Years End

 

The eve settles, a day anew does not dawn for it is the beginning.  A new year will unfold as the petals curl out revealing the fragrance.  A year is fading, life has left, new lives have arrived.  The pattern of creation is stamped. 

Celebration, the changing of the guard.  New ones arrive, fireworks resound over the avenue.  Shouts roll out and down the mall. 

New chapter in my life unfolds.  No astounding events this past year.  Nothing with high expectations on the horizon.  Walk with the cadence of life.  Not forcing the cadence.  Embracing life for what it is.

May the God of peace that surpasses all understanding be your companion this coming year.  The blessings of life be yours and walk in peace.

 

Happy New Year

Christmas

 

 

Merry Christmas

                        To All

Christmas Time

 

Now that Christmas is less then a week, I will now began getting into the mood.  I do not like mob scenes let alone shopping.  Hence I am becoming a grinch.  It has also made me pause and wonder what the purpose of Christmas is?

Like so many things in christainity, the tradition of christmas has its roots in a pagan ritual.  There is no festival in the Bible proscribing the celebration of christmas.  There are a lots of other festivals but no christmas.

In the Bible story of Christ’s birth, who were the gifts for, why the visitors and why is the story even told?

Snow is flying, wind howling, cold air biting, it is the season of winter.  The warm festivities of cold short days brighten up the darkness of winter.  A light travels over the darkness.  Warmth of light chases the cold chills to the back.  Inside, the howling wind is muted.  Warm drinks brighten the soul.

Go forth, celebrate the most precious gift of all, accept it.  It can not be bought, for it is already in the heart.  Let it grow, become a part of the body.

 

Dying

 

Went to a memorial service for a friend this week.  He was a Vietnam Veteran and was interred at the National Military cemetery.  I have a relative here plus some friends, so I went early to visit them for a moment for I knew afterwards would not be good.

As I walked among the grounds lots of things flooded the mind.  Here were people that served the country to be put in harms way.  Freedom is the creed that they fought for.  I ask myself, freedom from what, to do what, how to be or what is freedom.

Freedom caries a multitude of meaning to people. 

What does it mean to you?

How do you relate to the revolution of 1776?

 

There were a jumble of thoughts for me that afternoon and after the first of the year I want to explore them and share some of my thoughts.

Enjoy the rest of the weekend and have a great week leading to Christmas, the greatest gift of all.

The Warfare of the Classes

 

I read the stories about the various occupy protests and wonder what they want to accomplish.  One of the themes that keeps cropping up is warfare among the classes, a revolution.  It appears they are not content with the country they live in and want the country to be of a different style.  This leads to lots of ferment and creates lots of anger.

Do a search on the Russian revolution and read a bit about it.  One of the key things is the different classes and the conflicts that arose.

A small group in Russia protested against the rich and landed people.  It was against the rulers, the Queen, the Tsars and others.  It went on for several decades, lots of conflicts and turmoil leading to many overthrows and finally the communist country in 1918.

Communism was very strong in the US during the late 1800’s into the early 1900’s.  WWI diverted lots of the communist enthusiasm in the US but it did not go away.  In the 1950’s  were the McCarthy hearings on communism and J Edgar Hoover.  Communism faded back into the wood work but did not die.

Marxism is still taught in colleges and universities as being an acceptable form of governance.   Yet every place in the world Marxism has been tried, it has failed.  The teachers and professors in universities continue to teach Marx. 

Are we a country doomed to fall under the axe of Communism.  As long as the protestors continue to flaunt the law and there are no consequences for their illegal  actions a totalitarian government is on the horizon.

So many who love freedom have had the attitude of live and let live.  Today the bullies a moving into the land of governance and the so many are afraid of confronting them because they see what is on the other side, a serious conflict.  It appears it is a battle they are not ready to engage in.  A line is being drawn.

What do we expect from our government, has not clearly been defined….. has it?

Moon..... it be Full

The moon rises from the soup on far horizon. Dim slightly lit orb easing out of the haze. Lighting the eve, casting shadows in the air of frost. Birds scurry looking for their roosts. Ever higher it climbs skyward. Silvery moon, romantics dream dancing with the star of eve. Higher it climbs, lighting the way for travelers of the eve. A moment passes never to be caught again. Faded to memory are the images of the eve.

Gently golden glow eases to the mountain. Settling behind peaks. Fading to the evening, leaving the silvery glow to light the way. For the moon to reveal, old man sun must recline to the night.

The Calendar Changed

 

When the first day of the month arrives, my calendars I should go forth and change them.  No, I do not go forth and change the months.  It is nor until I look at days to try and schedule things do I realize I have not changed. 

I have become so spoiled by the puter that I seldom use a calendar any more.  In my gadgets bar I have a clock plus a calendar, day and month.  So when I turn the machine on all this nice information jumps up on the screen and says hi.

