Monday, July 27, 2015
This Week at Iten's Acres: Phlox Time July 27, 2015
Saturday, July 18, 2015
This Week at Iten's Acres A Mixed Bag July 18, 2015
This week at The Acres has a nice mix of the domestic and the wild. Lots of lilies still. The annuals are starting to get big. The rose of Sharon have started to bloom--a little early.
Today at Iten's Acres Reflections on a Rainy Day July 17, 2015
Another rainy day at The Acres. It will take a week of sunshine and
some country winds to make the place mowable. October maybe? I do
enjoy rain storms, but not quite three or four a day--every day. The
weeds have won the battle for most of the flower beds. Some of those
"weeds" can be quite beautiful. And the wild area is thriving.
A couple cats have been hanging out at The Acres--a black and white one and a calico. Today they were hiding under my car in the storm--hunting chipmunks I hope. Homesteader is intrigued and unaware of the blessing she has being under a roof in a monsoon. Though perhaps she would trade in all that security for a tasty chipmunk and some cat fellowship. Alas, she will never know--I hope.
I have started my yearly re-reading of Gilead and Home so I am at peace. You must read those books. No excuses. The first paragraph alone of Gilead is a novel. But then I am old and reflective and melancholy--all of which are great advantages in life. But you must read those books. And Lila too when your finished. Housekeeping is a great read as well. One author--four exquisite novels; a rare accomplishment.
Went in to school a couple of days ago. Soon I will make Wesley R Turner the busiest printer in the universe. My life as a teacher would be untenable without his faithfulness and energy and integrity (and I do still miss the music my friend). And one of these days soon I must refresh what little knowledge I have of world history. For this year I get to teach one section of that course. Must start with Acts 17:22-34--God's summary of the history of the world. Romans 1:18-32 is a sad litany of every culture that has ever existed on this planet. Good thing I know who actually writes history and that grace wins. And second semester I get to add Daniel and the Minor Prophets to my English "duties." Can't wait. English, history, and Bible all in one year!
Hope this day finds you in a dry place. With a good book. A cold Pepsi. And time to reflect. If you need a cat for a companion, let me know--I have one you can "borrow." Just be ready to give up all control over your life.
A couple cats have been hanging out at The Acres--a black and white one and a calico. Today they were hiding under my car in the storm--hunting chipmunks I hope. Homesteader is intrigued and unaware of the blessing she has being under a roof in a monsoon. Though perhaps she would trade in all that security for a tasty chipmunk and some cat fellowship. Alas, she will never know--I hope.
I have started my yearly re-reading of Gilead and Home so I am at peace. You must read those books. No excuses. The first paragraph alone of Gilead is a novel. But then I am old and reflective and melancholy--all of which are great advantages in life. But you must read those books. And Lila too when your finished. Housekeeping is a great read as well. One author--four exquisite novels; a rare accomplishment.
Went in to school a couple of days ago. Soon I will make Wesley R Turner the busiest printer in the universe. My life as a teacher would be untenable without his faithfulness and energy and integrity (and I do still miss the music my friend). And one of these days soon I must refresh what little knowledge I have of world history. For this year I get to teach one section of that course. Must start with Acts 17:22-34--God's summary of the history of the world. Romans 1:18-32 is a sad litany of every culture that has ever existed on this planet. Good thing I know who actually writes history and that grace wins. And second semester I get to add Daniel and the Minor Prophets to my English "duties." Can't wait. English, history, and Bible all in one year!
Hope this day finds you in a dry place. With a good book. A cold Pepsi. And time to reflect. If you need a cat for a companion, let me know--I have one you can "borrow." Just be ready to give up all control over your life.
Sunday, July 12, 2015
This Week at Iten's Acres: Monsoon July 12, 2015
The monsoon of 2015 continues. Rain, rain, and more rain. The Acres are underwater, the mosquitoes are swarming like clouds. You can't stay outside long without being eaten alive. Saturday, at least, was sunny so I did get to do a little work free from "attack." The flowers, of course, could care less. I hope you appreciate how much blood, sweat, and tears these photos cost me. Particularly the blood. =)
Friday, July 10, 2015
This Week at Iten's Acres: Change July 10, 2015
Well, I'll be getting some new neighbors. My good neighbor and good
friend Dennis has sold his place. As of August he will be moving in
closer to town--probably the Polaris area. He has been a great friend
this decade--a helpful, caring neighbor, brother in Christ. Someone out
there is going to be getting a good neighbor. I really don't much
about my new neighbors. Young couple. Originally from Michigan I
think. They must be country people. He's a policeman in Dublin. He'll
have even farther to drive than I do!!! Like I said, must love living
in the country.
