple crocus. Stunning. I love the first crocus of the year. A reminder of the beauty that lies buried under the white winter blanket just waiting to turn the world lovely. Another gift to be thankful for. The Lord knows how to paint a dab of purple on a white canvas.

 Iten's Acres Thankfulness: Mid-May. This is the time of year when the iris are at their peak! I cannot remember a time in my life when iris were not a beauty to be treasured. From the first house I remember on Derby Avenue in Wellston, Missouri, where they lined the fence to Mom's place in South Carolina where they filled her garden--always iris. Many of the iris I have here on the Acres are descendants I'm sure of some of those earliest iris that were a part of my life years ago. Such variety. Such a plethora of scents. The thankful aspect here at the Acres is that the Lord has given me so much room to plant as many as I want! Can't have a much better gift than that. I envy Adam finding the first one.

 Iten's Acres Thankfulness: Daffodils--Whites. Yellows. Pinks. Two-tones. Even oranges. Some bloom early spring. Some bloom mid-spring. Some bloom late spring. Miniatures. Dwarves. Leviathans. Surround the pond. Fill the beds. In the trees. Everywhere throughout the wild area. Fearless. Grow and bloom anywhere. Some are Mom's. And every year they spread and add more blooms. Who knew beauty could be so relentless? Even now--and throughout the winter--they are creeping under the ground--spreading, always spreading. Deer fear them. Dancers. Trumpeters. Golden bells. If the Lord gives me my three score and ten, I expect to have two-thousand blooms that spring--or more. Thank you Lord for daffodil springs.

 One of the great gifts God gives me each year out here in Morrow County is a plethora of wild flowers. He probably just wants to remind me of who the best Artist is. In the spring there are thousands of spring beauties and violets of varied colors. My fields turn white, pink, purple, blue, yellow--with a dab of orange hawkweed thrown in. There are so many you have to be careful that you don't take them for granted. A deadly sin. Then the wild area turns white with daisies. Thousands. In the trees are May apples and trillium and Dutchman's breeches and periwinkle and, if they feel like it, trout lilies. The bog has milkweed, monkey's grass, swamp roses, blue flag iris. Mid-summer the wild roses turn the wild area every shade of pink. Then the summer fills up the Acres with coneflowers, bergamot, bindweed, blue-eyed grass, cardinal flower, white and yellow sweet clover, wild phlox, primrose, Queen Anne's lace (Mom's favorite), spiderwort, sunflowers, thistles, black-eyed Susans. And fall the world turns white, blue, purple, pink, yellow, and orange with asters, golden rod, lobelia, touch-me-nots (in the shady areas). And that's just most of the ones I know by name--not by any means all. If I had failed to plant one flower on the Acres, the beauty that is here by God's design would be stunning. He makes the ordinary extraordinary on a yearly basis. Thank you Lord for the vision feast. [and every year something new just for a surprise.]

Today at Iten's Acres: Parnoia October 22, 2013

It's going to be a paranoid winter. My FAS has already started working overtime. My forsythia are blooming. All of them. Just three more snows until spring? Doubt it. I'm going to burn my almanac. (Heresy!) My forsythia are blooming!?

Today at Iten's Acres: Privilege October 15, 2013

I had the privilege of sending a groundhog to the great hibernation in the sky today. What a useless rodent! They must be like the appendix of nature. No one knows for sure what purpose they serve except to be an enormous pain in the side. Well, this one's troubles are over; and I don't mean its troubles but the ones it causes. I'll bet groundhog heaven is a world of green concrete that just smells like grass. That's more than the best one deserves.

Homesteader Update: Whistle While You Work October 15, 2013

I must confess. I have serendipitously discovered a new weapon in the war against cat independence. I accidentally stumbled on a way to get the Homesteader (Nosy Rosy, White Dish Rag, Cat!) to stop what she's doing--whatever it may be--and "behave." What is the cat magic? I whistle. She immediately stops, perks up her ears, and begins looking around for the noisemaker. For some reason she can't figure out that it's me, no matter how obviously I try to make my guilt evident. I guess she thinks the old human doesn't have enough "ingenuity" to come up with something so enigmatic and mysterious. I can feed her, pet her, clean her box, provide a lap, feed her, pet her, provide a . . . But be clever? No chance! I'm enjoying the power. And abusing it! Heh, heh. Whistle while you work . . .

Walking Iten's Acres: Howlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll! October 5, 2013

Still. Quiet. Nature on pause. Such was the beginning of my excursion around Iten's Acres this morning. A touch of fog over the pond and bog. Noiseless--the red wings are gone. Moved on to warmer places I guess. Even the bird feeders were on idle. No outlaws anywhere. Even as I traversed the wild area, no movement. Even the gray skies seemed still. Slate like.
The purple asters and the heath asters are the only beauties on display in the wilderness as October gets going. They show well with the green background. A few deep red leaves--poison ivy can be gorgeous.
Some sadness as I walk the back meadow. Neighbor Dennis lost another of his animal friends--Vito. He was a friendly brown goat. Always quick to come to the fence to check me out. As curious as a cat. When Dennis was in the pen, Vito was his shadow. Never even seemed sick . . . He will be missed.
I can see where the deer have been crossing the wild area. They leave a wide path of their own making. And as creatures of habit, they soon leave a well traveled lane through the wildness. The new paths I added are fully green. One more mow should set the meadow and wild area for this year. I'm thinking of making a new path and letting one of the summer-made paths grow back wild. After I add a few wild flowers to its long term growth plan, of course. Have to invest wisely--and beautifully as well.
It would have been a great morning to have a bench way at the back of the property. A soft rain began as I arrived there. I love soft rains--Ray Bradbury not withstanding. It would have been serenity to sit quietly in the stillness, the whole of the wild area and meadow resting silently in front of me, the cave just visible through the lightening trees. I would probably still be there if I had such an island. I did sit for awhile on the green throne at the top of the hill.
One last flash of color as I traversed the front of the Acres. A hibiscus decided to surprise me with one last monstrous bloom. It was the one that serves as a restaurant for the tree frog. The last "regular" flowers to bloom this time of year have done so. Distinctive purple blue monk's hood and coral pink fall crocus have made their appearance on the fall schedule. I wish the leaves on the trees would hurry and get their paint brush out. The old red maple is just beginning to turn. The burning bushes as well. The dogwood is dotted with many a red berry. The crab apples are loaded. Where are you cedar waxwings? The hawthorn has set its table as well. Winter fruit everywhere.
The silence of my walk was interrupted by Aaron's little hound. The rain must sabotage the electric fence. I heard her before I saw her. When she gets out, she is quick to find a scent and let the world know she is hot on the trail. Probably the rabbits I see every morning as I head for school in the dark. Fleeing the headlights. Hope she catches them or at least sends them scurrying to another neighborhood. When she came to me, bouncy as ever, she was just howling to howl. I suppose she wanted me to join her on her race through the thickets and brambles. Sorry young lady. I'm sure I would howl if I did that, just not for the same reason as you. Gus just sat on the top of the hill and watched us. Last time the fence went down, he got stuck on the outside for a couple of days. The old yeller was not taking any chances this day. Tail wagging "I'm glad to see you." Movement to join the frolic--no way.
School has decreased my Acre walks. I miss them. Today the Lord gave me a still, quiet treasure. And some howls of pure pleasure. What more could an old man ask for? Howllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll!

This Week at Iten's Acres: Autumn Musings September 24, 2013

It's that time of year again at the Acres--autumn. The goldenrod has faded for the most part. The purple (and a dab of pink) New England asters have taken over the wild area with some help from a million white heath asters. Saturday the place sounded like a honey bee convention. I could hear the buzz before I even got onto the paths. It's not a time to trod the wild if you are afraid of stingers. I love the sound. I have no idea where they all come from--literally thousands--but I love them. Yet they come and they go. Emptied the flowers, I guess. Nary a buzz today, though it was later in the evening when I traversed the loveliness. The burning bushes are lighting up as well. The trees are lingering behind somewhat this year--at least out here at the Acres. I've planted everything I plan to plant; moved everything I planned to move. All that's left is to help the phlox spread their beauty when the time comes.
I am also under attack as always. When I walk to my car in the morning, I can hear the walnut trees practicing fuselage after fuselage. They're just waiting for a chance to let me have it when I wander by. When I get my planet, they will not exist--or else they'll come in Snickers bars.
My red-winged friends are visiting as they do each fall by the zillions. I don't know what it is about my pond and bog, but it's a blackbird hotel each and every late September into October. My pond sings all day long. And the nearby trees. And, ah, the whirr of wings and the thousand flashes of red when I "accidentally" send them skyward from the reeds. Worth the Audubon guilt trip.
Cool, colorful, "dangerous," exquisite. All synonyms for the Acres in autumn.

