Audacity

      As I begin my seventh year here, I thought I might spend a few blogs writing the "history" (maybe even a little geographical information) of Iten's Acres.  Pure audacity, I admit.  It's kind of like the Spanish, French, and English explorers who came to the "New World" and claimed to have discovered it and the things in it (Grand Canyon, Great Lakes, Mississippi River, etc.), even though people had made their homes there for thousands of years before they arrived.  And then they even dared to name those places!  So, I apologize in advance for my imperialistic thinking.  Please, forgive me.
     Obviously, I know little of the history of my place until I arrived.  Is County Road 25 an old wagon trail?  Is it an old Indian trail?  Five hundred years ago was this meadow I call home a prime hunting area for Native Americans in the area?  One hundred years ago was this part of a huge farm or a small family farm filled with the labor and laughter, joys and sorrows of other human beings?  I would imagine so.  I have trees on my property that are undoubtedly at least a hundred years old or more.  Did someone deliberately plant them where they are?  Did they come up by "accident"?  Were the huge old red maple and the ancient apple tree planted at the turn of the driveway to add beauty to the entrance or was the driveway built between them to preserve their loveliness?  When was there first a house on these acres?  Why did they pick this spot to build?  All of these things I will never know.  My place has a history that goes back thousands of years, and I know little of it--and never will know.  It is audacious of me, perhaps, to even call it "my place."
     I do know a little of what came before me.  I suppose I could learn more from my neighbors Dennis and Aaron if I asked.  Aaron says he has lived in Morrow County his whole life, but I do not know how long he has lived on the land next to mine.  Dennis has been here for at least fifteen years and probably longer.  I'm sure they could add to my knowledge.  I do know the name of the man I purchased the property from, and I have a vague recollection of his appearance.  Perhaps, I could pick him out of a line-up.  Perhaps.  His memory leaves the proverbial "bad taste" in my mouth.  He took things he promised to leave, left things he promised to take, and withheld information that would have undoubtedly caused me to not buy here.  And, to be honest, that would have been a tragedy.  I have come to love this place, "flaws" and all.  It is perfect for my soul and spirit and has been ideal as a place to "home" my mom in her final years.  God's grace to the rescue, indeed.  By His grace I will spend the rest of my life enjoying this place as "my place on earth."  Only one other place that I've lived approaches its meaning in my life.  That other place was the little house in Traveler's Rest, South Carolina, where my little boys and I found refuge after our love had been betrayed. (By God's grace, again, I hope that our love for her was not diminished by her choice.)  My sister Janice and her husband Dewey made that home possible for us by their sacrificial love. And, yes, it may be that the Lord has other plans for me and will move me again from this place to another.  I will be homesick, I'm sure, but His grace is always more than sufficient wherever He leads us.  And I shouldn't be so hard on the previous owner.  He is responsible for the pond and the bog it created.  Both places that I love.  And I know he planted the crab apples, red bud, and pines around the pond.  He left footprints of beauty here on the acres.  Thanks Mike wherever you are.
     Anyway, I am going to be audacious in the coming weeks.  Talk about (brag about) the things that I have done here that I believe have added to the beauty of Iten's Acres.  And I may even try to be "prophetic" and talk about the things I hope to do here in the future, Lord willing.  I have given names to the "places" here, names that are no more creative than Grand Canyon or Great Lakes, but names nonetheless.  If you're going to be audacious, don't hold back, eh?  Perhaps, to my faithful few friends who read this blog, the discussion will seem irrelevant, mundane, maybe even boring.  I don't apologize.  These "new things" have added to my love for these acres God has given me.  And whoever lives here in the future will enjoy them I hope, even if they don't know the "history" of how they got here and what chubby old bald guy planted them here--deliberately. "Walking Iten's Acres" doesn't sound like much of a title for a history book, I know.  But it is part of my history.  And I hope you can endure my audacity as I reflect on it.

         

Misty

     Call me "wet behind the ears" but I love walking the acres on a misty rainy day like today.  For some reason I find the gentle rain therapeutic.  To just walk slowly--well, even more slowly than usual--with the feel of the mist on my face is marvelous.  I thought at one time that maybe it was just my naturally melancholic nature meshing with the weather and the grayness, but I don't feel sad as I walk, just at peace.  Perhaps some day some psychologist can explain it to me, but for now I'll just walk and enjoy.
      I love the rain drops on the flowers and the grass and the leaves.  (It's a good time for pictures.)  I love the coolness of the air.  The birds, too, seem to enjoy the weather.  They are active and alive with song.  The goldfinch try to lead me away from their nesting place arching their way across the meadow.  The field sparrows flit from bramble to bramble but never fly completely away as usual.  The song sparrows warble competing arias. The cat bird mews his "song" sitting on top of the highest branch of a small tree.  Too bad they haven't learned to purr.  The robins, ears cocked to the ground for the sound of worms and dinner, hop seemingly unafraid of the weird human strolling in the rain.  What is there about rain that puts us at ease?  I even took a chair and just sat for awhile watching the rain and "soaking" it in.  Yes, even into my spirit.  I could walk in a misty rain all day and be entirely content.  My "choir" serenading me (you can have your iPods), my flowers sparkling with rain drops, my soul at ease.  Oh,  I hope some psychologist isn't actually expecting me to ask him or her why I like such walks in such weather.  Not going to happen.  If they want, they can come and walk with me in the rain.  But silence is required--the sound waves belong to the soft rain and my feathered neighbors.