Homesteader November 20, 2012

Homesteader update:
Once upon a time I had this comfortable blue leather chair I could sit in whenever I felt like it. I didn't have to worry about finding it already taken.
Once upon a time I was able to sit in that chair and leisurely read or journal without any interruption at all.
Once upon a time I could cook in the kitchen without worrying about where I was putting my feet or listening to constant comments about my cooking.
Once upon a time I was able to sleep at night without a cold nose in my face at 3 AM.
Once upon a time I could tie my shoes in the morning without engaging in a wrestling match.
Once upon a time I could go months without once having to say the word, "no."
Once upon a time all my toilets could be flushed.

Once upon a time . . .

Iten's Acres November 24, 2012

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.

Homesteader November 14, 2012

The Homesteader has decided to let us live with her in her new home. She cleverly made friends with Mom thus assuring my inability to control the situation. In fact, once Mom goes to sleep at night, Mom's chair becomes her place to sleep. And she spends most mornings with her in her room. Loves the sunlight, watching the bird feeder, carousing among the indoor plants, connecting with the Hospice folks. I have become powerless. And as always she is more than happy to let me know her opinions on everything. Regardless of the time of day--or night. My new standing in the house: lap provider, can opener, patient listener, and general unpaid lackey. Once upon a time many, many years ago I was the lord of the Acres. Then, I slid into second place behind the Matriarch. Now, I'm third. And it's not even a close third. Merely, a tolerated third as long as I "keep my place" without complaining. I'm lucky she's not on facebook.

Backroads of Morrow County: December 2, 2012

Backroads of Morrow County Update:
The back roads are misty tonight. Foggy. Dark. The lights of the houses are like stars, distant and near, punctuating the haze. I often wonder what life is like in those unknown "worlds." There. Is that a place of happiness filled with laughing children? There. Is that a world filled with fear and disappointment? Is there, behind one of those windows, a lonely widow hoping for a visit or at least a call? Who's to know? Just lights in the darkness, windows to look out at the misty, foggy night--not to look in.
This time of year several of the homes are decorated for Christmas. Many are simple--single candles in the windows, a single strand of white lights around the door posts. But as you know, to this traveler "simplicity carried to extremes is elegance." A couple have nativity scenes--bright portraits of a silent night from long ago. A witness in the darkness. I find myself singing as I slow down--who needs an angel chorus: "Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light; the hopes and fears of all the years are met in Thee tonight." Some of the homes have a rainbow of color on their eaves and wrapped around their trees. One home near me has eight or so pine trees draped in all the colors. In the darkness it, too, radiates beauty. Interestingly, on all the back roads I traversed tonight, there was no Santa Claus anywhere, on any lawn. One home had two small deer constructed of white lights but it seemed to be a hymn to the nature all around us out here in the country--no suggestion of a Santa or his sleigh. Quite lovely in the mist and rain and darkness.
Usually on my night explorations I see the creatures of the woods. Possum scuttling off to some place somewhere so they can practice being dead. Racoons off to cause some damage, raid a neighbor's pond, add some excitement to the lives of country dogs. Deer loping to the next day's hiding place. Even barn cats off to hunt the fields. I guess field mice taste better than barn mice. None of those beasts were out tonight. Or, perhaps, they, too, enjoy being in the darkness looking at the lights of the human "planets" dotting the hills and meadows of Morrow County.
As I turned into my driveway, I turned off the car lights and sat awhile. Here on the Acres, stillness everywhere. A deep darkness with all the stars hidden in the mist and fog. I creep at impulse speed through the space of home. Even in the darkness the giant pine tree, the leafless ancient maple, and the old Sentinel are silhouettes of a quiet strength. I do not have "miles to go before I sleep." I can see the light in the window of my planet. In there, I know love reigns. And I will park the little red space ship, creep through the dark mist, find the backfront door, and be at peace. The child born in a manger lives here all year round. I will always find rest here. No matter how dark the night.

