Homes March 28, 2019

I have lived in many, many, many places in my seven plus decades on planet earth. A few of them I hold more dearly in my thoughts than others. My home growing up in Wellston is, of course, a favorite. Grandma lived behind us, Ziff cousins just up the street, lots of friends, church just up the street, a neighborhood in every sense of the word. It was there I became attached to iris, cats, sycamore trees, bleeding hearts--all of which I still love today. Our neighbors--the Safleys?--had even more iris than we did. They had a huge yard filled with them. I've often imagined sneaking back into the neighborhood to see if fifty years later some of those iris are still blooming in that empty lot--which is all it was last time I was there. Insanity, eh?
I also loved the garage turned home where we lived in Bainbridge, Georgia. Pond out back for catching supper--deep fried brim, fries, hush puppies. Brad was born when we lived there. Gene and Barbara were good to us. I would love to transport that place up here to The Acres and substitute it for the cave. I'd have to throw tons of things away--which would be marvelous!!! Brad has a picture of Mom and Dad and baby Brad standing outside that home.
Our home in Traveler's Rest, South Carolina, was a marvelous home as well. I wonder if I could rename Cardington Traveler's Rest? It was right after Susan left us, and the boys and I made it a home. Yard and woods to play and get lost in. Brad and Ben surviving Dad's cooking. Wabasaki. Random "I wonder where that road goes" excursions. Putt-Putt. Gran and Pop stopping by. Chinese ninja movies and wrestling on TV. (True confession) Cats. Fish tanks. Aunt Chloe and Uncle Larry helping out. The house--home--was in essence a gift from my sister Janice and her husband Dewey. They let us live there for practically nothing. A gift for a lifetime. Traveler's Rest will always have a special place in my heart. The road the house was on was kind of isolated as well--imagine me liking such a place.
And, of course, now, The Acres. Lord willing, my last home before I go Home. Lord willing. So much beauty in this gift the Lord has given me in my old age. Time spent with Mom here enjoying the beauty with me. The beauty of quiet. The beauty of solitude. The perfect property to grow flowers and trees of every imaginable kind--sycamores, iris, and bleeding hearts included, of course. The beauty of my daily walks alone but in conversation with Him. Hymns echoing though my brain all the way down to my heart. Gardening Angels. Work. Struggles with the curse--beautiful too in their way. The Boss. My soul is at peace here at The Acres.
The "travels" of life. The gift of memories--marvelous times and broken-hearted times. Different gifts of beauty in different places. Movable homes. His presence always there--palpable. He has gone before to prepare the way. Walked with me every day. Shown such grace and mercy in all things. Met every need--and many wants. And the final Home will be just as immersed in His riches--even more so. Day by day we journey Home. Closer Home each day! Father has built a room on His house just for me. And no doubt, the new earth will have sycamores, iris, bleeding hearts, and maybe even cats. =) And prayerfully all the people I have loved.

Spring's Arrival March 21, 2019

Spring break has begun--though I guess Monday would be the official day. Chilly this morning, then warmed up some. I didn't do much but walk around and see what I wanted to do this week. The goldfish are out in abundance. The crocus came out in bunches today--sprinkled here and there about The Acres. One Lenten Rose joined in. The flowers all seem to be a couple of weeks "late" compared to last year. That last vortex probably got them to hesitate about reappearing in a cold new world. They'll get around to it when they're ready. The towhee has been back all week. He's a beauty. Snowbird population is decreasing. Guess they don't believe in the forsythia myth. Still a few around. I am ready to go into solitude. I know--the week will fly by. Hope I can at least get a few things done in between walks. Hope.

Signs of the Time

On the precipice between winter and spring all the signs are converging.  The red-winged blackbirds have returned.  The creepers are chanting their melody.  Fewer snowbirds attend the daily catering service outside my doorwindow.  And, best of all, things are starting to rise from the still frozen earth and even, some of them to bloom.  Here are the early risers at The Acres this March 16th--five days before the official beginning of spring:  pussy willow, snowdrops, crocus, aconite.

