In the Morning

Holiday mornings are the most beautiful kind of mornings, to me.  On the rabbit patch calendar, this Sunday morning, is a holiday.  Today, my family will celebrate Thanksgiving.  

It is my habit, to rise early and this is especially so on a holiday.  There is always a lot to do and I do not like to rush.  The collards have been cooking a while and I just put a large pot of corn on the stove.  There are still the biscuits.  I will need a large pan of those, but I take a good many coffee breaks, anyway.

The morning is bright and beautiful, and I like that.  I prefer cold weather on Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Last year, it was so warm that while the turkey was cooking, I could have cured tobacco, right there in the kitchen.  

Around the Table

It wasn’t long after noon, that mamas’ dining room table was full.  Grandchildren sat at a table set up in the living room, as they always do.  I thought the food was especially good this year.  Everyone was doing well and it made me glad to know that. 

After the meal, Daddy watched a NASCAR race, My brother-in-law, Roy took to fixing all of the electronics in the house and the women talked about Christmas.  The grandsons brought mamas’ decorations in, so she will have them ready when “the spirit moves her”.  Mama takes great pains with her decorating and it shows up every year.  A garland with twinkling lights on a picket fence is as pretty a picture, as I know of.

Back at the Rabbit Patch

When the light was fading, I made my way home.  I was anxious as this was the first time, that Moon Shine had been left unattended in the farmhouse.  Cash, my boxer tattles on the young kitten, when I am home.  He is quite an alert guardian and is constantly checking on the where-abouts of the kitten.  Christopher Robin, just watches like a judge and jury, in a superior fashion.  I considered leaving Moon Shine to his own devices in the barn, but the the wind was cold and constant-and he is “the baby” in the family, after all.

The farmhouse was still in-tact, upon inspection and so they all ate a good supper, with extra gravy, because of it.  Moon Shine, is a naughty rascal, any way, though I can’t prove it today.

Now, I make it a habit, to be grateful,  but I must admit, that the Thanksgiving season tenders my heart  and humbles me like no other time and- Thanksgiving may be  the interlude, that we can all use just now.  In some way, gratitude forces us to acknowledge that we are loved . Surely, there is hope in that.  

 

 

Autumn has made its’ presence known at the rabbit patch-and it came bearing gifts.  The whole affair seems “royal” in nature-complete with a treasure chest of precious gems in every hue.  No one is excluded from the occasion of autumn.

Morning sunlight comes brightly and lights up the frost covered territory around the rabbit patch. Frost looks like diamond dust and is strewn liberally, for the Hand that casts it, is not limited in Its’ source.  This is quite obvious to me as I leave the rabbit patch and drive past fields and pastures decorated with shine.

The dogwood is wearing rubies, these days.  Every one of them are a solid mass of red and do great justice to the landscape.  I saw a little sparrow perched amongst a dogwoods’ rubies this week and he looked as  worthy of a post card as any of his finer -feathered friends.

Winter wheat is up.  It is my favorite crop from start to finish, to watch growing.  In any stage, winter wheat is lovely.  Now , it has transformed a barren field to an emerald sea.  It is the greenest thing in the country and is a sight to behold on fair days and rainy ones too. 

The clarity of autumn light seems to turn every thing in to some sort of wonder. The persimmon trees are a warm golden and the grapevines are bright yellow.  Plum trees look like living amethysts .   The most common woodland vines become scarlet garlands around the trees and the ground beneath is laced with amber. Above it all, is an expanse of sapphire which far exceeds those hidden gems mined by man. At night, the sapphire becomes ebony with a splattering of diamonds.  All of mankind can feel wealthy in the Autumn.

Tomorrow, Sunday dinner will be at my parents’ home and will be a thanksgiving meal. My sisters and their families will attend and so I am cooking while I clean the old farmhouse.  The wages of week-ends in Elizabeth City , however costly, do not make me sorry.  I have the windows up as it is warm today.  On Thursday, those that can, will gather again, at the rabbit patch.  Thanksgiving is a favorite time for me and so no amount of work, ever seems a burden.

The cat named ” Moon Shine” can almost be considered tame, now.  He does not hiss and spit at my boxer, Cash, with the same gumption as before.  Instead, Moon Shine is  learning the manners of a house cat from Christopher Robin, willingly.  

The much acclaimed November moon is retreating now.  There is less silver in the night sky over the rabbit patch.  There was much ado, over this moon and people went to great lengths  to record images of it.  The sweetest story that I heard told was shared by some dear friends of mine, who have been married since their youth, decades ago.  They stood in the moon light declaring the steadfastness of their union and sealed it with a kiss. . . I got a wild kitten. 

