Walking Iten's Acres: A Lovely Snow February 21, 2015

A lovely snow. And one month before spring. I was wondering if we were going to get a "real" one this winter. I almost hate to walk in it and mar the beauty. But . . . it's what I do. Actually, it takes a little effort for an old man to walk through this snow. And not many tracks which surprised me--even in the wild area. Gus was about as always. He still runs at an angle because of his hurt-- long ago--paw. Doesn't seem to mind. No complaints. Wouldn't make a good human. I do miss Bonnie on a day like today. She loved the snow! Would play in it with the greatest of joy. She and her old buddy Gus would have a blast on a snowy day like today. Frolicking. Chasing. Faces white from eating the snow. Dog weather. There is joy in sad memories.
I enjoyed spending part of the day just sitting in the green recliner by the doorwindow watching the flakes come down. Slowly, almost imperceptibly turning the world white. The trees are coated, especially the blue spruce by the pond. The pot bunkers are not only covered, but the snow is up to their tops. The dead growth has been smothered in the wild area. The pond is a deep pool of frozen water. (Hope the gold is warm.) The Sentinel and Ancient Maple and Hester are unperturbed. How many of these storms have they endured? My feathered friends are active of course. Fearless as I sweep the patio to throw down food. Cardinals were created for snow days. This evening as it darkened I sat and watched the porch lights reflecting off the beauty. From my backfront door I can see off into the distance beyond my wildness and see the lights of the windows in the distant homes of my Morrow County neighbors. There's something serene and, dare I say, even mystical about such lights in the dark white of a winter snow. Evidence of Life--in the remote corners of my "universe."
The cold is returning. As I said earlier, March is going to come in like a pride of lions. Roaring. Trembling. King of the Frigid Jungle. Yet, I'm sure the tulips, daffodils, snowdrops, crocus and other early blooms are fearless waiting for those first warmer days. They have no fear of the Lion of Winter. Defeated him multiple times. And will do so again. And the buds will form on the trees. The redbuds and dogwoods and fruit trees, come April, will blossom again. The wild violets and spring beauties will carpet The Acres once more. The Invincible Beauty of spring. Beauty you have to wait for--but worth the wait. Perhaps the waiting adds to the beauty? Especially on a beautiful black and white day of a February snow storm. What's the old saying? "There's nothing more extraordinary than the ordinary." Or, "Simplicity carried to extremes is elegance." Such was the beauty of my day at The Acres. Thank You, Lord for days of simple elegance. Yes, thank You.

Again.

Today at Iten's Acres: Naysayers February 19, 2015

Don't pay any attention to the naysayers, the fear-mongers, the glass half-empty folks. It is not that we have six more weeks of winter. The truth is we only have six weeks until spring. And the crocus and snowdrops will be up before that!

Walking Iten Acres: Pre-Frigidity February 14, 2015

A three day weekend at The Acres. Going to be a bit chilly, however. Have to get my walking in today--and possibly Monday. Tomorrow--wind chills of minus 25.  High of four degrees. You can hear and see the cold coming. Invisible? Nope. The trees are in full moan. Howling at times. Dancing in the winds. The snow is a white out. Not that's it's snowing all that hard but the wind is using it to hide behind. Or is it hid within? Beautiful. White "clouds" disguising The Acres in a coldwhite "smokescreen." And there is enough real snow to cover up the pot bunker flower beds before the deep freeze.  That's good. The feathered denizens must know what's coming. They have been incredibly active and fearless all day. Ghost shadows whirring through the white cloud. Gus is about, too, seemingly oblivious to the cold. As I walked about this morning and early afternoon, he was in full prance mode. I haven't seen the little hound for a couple of weeks. I hope she didn't succumb to country road drivers. Good old dumb Gus seems to be the lone survivor around these parts. Maybe not as dumb as I think. I do hope Aaron has a place for him to spend the next day or two. That windchill can not be safe for the old boy. I don't know how the birds manage. Well, sure I do. Wonderfully created.
Hate to run--well, walk. And, I suppose, it's love not hate. But I think I'll take one more trek before the nastiness really arrives. The wild area was a sheet of whirling snow last time I walked it--a couple of hours ago. Gorgeous. Cold. But gorgeous. Stay warm--after you take a quick walk. Good for the soul. I promise.

Today at Iten's Acres: Old News February 6, 2015

You know you're getting old when:

You keep trying to remember the reference to that verse: "Early to bed and early to rise . . . Even though you have secret doubts about the veracity of the end of that verse.
You've decided that even though you're an English teacher "spell check" is a good thing.
You can tell absolutely that each day has exactly two more minutes of daylight.
When you hear on the radio that some personality just passed away at 85, and you think, "so young."
You're fairly certain your cat will outlive you.
It takes you so long to break in new shoes that by the time they are comfortable, you need new shoes.
When you see on facebook that someone you graduated with from college has turned 69, and you think, "Wow, 69." Meanwhile your brain refuses to finish the logical idea ricocheting around your mind, "If he graduated with you, and he's 69, that makes you . . ."
You know that your briefcase that you carry your school "stuff" in is older than your students.
You no longer care in the least if your clothes match or your hair is combed--provided you have enough hair to comb.
When your having your students listen to Charlton Heston read The Old Man and the Sea, and they have no idea who Charlton Heston is.
You start thinking about such topics as "you know you're getting old when .

Tonight at Iten's Acres: Glory February 4, 2015

The roads tonight coming home were a little iffy, but I made it safe and sound--though there may be some debate on the sound part. The snow though was glorious. Gentle, wet--so the tree branches are etched in white. In the darkness the light from the porch added almost a glow to the landscape--paintingesque. I slipped into the back meadow and took in the silence. And the solitude. A gentleness I could feel. Tomorrow morning is supposed to be frigid--turning my morning snow into diamond crystals I'm sure. It will be beautiful. Surviving winters necessitates an embracing of the etchings, the silence, the solitude, the diamonds. And above all else, a sense of the gentleness that one can always find--if he or she will seek it expectantly--in the harshness of the cold. Life in the winter is beautiful. God's subtle presence and reminders that He is always about making things beautiful brings glory.