Being Thankful

 

A very unique holiday was brought by a religious group fleeing persecution.   On a small ship they set sail from England to the New World.  Had very little  idea what they would be facing or what to take. 

When they landed they were thankful for a safe trip and so their adventure began.  They had many failures upon arrival and as winter was setting in their provisions were lacking.  The Indians who were living in the land saw the plight of the new people and gathered up food and brought it to the new people living on their land. 

In thankfulness the pilgrims had a celebration feast with their new neighbors. 

Today I am thankful for the country I live in but after the occupy protests I wonder how much longer this country will be free.

It is one thing to break the law but for the law keepers to ignore the broken rules and do nothing makes me stop and wonder what is happening.  Then I read the stories of the Christians being killed in the Middle East and Africa.  So far the US is a relatively free country and Thanks giving can be celebrated as a religious holiday.  Christmas is another question at a later time.

As more and more mandates are pushed out the door of the bureaucracy…. more and more freedoms are lost.  A mandate impinges on ones freedom of choices for to violate a mandate is violate a law.  Yet the politicians let things like this go on the books.

Step back and look at the persecution of the pilgrims and where it came from.  Lots of it came from the government.  The government does not like competition and religion competes with government.  Compare the rules.

So this thanks giving I ponder,  who’s rules shall I live under, can I endure the persecution or will I fight back?  Christians in America are facing some tough times ahead unless there is a change in attitude of Christians on both sides of the political spectrum.

 

The Life of the Wild

 

Deer are plentiful in the evening and fun to look at  as they browse on the grasses.  They also a desired by predators and they make an evening meal for numerous critters.  They also become road kill when they get close to the highways and try to cross.

They are a curious animal, standing there staring at the two legged creature snapping pictures.  They are also mesmerized by headlights at night and blinded.   A combination that is very deadly.  There is a stretch of highway west of here that I see a dead one along side the road almost weekly.  The herd lives on though, it is but part of the process.

 

Quietly they munch away on their evening meal. glancing back at the stranger.  Life and death wages on in the wild.  Where it comes from, when will it happen….. is but s moment of fear that flies into adversity.

Being atop of the food chain it is a fear I know not.  My cognitive reasoning carries me through dangerous moments.  A separation that carries very little understanding.

 

May God be your companion this week.

Flying South…. Nope Not Me

 

This time of year the V’s have been floating over head.  A lots of them have been landing here.  No longer do they go to the warmer climes of the south.  Today there are numerous man made lakes for the birds to splash in.  Nearby are fields loaded with seeds.  It is heaven for birds.  The climate is not that harsh here through the winter.  Daytimes highs occasionally reach into the 70’s during the winter mostly it is the 50’s n 60’s.

So the migrating birds have found it is a nice place to hang out for the winter.  The golf courses make nice places to hang out and the farmers leave behind seeds that were not there a 100 years ago and there are those who feed the birds. 

The journey south is much shorter now.

Seldom do the ponds freeze solid so the birds have a refuge from the two legged critters.  There is plenty of down to insulate them.

In the morning feeding time thousands upon thousands can be seen flocking to the sun flower fields and nearby corn fields.  It is an amazing sight to see millions of birds in V’s up in the air circling fields.

Massive farming has changed the way lots of wildlife lives today.  There is probably more wildlife today then there was over 100 years ago.  There is an abundance of food and shelter that the farmer and rancher have provided.  Don’t tell the greenies that though.  They think the farmers and ranchers are pretty stupid and can’t take care of wildlife.

I put the little bird feeder out for the little birds but to see the millions of massed birds is incredible.  Man influences the environment but to what extent.  Do I really want to foul the land I live in.

Hope your week is going well and that may the bird of paradise be your companion.

Water Springs Forth

Snow is cursed by so many, yet it a fount of life that carries many through the parched summer.  High in the mountains snow fills the ridges, covers the valleys and caps the trees, making a vista to be in awe of.  But that very snow feeds the rivulets that cascade down the hills. oozing under ground.

Wind whipped snow sends all scurrying for protection.  Grasses are covered, bushes peek out and trees sway to the extra weight.  The damage of the snow is the renewal of spring.  Moisture in the shite stuff ushers forth the green fresh plants to blossom in glory.

For miles this moisture can travel underground to sprout forth in tiny puddles.  Gushing springs heave forth to nourish the ground.  Last years snow flows up out of the dirt.

A tiny wet spot oozes out of the ground.  Tumbles down the hillside to nourish a few plants to sink back in the ground.

A small ribbon of green marks the spot where the water flows.  Returning back to the earth to resurface in a another location.