For a good while, I had been looking forward to seeing  the famous November moon over the rabbit patch.  Last night, I planned a very simple supper, all because of the grand event.  I started watching the sky, determined to see the moon rise over the field.  I was going to stand in the shine and lift my prayers.  I had some wishes and dreams to tell the world, too.  What I got was one more lesson on faith.

At first, I thought the moon was just running late. The field behind the old barn was dark-and so was the sky.  Clouds had settled in and showed no sign of hurry.  They brought with them, a hush, much like the snow does.  I heard a single leaf fall now and then.  I kept looking where the moon ought to be.  Surely, the brightest moon in the last thirty years could shine through the dense clouds covering the big dipper-and the dog stars too.  I couldn’t see Venus either.  The sky did have an odd, faint brightness about it.  I could not see the moon, but I knew it was there.  I saw evidence of its’ presence .  Somehow, that was enough.

Tonight, the moon rose over the rabbit patch.  The big dipper  and the dog stars did too.  Venus made a pine look like a Christmas tree.  The field, when bathed in moon light looked almost holy-and to me it was.  It was  all the evidence of Things not seen, that I need.

I made my way back to the farm house in the company of the wild kitten-who  at last, has a name.  Wouldn’t you know- I named him ” Moon Shine”.

We all woke up early this morning.  Outside the window, I could see the day was bright and clear.  The dogwood looked especially dashing wearing all shades of red against the blue expanse of sky.  I could see there was an autumn wind blowing-the trees were tattling loud and clear about that.

Winds, change with the seasons.  The content  of the wind in April is unlike the November wind this morning.  The autumn wind casts leaves in a chaotic fashion.  The smell of the leaves already scattered tends to give the air a distinct scent.   I remember smelling leaves in my childrens’ hair when they had played outside. There is also, a chill in the wind this season that demands a sweater or jacket, depending on where you live. Lyla and I will wear jackets today, while we are out, in the autumn wind.

 This is the best day so far for cooking soup-and so I will.  Though I am not sure that Will is going to touch it, I am making pumpkin soup for lunch.  Tonight, friends are coming for supper and I always look forward to cooking for a crowd.  I will get started on things as soon as Lyla and I come back from strolling the now familiar route by the river.

 Yesterday,  we made several new feline friends and saw an old canine friend, too.  Lyla waves at  all of them, and says in her baby voice. “hi”.  I think this is a good sign that she is learning already to respect the animal kingdom, and it cheers me to consider that.  She also loves flowers and if we pass one, she wants to stop and smell it.  She has yet, to pick one or disturb it in anyway.  She has never seen such a thing and so is content to admire respectfully.  I think it may work out that way in all areas of life.

The Afternoon

When the pies were made and beans were cooking, Lyla and I went out for a while.  The air was still chilly, but the wind had become a mere autumn breeze.  Someone somewhere was burning wood, which I guessed to be oak.  There were very few people or animals out.  We saw some mockingbirds squabbling and I wondered if the sudden chill had upset the birds in general.  The uneventful stroll was beautiful, none the less.  We got back, just about the time you needed to turn a light on.  The kitchen smelled wonderful and I thought how much I love walking into a kitchen when something was cooking.

I can “fancy” life up as much as I  please, but the truth is, my needs are  not nearly as complex as I tend to make them out to be.  Today was a day to make pies and take a short walk with an autumn breeze blowing-and it was as good a day as any.   

 

Snow has blossomed all around.  The cotton fields are white.  With a little imagination, a cotton field, this time of year, looks like the remnants of a snowfall.  Cotton is a pretty crop that blooms in shades of pink and purple in the summer.  The cotton itself is pretty and folks often use it in arrangements.  Picking cotton is an awful job.  The soft cotton is encased in a tough, sharp casing, that pricks the picker without mercy.  My grandmother said her hands would be so sore for days, after picking.  Of course now the process of picking cotton is a mechanical one and usually harmless.

Since there was no school today, I left for Elizabeth city early, just after the first light had brightened the rabbit patch.  The trees are especially pretty, now.  I saw the plum colored cherry and the apricot crepe myrtle while driving.  The woods seemed gilded in shades of gold as the sun cast its’ morning light.  Autumn is a lovely time, I thought.

There was very little traffic so I could take note of the natural beauty occurring now-and I did not come up short.  Twice, I saw blackbirds flying.  This is a particularly beloved sight for me.

