Today at Iten's Acres:
It is a brown and green world as I eagerly anticipate the first white storm. Green must be one of His favorite colors since He keeps even the winter decked out in its hue. And the greens come in all different shades and shapes. There's the huge red coned ancient one at the front of the property, white pines between my land and Aaron's house and up around my house, a "lacy" variety along the line between Dennis and I, several beauties around the pond. The only ones I have contributed are the tiny blue spruce out in the meadow behind the house. None of them are very tall yet despite seven years of inhabiting the acres. The largest ones are in the deepest brush where the competition is stiff. Even in trees, adversity produces strength. If I live another twenty years or so, they will all be glorious. Well, even if I don't, they will be glorious; I just won't be there to admire them and ruminate on how brilliant I was to plant them more than two decades ago. The largest group of pines is on the back of Aaron's property: deer hideaways, wind harps, shade producers in every season. Dennis has some beauties, too, on his acres. He should have been a professional landscaper.
And I don't mind the brown. Precursor to next spring's showtime. The "browns" lie dormant, waiting to resume their growth and flowering. Rest is good. Rest is necessary--essential. I'm sure the daffodils have been spending the summer and fall creeping in every direction and no doubt conspiring: "Wait until the chubby old bald guy sees all the blooms we're going to send up next spring. He thinks last year was marvelous. Huh." And some hidden things have been rediscovered now that the leaves have fallen. A few Lenten roses had been hiding in the trees and along the tree line. The same for a small mountain laurel and a rhododendron. Hope renewed. "Ahhh, they are still alive. One day I will see them bloom, Lord willing." The Lenten roses in particular fear no shade and bloom earlier than all the rest before the canopy can block out the sunlight. Lovely bloomers they are too. Today, they are greens among the brown--to be followed by glorious hues in the latest winter (would you believe, February?--if not, come by and see). The proof is in the breathtaking.
There is some sadness in my walking the last few days. Blaze, one of Dennis' alpaca's passed away. Brown and white, curious and friendly (he always came up to the fence to see what the silly human was up to), a lover of winter's storms. Snow and cold and wind were his favorite things. Indomitable. Frolicking even on the coldest winter days. He will be missed. His life was full. Dennis took the best of care of him. But still he will be missed.
And finally, this time of year my hermiting takes a blow. The subterfuge of the mangled mailbox and the driveway that looks like a cow path cannot hide my presence this time of year. The house and my little red wagon are easily seen from the road with no camouflage to make them invisible to the passer-by. Ahhh, well. Winter will have its loveliness. Spring will be here sooner than even my hopeful expectations for the beauty of next year can imagine.
The world is green and brown. But the earth is just at rest waiting to explode into all the colors of the rainbow--and then some. All it lacks for now is a nice white blanket to keep it cozy and warm.
It is a brown and green world as I eagerly anticipate the first white storm. Green must be one of His favorite colors since He keeps even the winter decked out in its hue. And the greens come in all different shades and shapes. There's the huge red coned ancient one at the front of the property, white pines between my land and Aaron's house and up around my house, a "lacy" variety along the line between Dennis and I, several beauties around the pond. The only ones I have contributed are the tiny blue spruce out in the meadow behind the house. None of them are very tall yet despite seven years of inhabiting the acres. The largest ones are in the deepest brush where the competition is stiff. Even in trees, adversity produces strength. If I live another twenty years or so, they will all be glorious. Well, even if I don't, they will be glorious; I just won't be there to admire them and ruminate on how brilliant I was to plant them more than two decades ago. The largest group of pines is on the back of Aaron's property: deer hideaways, wind harps, shade producers in every season. Dennis has some beauties, too, on his acres. He should have been a professional landscaper.
And I don't mind the brown. Precursor to next spring's showtime. The "browns" lie dormant, waiting to resume their growth and flowering. Rest is good. Rest is necessary--essential. I'm sure the daffodils have been spending the summer and fall creeping in every direction and no doubt conspiring: "Wait until the chubby old bald guy sees all the blooms we're going to send up next spring. He thinks last year was marvelous. Huh." And some hidden things have been rediscovered now that the leaves have fallen. A few Lenten roses had been hiding in the trees and along the tree line. The same for a small mountain laurel and a rhododendron. Hope renewed. "Ahhh, they are still alive. One day I will see them bloom, Lord willing." The Lenten roses in particular fear no shade and bloom earlier than all the rest before the canopy can block out the sunlight. Lovely bloomers they are too. Today, they are greens among the brown--to be followed by glorious hues in the latest winter (would you believe, February?--if not, come by and see). The proof is in the breathtaking.
There is some sadness in my walking the last few days. Blaze, one of Dennis' alpaca's passed away. Brown and white, curious and friendly (he always came up to the fence to see what the silly human was up to), a lover of winter's storms. Snow and cold and wind were his favorite things. Indomitable. Frolicking even on the coldest winter days. He will be missed. His life was full. Dennis took the best of care of him. But still he will be missed.
And finally, this time of year my hermiting takes a blow. The subterfuge of the mangled mailbox and the driveway that looks like a cow path cannot hide my presence this time of year. The house and my little red wagon are easily seen from the road with no camouflage to make them invisible to the passer-by. Ahhh, well. Winter will have its loveliness. Spring will be here sooner than even my hopeful expectations for the beauty of next year can imagine.
The world is green and brown. But the earth is just at rest waiting to explode into all the colors of the rainbow--and then some. All it lacks for now is a nice white blanket to keep it cozy and warm.
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