Thursday, November 28, 2013
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.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
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.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
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.
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.
Sunday, November 3, 2013
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.]
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.]
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