Homesteader Update: Battle Lines September 14, 2013

Battle Lines:

Homesteader has had to adjust to her servant being gone all day.  It has been interesting.  In the morning as I get ready to leave, she's hyper active, running everywhere, talking a blue streak--and I'll bet it's blue, too.  I'm not sure if she's celebrating that I'm leaving and that the cave will be all hers all day or if, perhaps, she's upset that I'm leaving again.  I'm guessing the former.
She does meet me at the backfront door whenever I get home with obviously a lot on her mind.  Demands to be petted, gives me the instructions on what needs to be done now that I've been shirking my duties again for another day.  She follows me upstairs as I change from school garb to Acre's garb--what a joy that is!--talking all the time.  I don't know what she does all day, but it must be exciting.  I can tell where's she's been, either all day or at least, for the last little while.  Sans motherhood, she has adopted a small white rabbit--stuffed--as her "child."  At least, that appears to be the case.  She takes it everywhere she goes. Licks it clean periodically.  Whatever room she's in, the rabbit has to come as well.  So, when I come home, wherever I stumble upon the little stuffed thing, I'm fairly certain that's where she's been spending her time.  On occasion, being the ornery, obstreperous slave that I am, I will pick up the little rabbit and hurl it up the stairs.  Ahh, not so fast my chubby old caretaker.  Instantly, she's up the stairs, has the thing in her mouth, comes ambling back down using the foulest catonese you can imagine, and ceremoniously puts it right back where it was lying before I gave it a toss.  The message is clear.
She has also developed a new trick--tackling.  On occasion when she's feeling hyper, ricocheting around the house, if I'm walking somewhere, she attempts to grab me around my ankles, even grabbing my pants' leg in her teeth, in a nefarious attempt to bring me down for no gain.  Curious, strange creature.  Committed to mayhem.  Maybe she's watching football on the computer while I'm away all day?  Yes, she's the one in white, always the home team.
The real battle line, however, is over occupation of the green chair that looks out over the Acres.  She must be spending a lot of time there.  I mean, it is the morning sun room after all.  The "kid" is there often, the chair has some white hairs from somewhere on it, and when I come home to sit there, the battle is on.  It begins with the incredulous cat look--you know, the one where they just sit on their haunches and stare right at you.  Then, it's up in the lap and whatever I happen to be reading must be moved.  She is sitting down and no sharing--even with inanimate objects--is permitted.  And then, if I get out of the chair, even for a moment, plop, in she goes and I get the defiant blueyellow glare--try to sit back down here human; I dare you."  When I take the dare, oh, the language.  I think she must be related to my grandfather's cat that my mom was always talking about.  Or at least she was eavesdropping on my mom's stories and has decided to take up the cause for cats' rights.  It has been a centuries old battle--and I think we're losing--at least, I'm fairly certain that I am.  Let's just hope it doesn't return to the Egyptian stage, and they expect us to worship them as gods.

Backroads of Morrow County Update: Morning Drive September 13, 2013

Morning Drive

I love an early morning drive along the backroads on a cool, dewy, September morning.  The dew was so heavy it looked like a thin layer of ice especially in the shaded areas.  In the sun it sparkled like crystals.  Fields of corn, soy beans, hay bales all a glitter in the morning light.  Some fields are drying out already; I guess the lack of rain has taken its toll.  One farmer has even started to harvest his crop.  It was still rather green so I know it's too early to take to market.  I guess he'll store it somewhere and wait for it to dry out.  Maybe he plans to put in another crop--winter wheat perhaps.
I love the stillness of a early morning drive as well.  Nary a soul about.  Well, one farmer was burning something on the ridge of a far away hill.  Smoke signals.  Where are the Cherokee when you need them?  Early morning news alert, and I have no idea what's being said.  The horses are about too, though one huge brown beauty was still lying on the ground content in the morning rays.  The cows--black and white polka dots way off in the distance--appear to have their heads down already busy at breakfast.  A huge hawk sitting precariously on a wire--I don't how such a "monster" can balance himself on such a small strand--is searching for his meal.  What an impressive, beautiful thing he is!  The cat barn was busy, had to be half-a-dozen of them, mostly oranges--out and about, sunning, of course.  And walking casually among the horses that also call the barn home.
It's golden rod and heath aster time along the roadside.  Not much sign of the lovely purple New England aster yet.  They'll be along soon, but for now it's yellows of all shades with white and the lightest of purples interspersed here and there.  I had hoped to catch a sight of the deer that inhabit the woods behind my favorite red barn, but they were not out and about this lovely morning,  Maybe next time.  My neighbors' Rose of Sharon are still blooming, and a few small maples have started to turn.  Color is one of God's specialties.  Art for the Artist's sake.  He shares His love of the beautiful with us gratefully.
A morning drive on the backroads reinforces one of my favorite ideologies: There is nothing more spectacular than the ordinary.

Today at Iten's Acres: Glorious September 3, 2013

One of the beauteous things about cool cloudy days this time of year is that the morning glories can't tell what time it is. I meander on to the Acres at 5p.m.--getting home from school--and behold! hundreds of morning glories still glorying away! Trust me, it's "a thing of beauty."

"And a joy forever."

Backroads of Morrow County: Kind Of August 13, 2013

Two life changing events yesterday:
I had an early morning meeting with a fellow teacher at a Starbucks. I think the entire world is addicted to coffee. (Except for myself and a few other sages.) We met for two hours say, and the line of people going through the drive through never stopped--never slowed. Astounding. We are a nation under the influence. Sneak a little mind control drug in our coffee, we would be doomed.

When I came home from school yesterday afternoon, (did I just say "came home from school"? thought I would never say that again in this lifetime) I found my driveway blocked by a huge limb from one of my walnut trees. I've been hoping they would all fall down, so I guess they're going to do it one great limb at a time. Took me a while to cut that thing up so I could get to the cave. I wish they would just fall down in a direction other than across my driveway. It forces me to violate one of Iten's Acres by-laws: "Let fallen trees lie where they fall." Maybe I should just park up near the front of the driveway where there are no trees. Hmmm, that might not be a bad hermitting approach? No, then people would know my driveway wasn't just a cow path, that there was an abode back there somewhere in the trees. Dilemma. Ahhh well, keep falling down walnut trees; I'll just cut you down to size and move you somewhere out of the way and pretend that's where you fell. Subterfuge can be good.

But now I know two deep truths:
When China buys Starbucks and takes over America and drugs the populace, only I will be a free man.
And everything can't go just the way you want it to.

This Week at Iten's Acres: Hibiscus Time August 3, 2013

It's hibiscus and rose of Sharon time.  They have really only just begun--there are plenty more to come--but they dominate the scenery.  Their size alone catches your eye as you stroll the Acres.  And they are everywhere!  Along the sides, up the driveway, in the beds, by the pond and bog, near the house, in the meadow and wild area.  White, red, plum, pinks of different shades, bluish, doubles--lots of variety and even a few different shapes.  Bed 2 along the driveway at its peak will have twenty to twenty-five blooms at the same time.  Stunning--to use one of my favorite descriptors.  Now that the gladiolas are just about bloomed out, along comes the next beauty--hibiscus and rose of Sharon.  
There are, of course, other flowers trying to get your attention.  Sunflowers are blooming.  Some planted by me; some by the chipmunks.  Their gardening makes for nice surprises.  I guess rodents can serve a useful purpose once in awhile--other than lunch for predators.  (How do skunks ever sneak up on anything?  Just wondering.)  There are lots of coneflowers everywhere as well, especially in the wild area.  Every year the bird spread them out into different areas.  The birds of Iten's Acres will feast this winter on sunflower seeds and coneflower seeds.  Not to mention the crab apples and the berries on the dogwood and hawthorn.  We provide a nice variety at the Acres' winter feast.
You couldn't starve this time of year at the Acres.  Domesticated and wild black berries are everywhere.  The tame ones are huge, but the wild ones are the sweetest.  Now that the blueberries are gone, I enjoy blackberry snacks as I cruise the property.  And there are apples and pears galore!  Even a walnut or three have fallen already if you're a little nuts.  Bring a basket or two and pick to your heart's delight!  Sorry that the blueberries have already been munched out of existence.
I am awaiting the next stage in the beautification of Iten's Acres:  the asters and goldenrod of the wild area and margins can't be too far away.  The bees and butterflies will move in for the feast.  The wilds will be abuzz.  I have no idea where all the honey bees come from in the fall.  I don't see too many of them otherwise.  But the whole orchestra will be here soon.
I have a couple outlaws back on my walking schedule.  The little female hound has found a glitch in the electric fence strategy.  She suddenly shows up at my feet when I'm out strolling and demands to be petted and that we take a trip to the meadow and wild area.  And she brings the little black puppy with her.  I didn't think I would ever get to make his acquaintance, but, alas, we are walking buddies.  Gus has yet to join the excursions.  He's so brain dead, he probably hasn't noticed that his companions are gone.  She is quite clever about her escapes.  She waits until the family leaves, and then she follows suit with her little shadow in tow.  I suppose I should tell on her . . . I'll feel bad if she gets into the street.  It's amazing, though, how the rabbit population has suddenly decreased since she's become a rover.  Ahhh, well.  I'll tell for her sake.  But I'll miss the company.  I still have my lovely Bonnie!!!
August has arrived.  The hibiscus and rose of Sharon are stealing the show.  I am not turning them in for theft I promise you.