Here the animals found water to slake their thirst.  Not more then a mud hole but pools enough of water.  Hundreds of miles away are the mountains but underneath the ground are streams of a different nature.  Water travels through the sandy rocks for miles to seep out of the ground at another place.  Creating a small garden on the parched prairie.

Indians knew of these places.  here they would find the animals for their food, plants for their food and water for their thirst. 

What appears to be barren land, the starkness in broken by a few trees.  On far hillside a small grove of trees mark a spring.  The hillside is an escarpment revealing where the formations of the mountains is exposed.  Over many miles this formation rises.  Springs ease forth along the escarpment, giving life to the land.

Small ponds create a micro system of life that would not be without the snow.  This water may of fell a number of years ago as it traveled under the earth.  Following a path the eye can not discern.

There are many springs in life.  What ushers forth, has it been there for years, has it been dammed or is waiting for release.

Peace like a river runs through it.

Fall’s Passing

 

Autumn is a brief moment, usually, but this year it shared its slow change.  Trees are still carrying their leaves and green grass in spots.  Won’t be much longer till all of the colors are gone.  Another winter storm is on its way.  Snow will collect on the leaves that are still attached and branches will break, causing problems.

Winter clothes are in the closet, ghosts and goblins are stored away for another year.  Chapters continue to unfold.  The turkey is warily walking the woods.

End of year is approaching and the celebration of a new one in on the horizon.  Crèche scenes will be dusted off and decorations to change.

Happy Halloween...... treat or trick ... .. BOO

On the high plains are numerous small communities that sprang up to serve the early settlers, a general store, post office, blacksmith and eventually the gas station. Nearby would be the cemetery. These communities were close knit, families grew up together, married and raised their families. Unlike today there were no radio or weather services. When the tornadoes roared across the prairie, little warning was given.

Gravestone dates reveal when the destruction of Mother Nature would wreck havoc on the early settlers. Numerous stones would have the same dates on them. Families would perish in these storms.

On warm summer nights one can find these cemeteries. The apparitions come out to visit and moan over the tragedy. They float from grave to grave, pausing, talking and moving on.

Traveling the back roads of the plains, lights flicker on the horizon, images appear for a brief moment. Family members walk out and sit in the cemetery t o visit. Listen to the wailing floating over the fields, the Yucca stands on end at the sound, coyotes cower and other critters stay in their dens on those nights.

Legends grow on those full moon nights of late fall when All Saints day arrives. Walk among the stones, listen to the stories, hear the lament, these communities await you on all hallowed night. There is no trick or treating here. Only the fearless venture forth to visit.

The Empire Collapse... or where is the catalogue

Around the town could be heard the squeals of delight, the spooks and goblins circulated the neighborhood. It had been a night of ghouls, pranksters and witches decorating the streets. Cars were parked in the middle of the street, a small plane was perched on store top and TP floated off trees. The witching hour was approaching and miniature spooks were seeking out their nests to check out their treasure from the evening. Noise was abating, an occasional car cruising down main street and most lights were no longer glowing.

Quietly the neighborhood settled in for the night. Stump had turned off his yard light and was headed for bed. Out of the backyard came a resounding crash and thump. Quickly he rushed out the back door. Dark figures were scurrying in the alley, laughs and guffaws echoed over the yard. Stump glanced over his yard, no longer was his little house standing. In anger he went running after the dark shapes, bent on catching them. As he went bursting down the steps across the yard, he heard screeches and yells of fear.

The cries rang out, “It’s a ghost, run for yer life.” Stump was dressed for bed, he had his night shirt on and nite cap. As he raced across the yard it gave the appearance of floating over the ground and the flannel nite shirt had faded to almost white. Waving his arms, hollering and the tassel on nite cap flapping he had set the dark figures to fear.

Just as quickly as Stump appeared he disappeared. Where the little house had once set was now an open pit. In to this hole Stump tumbled. Flames of blue came flying up out of the pit. The figures stopped, turned gazing back at the blue fire boiling up. Stump had been in the Navy and every word he had learned echoed across the neighborhood.

Stumps handy work had revealed itself. All those years after plumbing had been installed, Stump kept his little building out back. Receiving paint over the years as it needed it. The privy had been untouched all those years. This year was a challenge to the local boys and they had succeeded in tipping over the one out house that had stood for decades.

Mouths open, the boys stood in the alley, staring at the blue flame flickering out of the pit. Never before had they heard such racket. There were other footsteps on the side of the house, the local patrol had heard the commotion and were seeking out the racket. Rounding the house to the backyard they had to pause and catch themselves from bursting out laughing. There was a tasseled white cap bouncing up and down in the hole and words they had never heard.