 A long time ago,  calamity descended on me and affected me as nothing ever had.  I was sure I would never get clear of it.  In despair,  one morning I cried out to the heavens and presented my case.  I was sure that I could certainly never take pleasure in life again and so was destined for  a life of gloom.  Surely, with this hanging over me,  I could not serve any purpose in life.  At that moment, I heard far off , the song of blackbirds.  They flew right over me for a good while.  They seemed to stretch from one horizon to the other.  I was surprised that even briefly, I had ceased my lamenting.  Somehow I felt great comfort that something remained unchanged in the midst of my chaos and  I took heart that other moments were bound to appear as if to cheer me on.  As it turned out I was right- and so I remember that morning, whenever I see blackbirds flying.

Lyla and I took a walk, not long after breakfast.  The air was brisk and colorful leaves discarded from ancient trees littered the sidewalk.  We heard a ruckus and saw it was a bluejay arguing with a dove about something.  Bluejays are known to be quarrelsome and apt to steal from unguarded nests, so they aren’t popular with all folks-but you know I love them any way.  I have seen a blue jay send out a warning to the the bird community when he spots a snake or a hawk.  At those times, birds of all feathers  will flock together, but it is the bluejay that leads the battle.

The neighborhood was  quiet this morning.  We watched some ducks gliding in the laughing river .  The sky was cloudless and there wasn’t even a slight breeze.  I expect we will walk again before supper.  It is just too nice out, in autumn and it seems almost sinful, not to notice.

“Jack Frost” came last night with a bucket of shine.  When the first rays of sunlight fell this morning, the  fields sparkled and the woodlands seemed  to be strewn with diamonds, instead of pine cones.  

I remember as a child, daddy saying “Rise and Shine! Jack Frost came last night!”  I would look out the window quickly, hoping to catch a glimpse of  the sprite-like creature and his shimmering bucket.  I never did see him, but I saw his magic.  Not an autumn passes, that I do not think of “Jack Frost” and hear my daddy’s voice announcing the occasion of the first frost.

Frost is a significant event for country dwellers.  It puts an end to chores like mowing pastures and ditch banks, for the better part of the day.  Gardeners who plant cabbages and collards are glad of frost as it sweetens the greens served for Sunday dinners.  No longer will pests plague the autumn garden, either.  

The roses in the “Quiet Garden” at the rabbit patch, will take a well-deserved rest.  I will resort to branches of brightly colored leaves for  center pieces and chrysanthemums from the porch.  

I may have better luck with  attracting the country birds to the feeders this year as the hurricane scattered the french mulberries like dust, in early October.  The rabbit community burrows in the young woods and must resort to bark or the leaves of the common privet bushes, after the frost.  Of course,  I think of them too and toss apples and greens along the wooded path.

In November, gray skies often cover the rabbit patch-when they do, autumn leaves seem to glow brightly.  I have noticed this for a long while now, but can not figure out the science behind it.  In the farmhouse, I am apt to cook root vegetables, in November, likewise any of the dried bean varieties.  The boys love my corn chowder, too.  I bake bread once there is a chill in the air, and Kyle is especially glad of that.

Books and quilts are found in every room, these days.  I will attempt simple crochet again and I will sketch flowers and rabbits.  I will wait for the golden moon, that is much talked about and I will wish on it for good measure.

The wild kitten is sleeping inside the farmhouse the last few nights.   Maybe he saw “Jack Frost” coming and gave up the notion of being feral.  He has been quite ill-mannered with Cash, but Cash being a good-natured boxer, does not take offense to his poor behavior.  I have high hopes that this kitten will give me his name soon.

When light fell on the rabbit patch this morning, it was bright and beautiful.  The air is colder than it has been- and it ought to be in November.  Contrary to my belief, the cold bright air did not shatter when I opened the back door to call the wild kitten for breakfast.

 “Jack Frost” has still not made his presence known and so the sweetgum trees still have some green left.  This lowly tree is hardly ever found in a yard, purposefully.  The sweetgum drops its’ seeds in little round carriers that are unsightly and hurt when you step on them.  If you burn sweetgum wood, it snaps and crackles like no other.  The sweetgum survives in the woodlands, where man doesn’t care if they grow or not.  In the fall, after the frost, the sweetgum “puts on airs” and turns every  shade of every color known to autumn.  They rival the prideful maple in the country landscape.  If you see a patch of woods that are breathtaking with color-thank the sweetgum.