Backroads of Morrow County Update: Seeking the Stillness

I felt impelled today to take to the backroads of Morrow County.  Perhaps I could excuse it as a
"test drive"?  The little red wagon broke down three days ago.  That's the bad news.  The good news is that it broke down right across the street from Hometown Auto Repair and my old friend Bob.  All I had to do was push the little red wagon across the street (no, I have not named it Rosebud) and let Bob do his magic.  So, perhaps I could call today a "test drive."  It really wasn't.  An inner urge sent me there.  I needed the stillness of backroads.
The corn is humongous.  If you were to wander off in it, you would disappear from sight.  Go "aways" (country lingo is required) into the greenery, play the child game of "spin until you're dizzy," and you could get lost--like a scene from "Little House on the Prairie."  But alas, you would find your way out again; it's only acres here to wander in and not the vastness of the old prairie of days gone by--endless in scope and imagination.  The soy beans are doing well too, but they were not made to be mazes.  The wheat is all harvested.  After the year of the flood, as soon as things began to dry out, the reapers moved in and the golden fields are gone.  The only sign of the flood is the swamp across from me.  A dozen rows of corn are still under water, the "new" pond is alive with a family of mallards, I sat and watched awhile at the very onset of my wanderings.  You need not go far out here in the country to find still beauty.  Yes, the activity of the baby ducks and the protectiveness in the actions of the parents was a stillness.
As usual, I met no one on the backroads.  They were mine to traverse at my speed with no danger of incurring the impatience of another traveler.  I did pass a couple of fellow Morrow County-ians mowing their lawns--mowing their fields in front of their houses.  I wave.  They always wave back, it's a "rule."  Of course, they then get to spend the afternoon asking themselves, "who was that, I wonder.?"  I am a mysterious stranger--but a friendly one.
Several fields are decorated in hay bales.  I will never grow tired of the peacefulness of that scene.  Today, with the blue sky and nary a single cloud anywhere, beautiful.  Rolling green hills, round bales of hay scattered everywhere, etched on that pure blue canvas--I could have sat there forever and absorbed the quiet, the stillness.  Of course, there are hills populated with cattle, hills populated with sheep, and even, one new farm that has a herd of goats.  Their field is overgrown with weeds and thickets and day lilies.  I guess the farmer just wants the field mowed by goat instead of by tractor.  I know Dennis' two goat buddies will eat anything--the thornier the better.  They must have mouths of steel.  It makes me cringe just to watch them munch. Ugh. 
There are not many wild flowers at the moment.  The county mowers have cut down most of the day lilies that call the ditches their home.  Lots of Queen Anne's Lace everywhere.  A few yellow sunflower like blooms near some of the bridges.  Must be water lovers of some kind.  I don't know their name.  I think I'll call them King George's just to bring a little balance into the world of flower nomenclature.  Hey, I can do that if I want.
I spent the longest time just sitting at the top of a little rise just past one of my favorite farm houses.  No one can see me there.  Deep woods and thickets on my left.  Acres of tall corn on the rolling hills to my right.  No one on the road but me.  Still.  Quiet.  Flashes of yellow and black in the thickets.  A little rustling of the leaves and the corn in the wind.  An autumn like day in Ohio--clear, cool, blue.  I suppose you think me a strange old man to need such moments in my life.  But I do.  My spirit at times needs aloneness.  Stillness.  I find it on my backroad jaunts. 
I arrive back home.  My little ramshackle cave is completely invisible from the road.  I meander down my cow path and creep up toward the house.  The porch lights are on, but even they from the road are invisible.
Inside, I will sit awhile in the deepening darkness.  It will be quiet there too--well, I will have to deal with a little bit of cat nagging.  Tonight, I will create a new game:  "counting the lightning bugs."  That will be a quiet game at Iten's Acres minus the children and jars.  Good bye for now.  I'm going to continue my love affair with the stillness.  Shhhh.  Be still.

Walking Iten's Acres: Wild Things July 19 2013

Walking Iten's Acres these days requires two things:  getting up early and going out again late in the day.  The reason, as all good Ohioans know--is it gets hot and humid in July!  Stifling in the heat of the day--anti breathing.  So, I take my walks early and late when it's not quite so hard on my old body.
It's not as if things aren't beautiful--despite the heat.  The phlox have just started in earnest--pinks, whites, reds, purples and everything in between.  They are a lovely flower that will last until frost, and they smell delicious.  I can see why the hummingbirds and bumble bees love phlox time.  Their number is down this year for some reason, but there is still plenty to go around, and they are scattered everywhere from the beds in front to the wild area out back.  They will grow and flourish just about anywhere.  And they are not intimidated by the heat.
The gladiolas too are July bloomers.  Talk about a variety of colors.  It requires some work on my part to stake them so that they don't fall over, but it's more than worth the effort.  Too bad they can't survive Ohio winters because they love Ohio summers.  They, too, are spread everywhere, although I have not yet tried them in the wild area itself.
My gardening angels have been busy.  I've never seen so many coneflowers in the wild area.  The angels have spread them everywhere.  I assume that at least one of the angels is Goldfinch.  I, also, have a couple of new batches of bee balm in the wild area.  Who knows where they came from, and the angels are not talking.  Nary a peep.  I have a new batch of the yellow prairie coneflower as well.  And for the first time I have some poppy mallow and royal catchfly.  Both adding some red to July's wildness.  No, I don't know why they're called royal catchfly.  The catchfly is because they supposedly--I have no reason to doubt their publicists--are sticky and "catch flies."  "Royal" I have no idea what that's about.  I'm hoping that soon my cardinal flowers will join the red parade.  Call the Acres Hummingbird Heaven then.  Phlox, bee balm. cardinals, and soon after that Rose of Sharon and Hibiscus.  Flap those wings a million times a second and enjoy my ruby-throated wonders.
One more quick tidbit, and I'll let you go back to your summer evening's fun.  For the first time in my tenure at the Acres I saw a mink today.  He was at the very back of the wild area going somewhere west.  Gorgeous creature.  He stopped and gave me the "what are you doing out here" stare and then, casually, disappeared into the brush.  I hope the fish in Dennis' pond aren't on his summer menu.  Maybe Bonnie's presence will keep him moving on.  Though, I confess, I wouldn't mind seeing him now and again.  The wild area has certainly lived up to its name this year:  fox, wild turkeys, the doe and her twins, and now the mink.  Hope there aren't any bears in Morrow County.

