Backroads of Morrow County Update:
Fall, I
guess, is for patching. The road crew--yes, I think Morrow County only
has one crew--has been busy. No, they don't re-pave roads here; they
just re-patch them. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. "Welcome to Morrow
County." Today, they only had one sign guy: "Stop." "Slow." Always
adds a little excitement.
The fields are ready for harvest. The huge green
monsters are hungry. If I happen to find myself behind one on its way
to another field, the tires are most impressive. They have to be as big
as my little red car. If the farmer wanted to play demolition derby,
I'd have no chance. Squash! Road kill. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
The soy beans are first. In fact, several of those fields have been
harvested already. You can't even tell that there was ever anything on
those acres. The corn, however, will leave a stubble. I was amazed the
first fall that I was out here at how long they wait until they start
the reaping. The beans have "lost" their bushiness. Just a field of
little black sticks. The corn looks as if it has just survived the
worst drought in the history of Ohio--brown and brittle. Not a hint of
green anywhere. But the farmers' faith has been rewarded. All those
little seeds they put in the ground last spring have died to live again
and have produced much fruit--truckloads.
The trees along the roads
are glorious! Such color. They have taken the place of the summer's
wild flowers. Just as much color. And the colors fly. Well, flutter at
least. Transitory. The limbs will soon be bare; black arms waiting
for their first coating of the pearly white snow of winter. And the
limbs will hum in the wind--the world's largest harps.
Yes, the seasons march on along the backroads of Morrow County.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Today at Iten's Acres: October 19, 2012
Today at Iten's Acres:
The rain and wind of October has turned many of the trees bare. But not all! There are tons of yellow, orangish maples and birches everywhere. The pin oak is a gorgeous scarlet. The stars of these days are the burning bushes. Burning, indeed! I need a couple more thousand of those. =)
Not much flower wise these days. The monkshood are few but the deepest purple. And tall enough to be easily seen and admired. There are also a few purple asters still around but not many. I'm still waiting for the fall crocus. They should have started to bloom already, but it hasn't happened. You can't predict them because they send up their foliage in the spring, and in the fall all you get some morning is a soft lilac bloom that seems to appear out of nowhere. A lovely surprise on a cool autumn walk of the Acres.
The Homesteader is getting a little bolder. She'll follow me around if I stay near the house to work or if I'm walking through the trees behind the house. Her boldness is probably not a good idea, but what can you do. She is still wise enough to spend her nights in the "rafters" of the shed. And she's an avid bird watcher. There are plenty of them around these days. Perhaps the bare trees make them more visible. Ornery black capped chickadees and their traveling companions the titmouse are active and noisy. Faded goldfinch are about. Sparrows are everywhere. God's got His eye on them. The towhee is scratching like a chicken in the leaves. The woodpeckers are all over the suet cakes. Even a few bluebirds have snacked there. I thought they'd be headed South by now. The berries on the dogwoods and hawthorn are doing their best to tempt my feathered friends. The crab apples as well. The cardinals--when they're not busy playing the Giants--are snacking on them already. Hope the cedar waxwings find them again this fall or winter. Oh, and as mentioned earlier, the ominous snowbirds have arrived. Entertainment for Mom and the Homesteader. Who needs television? God's creation has the best show on earth. Hands down.
The rain and wind of October has turned many of the trees bare. But not all! There are tons of yellow, orangish maples and birches everywhere. The pin oak is a gorgeous scarlet. The stars of these days are the burning bushes. Burning, indeed! I need a couple more thousand of those. =)
Not much flower wise these days. The monkshood are few but the deepest purple. And tall enough to be easily seen and admired. There are also a few purple asters still around but not many. I'm still waiting for the fall crocus. They should have started to bloom already, but it hasn't happened. You can't predict them because they send up their foliage in the spring, and in the fall all you get some morning is a soft lilac bloom that seems to appear out of nowhere. A lovely surprise on a cool autumn walk of the Acres.
The Homesteader is getting a little bolder. She'll follow me around if I stay near the house to work or if I'm walking through the trees behind the house. Her boldness is probably not a good idea, but what can you do. She is still wise enough to spend her nights in the "rafters" of the shed. And she's an avid bird watcher. There are plenty of them around these days. Perhaps the bare trees make them more visible. Ornery black capped chickadees and their traveling companions the titmouse are active and noisy. Faded goldfinch are about. Sparrows are everywhere. God's got His eye on them. The towhee is scratching like a chicken in the leaves. The woodpeckers are all over the suet cakes. Even a few bluebirds have snacked there. I thought they'd be headed South by now. The berries on the dogwoods and hawthorn are doing their best to tempt my feathered friends. The crab apples as well. The cardinals--when they're not busy playing the Giants--are snacking on them already. Hope the cedar waxwings find them again this fall or winter. Oh, and as mentioned earlier, the ominous snowbirds have arrived. Entertainment for Mom and the Homesteader. Who needs television? God's creation has the best show on earth. Hands down.
