An Autumn State of Mind

 

 

 What is it that Autumn does to us? What causes us to accept, even appreciate, weather that would be unacceptable in summer? There is definitely a state of mind that is unique to Fall.

When I walk on to my porch on early summer mornings, for instance, I want to feel a warm breeze and the promise of bright sunshine. I expect a sky of blue that is uninterrupted by clouds. Trees that are lush and green, and grass like an emerald carpet, are anticipated all spring, then realized in summer. A dry breeze wicks the perspiration from my skin in the summer, and I expect shirt sleeve weather to chore in.

When conditions aren’t this way in summer, I’m often disappointed. But when autumn comes… well, my taste in climate seems to change with the season. Peculiarly, what is less than pleasing weather in summer is perfect weather in autumn. Take rain for instance.

There is no frown upon my face when the Autumn rains come. I expect the rain to ride the leaves as they surf the wind to the ground below. I love the wet carpet of copper,red,yellow, and brown covering the once multi-green grass.I just grab another cup of coffee and listen happily to the tapping on the window, as the wind forces the raindrops against the pane. When the autumn rains come, it just takes a log on the fire to dry the air. The pop and crackle of the fireplace along with the pitter-patter of the rain make a comforting symphony of Autumn music.
 
I am content now with skies of peek-a-boo blue, where the gray and lavender clouds dominate from horizon to horizon. The absence of the sun, and the cool air that results, is not a grievous but welcome thing to me. I throw on a jacket, switch from a straw cowboy hat to wool, turn up my collar, and bask in the chilliness. My fingers are warmed by the cup in my hands, as I sip hot coffee and watch the effects of seasonal change on the Chicken Ranch.

Some hold the opposite opinion, I am aware. I have heard some say that they cannot enjoy the Fall because they know winter is right behind it. To me that is like despising life, because it will one day end in death. I prefer to enjoy the moment and soak up the experience of what is the here and now. I'll deal with the other when the times comes, and I’ll not be robbed of this particular day just because someday a less joyful one may come along.

No, Autumn is to be given its due. It brings fruitfulness, then rest to the plants and trees. It brings a greater amount of moisture to a thirsty earth. It brings relief from summer heat, and pesky insects.
Autumn brings peace to the Chicken Ranch, or at least a peaceful and accepting state of mind.

I know winter is coming. It is whispered on the viento solitario, lonely wind. And I say let it come. After all, one thing Autumn does, is break you in gently. It makes the transition from summer to winter a most pleasant thing. At least it does for an old cowboy like me.

 

Summer Summary

 

Cone Flowers and Butterfly

 The morning is cool here at the Chicken Ranch this day. Sixty two degrees underneath the back porch with a pleasant breeze. The breeze makes an effort to comb the ferns into something that appears to be order; but ferns will be ferns. Proud of their multi-leaved stems, they reach through the shade, this way and that, resisting anything resembling tidiness. They will not be tamed.

The various shades of pink in the phlox, inpatients,  and petunias, make a bold statement against the backgrounds of greens in the ferns and the now blooming hostas. The white  hosta flowers stand tall in their purity, and the Yellow Cab-colored Black Eyed Susans stand brightly soaking up the sun. The spring flowers have all left us, while the heat-withstanding flowers have soaked up all the solar rays they can,as the Dog Days of Summer come to an end. The Sirius/Dog star has faded, and along with it the consistently hottest days of the season.

The vegetable garden also is beginning to take on a late summer look. The long  tentacle vines of green and orange that has supplied us with bushel after bushel of cucumbers this year are now beginning to wither and fade. Likely the last of this year‘s crop will be picked this week. Zucchinis and squash plants are all but gone, after providing lots of tasty dishes. Only the pumpkin vines still look healthy and richly green as they nourish blooms that will produce the Halloween fruit of bright orange in the next couple of months. The green corn in the fields is beginning to brown at the bottom. Plant and insects are telling the tale.

