THE STATE OF OUR UNION

    I wonder what these men would say to guide our nation today? 

Happy Holidays

 

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!   FROM ALL OF US AT THE KD CHICKEN RANCH

Thoughts From A Porch Swing

 

Gracie sat in the swing, gently persuading its movement by lifting her toes off the wooden floor and pushing with her heels. She sat with her iced sweet tea in cupped hands laying on her lap. She looked  at the empty wicker chair off to her right. She sighed audibly and frowned. The late afternoon was pleasant but her thoughts were not.

"Why would she go off and leave me this way? Her only sister! And little sister at that. I just can't believe it." She left her anger and self pity just long enough to wave to the mailman as he lowered the red flag, removed and left mail, and drove on, steering from the passenger seat of his old rust-laden Chevrolet. "Nothing in there for me," she muttered to herself, "Momma can get it."  

The ice made a gentle rattle as she stirred it with her finger and sipped from her glass. The smell of mint and Marigolds growing along the porch awakened her nose, but even that cheered her little. She was not willing to have her mood sweetened by any of her primary senses.

"Why would she want to go off to college in Ohio of all places. Way up North. Cold winters, snow all the time. Bad food. Why, those Yankees wouldn't know the difference between grits and ice cream. Bet they never tasted black-eyed peas or collard greens. The closest those folks ever come to a Southern meal is eating at a Cracker Barrel restaurant. If they even have a Cracker Barrel" she fumed inwardly. Her eyes moved in the direction of some movement by the Forsythia. 

She watched as her mother came from the back of the house, stopped to deadhead Petunias in a pot by the side walk, and ambled on toward the mailbox. Gracie always marveled at how graceful her Momma was, even in as simple a thing as walking down the driveway and back. 

She started swinging again and took another sip of her tea. Southern sweet tea; strong enough to put you in atrial fibrillation and sweet enough to give you diabetes is what her Grandad always jokingly said.

She then heard the rumbling of a distant train and watched as it appeared across the field from behind the trees. She placed her slender hand across her forehead to shield her eyes from the sunlight. The rising waves of heated air warped the view at times as if she was looking through an ancient window pane. She counted the passenger cars as they appeared one after another. Looking to her like a rigid caterpillar, the engine and its tow moved into, then out of, the frame of  moss-covered oaks across the way. She watched as the faded red caboose disappeared from view.

"All those people travelling. Where does everyone go? I'm never leaving Georgia. I've been her fourteen years and I like it here. I love my little town. I love this home. Why move off to God knows where? I've got all I need right here on this front porch. Except Lucy. I love my sister. I'm gonna miss her like everything. But, I do hope she is happy. At least one of us will be." Then, ,the screen door creaked as the hinges and metal spring complained about being disturbed,  Momma quietly sat down in the rocker that was her favorite.

After a few seconds of gazing at the gathering of puffy white cumulus clouds on the horizon Momma glanced over and asked "Missing Lucy just now?" Gracie shrugged her shoulders slightly, then said as cheerfully as she could muster, "No, just enjoying the afternoon," then after a moment asked, "Do you miss her already Momma?" With a smile that indicated how well she understood her youngest child, Momma leaned over to pat her daughter on the knee, "Every bit as much as you do, sweety." Then she reached in her apron pocket and removed an envelope. "Something for you."

 Gracie placed her glass on the white wicker table then turned over the envelope and was thrilled to see her sister' s handwriting. She grinned as she looked at her mother and said, "I bet Lucy is missing me. The poor thing. I'm sure she'll be just fine after a little while. Don't you think so, Momma?" Momma smiled beneath the rim of her glass as she tasted the cold nectar of the South... and the warm sweetness of a summer afternoon on the front porch, watching her youngest child grow.

 

Happy Holidays to All !

 

SNOW SCENE

 

The first snowfall of winter

It causes quite the stir

It makes us know for certain

That Ole Man Winter's here

It purifies the landscape

In a quilt of mostly white

The moon lights the boughs and branches

On a cold and crystally night 

The tracks of winter travelers,

Both critters and mankind,

Slightly mar the blanket

Until the wind blurs them in time

The stillness is most impressive 

Quietness rules the air

Only the wind in the pine trees

Gently disturbs the silence here 

It is the first snowfall of winter

Now, as I add a log to the fire

I sip from  my steaming cup and think,

What more could a man desire?

KL Dennie 2024

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL

                          DISCOURAGEMENT CANNOT GROW IN  A THANKFUL HEART. 

