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!