Today at Iten's Acres: October 25, 2012
Today at Iten's Acres:
Another day of Indian Summer. (No, I have no idea why they call it that. It's a very short summer.) Took Mom outside again--two days in a row. It may be her last chance to be the neighborhood movie star: floppy pink hat (you would love it Kathy C), sunglasses, red and white pajamas. She loves getting outside!
She sat and enjoyed the weather while I finished up the mulching for 2012. A lovely day for manual labor--no machines to get between me and the work. And I get to work at home. Primitive, eh? The best.
Interestingly, the birds keep coming to Mom's window feeder even with her sitting right there. Unafraid. They must sense that's she's not a threat. After I finished mulching, I joined her there. The Homesteader joined us, too. She loves playing among the planters in the container garden, chasing falling leaves, lady bugs, anything that moves. And, of course, a little petting is a good thing.
The container garden on the front patio is still thriving--despite several hard frosts: snapdragons, petunias, bright eyes, marigolds, geraniums, dianthus, salvia, lantana. I don't know how much longer they'll last, but for now, beautiful.
And still enjoying my walks, of course, I will always enjoy those. And I'm sure you were worried, but, yes, the pond is filling up. Ahhh, rain in autumn. Some more coming tomorrow! With some cold air, naturally. Bundle up folks. Winter is lurking!
Another day of Indian Summer. (No, I have no idea why they call it that. It's a very short summer.) Took Mom outside again--two days in a row. It may be her last chance to be the neighborhood movie star: floppy pink hat (you would love it Kathy C), sunglasses, red and white pajamas. She loves getting outside!
She sat and enjoyed the weather while I finished up the mulching for 2012. A lovely day for manual labor--no machines to get between me and the work. And I get to work at home. Primitive, eh? The best.
Interestingly, the birds keep coming to Mom's window feeder even with her sitting right there. Unafraid. They must sense that's she's not a threat. After I finished mulching, I joined her there. The Homesteader joined us, too. She loves playing among the planters in the container garden, chasing falling leaves, lady bugs, anything that moves. And, of course, a little petting is a good thing.
The container garden on the front patio is still thriving--despite several hard frosts: snapdragons, petunias, bright eyes, marigolds, geraniums, dianthus, salvia, lantana. I don't know how much longer they'll last, but for now, beautiful.
And still enjoying my walks, of course, I will always enjoy those. And I'm sure you were worried, but, yes, the pond is filling up. Ahhh, rain in autumn. Some more coming tomorrow! With some cold air, naturally. Bundle up folks. Winter is lurking!
Homesteader: October 28, 2012
As the weather has slipped toward winter, the
soft side of my nature has begun to affect my judgment. (I know; who
knew I had such a side?) Anyway, I've been trying to coax The
Homesteader to "move" inside. Actually, I thought it would be a no
brainer. Who wants to live in an old shed out in the weather? So I
picked her up and brought her in the backfront door. Whoosh. Before I
could turn to close the door, she was
gone--back to the shed. I guess we know now who doesn't have the brain.
My next strategy was to just hold the door open and let her initiate
changing worlds. She stuck her nose in the door, surveyed the
layout--ran back to the shed. Having a stubborn streak in my soft side,
I tried another strategy: the food temptation. She came in, ate her
fill, (I hope she's been washing her paws; she stands with her front
paws in the middle of the bowl while she eats.) I petted her. That was
acceptable. Purring even. I slowly closed the door. Ninja cat! She
began jumping against the door trying to get out. Sigh. I opened the
door and let her return to her domain: rain, wind, chill, an old wooden
shed. I guess it's my head that's soft, not my heart. Wildness must
be in her blood. What? Of course, I'll keep trying! Maybe a good
snowstorm will change her mind? (By the way, I'm glad I don't speak
cat'nese. She expressed her opinion several times, and I doubt if they
were terms of love.)
Homesteader: October 31, 2012
The Homesteader has adjusted quite well to
being homely. This was her third full day, and she seems quite at ease.
She spends the morning with Mom, usually sleeping on her feet;
sometimes on the rug next to her chair. She greets the Hospice folks as
if they're old friends--no fear at all. Loves to climb in your lap and
sleep; well, cat nap. Last night she found the light at the top of the
stairs that is activated by a motion
censor. She had a blast turning it off and on for a few minutes until
the grouchy old home owner went up and turned it off. Today she did a
thorough examination of the upstairs. Best of all, she's been using the
litter box from the very beginning. What? Yes, she is still full of
advice on everything. Everything.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Iten's Acres November 4, 2012
Today
at Iten's Acres: It's that time of year when one questions the
existence of the sun. Gray, cool, breezy. An occasional "peek" of blue
eyes among the clouds. I still enjoy my walks, of course. Most of the
trees are bare, but not all. The sycamore with its monster leaves is
holding out--or is it holding on? The oaks, of course, will hold on
until spring. It will take the new leaves of 2013
to push away the old leaves of 2012. Resistant to change, I reckon.
The dogwood is completing its beauty cycle. Gorgeous white blossoms in
the spring. Lovely red leaves in the autumn. Red berries coated in
snow cannot be far behind. The redbuds should take a hint. Lovely in
the spring. They have the autumn blahs. The green of the pines stands
out more on the walks. And they love to moan in the winds. And, wow!,
will they look great in their white coats!