Homesteader Update: A Good Cat

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.  I don't mean "good" as in morally "good."  Cats aren't morally good or bad.  They're just cats.  And that's what I mean.  As far as the nature of cats go, Homesteader fits the profile.
Curious.  Nothing can be happening within her earshot that can escape being checked out.  She has to see what's going on.  And she has to check out everything.  For example, yesterday I finally got around to hauling off a ton of stuff to Goodwill.  It had been sitting there in a pile for a couple months.  As soon as I started picking things up to pack into the car, Nosy Rosie had to give her approval.  Nose approval.  Meow approval.  And once the stuff was all gone, she naturally had to give her full inspection to what was now revealed to all, everything that had been in "hiding" as long as the boxes were in the way.  Even empty space needs inspection.  As a matter of fact, she's always checking out stuff that she's already checked out a zillion times before.  To just walk past something, anything, is against cat protocol I guess.  I'm glad I still don't understand catonese.  I'm sure at least fifty times a day she meows, "Well. would you look at that.  I wonder what it is?"  (Or "what it isn't," I suppose.)  I think her constant reiteration of such a phrase, if I could understand her, would negatively affect our relationship.  Can anyone say animal shelter?
Her curiosity has also led to her claiming exclusive viewing rights to four windows.  The doorwindow is for when she's in chipmunk love.  Back and forth in front of the doorwindow as the little varmint scampers across the patio.  Paw taps on the pane.  Dinner thoughts in the brain.  Another claimed window is the red chair window at the side of the house.  From there she can see the side yard and loves to sit with her seat on the chair and her body stretched out to see out the window.  It's her perch.  It's also convenient when catnapitist sets in.  The chair used to be Mom's, and the white dish rag was accustomed to sleeping on the top of it making sure Mom was being good.  Though Mom is Home and the chair relocated, it is still a lovely place to stretch out and take a nap.  Her third window is at the bottom of the stairs and gives a view of the back patio--particularly interesting when Bonnie is walking across the patio on her way home.  This window she sits in.  Yes, I had to move the flower pots to make room.  Duh.  Whose window is it anyway?  The last window is at the top of the stairs and gives a bird's eye view of the back.  It is also open in the summer, thus  meeting the nose curiosity factor in a cat's life.  (She did get a little surprise during the last thunderation.  The winds were so strong the rain came pouring in the window.  Heh, heh.  Poor wet kitty cat.)
This window has led to the fulfillment of another good cat syndrome--Odd behavior.  Invariably when she jumps down from this window--you can hear it on County Road 25, I'm sure.  Are cats made of stone?  Anyway, invariably--and I do mean invariably--when she jumps down from this window she comes slinking--yes, they slink--down the steps in full catonese, never pausing until she finds me, sits at my feet meowing, waiting patiently until I acknowledge her presence and pet her.  I assume she's giving me the low down on what's happening outside.  Although sometimes, I think it's just an attention getter.  Why?  She'll slink up the stairs, jump into the window, immediately jump right back down, and saunter--yes, they saunter, too--down the stairs and demand my attention, "talking" all the time.  An additional odd behavior, as of late, is crawling under the blanket she likes to sleep on.  I'll come into the bedroomlibrary and sticking out from under the blanket will be the tip of a tail or a paw or her blueyellow-eyed face.  Why under?  Got me.  Odd.  At least to this human.  Not that she cares what the human slave thinks.  Perfectly reasonable--good--behavior in a cat's view I'm sure. 
Her third good cat behavior:  sneakiness.  She knows she's not to get on the table.  She knows she's not allowed on the computer desk or, obviously, the shelf above it.  She knows that nighttime singing is reprehensible.  Does she care?  Of course not.  The minute the old man goes to bed--everything is fair game.  She knows that she can get down from the taboo places before the human can catch her.  And sitting on the floor looking up at you innocently is a cat specialty.  She knows a "shut up" called out from the bed will do no harm to her harmonizing--and that the human is too lazy to get up and come after her; not that he could ever catch her.  The evidence of her catrousing is undeniable.  Pens, nick-knacks, papers on the floor each morning.  Yes, "when the cat's away the mice will play."  And "when the human's asleep, the cat will creep."  Yes, they creep as well.
Though the ornery critter rarely hears the words "good cat."  She is certainly a good role model for her other furry relatives.  And she's totally unaffected by the stigma of "bad cat," or "stupid cat," or any other such summary judgments from the lips of the powerless human lackey.  Sigh. To be owned by a cat . . . a good cat.

This Week at Iten's Acres: The Year of the Flood July 11, 2013

The deluge of the last fortnight has been astounding.  Not only has it rained every day, it has stormed every day.  I don't think that in my seven plus years here in Morrow County that we have ever had so much rain. (And if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, I never exaggerate!)  Last night--supposedly the last for awhile--was one of the biggest and definitely one of the loudest.  Ba-boom.  Even Homesteader was a little psycho.  Well, she's always a little psycho, but last night a little more than normal.  "More than normal psycho."  Hmmm, I digress.  The swamp is right up to the road.  I feel sorry for the poor agrarian who planted corn right adjacent to the swamp.  His crop is doing swimmingly.
It's difficult to judge the effect of the constant watering on the flowers and fauna of Iten's Acres--especially in the wild area and meadow margins and the bog.  "Extrapolating" (cool math word, eh?) from the impact on the regular flower beds, I would have to guess that the weeds are taller and thicker than normal.  Some of the weeds are, of course, beautiful wild flowers in their time, so perhaps fall will be even more stunning than "usual."  Can you really call stunningly gorgeous "usual"?
Some of the flowers have bloomed later.  Some of the flowers have literally risen to the challenge and are as tall as the weeds to be sure they get seen and admired.  The day lilies in particular are great adapters.  The lilies themselves don't necessarily grow taller, they just make sure that the stems with the buds on them climb high enough to catch a few rays.  One day as I meander the paths, just "weeds."  The next day, surprise!, day lily blooms!  I do like surprises.
Today, though, "seeing is believing."  Nary a drop of rain.  Luscious blue skies decorated with white fluffy clouds slowly edging over my head and away to wherever clouds go to spend the evening.  The swallows, blue birds, and indigo buntings all flew by to say "hello" as I sat musing on the green throne.  It's still a splash splash walk everywhere.  But the rain is over for awhile.  The County Commission will hopefully see the error of their rashness and withdraw their petition to the powers that be (The Forty Day and Forty Night Bureau) to rename the area Morrow Lake and, hopefully, they will also drop their request to make house boats an acceptable residence.  As for me, my only problem is what to do with all this gopher wood.

Walking Iten's Acres: Random Thoughts July 5, 2013

As I walked this morning, I had another encounter with the third kind.  She just stood and looked at me until I got fairly close; and then, she and the fawns gone with a hop, skip, and jump.  I guess she's decided that my back 40 belong to her and her family.  One thing is certain:  she's convinced that I am the intruder.

Confession:  It is that time of year where I deliberately and cold-heartedly take pleasure in the destruction of a whole class of illegal aliens.  Again, this year, their numbers seem to be way down.  So far, anyway.  Perhaps I am winning the battle and actually edging closer and closer to a successful genocide.  Let's hope.  Japanese beetles, welcome to Sevin Heaven.  Heh, heh.  And good riddance! 

The entire front of the Acres is still a marshy bog.  Call me Squish.  Three cheers for good boots.

My feathered friends continue to bring beauty as I walk.  The bluebirds love to sit on the wires along the driveway and, no doubt, snicker as a trudge by:  "Poor thing.  Molting on the top of his head.  No wonder he can't fly."  And the indigo buntings have made a nest near by.  I see them in one of the redbuds almost every day now.  Either their nest is in there or something delicious to munch on.  Stunning blues are all around me as I squish by.  Oh, and the towhee has been here all year as well, though I haven't seen his mate yet--just him.  And there's a yellow warbler in the pines.  He lets me admire him when I sit on the green throne.  He and the goldfinch who seem to love the brambles in the wild area.

The outlaws--except for Bonnie--still sit behind their invisible barrier as I walk by.  I'm sure they miss me.  I may be slow, but I am good company.  Aaron has added a new member to the gang which, I suppose, I'll never get to meet--a cute little black thing; a puppy black lab perhaps.?  They sit pensively as the old man ricochets from flower bed to flower bed or up to the mail box and back.  I think it's pensively.  They may just be asleep.

The lilies are reaching their peak.  The oriental lilies came first--and there's a few more to come.  They keep their beautiful blooms for weeks.  The day lilies join in next. And I do mean join in.  It's perfect that the Asian lilies are first and then just hang around until the day lilies add their color palate.  With the day lilies, every day I have to dead head yesterday's faded loveliness.  "Here today, gone tomorrow."  Envy of the world's Solomons.  I have zillions of those yet to bloom, and they are everywhere--from the very front of the Acres all the way back to the rear of the property.  A lily parade.  Only I do the floating by.  The two other stars of early July are the balloon flowers--blue, white, lilac, and the bee balm--a variety of pink and red hues.  The bed by the house today had at least fifty blue balloon flowers.  Trying to keep up with the bluebirds and indigo buntings, I guess; vying for my oohs and aahs.  I have plenty to go around.

Expectations:  the hibiscus, rose of Sharon, and morning glories are on the doorstep.  They do a stellar job as the welcoming mat to those who meander on to the Acres at the end of July.  Wear your boots.