So the wall calendars tend to collect dust hanging from their hooks.  This year I got a bunch of calendars and probably could get some more.  Lots of the local businesses are giving out calendars and I have collected a pretty varied group of pictures to hang on the wall.

 

The days of life march past and I am but one little character in the play of life.  So as my chapters unfold I desire to enjoy them. 

There are a few events that happen I want to remember, otherwise the days melt into each other.  Passing as ships in a fog but hearing the chimes of the bells floating past.

The snow if passing in front of the wind, a touch of white patches the brown grasses of the dormant ground.  Birds huddle in the trees, search the rafters for protection seldom venturing out.  The hawk of the north has sent it icy breath across the prairies.  Soon the eve will arrive and the calendar will mark another day.

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.

A View

 

For a variety of Reasons the eye is attracted to views/images, some are pleasing others distracting and so forth.  The Vista lets the eye travel to the horizon, to the world’s end.  Do a 180 and there is the end of the view.

Parallax is the divergence that never ends and it is the same no matter the distance.  Lines the appear to converge, remain the same distance apart.  To what end does the eye travel?

 

Floating cotton puffs dapple the sky, poles mark lines, cars pass by, wind riffles grasses, a brief moment paused.

From here to there an eternity, flowing together, to never join up.  A separation merging not that gives the illusion of converging.

The weekend is rolling along, it touches not the last, it goes on to the next.  Adjoining but with no attachment.  To the next it marches, pauses not to attach.

May your days have journeys of no end that reach to the next and continue in a path of desires.

Main Street

 

Small Town America has its main street and each is unique yet very similar.  Building style in the Americas was brought from Europe and as the people moved west they brought what they were familiar with.

The highway would divide the town and usually there was some railroad tracks next to the road.  With the changes in style and moving to the burbs, style has changed.  In the old neighborhoods of the city and out in the small towns the simple style can still be  seen.  There are no sleek and shiny buildings in these place, well usually.

Main street is maybe the highway or it is a cross street to the highway.  Sometimes main street would be built around a town square, here the roads intersected and there would be a bandstand in the middle.

In my roaming I go through many small rural towns.  Time permitting I stop and take a few pictures of Main Street.

The old hotels that are still standing are rare catches and made for interesting architecture.  Pause and imagine the business that was transacted in the lobbies of these grand old buildings.  Here is where the traveling peddler would stay.  These small towns were important to him. 

Nearby would be his customers, the clothing shop, hardware store, drug store or maybe the bank.  I would love to have the wall of these old buildings talk to me.

Some have moved to these small towns and bought the old empty stores and made them into nice homes.  Put some sweat equity into them.

Journey down the back roads, what is the next cross road reveal.  Is there another adventure awaiting.

Hope you are having a great week.  Winter is knocking on the door here.  Below freezing and snow in the mountains.

Autumn Moments

 

Sun travels faster, leaving earlier, showing up later.  The seasons move across the road, traveling a path of their own destination.  Giving way to the next act.  There are repeats that are not instant replays.  Motion going forward, not repeating.

Harvest of the season, under the moon.  Gathering of the fruits for the short days.  Cold snows sit on the sill, waiting their turn.  Golden colors dapple the horizon.  Palette brushes the ridge line, sparkling glint of eves day.

Soon the north wind will draw the curtain aside and whistle through the cracks, rifting the timbers, rifling down chimneys.

Pleasant cool afternoons to wander the path, looking at the paining set before.  A time of change, ending never.  On toes of past, traveling forward, looking back not.

Autumn of life is arriving, a journey that will pass, leaving a space of memories.

Frosted pumpkin, barren branches appear, brown grasses wave.  Last minute preparations, critters scamper about, others curl into dens.

 

It is a nice weekend to be out and about.  Enjoy Yours.

Lizard Toads

 

There little lizards referred to as horny toads.  They are a few inches long and an inch or two wide.  They puff up to look bigger then they are and can be very intimidating to other small critters.  They have horns/spikes and give the appearance of a small tank scurrying over the ground.  Used to catch them when I was younger and keep them in a small box for a few days as a pet.  I would catch bugs and put in for it to eat and had a jar lid for water.

 

It went running across in front of me.  I had almost stepped on it.  If it hadn’t been for that I would of not seen it.  Soon it will be to cold for it and into hibernation it will go.

Had a mixed mongrel that would walking with me.  She found one of these things and was just having a blast playing with it.  She would pick it up in her mouth and carry it.  The toad would wiggle and she would spit it out.  Go back and pick it up again, the toad would wiggle and out it would go.  I finally caught up with and got the toad and took over to a rocky ledge and let it go and scolded the dog to let it be.  It was a sad droopy eyed look I got from the dog.  Any way we went our way and the toad had a story for its grand children…. Hah

A short distance on, I came across a smaller one.  It to went scurrying across my path.  They blend in real well with their surroundings.

