They Are…

August in the Midwest can be a relatively gentle time on the farm despite the ripening of much of the produce. Kitchens are busy with canning tomatoes as quick as they drop from the vine and between the sounds of back porch corn shucking and the screen door slamming, batches of apple butter and fruit preserves are being put up to carry the family through until next season. Mason jars still warm from the pressure cooker and rich with the colors and the labors of the season are taken down the road and exchanged with neighbors and relatives amid bushels of tomatoes and apples and that oft repeated “just won’t be able to get to all this” during gravel driveway conversations of catching up that last just long enough to stay on top of the latest and are always cut short because, “you know how it is. Got to get back to it.”

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An Agreeable Interruption

I opened the front door to let the cat outside. Somehow I’d missed that there was rain in the forecast. An unexpected rain is always an agreeable interruption to my day, or night for that matter. Often rain can be an emetic in times when one wishes to purge one’s self from the remnants of a difficult day or simply relax. There is something truly releasing about a rain in any season. I would gladly permanently trade the piercing sun for any form of rain if given the choice.

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Doing the Thing

“The shortest answer is doing the thing.” – Ernest Hemingway

In the year 2021 I resolve to…nope, I don’t. I don’t see any point in doing this year any differently than the last. You see, I didn’t have one of those horrible, crappy, miserable years that so many have been telling us they had. Oh, sure, the pandemic part of it sucked, it pissed me off when people didn’t wear their masks, and I did lose a few people I knew – which sucked even more; but for the most part all of that seemed to be not much more than background noise to everything else that took place over the last 10 months of the year.

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Create a Culture of Peace – This is on You, Too

I woke to a number of “this needs to stop” and “something needs to change” posts across social media this morning. I have not seen one “I’m going to…” response to last night’s shootings in the city.

If you can’t see that this problem reaches beyond the responsibility of parents and city officials then you inarguably are not looking hard enough at the real issues. To choose to reside in an area where violent acts continue yet put the onus on others to rectify the situation so that you have a better place to live is irresponsible and elitist.

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It is Sunday, isn’t it?

The dogs have been fed and had their first fetch of the day. I’m hopeful I can have a quiet moment to write, so I’m sitting at my desk with a cup of coffee; the window is open to chirping birds, budding trees, and the crisp smell of spring.

Tiny Charlie is biting Emma’s ear. Two of my three dogs.

Aaaaaand…we’re finished. There is a playful growl to my left and I look over to see this. Yes, Tiny Charlie is in fact trying to eat Emma’s ear.

So much for a quiet Sunday. It is Sunday, isn’t it?

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