If I am not mistaken--I suppose I could do the research and be sure
(Nah!), today marks the end of my first decade at The Acres. Anyway,
it's been awhile. Moved in on August 1st one day in the ancient past.
Some things remain the same. The Ancient Maple, The Sentinel, Hester,
the giant evergreen, the Old Apple, and the Old Dogwood are still adding
their beauty to each day. The Ancient Maple lost a little of its
magnificence to Hurricane Ike, and The Sentinel loses a branch or two
every year, but they are still wonders of the Iten World. The Bog is
still here as well; and the Pond. Though, I have gone from wondering
what to do with The Bog to rejoicing in its almost year long beauty From
the huge pussy willow at its edge to the blooms of fall--cardinals,
mallow, hibiscus, milkweed, verain, Queen of the prairie, lobelia,
obedient plants--it is gorgeous. (I'm not sure if my neighbors would
agree, but . . .) And, of course, I've been driving the little red
wagon all these years. How it has survived the Backroads of Morrow
County I do not know--but it has. A miracle machine. And, ah, the
miles we have spent cruising The Backroads.
Many things have been
added naturally. Lots of flower beds and flower areas of all kinds in
all kind of environs punctuate--and spotlight--The Acres loveliness. I
love its wildness. I must admit, however, that I have begun to
redo--raise--some of the beds in the last couple of years. A little less
wildness, though trust me, there is still acres of it everywhere--and
always will be. I'm certain, in fact, that I will never live long
enough--on earth--to redo and raise all the beds I want to, but the
anticipation and the manual labor are a joy. And once I'm Home, I won't
care what Rehoboam does to the place smile emoticon. It is just as much fun to move things as to plant new ones. And cheaper. smile emoticon
The biggest change to The Acres since my arrival is the clearing of the
back three or so acres. Completely overgrown when I arrived, it now
hosts Iten's Park--green throne and all: Meadow, a flower bed, an
orchard, a rock garden (pile), and several plots of just plain wildness
intersected by my walking paths. I could--I do--just spend hours out
there walking, sitting, planting, moving, feeding the swallows, caught
up at times in pathitis--a myriad of creative ways of doing nothing but
basking in the breezes and the beauty. Such a strenuous life I live.
Sigh.
The cave as dilapidated as it is feels like home--well, it is
home. I love it. For five wondrous years I got to share its wonders
with Mom. (Too bad Pop didn't get to see The Acres. He would have loved
them too.) Lord willing, I will get to spend a few more years here
even though my three score and ten are about used up. Always count on
grace. Homesteader loves it here as well--as long as the slave responds
to her every command--uh, wish, I meant to say.
"Time like an ever
rolling stream calls all her sons away" . . . Until the stream calls, I
will enjoy each day at The Acres--thank you, Lord for such a wondrous
gift to an old man. Amazingly you give such gifts to your children
simply because You want to--we are the apple of Your eye. Yes, thank
you for the beauty, the sense of Your presence as I stroll among your
beautiful works, the surprises my Gardening Angles give to me each year,
and the joy of sharing it with Mom. It was, no doubt, a gift to her as
well. This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in
it.
I could handle another ten years I imagine.
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