One last part of my walk.  Had a delightful chat with neighbor Dennis as the afternoon was winding down.  It's refreshing to talk about the extraordinary ordinary beauty of the country.  And it's encouraging to talk about our Lord and His workings in our lives.  And, of course, it's nice to have Bonnie join us until she gets so bored with our standing still that she wanders off to be a dog.  Humans!  Boring! 

Walking Iten's Acres, the first week of July, 2013.  Good for the soul and spirit.  Sure, you can be jealous.  Uncontrollable, random emotions are healthy.

Riding Iten's Acres: Encounters July 3, 2013

     The monsoon season in Ohio actually took an entire day off.  The front of the property is still far too soggy to mow, but the meadow, wild area paths, orchard, back forty, rock garden--aka Swallow Land, was dry enough to deforest.  Yes, the grass was high.  But I love mowing.  I know I say that all the time, but, to me, it has a sense of artistry.  Not that I'm one of those every cut must be in a straight line persons--leaving the Acres in perfect symmetry, but there's just something serene about sitting on the green throne after the work is done and taking in the "newness" of the area.  The wild area is more clearly defined, the paths enticing, the orchard trimmed, it just looks lovely to a proud old man.
The barn swallows--just one pair--were active today.  Swishing all around the mower, feasting on the scattered insects.  They must have a family in Dennis' outbuilding.  Hope so.  That means the aerial acrobats will grow in number as the year goes on.  Such fearless blue beauty.  May their tribe increase!
Color is being added to the daisies of the wild area.  Orange, mauve, and bright yellow day lilies are joining the wind dance.  Yellow poppies, black-eyed Susans everywhere.  Queen Anne's Lace is starting to add her white to help the daisies.  Dabs of pink laced bind weeds are everywhere--think wild morning glories.  And swamp and meadow roses are ubiquitous; well, as close to omnipresent as a flower can be in the wild area.  The daisies are still there as well, and, of course, white and red clover--honey bee favorites--are throughout the meadow area.  And a batch of spider wort--blue blue--refuses to go away.  Not that anyone is suggesting it should.  My Gardening Angels' quilt is starting to display its splendor.  Every day will be more colorful than the day before.
I had a fascinating encounter as I mowed the very back of the Acres:  a doe and her twins.  The little ones were still a little spotted and small enough that when one of them bolted away from mom and his (her?) twin and rushed into the wild area it disappeared.  The height of the grass made it invisible.  Mom and twin ran in the other direction in front of the mower a bit and stopped.  I was surprised.  Usually when I spook them, they runleap completely away.  But she stopped in her tracks and just stared at me.  As I mowed closer to her, she bolted again but not far.  Another dead stop and stare.  Finally, it dawned on me--in the middle of the afternoon--that she was worried about her other young'un who had fled in the other direction.  Eventually, she must have spotted him in Aaron's pines and away she and her other fawn disappeared in that direction.  Beauty in motion.  I knew some deer were around because some day lilies in the wild area had been used for lunch on occasion.  I don't mind contributing a little dessert now and then. 
But that is the most traffic I've had while riding the Acres.  I may need to put up a stop light.  There's plenty of green, and more than enough yellow.  I wonder what I can use for red.  Duh.  My lawn mower, of course.  I'd hate to keep stopping though and take in all that beauty.  Might take me a week to feed the swallows.  Ahhh, well.  Sacrifices must be made.

This Week at Iten's Acres: Ergo July 1, 2013

This week at Iten's Acres--and if the weatherman is correct--most of next week too, rain--every day this week was pretty much the same.  (Yes, a thunder storm is pretty--gorgeous even, especially at night.)

f   l   a   s   h      f l a s h  flash flashflash  FLASH
t   h  u  n  d  e  r    thunder  thunderrrrrr  thunderrrrrrrrr  THUNDERATION  CRASH
rain drop     rain drop   rain drops  rainrainrainrain

Ergo:
Lots of limbs to pick up.  (Lost a big chunk of one of the walnuts.  Too bad it wasn't the whole thing.)
The brush piles in the wild area are getting larger.
The Acres are soggy.
The Sounds of Silence:
     The lawn mower sits in the shed listening and hoping for a brief dry spell so that it can roar into action      and parkize the Acres.
     The grass--laughing silently--grows and grows and grows.  Mocking el Toro.
     The pond moves on toward lake status.
     Many flowers wait patiently for a touch of sunshine to bring them from bud to bloom.

Such is life in the fields and flower beds of Morrow County this end of June, 2013.  Wet.  Can a drought be far behind?  It is Ohio after all.  Where's my FSA?

Yes, "ergo" is a country word,  Where is she?  It's rainy.  'Ergo inside.  Only, in this case it's ego inside--and a little white used to be she.  Who loves watching it rain, by the way.  Strange cat.  Brain dead.

The History of Iten's Acres: A Joyful Sorrow June 24, 2013

As I walk the Acres in 2013, I, as always, take great joy in the beauty of the Acres.  From the pussy willow by the pond garbed in silver in late February til the yellow and purple waves of goldenrod and asters glorify the wild area in November, I will find joy each day as I walk and embrace God's artistry.  Right now, the stars of the show are the lilies, and they have only begun to shine.  Sure, nothing is perfect.  The number of iris blooms was way down this May, but the ones that did bloom were lovely indeed.  Sure, it looks like a down year for the phlox as well.  But I did find a yellow flag iris that loves being in the bog.  And a few new Japanese iris bloomed this year--a couple are blooming right now.  And the lily "harvest" looks as if it will be spectacular.  Joy is everywhere!
But there is sorrow here as well as I walk each day.  Mom's not here this year to share it with me.  No reason to bring bouquets into the house.  I'm not a great fan of bouquets--neither was Mom--but with her inability to walk the Acres with me, I brought the flowers to her.  No more.  And her container garden outside the doorwindows is spectacular again this year and will only grow lovelier as the days pass.  But she's not here to enjoy it.  No one to sit on the patio, floppy pink hat, sunglasses, et. al. and enjoy the flowers in the planters and the beauty of the beds near the house.  I sit there once in awhile--sans floppy hat and sunglasses, of course. 
There is a missing presence here at the Acres.  As long as God allows me to live here--and I pray it will be a long time--Mom will always be here.  And I cherish that.  I would love to tell her that her idea of a white iris bed by the pond was stunning this year.  Magnificent!  I would love to tell her that her idea of a rock garden in the meadow was gorgeous this spring once more.  I would love to bring her a new wild flower that had been added to the Acres this year by my Gardening Angels, and ask her to identify it.  She was always right--or at least, she came up with a name she was sure of. =)  I would love to remind her over and over and over again that the little blue flowers in the flower bed that she could see from her chair were called balloon flowers.  I would love to show her the new bed the Ziff family enabled me to install this year in her memory.  But such things will not be.  She is not here.  She will never be here again.
And yet, there is joy here.  Always.  Mom is here in my memories.  I even still sense a need when mowing the Acres to stop and check my cell phone to see if she called and needed anything--or forgot where I was.  Yes, I rejoice daily in the beauty that is here.  And I rejoice that for parts of five years I could share the beauty with Mom.  Two joyful hearts are better than one, eh?  It was an exquisite time--heartaches, frustrations for sure at times, but a lovely five years of sharing the blessings of God's creation--sharing the things we both loved, the things she had taught me to love from a little child.

". . . such sweet sorrow."

Homesteader Update: Alive and Well and Still in Charge June 24, 2013

The white dish rag is still alive and well and in charge.  Although I think she has a death wish.  She, as always, likes to follow me around the house wherever I go.  Oh, I know, it's curiosity not endearment.  If I'm just sitting by the doorwindows, she wanders off wherever she pleases and does whatever she wants.  But if I get up and start to move around, I quickly inherit a white shadow.  Her "death wish"?  She has the habit of just suddenly "trotting" right in front of me as I walk and then, just as suddenly, flopping on the floor.  A living cat rug.  Even though, I have on occasion nearly stumbled over her, she is undeterred and continues to "do the flop."  If she played in the NBA, she would have been fined a million dollars by now; not that she would pay.  It is her world you know.  She makes the rules.
She's recovered nicely from her latest surgery, but she looks a little strange with a nearly hairless patch on her stomach.  I'm sure it will all grow back soon, and she'll be her perfect, beauteous self again.  Not that she now, or ever, has doubted for a moment her good looks.
I am a little worried about her dog-like behavior.  Whenever I go outside for awhile and come back in, she greets me at the door, demands that I pet her, and fills me in on everything that happened while I was away.  Of course, she swishes her tail not wags it, meows and doesn't bark, but it does seem a little dog-like dependent behavior.  I'm sure it's just her cat way of being sure I bow in obeisance and recognize that nothing has changed--she is still the queen of the world.
Her newest form of entertainment is summer related.  Now, when I come in from one of my walks, invariably a bug or two comes in with me.  And the hunt is on.  She loves the chase.  Keeps her slim and trim, I'm sure.  I find her at times walking around checking out the windows for some additional protein.  Who needs a fly swatter when you have an ornery cat around the house.  Sorry for the redundancy.