They like to eat ants, next year I may try to capture one and turn it loose on the local ant hill.

Old Threshers Day…… finit

 

Threshing day, this is the day the farmer worked for.  Here he would see the fruits of his labor.  The grain was his pay for the years work of plowing, tilling and planting.  I was an area celebration.  Neighbors would gather and help each other with the threshing.  Hay ricks would be towed in, followed by grain wagons.  The wives would show up with lemonade and food, there would be visiting and catching up on the gossip.

Usually one farmer would have a threshing machine and another would supply the tractor and together the neighbors would work from sun up till it set.

Hay ricks would empty and be re loaded with the straw for the hay stack.  Grain wagons would be hauled back to the granary to be unloaded.  It was a frenzy of activity.

The tractor would be hooked up and work begins.  Wheat bundles tossed to the threshers belt and separated out grain rolls out of the chute while straw piles up behind the thresher.

For the farmer this was the most critical part of the year.  It made him or broke him.  No longer do the steamers operate the thrashers today.

The government has passed all kinds of regulations and inspections that most people don’t want to spend the money to show them off.  The government has taken a harmless hobby and quashed it because one individual screwed up and blew his tractor up.  The many have to pay for the screw up of one.

For me these celebrations are about the steamers and the roll they played in pioneer life.  Instead an old tractor gets hooked up and sputters along imitating an old steamer.

This is what I learned to drive, it was one year newer.  I didn’t drive a car till I was 16.  It was trucks and tractors out across the fields and down the country roads.

May the dove of happiness be your companion this weekend.

Old Threshers Day…… VI

 

One of the old days is the old time entertainment.  The singing, with maybe an instrument, something small, a fiddle, harmonica or a dulcimer maybe.  Guitars and pianos were just plain ole big to lug over the prairie in a covered wagon, although a few made it.  There was always the washboard and maybe some spoons.  Otherwise music was pretty simple. 

There were some singers that sang during the lunch hour.  Some good picking and twanging to go with the barbecue.  There were a couple of large canopies with picnic tables under them and a PA system was set for the entertainment.   They had their guitars and a good nasal twang, good ole down home singin’.

Later s fiddler showed up and the hoe down was under way.

Collections, never have I seen so many collectible collections.

And there were also quilts.  What is an old time day without a quilt or two.

Jump in the Ox wagon and go for a ride around the grounds.

Threshers Day….. V Draft Horses

 

The monster horse, does not pull the beer wagon, it pulls the plow and other equipment.  Draft horses are monster horses, they will come close to weighing in at a ton, 1500-1900 pounds.  15 hands tall to big ones over 18 hands.  The average horse is 11-12 hands, 1000 to 1100 pounds.  It is amazing to watch these big brutes work.  They are so gentle and easy to be around.

As I watched them work, it was not easy for the horses to plod over the dirt clods.  They would stumble at times but they maintained their balance.  At a nice even pace they walked the field.

 

I finally got this young lady to pose for me.  She is not a small person but she is dwarfed next to the horse.

As one hooks up the the buggy another keeps the horses still so they do not walk away from the tongue.  Working behind horses is a tricky business and many do not do.  Yet these handlers worked with ease behind their horses.

There were different horses there and there was a set of mules there.

Surprisingly the mule will out work the big horses.  Their stamina is longer and they don’t need the rest like a horse does.  They also tend to be stronger then a horse.  After the oxen the mule was the next preferred beast of burden for plowing or hauling wagons.  The horse is the glamour animal, the worker is the mule.

What was neat to watch was this little girl.  She appeared to be about 12 years old.  She was guiding these big horses around with ease.  A jiggle of the reins, a clicking of the tongue and the animals moved at her command.  It might of been an older brother and little sister, because he was walking with her and talking to her and the horses.  Around the yard they went.

To look over the backs of these animals, one has to be about 6’6” or get a ladder to stand on.

Have a good week.

The Yellow Flowers n Colors of Autumn

 

Autumn brings the cool changes of fall.  No longer is there the searing heat of summer.  Nature is getting ready for a nap.  The  beauty that is covered by the green ushers forth, the last blooms unfurl, soon to be replaced by naked browns.

Meadows change to a carpet of yellow accented by green, outlined by the towering trees of green going to yellow.

Country roads travel through bent boughs, arched tunnels of green n yellow.

Autumn is a season of calm.  Soon the snows will fly over the fields bring moisture and nourishment for next years crop.

In the glistening light, colors hurry, pausing but a moment to be captured in memory.  Sun slants to a lower angle each day. A season at the end.

Mixed in with nature can be found the hand of man.  Acres and acres od sunflowers bow their heads in prayer.  Soon the harvester will roll forth, thrashing the plants.

May You have a blessed weekend.