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Backroads of Morrow County Update: Green July 1, 2015
Backroads of Morrow County Update:
Ah, the rain. Traveling the back roads these days can be hazardous. Creeks overflow; old bridges creak. Turning around is the wise choice. Morrow County does like its floods. Fortunately, The Swamp has not flooded my road again. I expected it to, but for now I do not have to go east and north in order to go south. Not that I mind the east south journey. I get to go over a couple one lane bridges, under a canopy of trees, past the acres of corn. The corn has long ago nullified the "knee high by the Fourth of July" mantra. In most places it is already head high. Beautiful, if you are in to deep green fields and symmetry. The soy beans too are growing "like crazy." The wheat is ready for harvest, but I doubt if any farmer can get into his fields for awhile--way too water logged. So the gold fades to amber and the amber to brown. Waiting for the touch of sunlight. Anticipating the attack of the monstrous green monsters.
Everything as you can imagine is green. There are a few places in the fields--low spots--that have been drowned. I don't think that the poor farmer who planted next to The Swamp is going to have much to harvest this year. The roadsides are adorned with a million orange day lilies. The blue chicory adds its loveliness in some spots. The Queen Anne's Lace is just starting to add its whiteness. The power lines are decorated with the redwings, mostly the males for some reason. Show offs I suppose. On rare occasions a meadowlark in his splendid yellow. A sparrow hawk on occasion. Mourning doves--always in twos. Swallows in gangs. Though I don't notice them on the wires, the goldblack of the finches often arcs it's way across the road especially in the wooded areas. The roads, as usual, are practically empty except for my little red wagon. Houses behind the fields are going into hiding until fall harvest. Green corn screens make them invisible except for the tall red barns with their shiny tin roofs--red, green, silver, even an occasional blue. If it ever dries out, the wheat fields will be gleaned, the hay will be mowed and rolled into the lovely wheels that I'm sure become field mice hotels. The silence of the backroads of Morrow County filled with bird song, "puddlelicous" as cummings would say, splattered with myriad colors, invaded by a small red machine inhabited by a chubby old bald man--such is life in the rain forests of Ohio during monsoon season.
Ah, the rain. Traveling the back roads these days can be hazardous. Creeks overflow; old bridges creak. Turning around is the wise choice. Morrow County does like its floods. Fortunately, The Swamp has not flooded my road again. I expected it to, but for now I do not have to go east and north in order to go south. Not that I mind the east south journey. I get to go over a couple one lane bridges, under a canopy of trees, past the acres of corn. The corn has long ago nullified the "knee high by the Fourth of July" mantra. In most places it is already head high. Beautiful, if you are in to deep green fields and symmetry. The soy beans too are growing "like crazy." The wheat is ready for harvest, but I doubt if any farmer can get into his fields for awhile--way too water logged. So the gold fades to amber and the amber to brown. Waiting for the touch of sunlight. Anticipating the attack of the monstrous green monsters.
Everything as you can imagine is green. There are a few places in the fields--low spots--that have been drowned. I don't think that the poor farmer who planted next to The Swamp is going to have much to harvest this year. The roadsides are adorned with a million orange day lilies. The blue chicory adds its loveliness in some spots. The Queen Anne's Lace is just starting to add its whiteness. The power lines are decorated with the redwings, mostly the males for some reason. Show offs I suppose. On rare occasions a meadowlark in his splendid yellow. A sparrow hawk on occasion. Mourning doves--always in twos. Swallows in gangs. Though I don't notice them on the wires, the goldblack of the finches often arcs it's way across the road especially in the wooded areas. The roads, as usual, are practically empty except for my little red wagon. Houses behind the fields are going into hiding until fall harvest. Green corn screens make them invisible except for the tall red barns with their shiny tin roofs--red, green, silver, even an occasional blue. If it ever dries out, the wheat fields will be gleaned, the hay will be mowed and rolled into the lovely wheels that I'm sure become field mice hotels. The silence of the backroads of Morrow County filled with bird song, "puddlelicous" as cummings would say, splattered with myriad colors, invaded by a small red machine inhabited by a chubby old bald man--such is life in the rain forests of Ohio during monsoon season.
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