September -- the mercurial time of the year when summer almost imperceptibly blends into fall.
We are now halfway to autumn, as per Mother Nature's plan; the transition begins.
Already, I am seeing and hearing fewer songbirds in my backyard. I looked out across the soybean field close by the little blue house at the end of the road. Straight ahead I do see goldfinch fitting about today.
Larger birds, the turkey buzzards, hawks and crows rather enjoy the perks of this property and they plan to hang around.
I must wait a little longer to see the wild geese in flight against an azure blue sky.
Butterflies and grasshoppers are nowhere in sight.
Woolly worms aren't speaking to me yet either.
Members of the herd of Whitetails are moving about now. I reckon they are pleased that the dry dormant vegetation sprung back to life, a refreshing sight since the recent rains.
Every night, the beautiful animals, youngsters included, forage for the tender leaves and blades of grass and weeds.
No doubt, the ground cover is a pleasant munching surprise this late in the season.
The persimmons are plentiful this year. I await the globular orange beauties to fully ripen and fall to the ground of the enclosure at the homestead property. We will check on the nut trees later.
I will bake the breads and puddings and add a fair amount of the bake goods and remaining pulp to the freezer.
Today, I have a mouth-watering zucchini bread in the oven. The timer will tell me when the baking time expires. I baked two loaves.
Paul and I begin preparing for winter early just like my mother and father did all of their years together. Living through the Great Depression, they knew how to work around hard times.
We no longer raise the farm animals, as before. Most of the meat that we consume is purchased from butcher markets. We eat less red meat these days.
I still own 14 barred rock hens, all of advanced age. Since only two or three of the chickens are laying now and feed is pricy, several of them will be processed for the freezer. Maybe next spring, I will consider replenishing the small flock.
We like wild game: Venison, wild rabbit, squirrel, wild turkey, pheasant, quail and more. Generous friends, all game law abiding hunters, share with us.
Gardeners share their bounty of fruits and vegetables and we share with them, just as folks did in days gone by.
Yes, we dine in our share of restaurants, but regardless, still we prefer the good old comfort foods of home. Is it good? Darn if I can judge that. Guests all come back for more and Paul Baby would not complain.
I think that my own cooking is oftentimes in need of further study, with good reason.
My lazy taste buds fell into deep sleep when old age set in and a large non-malignant tumor was removed from my neck and throat. That is only a theory. What do I know?
Our daughters, Starla Sartor-May and Lori Ann Sartor Patrick were in town last week.
We shared quality time with them. As we were cruising about, like old times, our family stopped in Clay City to have lunch.
None of us wanted to eat at a chain establishment on that day. We sought something different.
That would mean a small step back in time. We wanted more than deviled ham and bananas, too. That was just a pleasant memory we shared.
Starla pointed out her eatery of choice. Lori took pictures of the town's black and white vehicle and we discussed Mayberry, Andy and Barney.
Lori saw an old weathered building and a grain elevator to capture on camera. We entered the eatery then.
I was so happy to be with my girls. The name of the place is still a question mark. Someone help me if you can.
Two young women were there to serve us. I believe they are sisters.
I saw vintage chrome dinette sets. Memorabilia of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe and more -- antiques, collectibles galore and a gathering of happy customers.
We chose a booth for old times sake. The menu offered many items. The waitress took our orders. We were very pleased with the meal and the experience. The cherry Coke was definitely a taste of the past. I felt as if I were a teenager again, sitting in a booth and sipping coke in "Coke Haven," or Rumbly's Drug Store.
Too bad I was just sampling Lori's drink. This old fool ordered sweet tea.
I am still worried about my medical concerns. It's like if you do not die in the meantime, visit us in January. I will visit my primary provider next week for a regular checkup.
Several years ago, a friend of my own poetry sent me this poem by an unknown author:
"Ain't It Da Truth"
Thought I'd let the doctor check me,
'Cause I didn't feel quite right ...
All those aches and pains annoyed me
And I couldn't sleep at night.
He could find no real disorder
But he wouldn't let it rest.
With the Medicare and Blue Cross,
We would do a couple of tests.
To the hospital he sent me
Though I didn't feel that bad.
I was fluoroscoped and cystoscoped,
My aging frame displayed.
Stripped, on an ice cold table,
While my gizzards were x-rayed.
I was checked for worms and parasites,
For fungus and the crud.
While they pierced me with long needles
Taking samples of my blood.
Doctors came to check me over,
Probed and pushed and poked around.
And to make sure I was living,
They had wired me for sound.
They finally concluded,
Their results have filled a page.
What I have will someday kill me.
My affliction is OLD AGE.
I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.