Butterflies of varying colors flit about the blooms of a long row of pole beans that are waiting to mature fully. Squadrons of pollinators dip and dive from bloom to bloom competing for their food sources.. From the flowers to the vegetables they cover every bloom. The bees and the wasps of several species scurry about in their busy way, gathering their food and offering life to many different plants through  pollination.The humming birds rocket from plant to plant in a nervous frenzy as they gather the nectar the season has provided. It’s a busy time for  insects and birds alike.

The sounds of Summer are also changing. Today, the cicadas and crickets are in competition with the cardinals, the jays, and robins. Occasionally the tree frog makes his way into  nature’s chorus and offers his vibrato voice for consideration. The Mourning Doves slow the tempo by presenting their solemn soulful notes. This summer sing-a-long is as ancient as time itself.  I tire never of listening to it.

All the gardens have reached their full potential. The hopes of spring planting and the return of perennial beauty are fully realized. August is about return on investment. Now the sun begins its shorter and shorter trek across the sky. Each day will now be shorter by three minutes. Evening comes quicker now and nature seems to sense that time is of the essence. While there's plenty of warm days ahead, Ole Sol's intense summer power is beginning to wane. A gentler, kinder sun is soon to appear.

It's not too much of a stretch of the imagination now to picture tractors and combines in the fields harvesting millions of bushels of corn and soybeans. The frenzied scurrying of men and machines, reaping what was sown in April and May, is just around the bend. Harvest time in the Midwest is a special time indeed. 

I'm happy to sit here today and watch the early change before the hustle and bustle of Fall begins. Today I sip on a cup of Black Rifle Coffee, in just a blink tho, it will be hot chocolate. Today it's short sleeves, but it's not too long before it'll be sweatshirt or jacket weather. All the signs are beginning to show. Great,bring it on. Like everything I'm watching in nature, I'm ready and willing to meet the change.

A Hero Departed

 How do you express in just a few words what 69 years of having the greatest father on  earth has meant? Just the highlights alone would require hours, if not days, of conversation. He was a great man who lived 88 years in the strength of humility. His greatest quality was kindness. He was a quiet, humble man and liked/loved by all. I’ll simply share a few memories with you at this time.

I remember being just a toddler and running to my parents bedroom early in the morning, jumping on the bed, and pleading , “Show me your muscles, Dad!” He would eventually relent and hoist those big guns that Shelby County, Ky. farm life had built. I remember being awestruck by those biceps and thinking, “ My dad must be the strongest man on earth!”

He’d take me fishing. He taught me patience, or at least tried to. He’d say, “Boy, you can’t catch a thing taking that line in and out of the water. Let it set. Be patient, you catch fish by waiting.” When I hauled my first fish to the bank of that creek in Bardstown Jct, Kentucky, I remember thinking, ”My dad is the greatest fisherman on earth.”

Lee Dennie fixed everything himself. He was amazingly resourceful. Once,  he wanted a large room addition on the house, complete with vaulted ceilings and a fireplace. Despite never having tackled a project like that before, he just built it. He asked for advice and an occasional helping hand… but Dad built it himself. And it looked amazing. He also fixed his own cars. 

By the time I was 8 years old, I knew a crescent wrench from a boxed-in wrench, a blade from a Philips screwdriver, and how to socket up a ratchet. Just from helping my dad. He taught my little brother, Ivan,  and I so well that, as teenagers, we could buy an engine for a car or truck at the junk yard at 8:00 in the morning on a Saturday, put it in the  vehicle, and be driving around town before dark. Ivan and I replaced a transmission in an old Ford Fairlane by straddling a ditch with the car and laying timbers and plywood at an angle to keep us up out of the water. We were in Illinois. Dad was home in Kentucky. I was 18, Ivan was 14. Dad had taught us well. I called again, and again, and again over the years for help and advice about car mechanics (and every other kind of advice) .You see, we thought “Dad was the greatest mechanic on earth”.