814

A Day in the Life of Homesteader

Curled up at Mom's feet purring contentedly, basking in the sun.
Front paws on the window imagining how nice it would be to have the chipmunk on the patio over for breakfast. Or lunch. Or Supper. Obviously, she has the gift of hospitality.
A revitalized interest on where the man servant goes when he slips out the backfront door. Could it have something to do with her gift of hospitality?
Training Mom to share tidbits from her meals. "She's just curious about what I'm eating." What can you do to train 98 year old "children."?
Being sure that the Hospice people understand that now that she is the new queen of the ranch they must pay attention to her as part of their visit.
Making a horrible mess of the dirt in the ceramic pots that have been brought in for the winter. And looking askance that such a fun activity could possibly illicit a "No! Dumb Animal!" Perhaps it's the "dumb" that has her shocked. Perhaps just the "No!" Perhaps both.
Racing up and down the stairs for no apparent reason--unless she's trying to prove that she's faster than the speed of the light coming on. How can such a tiny creature sound like a herd of elephants racing across the Serengeti?
Getting pennies out of the jar upstairs, dropping them down the stairs, knocking them under the rug at the landing, and making as much noise as is catly possible. Failing to have the common cents to realize that such behavior will not go over well at three AM.
Demonstrating the ability to instantly change from a dead-to-the- world sleeping cat cuddled in one's lap to a fighting ninja cat at any moment.
Continuing to issue her opinions on the state of everything, everywhere, all the time.

1120

Iten's Acres January 5, 2013

Had a pleasant afternoon with the family. Brad, Ben, Jaime, Moira, Evie. Lunch and entertainment. I provided the former; they provided the latter. Mom gets lots of hugs. Homesteader gets spoiled some more. Plain old grandpa gets to tease and harass. And do the dishes. =) An afternoon in the midst of an eternity of afternoons. Simple. Mundane some might say. Exquisite.

Iten's Acres December 22, 2012

This Week at Iten's Acres:
Old Man Winter showed up right on cue. Blustering. Spent a night and a day moaning and howling in the tops of the trees. I love it, but he probably has a sore throat today. Produced a flurry of activity, too. Enough to cover the tundra with a bit of a warm blanket. Love walking in a snowfall. A beautiful cold. Hey, if it stays cold, maybe a white Christmas?
As I walked the Acres not much evidence of creatures out and about. Well, Bonnie's tracks in the snow--but she was still in them. My how she loves winter. If a dog can dance for joy, Bonnie is a dancer extraordinaire. Maybe snow is the canine equivalent of catnip? Anyway, no other tracks in the snow, not even in the wild area. The wild creatures are lying low--tamed by the Old Man.
Snow Plow 1 Mail Box 0. Even the brick in the box didn't help. Back to the duct tape, I reckon.
"Homesteader" is now an official appellation. I took her to the vet for some shots, and they made me fill out paperwork. "Pet's Name," right at the top. Then, "Owner's Name." I guess I know my place in the universe now. Dennis let me borrow a cage to carry her. After she tried every side and determined there was no way out, she sat down and gave herself a bath. Had to look sharp for the vet I guess. Yes, she charmed the female assistant and the female veterinarian. Gentlemen. It's a ladies' world. We have no chance. Powerless. Accept it. I'm surprised they didn't give me the shots. Oh, and she has a new perch: the back of Mom's chair. A man's home is his place to be a vassal. Sigh.
Dennis has had to put hay out for his menagerie. They love the snow. Well, at least the alpaca loves the snow. But you've got to eat. He supplements the hay with some feed of some sort. Dennis is a spoiler. One of the things that makes him a good man and a good neighbor.
I think I'm going to become Amish/Mennonite. Just for a little while. Until I can get me a couple of those cool hats. A gang of them showed up at Wendy's. Love those hats! By the way, the only reason I'm eating at fast food places is because the Grill and Chill closes down for the winter. Thus, I have to settle for tepid, old fast food instead of the hot comfort food of the G and C. I'm thinking of suing. How dare they take three months off! I wish I had had a job, before I temporarily retired, where I could have had three months off . . . Oh, I forgot. I was a teacher in my past life, eh? But still, their closing affects ME negatively. And they didn't even ask me if they could take time off. Probably down in Florida or somewhere basking in the sun. Hope they get burned. Me, bitter? Huh. How dare they leave me in the lunch--I mean lurch.
Man, a tough week on the old homestead. I am so persecuted! So, so persecuted.