Today at Iten's Acres: Summertime and the Living is . . . June 21, 2013

Summertime in Ohio is here!  Officially and actually.  If you were going to print out a brochure describing the typical Ohio day in the summer, you would just have to describe today.  Hot.  Near ninety.  Humidity.  Near a million.  Okay, a little exaggeration, but not much.  It was almost too hot and humid to "work."  Almost.  I probably lost a few pounds in a very short time of weeding and mulching.  It was suffocating.  The outlaws behind their invisible barrier were all stretched out in the shade.  Even Big Brown who is free to roam was only intent on getting a shade tan.  He did take a quick dip in the pond--just to make his doggy friends jealous, I'm sure--but then back to the comfort of the trees.  It was even hot work just to walk the Acres.  Hey, just to sit on the green throne and look at everything was hot!  Summertime in Ohio.  The day did end with the obligatory thunderstorm--which was gorgeous.  And the lightning bugs did play laser tag late into the night.  They must not mind the heat since they carry their own fire.  Anyway, it was a summer's day in Morrow County.  "Summertime, and the living is sweaty."  Yuk.

Riding Iten's Acres: Pathitis June 20, 2013

I've been fighting a bad case of pathitis lately. It's especially dangerous when it afflicts me while I'm on my mower. The disease actually comes in two forms. One--that usually is at its greatest during the autumn (occasionally in mid-May) causes the ill person to put flowers in old paths and then, to let the old paths grow up again reclaiming their wildness--with a touch of naturalized beauty. The "destructive" one usually arises within the soul this time of year--the first days of summer. It causes the afflicted to decide he needs new paths where there have never been paths before. The danger is that you're never quite sure what you may be cutting down. In my case, I pride myself in knowing where most of the "good stuff" comes up, even in the wild area. We all know how marvelous pride is in being right. And who knows what the Gardening Angels might have been up to over the winter? Sigh. I succumbed. There are four new paths in the wild area.
(But, heh-heh, I can always get the other type of pathitis this fall.)

This Week at Iten's Acres: The Outlaws Meet Technology

The gang has been separated by technology. My neighbor put up an electric fence to make sure his little beagle doesn't get into the road and get hit. I can't blame him. Poor Stella--his beautiful black lab--lost her life to one of those speeding back road demons. So, this will keep the beagle safe.
It does mean the end of the gang. Bonnie stays away. Even brain-dead Gus has learned to keep his distance. The only slow learner has been the little beagle. I feel guilty--a little--because whenever I'm out walking or "working," she wants to run over and "help." Yowl!!!! Several times already. And there is an element of injustice here: the old huge brown lab that visits on occasion is impervious to the shock. She doesn't have a collar, so she just runs right through it like it's not even there, joins me for my walks, and keeps me company. Bonnie will join us once in awhile. The alpaca are scared to death of the lab and squeal--I don't know what else to call it--whenever she's with me out back in the meadow. Protective Bonnie comes racing to the rescue, but when she sees who it is, she just joins us, tail wagging, completely out of guarding mode. Hats off to Gus. Sorry little beagle. Welcome Big Brown. Let's walk, shall we?

This Week at Iten's Acres: Alphabet Games June 10, 2013

The iris are all but gone--sigh. Hopefully, a few of the re-bloomers will come back in the fall or, in some cases, bloom for the first time this year. I do have a few Japanese iris that have yet to bloom, but they're always later than the German "brand." Soon as they bloom, I'll let you see them--if you're being good.
Walking the Acres this weekend, I discovered a swarm of bees hanging out in the old dogwood; my kind of "buzzards". Every bit as large as a basketball (the swarm not the dogwood). Eventually, they moved off to somewhere else; wish they would have stayed in the Acres. Keeping an eye on the hive in The Sentinel to make sure this wasn't that swarm moving out of the neighborhood!
At this time of year there is always a "lull" of sort in the beautification of the Acres. The iris have faded out, and the lilies are not yet in full array--soon I hope.
I do have some roses blooming--whites and reds primarily. The pink and the rose-colored rose (sounds weird, I know) are about ready to join the rose parade. Elsewhere--think Wild Area--blue and white are in--especially the white--daisies by the zillions. Not too many blues--just a few "batches" of spider-wort. Some of the lilies, I must admit, are starting to bloom, mostly yellows and a couple reds.
Also, "rode the Acres" this week. Cut the back and the front; it looks park-like, if I don't say--write--so myself. Robins and red-winged blackbirds are nesting around the pond so I am not welcome there or by the bog. Even chubby old bald humans must recognize their place in the pecking order at Iten's Acres. Spring is winding down; summer is headed our way---can't wait!

Backroads of Morrow County: Beginnings June 4, 2013

It has begun. The farmer's reward and risk. The winter wheat is several inches high. Still green--not enough time and sun yet for "amber waves of grain." But it can't be too long. I'm sure I can hear the wheat singing in the wind. "O, beautiful for spacious skies . . ." Most of the other fields show evidence of crops too. I say "most" because a few fields are still not plowed--notably, the one across the way from me. The agricultural engineer who plows it usually does it "late" so I'm not worried. Last year corn. This year I expect soy beans. Everywhere else--almost--the long green lines of plants are racing toward the horizons. The corn is distinctive. There's no doubt what it is. The soy beans not so much. I assume that it's soy beans though now it merely looks like small green patches of "weedy" stuff stretching off into the distance. They are not yet big enough to "connect." They look like fields of green polka dots at this point. But before you know it, they will be cords of green.
The only wild flowers along the roads are wild phlox, daisies, and sweet pea. Pink and white borders nodding "welcome" as I drive past. The "doormats" of dusty roads. The doves have already committed themselves to wire sitting. The swallows are practicing their wind skimming. No doubt already gathering lunch for the kids. The blue birds grace the open meadows with an occasional meadowlark to add some yellow and black--and a song. The red-wings are everywhere--the neighborhood fussing crones. The red-headed woodpeckers are in their usual haunts. Red, black, and silver-white they are always a feast for my eyes. An occasional goldfinch will arc his way across the road, just showing off I imagine--like most males. The bird life of Morrow County is in full swing--or should I say full wing. Gorgeous, for sure.
Surprisingly, the wet spring has led to some early haying. I saw an older man, a younger man, and a boy at work in the field down the road from me. History at work. Grandpa, son, grandson making a team. The boy was too small to be of much help, but the knowledge of generations was, no doubt, being filtered down to him. Not much help, but probably the most important person in the field. The knowledge of good farming is being passed down, and the lad is our hope. May he see joy in the labor and nourish a love for it. Grandpa--as this grandpa knows--is not as strong as he once was at the work, but he has the "tricks and resolution" to pass on Santiago-like to the "boy" that he loves. Dad--son--is the evidence that grandpa knows what he's doing and is worthy of emulation in this labor of love for the land, the animals who will feast on the hay, and the farmers who earn their living--and ours--in the historical story of mankind's relationship to his "place on earth" as Wendell would call it. As I watch them, a favorite quote comes to mind: "Simplicity carried to extremes is elegance." Not to mention lovely in its generational way.
Yep, it has begun. Rural America, Adam-like, facing the hardships of life, at the mercy of the weather, learning the beauty and character building of hard work--and the joy of family.

Today at Iten's Acres: Suing the World May 24, 2013

I'm going to sue. Whom you ask? The weather channel, all the weatherpersons on the local channels, and the Farmer's Almanac. Why you ask? They declared that there would be no frost in Ohio after May 15th. Prevaricators. ("Liars" sounds so harsh.) Charges you ask? Extreme physical trauma. I should not have had to cover a zillion plants on May 24th. Severe emotional stress. It is impossible to cover all the plants that have come up that would be susceptible to frost on May 25th. I had to choose. Heartbreaking. Evidence you ask? We have them all on tape. Well, FA is on paper. "The frost date for Ohio is May 15th. You can go buy your flowers now and plant them worry free." Open and shut case--the wretches. Oh, don't give me this "we can't control the weather" excuse. Then, quit acting as if you can. Quit trying to be the Nostradamus of weather. (He didn't know what he was talking about either, by the way.) All that you own will be mine. Heh, heh. Hey, maybe it's a conspiracy? Maybe the nurseries pay them to say that? We buy our flowers, plant them, the frost comes. Flowerslaughter occurs. We beauty addicts have to go buy some more to replace the ones that got the cold shoulder. Hmmmmm. I'll have to have my lawyers check their bank statements. I will own the world.