AUTUMN WALK

 
                                                              

                                                                   

I took a walk this early morn

In the cold Autumn mist

I turned my collar to the damp

And pulled my sleeves tight to my wrist

The sun was casting golden rays

Piercing the hazy gray air

Like stage lights searching the cast

As the curtain parts with flair

The swish swish swish of fallen leaves

As  they danced around my feet

Brought a smile as I strolled along 

That sound is a melody sweet

Then the sun broke triumphantly

Through the dullness of the mist

And the breeze persuaded the painted leaves

Into a kaleidoscopic twist 

Then I turned home reluctantly

Beneath a canopy of blue

Convinced (as if I needed to be)

 Fall walks are a joyful thing to do

K.L. Dennie 2024

First Things First

 

Freddie Is Free

On the courthouse bench sat Crazy Fred

Answering the voices inside his head

"He's a nutcase" so many said

They just simply did not know

Fred didn't live in this space and time

He only heard and saw 1969

He heard the bullet snaps and the mortar lines

In the jungles of long, long ago

Once he'd been a bright and handsome lad

Joined the Army as his grandpa had

Made his father proud and his mother sad

When it was Charlie Company's time to go

The sun was as hot as hot can be

Above the dark green canopy

When the ground exploded, then all he could see

Was what was left of Mickey and Joe 

With the best Docs the Army could find

They had fixed his body a patch at a time

The worst scars he'd shown were in his mind

The Docs weren't able to stitch his soul

How quickly we judge what we don't understand 

There was a tortured boy trapped inside this man

When the call had come to make a stand 

Fred had never considered saying no

Today there's seven rifle shots times three

And the bugle blows so solemnly

Beside a flag-draped coffin for all to see

That Sergeant Freddie can at last go home

K L Dennie 2024

Beauty: John Muir

 " No synonym for God is so perfect as Beauty. Whether as seen in the carving lines of the mountains with glaciers, or gathering matter into stars, or planning the movements of water, or gardening - still all is Beauty!"   John Muir 

Solitude

 

WIND

It can be as soft as cotton

As it brushes across the skin

It makes music in the cedars

And causes mighty oaks to bend

It whips the leaves and grasses

Into a spirit dance

It causes the mustang's mane to fly

In every jump and prance

It caresses the blue waters

From ripples to mighty waves

It is the wind that chooses what it takes

And it chooses what it saves

It is at once terrible

Howling at the eaves

Roaring thru town and glen

Devastating limbs and leaves

And then it tempers its anger

And quiet as a mouse

It gently moves the curtains

In the windows of the house

"It blows where it listeth" 

It goes and comes again

Is there a thing as wonderful

As the mystery in the wind?

K.L. Dennie Jan 2024

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM THE CHICKEN RANCH !

 

A New OLD Acquaintance

 I am sure I saw you, when?

Maybe ten years ago?

I think I recognized you then

Tho you were someone I didn't know.

At that time, you were like a familiar face

That you see at some annual event,

With a name that never came 

Or if it did...it went.

Then today, there you were again

Staring right at me

From my mirror, into my eyes,

Blue and deep as any sea.

A sneaky thing you truly are,

You've been behind me for a while

Always following quietly

But closer with every mile.

Oh, I knew someday we'd properly meet,

Others had come to know you well,

And the alternative to meeting looked a  little bleak

As near as I could tell.

So here you are, and here to stay

You certainly have grown bold.

Your last name is "AGE", to me you say,  

But I can just call you "OLD".

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.

 

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, “Don't 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

Ridin' Off Again

 

 

 

 

 

 

My legs rub the saddle
I’m fifteen hands high
My hat separates me
From a blue and orange sky
Dusty boots in the stirrups
Hands loose on the reigns
My senses are alive and full
Of the Sangre de Cristo range
 Oh Lord, it feels good to cowboy again
                                       
Mesa’s and arroyos
Sand and pinyon pines
Shadows in the sunset
Drawing dark and lengthy lines
My collar up against the cold
Wildrag tight up to my chin
My bones tell me I’m gettin old

And my jeans are wearin thin
But it feels good to cowboy again

Nothing within fifty miles
But grand wide open ground
The squeakin of the saddle
Is the solitary sound
I pat my mount on his neck
And swing into the wind
A single star begins to shine
What peace I feel within
Boy, it feels good to cowboy again
                                   
“Texas or New Mexico ?”
My wife smiles as she walks in
“That faraway look in your eye
Says you’re ridin off again”
I turn back to the fireplace
And watch the hypnotic flames
Saddled up in my leather chair
My sippin glass in my hands
Man, it felt good to cowboy again

It sure felt good to cowboy again

K.L. Dennie 12/2021

Faded Light, Faded Hope

 

The circle of light on the ceiling dances

From the candle flame as it prances

Right to left and left to right

As I sit alone in the room this night

The flickering flame burns low then high

But soon the wick will wither and die

Once lit in a hope of a future bright

It is weary now, sad fading light

Many things disappoint us in the end 

Tho bright with promise it so began

The wick that stood so proud, time did choke

The light has left , now there’s nought but smoke

KL Dennie 11/2021