About This Blog

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I have loved things Country and Western all of my life. I have loved the ranches and farms, the work, the fields, the barns, livestock, and the food. I was born and raised in Kentucky where I learned to ride and care for horses. Most of my family lived on farms and/or were livestock producers. I have raised various livestock and poultry over the years.I have sold livestock feed and minerals in two states. My big hats and boots are only an outward manifestation of the country life I hold dear to my heart. With the help of rhyme or short story, in recipes or photos, I make an effort in this blog to put into words my day to day observations of all things rural; the things that I see and hear, from under my hat. All poems and short stories, unless noted otherwise, are authored by me. I hope you enjoy following along.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Autumn Senses



The morning is misty and wet today. As I make my way to the pens to feed, the moist wet grass dampens and darkens the toes of my boots, and colored leaves stick to the soles. A steady rain has fallen through the night and has brought a bit of welcome softness to the ground beneath me. After one of the driest summers in our area in years (September was the 2nd driest in history) it is a welcome relief to the feel dampness on my skin. The drops of rain shaken from the trees take a detour on their journey to the ground and fall on my hat in little pops, then run around the crown and off the brim. The woods edge is noisy with the squirrels causing a shower to loosen with their every leap from limb to limb. The smell of damp fallen leaves and end of summer foliage feels my senses as I take in a long deep breath the early morning air. There is something about the fragrance of a wet autumn morn.

Encouraged by the weight of raindrops, and persuaded by the wind of change, the leaves surf the breeze in a dizzy dipping glide to a gentle landing on the earth below.The leaves of walnut, sycamore, and hack berry trees carpet the ground, weaving a yellow/brown quilted pattern over the grasses. The wetness releases an earthy aroma that appeals to my olfactory senses. Perhaps it is an ancient hunter/gatherer instinct that is awakened by the smell of autumn; a reminder from an early time that triggers us to prepare for the winter to come.

 We Americans no longer face the kind of winters our ancestors did in this country. There is little fear of running out of food and water for people or animal before the Spring. But, here in our part of the country, cold and snow is coming eventually, and there is preparation still.

We are preparing here at the Chicken Ranch as we always do. For instance: there is wood to cut, gather, split, and stack over the next few weeks. Long nights indoors are ahead, and there is nothing more comforting than the pop and crackle of an evening fire. The fireplace is now cleaned and ready, and the wood stove is too. On the nights ahead when the north wind sings its song of bitter cold, the warm glow of flames spirit-dancing over the logs counters the chilly sound, and wraps us in visual blanket of comfort. Patty and I find ourselves checking the inventory of hot chocolate and marshmallow cream. The nights of warmed hands around a cup of  chocolate sweetness are a comfort to us while the frost paints the window pain, and snow piles upon the roof. As many do, we prepare to be inside more this time of year.  There's outside preparations too of course.

The hen house is cleaned and fresh straw put in place. Some doors and windows that have been open all summer are increasingly closed at night now. The garden is empty now except for Kale and a few tomato plants that are hanging on. Orange and red pumpkins,  and  multi-colored gourds adorn the outside of the house and shop after having been gathered from the garden. In the next few days all that remains of the garden  will be tilled under and the green of Spring and Summer will return to an earthen brown. The soil will rest  for the next few months and await the Spring to be born again.

It is a special time, this changing of the seasons. The honking encouragement of tens of thousands of migrating geese that fills the air, the tic-tic crunching of  leaves on dry days when kicked up by wandering feet, the rat-a-tat cadence of a gentle rain as it falls upon the metal roofs, the occasional  call of the coyote floating on the crisp breeze a moonlit star-bright evening... this is the music of Autumn at the Chicken Ranch. The welcome smell of decaying leaves, walnuts and hickory nuts losing their outer shells, wood smoke from the chimneys, and coffee steaming from my cup... this is the fragrance of Autumn here. Fields gold and tan with harvest plenty, tractors and combines scurrying like ants on a mission, a kaleidoscope of orange,yellow, and red colored leaves, and cobalt blue skies with cotton ball clouds... this is the view of Autumn.

In every sight, sound, and smell, Autumn abounds here. This gentle transition from summer to winter fills the senses with earthly wonder. Autumn eases us from the outdoor business of summer into long nights of indoor idleness during winter. It is God's perfect plan for us here. It is a wondrous thing to us here at the Chicken Ranch, this season of change.  We welcome it. Always.