Walking Iten's Acres. A cold day in November means a brisk but lovely
walk. The pond has a thin layer of ice. Goldfish are happily nestled in
the mud on the pond's bottom I would assume. I wonder what kind of crop
I'll have next spring and when they'll "bloom"? Gus dropped by to join
me on my trek. It has been awhile since the old guy did that. He's as
bouncy as ever. His little sister Beagle is around often, but she's too
busy chasing whatever it is she scents to do much but
stop for a moment, jump up on my legs, and disappear into the brush
"singing." Man, does she have a high soprano yelp. Gus just kind of
shrugs and meanders on. It's a dog's life. Sure do miss Bonnie.
The
bird feeders keep getting more and more customers. Are you strange if
you find serenity in the "carry out" eating habits of the chickadees and
titmice? Or the muted goldfinch and their gurgling brook song? Or the
squawkish antics of the blue jay? Or the burst of color when the
cardinals suddenly arrive in force? (May the force be with you.) Or the
"I can eat lunch upside down" demonstration casually performed by the
woodpeckers on the suet feeder? And, of course, I love the black and
white beauty of the snowbird/juncos. I repeat one of my favorite quotes:
"simplicity carried to extremes is elegance." The stars of this
morning were the five or six pileated woodpeckers flitting--well, more
like soaring--through the dead trees in back of the house. No matter how
many times they drop by I am still impressed by their size--and beauty.
Believe it or not, some phlox still refuse to give into the cold.
Aromatic pink is still available in a couple of places up near the
house. Snow on the ground this week. I don't mind. Nature doesn't either
from what I can tell. The pines and Lenten roses don their white
sweaters indifferent to the chill. When the layer of snow melts, the
iris in the pot bunkers are still there unimpressed it would seem by an
early winter blast. A walk in the wild area is as quiet and still as
always. Peaceful--gorgeous even in its winter garb of greens, browns,
red thickets, and a dash of white sprinkles here and there. I'm sure the
daffodils and crocus and other bulbs are busy spreading under the
already frozen earth. I can see where the deer have been traipsing
through the wildness on their way, as always, to shelter in Aaron's
pines. Ella and Gage were out playing this afternoon--when has cold ever
intimidated a kid's energy genes? Still love their "Hello, Al"--"I want
to be your neighbor" in a small child's lingo. I have no doubt a soul
can smile--no matter how old it is--at a child's friendly banter.
Life at The Acres. Can't think of anything I would trade it for--except
Home, of course. Here, the cold of a November day cannot defeat the
warmth.
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