This Week at Iten's Acres: The Beautiful February 19, 2017

As you would expect, I meandered The Acres today. Some hyacinth, daffodils, crocus have taken a peak to check out the weather. A couple crocus have bloomed already and one orchard iris. I would imagine with the predicted warmth of this week, that more will show their courage. God, of course, is doing beautiful things even if I'm not here. Always a good reminder of the Source of the beautiful. We need not be in the presence of those we know and love to be assured that He is investing the beautiful in their lives. And ours. And we can rest assured that there is more beauty to come. Can't wait!
The Posse is down to one--a couple days without the free lunch must have sent them looking elsewhere. The Boss has spent the day scolding me for my negligence--well, for something anyway. The feathered friends quickly returned as soon as I put out the food. Must have a video camera on the place. Still snowbirds, of course. Winter has a long way to go. The goldfish are out in number. Somehow they sense my presence and slip into deeper waters or the other side of the pond when I circle their home. I suppose it's a little misleading to call them goldfish. They come in such an assortment of colors. And enjoy schooling around together.
Perhaps next Saturday will also be warm, and I can get some work done on the place. So much to do. So little time. Such old bones. The greatest tragedy of old age is that the only thing that gets old is the body. Can't wait for a new one. And new gardens. (Sometimes, I think, that the Garden of Eden must have been within the boundaries that God uses to give the borders of Abraham's Promised Land. If so--and please, forgive my heretical imagination--I know where the Tree of Life grew.) But, alas, my work this week will be back with the kids. That's not really an "alas"--I love being with them. By God's grace I can enrich their souls so much more than I can enrich their brains. As Potok has said: Is there anything more dangerous than an intelligent man without a heart full of compassion, caring, and a love for the beautiful?
For me, this week has been a thing of beauty. Time with my beautiful son. A brief bit of time with my other beautiful son who stopped by a few times to check on big brother. Time in school with a host of beautiful colleagues and beautiful teenagers (no, that is not an oxymoron), Time walking the beautiful Acres. And time immersed in the caring prayers of friends and family. Yes--and don't forget it--He does all things beautifully in His time. And each moment of time is His.

Today at Iten's Acres: Cats of All Kinds: February 12, 2017

Mid-February, so, of course, the pussy willow by the pond is blooming away.  Love that thing.  And, on the subject of "cats," I'll throw in a couple pictures of the posse.  Midnight--who thinks the human is worthy of his company.  Psycho--who thinks the human should keep his distance--except for feeding time of course.  I would need a super zoom lens to have any chance of getting a shot of Little Momma Calico.  Sorry.

Today at Iten's Acres: Spring in January January 21, 2017

A spring day at The Acres--in January no less.

Good friends stopped by to add their expertise to the great well mystery.
Long, lovely early morning trek; long, lovely late evening trek.
The goldfish were enjoying the weather--and the depth of the pond.
The Posse was exploring most of the day.
Actually got some work done outside hauling bags of dirt--back feels fine thank you.
The feathered friends were in their spring voice. Beautiful cacophony.
Did no school work at all.
Thunder--I mean if you are going to have a spring day in January, you have to have thunder and lightning too.
All in all a lovely day--good friends, beauty, thunder and rain, physical labor--all sandwiched between two lovely walks. 

And all two more months of winter.

Today at Iten's Acres: Frigid!! January 7, 2017

Reflections on a frigid day at The Acres:
Even the Posse stays hidden until noon. Black cat on white snow--quite distinctive.
The feathered friends were active. I though the cardinals were going to land on my head. Chickadees just called me names for being a tad late with breakfast.
Not much wind this afternoon so the walk was that debilitating. Filled some feeders at a distance from the house. Not many tracks in the wild area. Even the creatures must be in hiding. Where do they hide? Where does the Posse hide? They go under the wooden shed somewhere.
Love the blanket God put on the ground before the frigid set in. A layer of cold warmth.
No water this weekend, but at least, it's the weekend. Homesteader's not offended--as long as i feed her and provide a lap, all is well with her world. Water should be back by Tuesday at the latest.
Tomato soup and grilled cheese day.
I may even have a cup of hot tea. I wonder what heated Pepsi tastes like?
Wasn't even tempted to doing any work outside today.
There will be a spring.

Life at Iten's Acres: Fair Trade Practices December 30, 2016

Fair Trade Practices: While the Posse is out back rummaging through the bird food for peanuts, the birds are out front gorging on the left over cat food. Winner take all.

Today at Iten's Acres: April in December December 26, 2016

The best laid plans of mice and chubby old bald men often . . . You know. Today was supposed to be grade all the papers day so I would have the rest of vacation to do as I please. But . . . who knew it would be a spring day in December? And it was a surprise in a way. The trees were doing their moaning song last night and early this morning--I was sure it was cold moving in. But when I went out to feed the Posse--behold, warmth. How could I possibly spend this day inside? Not a chance. So, extra long walk this morning. Then, spent most of the day outside working. Well, "working." I'm still not doing any heavy lifting, but this evening with the lifting I did do, I feel fine--for an old man. I love the curse of physical labor. And I had two advisors. The Posse made sure I didn't do any loafing or take any cat naps. Midnight is as bossy as his alter-ego. Man, did I get an earful all day long. Psycho just sits and looks--gives me the "what do you think you're doing dumb human." I endured the criticism, loved the labor, and am not the least bit sorry that I didn't get the papers graded. Thank You, Lord for the Christmas present--April in December. O H

This Week at Iten's Acres: The Present December 21, 2016

And so we celebrated the shortest day of the year by declaring Christmas Break. Winter has arrived. And on the first day of winter I have water. I have a creature who is looking forward to bossing me around for a few days. I have the Posse who have added old popcorn to their strange addictions--first peanuts, now popcorn. Who knew? I mean I knew cats were strange, but . . . I have much to do on The Acres. Some of it will have to wait--things are still frozen. Some I can do regardless of the weather. The most strenuous thing I will do today is take multiple walks. There are school things to be done as well. And countless books to read. Lunch with the family on New Year's Eve. Pace will be the key. As one of my favorite poems proclaims:

"Suppose we did our work
like the snow, quietly, quietly,
leaving nothing out."

My feathered friends are active. Scolding the Posse, "stealing" their cat food, mostly in blacks and whites and grays, although the raucous blue jays and the magnificent cardinals are around as well.
Otherwise, spunky chickadees and their cousins the titmice; black and white of the woodpeckers, nuthatch (though I sometimes think they, too, have a touch of blue), snowbirds aplenty, sparrows of various persuasions make up the flock.
The pond is frozen--I assume the gold is safely hidden at the bottom. The Sentinel has contributed another of its massive limbs to the middle of the pond as it slowly continues its journey toward decay. Soon it will limbless--still magnificent, but a spar on a ship--guardian of the pond and its minions. I hope it waits to fall until after I am gone.
There is, of course, some green around. Conifers, lungwort in the trees, Lenten roses everywhere, the green of the iris, azaleas. Hints of life to come again. In places the hardy cyclamen are still producing their miniature pink flowers. Life at The Acres. a gift from The Ancient of Days for an ancient human. May I remember each day to whisper a "thank you." And then enjoy His present in all its wondrous wrapping.