He was a fast pitch softball player at one time. He could make a softball  dip and dive and curve like an amusement park roller coaster. I remember one time he was practicing pitching. He came to me and showed me how to squat down like a catcher, and where to hold the glove. He said to me, “Dont move that glove no matter what. The ball is going to come right there in your glove.” Well, he backed up, snapped that ball off of his hip, and that ball blazed. It went up and down and everywhere but where  my glove was, so I did what he told me not to, I moved the glove. Big mistake! The ball landed exactly where he said it would.  Problem was,  there was no glove there now. I’ve always been known as a bass singer in my adult life, but because I didn’t listen to him that time, I honestly thought I would be singing tenor all of my life. He was, to me, the greatest pitcher on earth.

There was a time when I did not revere my dad as I should. I was 19 years old, after all, what else was there for me to learn about life? I had all the answers now! Sure I did. My hair got long and my vision short. My dreams were big but my thoughts were small. I went out of town… and off the rails. But in a couple of years my brain returned. So, I called Dad and said I needed to come home for a little bit.

 In “Death Of The Hired Man” by Robert Frost, there is a line that reads ”Home is the place where, when you have no place left to go, they have to take you in.”  I remember Dad saying “I’m glad you’re comin home, but remember, the rules and conditions are the same now as when you left.” I remember thinking that my dad was “the most steadfast man on earth”.

Time doesn’t permit me to tell of the help he gave us over the years after Patty and I were married. He seldom admonished but always encouraged. He always told us to love and raise our girls in the Truth of Gods word. He cherished his grandchildren and great-grandchildren above all the gold in the world.  He mostly just kept living a Godly life before us. One of the greatest examples on earth.

 The last few years for Dad were rough, at times very, very rough. There was no “Why me”, however,  no anger at his conditions;  just a progressing weariness met with humility and resolve. He beat the heavy odds against him time and again. Finally,  God said ” Lee, my good and faithful servant, it’s been enough. Come home and rest”. 

He remained to the end  the Elder of the little flock who met in his home on Wednesdays and Sundays. His trembling voice would lead the meeting, his trembling hands would pass the communal bread and  wine. In the last days he could become confused about the order of the meeting, but when it came time for him to speak, there was a clear spiritual message every time. Dad loved God and demonstrated it everyday. He was one of the most humble men on earth.

So we have come today to honor his good and simple life. To say goodbye and release the tears that those left behind must shed. A time of joy and sorrow interwoven.

I’m gonna miss you Dad. There’s a hole in my heart the size of Texas. But, I know that you’re  finally getting the peace and rest you so richly deserve. I promise to try hard to live up to your expectations. I’ve had nearly 7 decades of the best example I could possibly have. I’ll try hard. 

After all, Dad, when I grow up, I want to be just like you. 

Love, your oldest son, Kevin

The Prairie Winds

 

 

THE PRAIRIE WINDS

The prairie grass bows and bends
Then rises quickly tall and thin
In a dizzy spirit-dancing spin,
And repeats, in rhythm, over and again,
When the wild prairie winds blow.

The hair blows high upon the back
Of the hungry coyote on the track
Of his early evening snack.
He stealthily pounces in attack
While the wild prairie winds blow.

With the effort of every bough and limb,
Trees reach out to catch the wind.
Briefly subdued, it exits then
You can hear ghostly music in the end,
When the wild prairie winds blow.

Seen only by its grand affect,
Felt on the back of this cowboys neck,
As I fight to hold my hat in check,
I’m glad when it quiets ..and yet,
 How I love when wild prairie winds blow.

K.L Dennie 2017

Woodland Winter Night

 

Woodland Winters Night

It is a  beauteous wonder really

This blanketed land of white

The powder of new fallen snow

 The crystals of shining ice

The moon shines its ghostly offering

Of reflected light thru the glass

The  ground is lit, a glowing surface

and deep blue shadows are cast

The deer have the look of statues

And steam rises from their noses

The bucks raise their antlered heads

And strike most regal poses

An owl lands on an old phone post

And snow cascades down below

His  giant eyes pierces the darkness

As his evening hunger grows

The geese have settled on the pond

In an opening where water exists

A fox looks longingly from the bank

Then trots off with a twist

The air is crisp, complete is the quiet

And all seems to be just right

As I stand here in a frozen spell

Of a woodland winter night


KL Dennie 2016