Walking Iten's Acres: Good News, Bad News May 22, 2013

Do you want the good news first or the bad news?

Bad news: It's been a terrible, horrible, excruciatingly disappointing iris spring. Four of my beds that are usually loaded have either had only one bloom or as of now have only one bulb that hasn't even bloomed yet. My iris eyes are not smiling. And I don't think they're just running late because there aren't even any bulbs.

Good news: The ones that have bloomed are stunning. Look for the pictures on Saturday. Some real beauties. And several of them are first timers at the acres.

More good news: Wild turkey in the Back 40. She must have been just sitting in the tall grass watching me. Only when I turned to walk toward where she was concealed did she hit the air waves. Monstrous bird. Great aviator too. Called me something in turkish that I'm sure was not an "Oh, glad to see you chubby, old bald human." I was surprised. Maybe she has a nest back there? I'll have to stay away for awhile and see. Don't want to be a family wrecker.

More bad news: She almost gave me a heart attack. I am now 70--lost three years off my life. At least.

I'll end with good news: I've been trying since I moved here to find something that would thrive in my bog and add color to the Acres. Now, my gardening angels have added some monkey grass and just a tad of trollius, but no success for me. Well, along the edge I have some wild hyacinth, Japanese and Siberian Iris, and some hibiscus that have bloomed--but just along the edges. But, la di dah, this year I have three patches of gorgeous yellow water iris right in the middle of the bog! I planted them last fall under a great deal of skepticism. I mean, what flower enjoys being drowned for most of the year--submerged in swamp water? The answer: yellow flag iris. I repent of my skepticism and gladly do a bog dance!!

This Week at Iten's Acres: A Month of Five Days May 18, 2013

It feels as if I tried to pack the whole month of May into five days. And the weirdness of the weather didn't help. Frost on Monday morning, eighty degrees by the end of the week, and a monsoon rain storm in between. Ah, well. I enjoyed sitting in the recliner, lights off, watching the storm move in: strong winds bending the trees, day night, day night as the lightning ricocheted across the acres, raucous thunder, and then torrents of rain turning the acres into a morass one more time this spring. Quite a storm.
The highlight of the week was, of course, loading down my little red wagon with tons of flowers from Baker's Acres. I always go back and forth between thinking I have enough to fill my planters to wondering if I need to get a few more. Invariably, by the time I've planted everything--and what a lovely day and a half that was--I"m a few plants short. My problem is I'm a "planter packer." I put lots of the little beauties in each pot. Can't help myself. Ah well. I can pick up a few more somewhere. Mom's container garden is luscious. Even though she's not here to enjoy it--and give her advice--I'm sure she would love it: snapdragons, petunia, geraniums, dianthus, marigolds, bright eyes, zinnia, dahlia, salvia, lantana--all her favorites. And the ruby throat has already checked them out and given his approval. I believe he may like the real thing better than the "fake" red "flower juice" in the feeder. (Actually, there's two of them, and the battle is raging for summer squatter rights.) Next, on the work schedule is some mulching and some weed thinning. With all the rain and the days I spent out of town, my beds are overrun. Not than I mind that much. Some of the weeds will be beautiful when they bloom. And the one's that don't will be overshadowed by the flowers. I am a little concerned that the cool, wet spring may limit my iris show. That would be depressing for an iris addict like myself. But maybe, they'll just be a little late this year. I certainly won't scold them for that.
The flower planting did cause me to put off mowing the front of the Acres the day before the storm. Ugh. And it's supposed to rain again tomorrow. The grass will be high again when--if--I can find a warm, sunny day to feed the bluebirds. They have been patiently sitting on the wires waiting for me to do my catering.
And, of course, Homesteader had her surgery this week. My sense of time was so discombobulated that I accidentally took her in a day early. They were gracious enough to take her anyway. Good thing. It's a major production to get her into the carrier. Wears an old man out. She's smarter than I am, a zillion times quicker than I am, and not the least bit interested in taking a ride in a cage. Perseverance won out, eventually. She's home now and doing great, though not exactly feeling fully frisky. Lots of nap time. In between name calling.
Yep, another week at the Acres has slipped away. Seems like a month, at least. But thankfully, it wasn't. Two more glorious weeks of May to go--and I promise to enjoy them. And I'm sure I'll post some pictures for you. Be patient!

Homesteader Update: Trauma II May 15, 2013

It will be a traumatic day for the Homesteader--aka Nosy Rosy, aka white dish rag, aka CAT!! As of today there will be no chance of kittens in her future. I couldn't begin to imagine a whole house full of the furry troublemakers.
At least the day should be quiet and trauma free. No one to give me a "piece of her mind" about anything and everything. No one to try to kick me out of her recliner so she can comfortably watch what's going on outside on her Acres. No one to vainly pounce on the doorwindow in an attempt to attack the neighborhood chipmunks. No one to knock around her favorite new plaything--a plastic football--all over the house. I have no idea where she found it. But, ah, is it ever a noise maker. She must enjoy the unpredictability of its bounces. She plays with it everywhere. Amusing to watch, entertaining little creature. Well, it's not so entertaining at 4 A.M. I'm going to have to send her to obedience school so she can learn to tell time. Not that that would change anything. It is her house after all. But today and tonight it will be quiet and uneventful. I can type on the computer without her interference. I can eat without getting a lecture on sharing. I can sit in the recliner and read the paper without all the commentary, and the "Don't you think it's time to get out of my chair" blueyellow eyed stares. I can sleep all night. I can wake up on my own, not to the tune of paw prints up and down my back, a wet nose in my face, and "the get up lazy human" serenade. Ah, a day of peace. (It will be nice to have her back tomorrow. Hey! Quit reading between the parenthese!)

Backroads of Morrow County: Glass Half-full May 5, 2013

It's glass half-full, glass half-empty time along the roads of Morrow County.

Some of my feathered friends are back. The red-winged blackbirds are everywhere, sitting on the wires, fussing at each other. The swallows are back skimming over the swamp having dinner. I saw a small green-blue heron there as well. But--no meadowlark yet. I hope they return again to the meadow down the road from me. I'll miss their voice in the choir if they don't spend a summer here. Not to mention the flashes of yellow and black disappearing into the tall grasses. And I have not yet seen the deep ethereal bluish flash of the indigo bunting as well. Bluer than the bluest sky.
Many of the trees are turning enviously green. But not all of them. And I doubt if any of them are completely full of green. (Conifers don't count!) Oh, they will be in full leaf soon. The hidden houses that were revealed through the winter's bareness will soon be invisible again. My cave in two or three weeks will be practically unnoticeable by those traveling down County Road 25--just the way an old bald recluse likes it.
The same flowering bushes and shrubs that are bursting with color on my acres are doing the same on everyone else's property as well. Though I must confess, some of my neighbors have different trees than I do--tulip trees and Bradford pears, for example--and some of them have bigger trees than I do, too. There are a plethora of huge lilac bushes around these parts. It will take a decade or so for my little lilacs to attain such heights of beauty. And, oh! to slow down and roll down the window is glorious. God's incense. Yes, there are multitudes of folks out here that as I pass their acres, I imagine that we would make fast friends--beautiful tree lovers must unite!
As I meander the backroads only about half the fields are plowed so far. As you know, I love their symmetry. I'm sure the others will get their parallel lines soon. It will be joyous--believe it or not--to watch the growth of summer crops. Even now, the process has begun. Seeds are dying, the growth will begin, early rains, latter rains, sunshine, abundant fruitfulness. In the fields and in life the progress is the same. It can't be rushed. And you must trust the grace of the God who brings the rain and the sun to do His work at His pace. It is totally beyond our power to control. May we all develop the patience and faith of the farmer.
I passed more than a few farmers doing their plowing. Huge green beasts chewing up the soil. You can see the dust settling from a mile away--long before you reach them at work in the fields. Impressive. But I will be taking trips into Amish territory so I can see the proud work horses pulling their plows. Gorgeous and impressive. Lovers of a hard day's toil.
Ah, most the birds are here. But the glass won't be full until the meadowlark arrives. And the indigo bunting. More than half the trees are green; but they are not all green yet, and none of them are completely clothed in their summer richness. And the hidden houses can still be seen by the traveler of the backroads. Jealously, some of my trees are only half as mature as my neighbors. All the beauty but half the size. Only half of the fields are plowed and planted. The mystery of growth is just beginning. But half the fields have not yet been churned into geometrical masterpieces, and I have not yet found any team of horses prancing in the joy of the labor they were created for. Indeed, the "glass is half empty," but I am not sad or disappointed. The joy of my wanderings on the backroads of Morrow County is to watch the "glass" fill up. Wouldn't have it any other way. A toast to the half-full glass of Morrow County. Beautiful!