Today, the “government changes the time back” as my grandmother used to say.  I suppose that many dread the early twilight.  For me, it means soft lights will be turned on earlier in the old farmhouse and supper will be eaten at a more reasonable hour.  I will say “good night” to the rabbit patch earlier and the stars will bear witness as usual, so I will not need to complain about that.  It is just a little longer than a fortnight that we must endure, after all.  Even “the government” can’t change that.

 There is no “Sunday Dinner” at the rabbit patch today.  Mama and daddy couldn’t come and that just changed every thing.  Christian has been providing music for Churches recently too and doesn’t get home til mid afternoon- and so, I have decided to at least make a cake.  I plan to put cinnamon in it like it’s free.

 It is the eve of the holiday season, now.  It is the time just before families gather and twinkling lights are seen on city streets and across fields, too.  November softens hearts and can dissolve  bitterness if we but allow it.  Gratitude is a mighty force.

 Every day for a while,  in the still and chilly  November evening, I will burn leaves where the summer garden used to grow.    I am apt to light candles and wrap in a quilt made long ago, afterwards.  Cash and Christopher Robin will sleep unencumbered with human notions-and maybe some time in November. . . . the wild kitten will, too .  

On Wednesday, I came home to the rabbit patch.  I had been in Elizabeth City just  a day, shy of a week.  The wild kitten ran to greet me and acted like a well-mannered house cat!  It was a lovely surprise, though Cash, my boxer seemed annoyed that he did not get there first.  I now know I will not name the wild kitten “Ruth” and must consider a fitting masculine name, instead.

There were more leaves on the rabbit patch territory.  I like the effect and so it did not bother me in the least.  I will have an autumn fire again this weekend, anyway.  That is the routine til after Thanksgiving, usually, when you live on a place like the rabbit patch.

On Friday evening,  Kyle and Christian had plans with friends.  The farmhouse seems bigger when they aren’t here.   I had a quiet evening.  There wasn’t even a fairy in sight and no one cared what was for supper. This was quite a contrast from the previous days and it took me a while to adjust to not seeing what Lyla had in her mouth or where she was jumping from, every few minutes.  No one being hungry,  seemed shocking enough. 

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and so I thought about that.  It is a favorite time for me.  I have not seen Brant, my oldest son, since late summer and I miss him terribly.  I have only seen Tres, my second oldest son, once since August-and I miss him too.  When your children grow up and are in the “work force” gathering for a holiday, is complicated, especially one that falls on a Thursday.  We have celebrated holidays on odd days because of that, sometimes.   I tried to plan the menu, but that depended on  who would be here.  There is just no reason to make the cranberry casserole if Tres isn’t here.  I do not need to mix the corn and beans for succotash, if Brant doesn’t come home and so I abandoned that endeavor as I just missed my sons all the more.

I read some more of a now favorite book.  Wills’ mom, our “Miss Claudia” and Lylas’ “CC” gave it to me.  It is by Jane Watson Hopping, known as “The Pioneer Lady“,  not to be confused with the “The Pioneer Woman” of today.  This book is a collection of all things Christmas.  The author , who died in 1998, reminds me so much of Gladys Taber,  another favorite author and  it cheered me.   At Christmas-all of my children do come home.  Cash and Christopher Robin dozed while I read.  The wild and nameless kitten, will only come in the back door to eat, for now.  I thought how I have never looked for a cat, but I always have one, it seems.

 I was quite glad for the company of Cash and Christopher Robin.  I continue to get comfortable with this “place” in life.  Since 1981, I have been raising children.  Christian, the youngest is twenty three and so for all of my adult life,  there has been somebody hungry and a lot of laundry.  It is different now.   Some times  I am still young-other times I am very old.  The odd thing is, I never saw this coming.

 I keep myself busy and study in lots of different areas.  At some point, I will study the cello and at another, water colors.  The truth is, I need to show my children what to do with this liberty,  that will also come to them when their children grow up or when someone retires.  A “mothers’ work”,  is truly never done.

The big dipper sits right over the old barn just now.  There are less leaves on the sycamores and oaks, so the sky itself seems bigger.  The stars seem twice the size that they were in September.  The constellations do not go unnoticed as they did a short while ago,   when there were millions of stars over the rabbit patch, but instead, stand out clearly.  The November moon is supposed to be of historical significance this year and I look forward to that.

