When the storms of life are raging. . .

So...what was my priority first thing this morning in preparation for the oncoming storm?  Why, cutting back the black-eyed-Susans, of course.  Maybe my kids are right--there's something wrong with me.  In my defense, however, I will add that my little generator is primed and on stand-by to plug the freezer in, I have filled jugs with water, the coffeemaker is brewing a surplus pot of coffee for a thermos, and there is a filled pail of water in the bathtub.  With a fresh charge, my iPod should be good for at least one audible book for nighttime.  Candles?  Batteries?  I always have those.  Kerosene lamps, too.  As much as I dislike being left in the dark with no power, I guess I'm as ready as I can be.  What I'm not ready for are the high winds.  I hate wind.  It scares me.  So...I may station myself in a corner of the basement for the next day or two where I can't hear the wind and I'll sing, "When the storms of life are raging, stand by me."  (Which is what I played for a postlude yesterday, but I'm not sure if anyone picked up on that.)    Or...maybe I'll hide out, out in the Hobbit Hole!

      

Contentment is. . .

It's a "ho-hum" day......so I am sipping Plantation Mint Tea and making little tiny boxes out of old Christmas cards......and lasagna and apple pie.  I might do some knitting or crocheting later.  I rather like setting my own pace and having the time to do the things I was always going to do "if I ever had time."

More rural living. . .

Sharing my journey with the wildlife of French Woods is an ongoing daily adventure.  When I pause long enough to notice, I can see how the seemingly quiet, ever-changing outdoor scene is always bustling.

 

The same several deer who visit the misty apple orchard each dawn, parade single file past my front door on their way back to the woods at dusk.   I sometimes wonder where they spend the rest of their days.  I believe we have come to know each other, those few deer and I.  I think so because they hardly flinch when I am out and about near them.  They raise their heads briefly, take a look at me and then resume their chewing as if to say, "Oh, it's just that peculiar human." 

 

I was about to thank the deer for sparing me the chore of cutting back my day lilies and hosta that grow along my front sidewalk until I saw the tell-tale "cow flop" and upon closer scrutiny, imprints in the mulch that revealed the size of the hoof prints.  I should take a look out my windows a little more often.  I have a feeling that I'm missing a lot of what goes on.  I guess I'm too busy standing guard over the bird feeder on the back porch, batting the chipmunk off it with the broom.  Have you ever noticed that chipmunks are very brazen little creatures who tend to remain undaunted by any obstacles they encounter?  They can also be quite feisty when provoked by a mad woman wielding a broom.  They usually soar through the air and land safely in the forsythia bush when I whack them but, once, one retaliated by leaping, instead, right at me.  While still in mid-air, "Chip" and I met face to face and those little beady, black eyes were full of anger, let me tell you!  For future encounters, my plan is to arm myself with a chair as a shield as well as the broom. 

 

I do hope the wandering cow found its way home but before it did, I must say that I wish it had noticed the black-eyed Susans along the side of the house that need trimming back, too.

 

   

October's bright blue weather. . .

When I woke up early this morning and tipped the blinds to take a peek out the window, my senses tingled with the eager anticipation of settling into the coziness of fall.  Why the seasons excite me so, I don't know.  My guess is that it has something to do with the gift of new beginnings along my journey and how that gift refreshes my soul.  I slipped on my bathrobe and even before I made coffee (!), I took the indoor walking tour to look out every window.  Patches of frost glistened here and there and I could see that some of the perennials had assumed the position of dormancy.  The birds were swarming at the birdfeeder in frenzied motion, their feathers slightly more ruffled.  It amazes me how the instincts of all of God's creatures are so intricately programmed.  For the past couple of weeks, I have noticed the squirrels racing continuously up and down the apple trees and wondered if their little muscles ever ache at the end of the day.

 

I couldn't help myself; I had to step outside and breathe it in!  Yes, it was quite nippy but oh, so invigorating!  I stood on the back porch wrapped in my robe, my bare feet in my slippers, taking it all in until I was sure the moment was completely and forever absorbed within me -- all the sights, the familiar smells and sounds that confirm the arrival of fall.  Dried leaves.  Woodsmoke.  Chainsaws.  Woodsplitters.  Geese.  Once back inside, there was the hum of the furnace.   Instinctively, my thoughts are turning to things like knitting and homemade soup in the crockpot.  That is, once the leaves have been mulched, the birdhouses cleaned out, and the gardens trimmed back.  There's always some chore that gets left by the wayside but I don't worry much about that.  I do the best I can and have learned to simply say, "It is what it is," and let it go at that.

 

On this bright blue day in October, thankfulness overflows! 

 

"Lord, for tomorrow and its needs, I do not want......"