Riding Iten's Acres: First Cuts May 3, 2013

I spent the last two afternoons riding the Acres. For some, I suppose, cutting the grass would be a chore. I love it! Being outside, cruising the property, beheading a thousand dandelions, life is good. By mid-summer the barn swallows will join me for lunch when I cut the meadow and the wild area out back, and the blue birds will join me when I cut the front, winding my way among the flower beds. Today, it was just me and the robins. Well, the redwings fussed a bit when I cut near the pond, but they were a little subdued for them--guess there aren't any fledglings yet. The birds at the feeder just ignore me.
I am expanding the wild area a tad--again. I just am in love with God's wildness, and the beauty of the natural wildflowers of Ohio. Oh, I "seeded" the area with some daffodils, iris, lilies, monarda, spiderwort, and grape hyacinths. I threw in a few handfuls of wild flower seeds as well. Can't wait to see what happens this summer and fall. Don't worry, I still have plenty of meadow, the back forty, the orchard, and the rock garden out back, so it's still wide open. A park--minus the picnic tables.
The flowering trees and shrubs are magnificent--as I mentioned before: several redbuds, red and white crab apples, white and pink dogwoods, apple trees, pear trees, marsh marigold, red and white bleeding hearts, lilacs, azalea--color is everywhere painted on God's blue canvas. A few daffodils are still around--two or three dozen small white ones and the miniature golden bells are the last to bloom. They'll be around another ten days or so. A couple dozen tulips of various colors dot the flower beds and other areas, dozens of grape hyacinth are still blooming, the rock garden is a carpet of thrift and creeping phlox, and the first iris bloomed today. It caught me by surprise suddenly appearing in the rock garden. Two others are about to bloom--the usual early bloomers--a rosy white one and a yellow. Yes, all this beauty means my riding looks as if I'm in the middle of some city in rush hour traffic: stop and go, stop and go, stop and go. And sadly, my mower is a single seater so you'll have to walk the Acres if you want to see everything. Fear not! I will not run you over. Probably.
Two days of riding the Acres for the first time in 2013. I can't wait until it morphs into Feeding the Bluebirds and Feeding the swallows. Flying flowers are luscious too.

Today at Iten's Acres: A Red Feather Day April 30, 2013

It must be red day in the feathered kingdom: The rose-breasted grosbeak has arrived--well, the male anyway. The female has been here for a couple weeks already. And the ruby-throated hummingbird arrived today as well. I love red.

Walking Iten's Acres: Gardening Angels April 30, 2013

My Gardening Angels didn't do much the five days that I was gone. I understand the weather didn't help much. My land is still wet and sloppy. It has been a rainy, cold spring. But there's two months to go. I will be patient. I will be patient. I will be patient. Though it is particularly difficult to do so with the iris. No sign of any buds yet. The winter of 2011 messed up my expectations. Last year things started blooming in February. This year they are back to normal--whatever normal is in Ohio. I guess, there really isn't such a thing as normal when it comes to Ohio.
Not that all is lost. Some daffodils are still blooming; in fact, a couple dozen or so haven't even bloomed yet. And that's not even counting the dozens of miniature golden bell daffodils that are just starting to add their yellow tiny trumpets to the beauty of the beds. Puddles of grape hyacinth are everywhere. Lots of tulips and more to go. The thrift and creeping phlox are warming up. And the flowering trees are raring to show off. The redbud are already living up to their name. The pear and apple trees--including the crab apples--are on the verge of brilliance. The dogwoods--white and pink--should be in full bloom by the end of the week. The flowering almond are sharing their pink view of the world, and one azalea has started to bloom. And everywhere--yes, everywhere--the Gardening Angels have sprinkled the world with violets--purples, whites, two-tones, even a few yellows. Sometimes the ordinary is so gorgeous I miss it. Thousands and thousands of dabs of color everywhere you look. Oh, and don't forget the bleeding hearts--whites and reds beautifying the shady areas everywhere.
I guess I owe the Gardening Angels an apology. The Acres, as May comes in, are a lovely place to take a nice long walk--or two, or three, or . . .

This Week at Iten's Acres: Musings April 12, 2013

Weather: We had weather every day this week. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I feel as if there may have even been some sunshine earlier in the week. You know--that bright yellow thing that sometimes--once a month or so--hovers over the Ohio landscape bringing warmth. Of course, we also had a hail storm this week. Didn't really do any damage unless you call sending the Homesteader into a frenzy watching all those little white orbs ricocheting everywhere outside the doorwindow--just beyond her reach, "damage." I call it a good laugh. An ark of rain the last couple of days, too. The creeks of Morrow County are peeking over the edge of all those picturesque one lane bridges. And the Acres are under water. FAS: the forsythia are starting to bloom--three more snows!
Creature Features: A herd of deer went leaping across the upper meadow yesterday. Out of Aaron's pines, through my trees, and into Dennis' thickets. I hope they kept going across the road, through the swamp, and into the trees on the other side. Keep your appetites away from my flowers you varmints! Speaking of varmints, the ticks are here. I'll have to get some Frontline for the white dish rag. No, she doesn't go out, but invariably I bring some of those wretches into the house after I've walked the Acres in spring. The squirrel population declined this week. Heh, heh. And, I think the newest member of the Outlaws has puppies. No, really. The gang will be a pack! Dennis has his "flock" roaming free. I'm sorry city folks but a herd of animals feeding on a hillside--regardless of its size--defines "serenity." (Miss you Blaze.)
Beauty Update: For the eyes--it's daffodil time. They only started blooming in earnest this week, and I have, at least, 500-600 blooms today all over the landscape. Myriads more to come. In the beds, surrounding the pond, in the trees, laying siege to the mound, out along the edges of the meadow, scattered throughout the wild area: if you love yellows and whites and pinks--and eventually oranges--rejoice, it's daffodil time. They are great for naturalizing--grow anywhere, the beasts don't like them, multiply like crazy.
For the olfactory glands: hyacinth. They also appeal to the eyes: brilliant dark colors and soft pastel colors. And, ah, the lovely scents. I only have a few dozen of them scattered everywhere, but they add diversity to the Acre's color scheme this time of year. And grow anywhere, too. Throw in the pansies I planted in various places, the spring beauties that God planted everywhere, the "fattening" of the buds on the trees, and the walks are lovely in mid-April on Iten's Acres. Next, will be the forsythia in full bloom, the redbuds, the tulips that the rabbits don't eat, and the bleeding hearts! Let's hear it for April. Well, let's see it and smell it for April!
My Feathered Friends: As mentioned before the goldfinch have bloomed. Robins are everywhere in hoards. The red-wings are staking claims to nesting sites in the pond and the bog. A male towhee dropped by the feeder this week. I think I saw a female grosbeak as well which means the males will be here soon. Still a few snowbirds around--reading the blooms on the forsythia I imagine. No sign of the ruby throats yet. Or the indigo buntings. Or the meadowlarks. Soon. I hope. Why is it that the bird world is so opposite the human race? For the most part, the male birds are the gorgeous ones and the females rather plain. In we humans--well, sorry guys, it's backwards. Or frontwards, maybe. Oh, the road-kill-clean-up-crew is back--all a buzz. No beauty there in either gender. I almost forgot. The swallows aren't back yet, either. Guess they're waiting for lawn mower season.
I did do a little work this week, in case you were worried. Raked some leaves out of a few beds. Got to get some sun on the iris! Planted a couple things as well. Still have to plant the gladiolas and some seed packets, but that can wait. I think I'll go rest awhile on the bench by the pond. Then, maybe I'll spend a little time on the top of the hill resting in the green throne. I'm developing the Iten heresy. "One day shalt thou labor, and six days shalt thou rest." Forgive me, Lord. I will go job hunting once May gets here, I promise.