There is a lot to consider on a quiet evening, as it turns out.  I have decided to make soup tomorrow and will then plan the “Sunday Dinner”.  There are  also chores to be done , a fire to build-  and I  need to figure out a name for the wild kitten, too.

It is said that ” March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb”.  The same could be said of this October.  It seemed to me that October made up for the awful disposition of its’ first days, by rendering a long succession of beautiful days, til its’ conclusion. When all was said and done,  October was a lovely time.

Usually, the first frost falls on the rabbit patch just after mid October-not so this year.  The trees are barely changed in appearance as of now.  The dogwood has  just started to boast and the woodlands chime in with the some golden hues, if the sunlight falls just right.

I am old enough now to marvel at how time proceeds.  October stayed as long as it always does, yet somehow, seemed to slip away secretly and without warning.  Whatever manner in which October passed, for me it was time well-spent.

This was Lylas’ first real Halloween experience.  We visited a pumpkin patch one day and carved pumpkins, on another one.  On Halloween night, Lyla was a fairy and wore her wings quite naturally.  Jenny put together an ensemble from things she had, as I used to do when she was little.  The effect was charming, to say the least.  We banded together with several of Will and Jennys’ young friends and walked the same sidewalk that Lyla and I know so well.  The other children were older and experienced little cowboys and witches.  Lyla watched how things worked and caught on quickly.  She knew nothing about candy, but would dash as quickly as a little fairy can go, to catch up.  Her ribbons flew behind her and several times she dropped her wand.   She was always last by several feet and it took a while for her to actually accept candy.  Often, she would scramble up the steps and shout out “thank you! and leave empty-handed.  It has been a while since I enjoyed Halloween that much.

I am thankful for October.  I am glad for the time of pumpkins and nights that make the morning air crisp.  I like the bluest time of sky and the most golden light of the year.  When all is said and done. . .   October really was a lovely time.

By most accounts,  the last Sunday in October, passed in an ordinary fashion. The sun came up and brought its’ shine .  The laughing Pasquatank River , like a mirror reflected the glory the sky yielded.  Lately, the river has looked like glass every day  Will, saw the whole thing and  it made me sorry I had missed it.  It also made me glad he did not.  It said something about him that words will not do justice to explain.

Lyla woke up, and not long after waking, said “Honeybee”.  Now, that was “golden”.  I have been “Bee” just a short while and now “hu -bee” this Sunday morning!  

Late in the morning, Lyla and I took our walk.  It was an especially warm day. We met a neighbor , the owner of one of the tiny cottages, that I adore.  She was as gracious in spirit, as her home is in charm.  I could tell that I liked her right off.  She even extended an invitation for a visit-and I look forward to that.

A few blocks over, two small sisters were literally dancing around, as children are apt to when they feel joyful. “Tomorrow is Halloween!” rang out and “No school either!”   You couldn’t help but be happy with that kind of celebration going on.   I hope I see them tomorrow night.

In the afternoon, Will visited his mom, who lives just five minutes away.  She sent me a book, that is sure to be a favorite. as the subject is Christmas.  It is  a collection of old fashioned recipes, old photographs and Christmas literature-even carols. 

In the quiet of the evening hours, I thought about all of the moments the day had held.  It is the little things that  had made the difference.  From Will’s account of the sunrise to Lyla’s  good morning “honeybee”-from the sisters’ dance , to meeting a friendly neighbor. . .  and the gift of a  Christmas book, I love-I  thought about how all days are made up of moments and if I but consider the contents of any ordinary one of them-It is likely I will find something to be glad about.

 

Once again, I left after school on Friday for Elizabeth City.  Sometimes, things just work out.  We do not have classes Monday or Tuesday , and it just seemed I was destined to see Lyla wear little wings and wave a wand about, on Halloween.

Saturday

There was a lot to do on Saturday.  Will and Jenny were having a “dinner Party” in the early evening.  It would be the first one in the new dining room with the glass chandelier , that I just love.  Of course this occasion  warranted a thorough house cleaning and the yard tidied up.  There was fancy food to prepare  -and there is  always, Lyla.

Will set about his tasks in the yard.  Lyla was quite interested in this affair. It involved dirt and digging.  Children are always drawn to such things.  Lyla dug in some potting soil and transferred it to the bird bath with diligence.  I did not hinder her great effort, but instead was amused to see her learning about careful movement.  She would stop ever so often and watch her dad intently, then remembering her work would dart back to the soil she had claimed.

