Moist Summer Morn

The "dog days of summer" are upon us at the Chicken Ranch, but it feels a bit more like autumn.
It has rained, off and on, for three days . At times the rain has been thunderous on the metal porch roof, like a parade of hooves across a covered bridge. At other times, the rain has fallen in a whispering ghostly mist, allowing the drops upon the leaves to answer the call of gravity in a slow hypnotising dance to the earth beneath it.

The rains earlier this year were hard downpours that pummeled the garden soil into a flat, hardened,  and unforgiving surface. The recent rains, however, have been freshening. Slowly, the moisture has massaged the plants and dirt, has freed the trapped roots, and encouraged garden and grass to breathe and bloom.The gentle rains have chastised their harsher cousins, and offered the gift of softness in apology for them.

Pumpkin blooms stand taller, brighter now. Like bonnets to be worn over a grandmas' bun, these blooms dress up the huge dark green leaves along the vines. By October, there should be several plump balls of orange, ready to offer up a wonderful pie or two, or become a scary-faced jack-o-lantern to light up  a cool Halloween evening.

All the plants that labored to grow under the oppressive heat, have now sighed in relief, and renewed their strength. The weather is an all-important factor in ranching and farming. Weather is predictable only in that it is unpredictable. The challenge is in being prepared and accepting of what may come.

Mother Earth can be harsh, some would even say cruel, at times.  Tornadoes and hurricanes, earthquakes and forest fires; all destructive and frightening. But, the balance in nature is evident in the green shoots that rise from the  ashes of the inferno, or the pristine lake that forms from a quake- altered river. Science proves that the Earth was born in violence, but the violence brought forth a planet teeming with life.

Nature has always taken from us; but has given so much more. The terribleness of some of natures fury is not as prevalent as the charitable giving of unspeakable beauty and sustaining life. Sometimes, Mother Nature reminds us that some things are fleeting and temporary, so we should cherish them, and care for the gifts we are given. Give back to the Earth and she will continue to give to us; rob her,  and we will suffer the loss.

As I walk the vegetable and flower gardens here at the Chicken Ranch with a coffee cup in hand, I'm grateful for the kinder side that Nature has shown here in recent days . I survey all that's around me now that the rains have ceased. The breeze is soft. The sky shows the promise of a glowing sun; once the sheet of fog lifts and drifts away.

All life glistens, as the rising sun plays on the cleansing moisture that dresses it. The plants and trees are alive and refreshed this early summer morn... and so am I.

Morning Drive

Like many of the other folks in these parts, our day at the Chicken Ranch begins before sunrise. Today is no different. My eyes open slowly and take in the dim light of the bedroom. I look across the bed and see the reassuring rise and fall of the quilt on Patty’s side and appreciate that she is sleeping good this  winters morn. And, as I do every day, I say a silent “thank you Lord for another day of life and health. I don’t take it for granted.“

A glance at the clock tells me it’s 5:07. I quit using an alarm a long time ago. I don’t like my actions (or inaction's) being dictated by an electronic apparatus. That goes for phones and seat belt buzzers too. I jokingly tell Patty that if I wanted some shrill, irritating thing reminding me what to do in a car, I’d bring my mother-in law along every trip. This usually awards me a ceremonial thump on the head.

I slide out quietly and look out the window. No rain today. Pull on my jeans and shirts hangin on the dresser knobs, and gather up my boots and socks. I finish up in the kitchen so Patty can rest a bit more. The kitchen holds the coffee pot, and coffee holds the stuff life is made of. I do believe the good Lord told us we couldn’t “ live on bread alone” because he knew good coffee was comin in the future, and He didn‘t want us to miss it. I know the Lord had something more spiritual in mind, but I think he might have enjoyed a good cup himself. After finishing up my morning obligations, I grab a  cowboy hat off the peg and step outside into the morning chill. Georgie the cat begs for food but I tell her Patty will be along shortly to feed her. The grey old Tabby looks a little disgusted with me as I continue down the brick sidewalk. I climb in “old red” and set out for a drive up the highway this day.

Only a few lights are on in houses as I in my red Ford truck roll along the black belt of road. I see only a few cars too. I meet the Sheriff along the way and we give each other a rocking-hand windshield wave. Good man that fellow. Our Sheriff is one of the most charitable men I know. Not the kind of charity that gets photo ops, but the behind the scenes, Christmas and Thanksgiving hams left on poor folks doorsteps, kind. We count him as a good friend.

The trees along the road go by looking like a mass of black spiders until the sun begins to rise in the east. Slowly it grows lighter and the sky reveals clouds that look like a gray and white wrinkled blanket. I think that two giant hands need to grab each corner of the firmament and give a big shake to smooth it out a bit. 

I see some geese are making a V as they head south. They look in a hurry. I think they’re running late; like the house at a farm along the way maybe.

I noticed that none of the lights are on; they always are when I go by at this early hour. Unusual. Some mighty hard workin folks live there. They have green houses that supply me with garden plants and flowers each spring.They farm too, but their green houses are their bread and butter. Some of the finest plants you can buy. Hope everything is okay there. I’ll check on that farm on the way back through.

 A funny thing how our routines can become remotely intertwined in others routines without our ever realizing it. You know, like that car you meet every morning on your way to work. You have no idea who they are, or they you, but every day you meet on the highway... until the day when you don't, and you look for it for days, and wonder what happened to that person. What changed their routine? A new job? A death? You'll never know maybe, but their change in routine made a little change in yours.

I park the pickup at my destination, but leave the truck running for a minute so my favorite country music station can finish the latest cattle prices report. As I get out, the door pops a little and so does my right knee. Both of them are telling me we’re getting old. A friend of my mine waves across the way and says glibly “let the day begin”. I smile and wave back but think,  "you’re a little late, old buddy, that happened a while ago''.

Dec 30 2011