Reflections on Life at The Acres: December 21, 2017

Reflections on life at The Acres:


I wish I could paint. Some of the pictures I take are lovely (Personal bias), but to be able to paint them would add the permanence of imagination to their beauty and longevity. After all, as someone has said, "A painting is a declaration of love."


My favorite bird sighting at The Acres: Baltimore Orioles. I love the others, but that feathered-friend is just stunning. Two years ago he landed on the hummingbird feeder that was on the door...window. Breathtaking.

I am never less alone than when I am alone at The Acres. In a related heresy, I wonder if I love baseball so much because it is a team game that you play all alone.


My favorite singers at The Acres: The peeper serenade in spring. The bass choir in the pond all summer. The Chickadee rap. The kingfisher has a great one as well. Can anyone out volume a robin? The wood wind moaning in the bare branches of winter. The cymbal solo of a thunderstorm--and the lighting effects aren't bad either. The running brook sounds of a flock of goldfinch. Shadow mouthing off everytime I feed him in the morning or go for a walk that he can't keep up with. The silent whisper of falling snow.


The expectations of spring--I know, today is just the first day of winter.


When my students ask me where I would go I could travel anywhere in the world, I always tell them--Home, at The Acres. I love the old and familiar--and every walk is entirely new.

This Week at Iten's Acres: Solitude December 1, 2017

I have returned to the world from my week of wilderness solitude. Actually, I returned yesterday. Had a delightful lunch with the family. They even gave up most of the OSU game to dine with the old man!
It was, though, a marvelous week to rest at The Acres. No phone, no computer, no television. Life at its quiet and serene best. Rest, of course, requires some work--work that you love. I finished up the fall bulb plantings--had to wait until the hole for the well was ...refilled. Moved a few things as well. Mulched a little. Any excuse to spend time outside. Multiple walks are always at the top of the agenda. A few things are actually still blooming. Dianthus and snap dragons love the cooler weather. And the pansies naturally. The flowers--dusty something or other--also love the chill air. It's as if I have areas where the snow has already fallen when I wasn't watching. Small, gorgeous white plants scattered here and there around the property. One forsythia even decided it must be spring and bloomed. And--believe it or not--an iris has a bud on it. I doubt it will stay warm enough to actually bloom, but I appreciate the promise.
The weather was delightully changeable. What a gift that we so often take for granted. A monsoon last Saturday. The swamp went from mud to five feet of water and over the road in one evening. It was a joy to spend the evening watching the rain cascade, the clouds light up, and to listen to the sky applaud it's own fireworks display with the moaning wind as its approving audience. Days of cool sun, blue and gray fighting for the ascendancy in the skies, dark nights for brilliant star gazing, the birds enjoying the feeding station under the Ancient Maple. If I'm good--think still--they even let me sit on the bench and watch and listen--see cover picture above for seating arrangements. I can do still. The goldfinch are pale now, the cardinals never give up their red, the chickadees and titmice active and vociferous. Afraid of no human ever.
The cats enjoy the extra time to boss me around as well. Homesteader on the inside. Shadow on the outside. Both gorgeous, affectionate--and mouthy.
All in all, it was a splendiferous week. But now, back to the world--to loving on young people and trying to sneak some wisdom into their brains; to convince them that "no one ever cares for them like Jesus." Rest again--a different work that I enjoy--another labor of love. Thank you Lord for a week of serenity in the wilderness. Thank you, Lord, for weeks of chaos among those that I love--some of Your other kids.