Waiting March 3rd, 2019

March has arrived.  Snowing.  Single digit temperatures next week.  The Lion of March is here--we must wait patiently and hopefully for the Lamb of March.  I check the temperature each morning by checking out the leaves on the rhododendron.  Curled up--cold.  Normal--not so bad.  I will know it's mid-May when they adorn themselves in the pinks and reds of their liking.
But spring is on the way.  The pussy willow by the pond is in its splendor.  It reaches as high as the small pines next to it.  Shades the edge of the pond.  Gorgeous.  The snowdrops are blooming too impatient to wait for warmth.  There are some in the trees; some by the house, some by the old dog house.  And other things are starting to stick their "noses" out into the air to check for sunshine--daffodils, crocus, magic lily, and others that I'm just not sure what they are yet.  Time will tell.  Spring is coming.  I will wait.  What else can you do?  Hope that the lion goes out like the lamb.

Random Musings on a Snowy/Rainy Day at The Acres February 20, 2019

Random disconnected thoughts that are ricocheting around my feeble mind on a snowy/rainy day at The Acres.

When you are blessed with an unexpected, extra day to catch up on your grading, there is only one thing to do: read all day long. Binge Wendell Berry--a poetry anthology, a couple of your favorite essays--"Leaving the Future Behind: A Letter to a Scientific Friend"; "The Joy of Sale Resistance." And throw in some poetry by Billy Collins: The Art of Drowning. And re-read The Man Who Created Paradise. (Some day I'll be able to read that fable without tearing up. Maybe.) The papers? What papers?

All poetry should be read out loud.

Two quotes for the day: "You are responsible for what you remember."--John Lucas. ""Somewhere is better than anywhere."--O'Conner.

Machado signed with the Padres for "300 million." The Padres. Yes, the money is insane. But at least you know he's all about winning and it's not about the money. The Padres.

Some how my neighbor Aaron plowed my driveway, and I didn't even notice. Great neighbor! He could use a better one.

I am still not sure if it's a bad thing for people to take advantage of you because you are "too kind."

I wonder if I'll outlast The Sentinel? I wonder if who ever gets The Acres after me will understand that even if a pond is practically a mud hole--it's still a thing of great beauty? I hope I never succeed in taking all the wildness out of The Acres. Better Homes and Gardens can have their magazine.

Dumb Animal is a good name for a cat.  Even if she is smarter than you are.  Every home needs a cat.

Even though Velveeta Cheese appears to be almost eternal--what's in that stuff?--it sure tastes good on macaroni--and grilled cheese.

I can tell how cold it is in the morning by checking out the leaves on my rhododendron.  I don't know the exact temperature--but I can tell when it's cold.  I know for sure that it's mid-May when they display their beautiful red and pink flowers.

When you've run out of syrup, you have effectively run out of waffles. 

I believe with all my heart that my Savior loved me enough to die for me, will someday so transform me that I won't even consider sinning, and that He will wipe all the tears from my eyes. Why He would love the me I know that much is unfathomable. How He can so transform a spontaneous sinner I have no idea, but what a glorious day that will be. And I have no idea how He can wipe all my tears away--sometimes, to be honest, I'm not sure I want Him to. Forgive my heresy. Again, I believe with all my heart that His promises are sure. And fill my soul with joy.

When I fail to make the right decision, He is kind enough to bring the opportunity back around so I can try again. Whew!

Sorry to end your day with such incoherent musings. I guess there's still some time to tackle some of those papers. I wonder if students realize that paper grading is an act of love--and mercy, once in awhile.

The Daffodils and Tulips of Iten's Acres 2018

It's almost spring.  Hey, a month is not that far away.  Thought I'd remind you of what comes up first.  Here are the tulips and daffodils of Iten's Acres in 2018.