Backroads of Morrow County: Promises October 28, 2015

I love this time of year. As I cruised the backroads this evening, the splendor of autumn was glorious. Though many--most?--of the leaves have fallen, the burnt orange, especially, have refused to give in and abandon their posts. The pin oaks as well--red as fire--are holding on to their loveliness. They, usually, hold on til spring--fade to brown--but refuse to yield their grip on the limbs until the new buds jettison them to the earth below. Life conquering death. The burning bush are everywhere as well. Morrow County is afire. A touch of yellow here, a bronze dogwood there, and, of course, the pines, firs, and spruce of every shape and size and kind stand boldly refusing to blush at the cold's onslaught. I even love the bareness of the leafless trees. Are they not a promise of new life, of fruit in its season, of the glories that follow the winters of life?
And the pastures are still full. Black Angus congregating around the stacks of hay but still feeding on the green grasses. Who can blame them? And I always love the one who seems to be a hermit cow, refusing to join the group--content to stand off by itself--comfortable with its solitude. My favorite flock is the sheep with its one slate gray, beautiful member. His distinctiveness in the sea of white makes him stand out--a stunning beauty in the still green meadow.
My favorite thing this time of year--as you may know--is the return of the expanse. Some fields have their corn stubble. Some have been plowed again--the brown and black clods with a signature stark beauty and promise of their own. Some fields have been replanted with something--new green meadows are rising to the sky. And the skies of autumn! Tonight, mountains of gray clouds with the fire of a sunset glowing behind them, silhouetting them with golden trim. But it's the openness I love the most. The contours of the land have returned. The gently sloping hills under the corn and soy beans are now free to reach into the horizon and the heavens. The stands of trees, too, have opened up--you can see the light playing in the shadows. A dappled darkness where once only dark prevailed and sight was useless. Houses and barns on the far side of the fields have reappeared as well. White and red and brown and gray. Added touches--props--to the beauty of a country open again to the sky. The world is bigger! And yet, it seems more intimate. I have no doubt that I could walk the hills and touch the sky on the horizon. Play among the clouds. I have no doubt that I could walk through the trees and find myself in the light of the meadow that's been hiding on the other side. And the human structures seem to be as touchable as the picturesque backgrounds in a new painting. Ah, autumn. thy beauty is a wondrous gift. And full of promise

Backroads of Morrow County: Nightime Harvest October 26, 2015

Driving home tonight in moonlight so brilliant I'm sure I could have made it safely even without my headlights. And the threat of rain has unleashed the monsters into the fields of Morrow County. Their four shining eyes and the sound of their feasting on the harvest is only fitting for a chill October evening. Spring sowing brings autumn's reaping. Sun and rain and time and patience always leads to a rich harvest.

Walking Iten's Acres: Last Walk before the Frost October 17, 2015

Last walk before the "killer" frost.

Walking Iten's Acres: Chilly in October October 4, 2015

Chilly wet day at The Acres. The phlox, hibiscus, and annuals don't seem to mind. And, of course, the wild flowers. The monk's hood and hardy cyclamen have just started to bloom actually. I'm still waiting for the fall crocus. I even have an iris with buds on it. Still not much in the leaf changing category. The dogwoods some. And the poison ivy is brilliant red. I was going to work outside all day today, but I'm leaning toward wimping out. The Backroads of Morrow County have edged toward harvest time. Lots of the soy beans are gone. Just a little of the corn. Lots of green and red monsters sitting in the fields. One farmer has already taken in his beans and plowed all his fields. Maybe he planted something, but I can't imagine what. Even if I don't "work" I will have to take a couple of walks naturally. Can't completely waste a Saturday!