Autumn lights up the trees with her flaming torch.
The leaves of the poisonous sumac vines changed into bright red and canary yellow dress, just beyond the pasture gate and nestling in the green of the cedars and along the fence line nearby.
I do not think the old weathered and locust posts will mind.
They could use something to give them a lift and set them straight.
Poison sumac always sets my world on fire.
I know to avoid ivy vines, though, somehow, at least once a year or two, one of the three types reach out and touch me.
The kitchen smells spicy today.
I gathered up a few fully ripe persimmons that dropped to the Earth beneath the stately trees in the enclosure.
Thin slices from a generous-sized loaf of the sweet tasting spicy bread added a delicious treat to the noonday meal.
This week, I plan to check out the deep woods toward the back of this property.
Who knows what nature has provided for me?
It is like looking in the back of your closet and finding something you forgot you own or swear you have never seen before.
I am always excited about such good fortune.
I smile all the way back to the little blue house at the end of the road.
I am not interested in papaws, the edible fruit also known by "Indiana Banana," or the forgotten fruit of North America to many folks.
The fruit is of the custard apple family and seems to have a built-in resistance to pests.
The papaw with yellow flesh is preferred over the white flesh of another variety of the tree.
Some members of my family appreciated them.
Dad gathered up bushel basket loads of the yellow fleshed in season from the grove.
Then, Mom would add them to her rich custard desserts and pies.
I passed on messy edibles, same as mincemeat.
Exploring and harvesting from the woods and fields is a beautiful experience every time.
Paul and I are grateful for the God-given gifts and abundant fulfillment that we reap from those simple pleasures.
I have oftentimes gone through a difficult time unwinding at the end of the day.
Sleep does not come to me, sometimes, until the wee hours of the morning.
The other night, the beautiful harvest moon shone brightly.
It lit up the night and my world.
I could see clearly from the east window.
The maple tree cast a huge black shadow on the ground.
Just beyond the tree, our beautiful American flag partially unfurled in the gentle breeze.
The feral cat that lives in the woods was sitting just beyond the birdbath looking this way and that, waiting to dart into the woods if need be.
Several whitetail deer were enjoying a few blades of grass.
I was in awe of all there was to see.
Knowing well that this senior would not be very productive the next day if I did not get back to bed, this old night owl grabbed a small glass of warm milk and two Tylenol tablets and gave up the show.
What a night.
The sight was so soothing to the mind. The fact is, in no time, my legs stopped dancing and sleep came shortly thereafter.
Sometimes, during sleepless hours, I schedule the workload for the next day.
You would not believe what I accomplish.
I cover a ton of work.
I even allow time to go fishing.
The next day, I am exhausted.
That is where the back burner takes over.
I have a strong feeling there is not going to be any more bluegills on my dinner plate in this life.
Still, I think about a catch from time to time.
So, we deal with our so-called "golden years," weep for all that we have lost and give thanks for all that we have: health, happiness and peace of mind and pray for another day.
Love is a many splendid thing. Anything more is luck.
Thanks to all of my readers.
I love you.
I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.