Today, the sun is shining brightly.
This October morning was tranquil beyond even the tranquility of summer. The air was not only cool, but clear and quiet.
I am noticing the greens, reds, coppers and bronze of the trees that line the perimeter of the harvested soybean field. The stands on our place are beautiful.
I love the backdrop against the beautiful blue October sky.
My eyes cloud with tears of joy just thinking about my seasons -- bygone and more.
As I left the house this morning to tend to my barred rocks, Pete Rabbit and our birddog, Caesar, the noisy hawks circled overhead.
I heard the music of many birds this morning and saw several of the visitors picking and poking about the gourmet breakfast in the feeders.
A downy woodpecker was hammering, at high speed, in the giant locust tree. From my vantage point and that of a nosy ground squirrel that jumped from the grate of the dormant fire pit, it did not appear that hungry bird was making a dent in the tough bark of the object of his affection.
I wondered if woodpeckers ever suffer from migraines or stiff neck.
The squirrels are busy chattering, cutting and gathering their winters store. The walnut trees in my space afforded them less than last year, but evidence shows; the little hickory is earning her wings.
The giant oak tree has a few acorns to delight the bushy tailed rodents as well.
I love the way God works.
Those little wooly worms. He made them too. They help us out with our winter weather predictions.
If one should cross your path, take a close look at the little fellow. Keep track of him. He is fast. Cut him off at the pass. When he curls up, straighten him out and observe. Don't worry, the wooly worm does not bit. Check the size of the brownish red band in the middle.
There lies the answer to what kind of winter is coming.
The thinner the band, the harsher the winter will be. If that colorful band in the middle is thick and wide, expect a mild winter.
I know everyone will not follow legend of that sort, but most times, the wooly worms tell it like it is.
Truth is, we have to settle, not for what we want, but what we get.
I took another quick look for my lost keys, before ending my morning visit with nature. My walk down the winding paths through the wonderment of it all was the highlight of the day.
As I came back toward the little blue house at the end of the road, I viewed the blue siding.
Yesterday, the elder beetles left the box elder trees and attached themselves to the light blue exterior walls, in numbers of this old house.
Today, at that hour, only a few could be seen. I waited until Paul went to work and checked again.
More spotted ladies than before could be found adding their excrements to my freshly washed window panes and light blue siding.
A brown, non-reclusive spider claimed a corner to do some spinning and did. She had the nerve to hang her baggage on the line and snag a fly.
It looks like I will be having a lot of company this winter, lodging beneath the surface of the exterior of this old house.
I am expecting those pesky lady beetles to try to horn in on my privacy any day now. Especially since all of the curtains are freshly cleaned, looking good and ready to meet the heating season with a frown. Hard to believe the pretty panels are almost a quarter century old.
I now have several packages of persimmon pulp in store and set aside to last until next fall. I made three loaves of bread from the fresh pulp yesterday and I was very pleased with the texture, taste and appearance of the baked goods.
This week, Paul has three days off. After I honor my appointment with my new health care provider, he and I plan to begin a roofing project on the backside of this little bungalow. Flat roofs are a pain in pitch spreader. A few hours of wok and 780-square feet of roll roofing later, the entire roof will be good to meet whatever falls from the sky other than airplanes, falling stars and Walmart bags.
We don't worry about Santa anymore.
Paul has been dying to use his new Craftsman 12-V hammer, so much that, it is still in the box since last Christmas. I just hope he doesn't get carried away with that swift tool. I will be working alongside him on pitted knees, hammering away my well-used steel mallet.
I will be able to see many splendid things from my rooftop perch. Deer are all over the soybean field.
I might see a fox or coyote or remnants of that dead black snake that I killed with my machete and hand carried there recently. Who knows?
I hear the traffic on State Road 59 as it inches its way toward Parke County. Could be, situated on that roof. I may see a vehicle or more.
Of course, I can't get too excited or carried away while on the job. It is a long way down.
Lucky for me, I am still limber, but my bones are brittle. I don't want Paul Baby picking up what's left of me and my skeleton in his new coaster wagon either. Besides, who would make the bread and repartee with him, thereafter?
I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at email@example.com.