Jenny worked in the house, and at lunch we  all discussed our progress.  Jenny was concerned about the complicated recipe to be prepared and there was still more housework.  Will had an agenda that involved errands and a mirror to hang.  Lyla and I had our plans to stroll by the river-far away from all of that busyness .  So, we went our separate ways in the afternoon.

The river that laughs, was smooth as glass on this day.  Lyla and I stopped to consider that, for awhile.  Later, we walked by a small grove of pine trees.  I love the smell of pine warmed by sunshine.  A flock of blackbirds chattered noisily in a large cypress as we passed it.  You could hear them from a good ways off.   What a ruckus, I thought, but it was a happy sound.  I love blackbirds in spite of their lowly reputation.  They are are  impressive in the air- a “song and dance” act of sorts-and when blackbirds fly, winter is upon us.

We did not see one friendly cat on this walk, but we did smell the sweetest rosebush on Raleigh Street and we saw dogwoods turning all shades of red.  Against the royal blue October sky, it was a pretty picture.

In the Evening

When Lyla and I returned,  Jenny was ready to begin the worrisome recipe.  I have cooked all of my life and feel quite at home in a kitchen, but I must admit, I was a bit wary of this new concoction of ingredients I wasn’t used to. I did not know their nature nor habits in a simmering pot.  I was more nervous about Jennys’ dinner that I had ever been about  any of my own.

I considered arranging a  centerpiece, but Mandy who owns Pansy & Ivy,  was invited and  has such a gift with flower arranging that I declare her an artist in her own right, and upon that consideration, I abandoned my notions.  As it turns out, she brought a sweet arrangement and it was perfect.  She also brought a pie and she could probably sell pie, too, I noted, later.

Another guest, Sarah has a reputation for her cooking skills and proves that frequently -so I sure hoped that the chicken  in the heavy sauce would turn out.

After Dinner

The table was especially pretty.   Everyone said the dinner was perfect.   Each family carved a pumpkin  afterwards.  Lyla played with the masses of seeds while the older children contemplated the fate of their own pumpkin.  

All things considered, this day in Autumn with its’ blackbirds singing  and fancy dinner was a time to remember- and  its’ memory may well come in handy on a long night in winter when there’s a cold wind blowing.

 

 The October climate deserves a crown.  For the last few weeks, any given day could have been a post card-with bragging rights.  I watch the dawning of the day, on my drive to work.  Light changes with hues of orange, lavender and pink and all shades in-between.  Finally a golden light proclaims that a new day is born.  In the evening an equally impressive, sunset paints the sky, so beautifully, it will stop you in your tracks-such is the way of October.

The rabbit patch is carpeted with a soft layer of leaves now, and I don’t mind that.  The huge sycamore leaves do require attention more frequently as they are quite large and tend to curl upon drying.  They cause you to wade through them and so I have been in the habit of building autumn fires, where the tomatoes used to grow. The oaks do not warrant such measures til Thanksgiving.  Frost has not yet fallen on the landscape, so the leaves on the ground do not yet make a flamboyant  statement.

While the fired burned brightly, last night,  I took notice of the night sky.  The stars do not show  up in the great numbers they did a few months back, but they seem much bigger.  Now, the constellations are easily recognizable. There is just enough moonshine now to light the path I walk.

A wild kitten is very curious about the fire and will keep me company-as long I keep my distance. The flames and warmth, seem to put us both in a trance, of sorts.  It acts as a natural tranquilizer and strands us both in silence.

Supper is late on the days I burn leaves and branches.  I do not dare leave something cooking on the stove while a fire burns brightly in the kitchen garden, for  small fires have a way of  making one forget everything else in the world-especially time.  Pine cones, which are handy for starting a fire, produce flames that are blue and green.  I am convinced that  even the most diligent can not bear to look away from the fire when pine cones are burning.

 I can not harbor resentment in the presence of a fire brightly burning in the kitchen garden.  Under a sky scattered with silver diamonds I feel small, yet  not insignificant.  My perspective shifts and I have a sense of well-being as the flames seem to induce a trance, of sorts.  The cares of the world  seem to “go up in smoke”  along with the branches from the old apple tree.

Nature may be the best  tranquilizer of all, for sky and water and fields and mountains . . . woodlands and  even, old rocks and garden fires, all lend a sense of peace, I think.  Somehow, nature survives calamities and being mistreated, without malice.  Nature seems to spend its’ energy on restoration,  instead of  seeking revenge . . or even justice.   Nature is not greedy nor wasteful.   It is  a worthwhile sermon, to consider and  it serves me well, to consider  . . .while the fire burned brightly.