Bonnie joined me today. I'd like to have her coat. Not only is her black and white coat luscious, but I imagine it's a lot warmer than my fleece jacket. She's a beauty. I've already retired my baseball hat for a stocking one. Got to keep those old ears covered. I even wear some gloves just to keep Arthur a little at bay. Boots with a fur lining have also been employed. I guess I'm getting old, eh? Though, again--like last year at this time--I got up an hour early today and didn't feel tired at all.
There will be work to do this fall and winter. I think about the different chores--they actually don't feel very "chorey" to me--as I slowly walk the Acres. Yep, this time of year I just think about them. "Work" will come another day. (Maybe.) Oh, the flowers in the planters near the house are still blooming--even the impatiens. Jealousy is allowed. Maybe even forgiven. Maybe.
Bonnie joined me today. I'd like to have her coat. Not only is her black and white coat luscious, but I imagine it's a lot warmer than my fleece jacket. She's a beauty. I've already retired my baseball hat for a stocking one. Got to keep those old ears covered. I even wear some gloves just to keep Arthur a little at bay. Boots with a fur lining have also been employed. I guess I'm getting old, eh? Though, again--like last year at this time--I got up an hour early today and didn't feel tired at all.
There will be work to do this fall and winter. I think about the different chores--they actually don't feel very "chorey" to me--as I slowly walk the Acres. Yep, this time of year I just think about them. "Work" will come another day. (Maybe.) Oh, the flowers in the planters near the house are still blooming--even the impatiens. Jealousy is allowed. Maybe even forgiven. Maybe.
Backroads of Morrow County November 10, 2012
Backroads of Morrow County Update:
I took the back roads home from lunch yesterday. Have to go by the Highway Patrol station. Why is it I always feel uneasy (okay, guilty) when I see a patrol car--even when it's sitting empty in the parking lot. I mean I was doing all of 15 mph. And I think they like having their station on a gravel road so they can look cool peeling out when they get an emergency call.
The gravel is pretty much gone by this time of the year. The roads are just a hard pan decorated with pot holes. I have no idea where all the gravel goes. I drive slowly, but then I always drive slowly on my treks through the back roads. Slow. Slower. Slowest. It's the only way to go. Even complete stop works best at times.
The landscape seems to have expanded. With the leaves gone I can see deep into the hideaways of the thickets and stands of trees along the way. Places of mystery in summer, hiding places for the deer, they are now porous and open. And with the beans and corn harvested, the contours of the fields are visible and picturesque. With no corn to hide the view, it seems as if you can see for miles--miles you didn't know were there before. Open. I like the sensation. And "new" homes have suddenly appeared--privacy blown away by the autumn winds.
The wild flowers are, of course, long gone. In hiding until next year. And there are no barn swallows on the wires. Even the mourning doves have gone off to who knows where (one of my favorite places) even though I know they spend the winter in Ohio. And no buzzards soaring through the gray blue skies. Glorious from a distance; somewhat grotesque up close. I guess the road kill is tastier farther south this time of year. There was some activity. I actually passed a van. "Hi"--even though they can't hear me. The obligatory wave. Backroad tradition, remember. And one farmer was still finishing reaping his corn. His reaper must have been a little angry to be one of the last to have to work before winter's rest. Had "spit" some shucked ears out on to the road. The crows and Canadian geese are serving as gleaners. Too bad they don't have a love-sick Boaz to tell the reapers to leave a little extra for the gorgeous gleaner coming up behind. Not that either of them would fall into the "gorgeous" category. I can relate.
The only drawback to traveling gravelless gravel roads is that you can see the floor of the one lane wooden bridges over the creeks. A great test for your faith. They look a little splintered and worn this time of year. And that's another frustration, now that I think of it. There are several back roads that have barriers in front of them with the ominous warning "bridge out" so and so many miles down the way. As a dedicated explorer of back roads, it's difficult to handle such privations. When, pray tell, am I going to get to slowly explore those roads? I mean, come on Morrow County ODOT, it's been a couple years for some of them. Torture. Don't they know that "curiosity killed the cat owner"? Guess I need to run for county commissioner. On a platform of "bring bridges back to Morrow County." At least I'd find out who the other hopeless romantics are.
I took the back roads home from lunch yesterday. Have to go by the Highway Patrol station. Why is it I always feel uneasy (okay, guilty) when I see a patrol car--even when it's sitting empty in the parking lot. I mean I was doing all of 15 mph. And I think they like having their station on a gravel road so they can look cool peeling out when they get an emergency call.
The gravel is pretty much gone by this time of the year. The roads are just a hard pan decorated with pot holes. I have no idea where all the gravel goes. I drive slowly, but then I always drive slowly on my treks through the back roads. Slow. Slower. Slowest. It's the only way to go. Even complete stop works best at times.
The landscape seems to have expanded. With the leaves gone I can see deep into the hideaways of the thickets and stands of trees along the way. Places of mystery in summer, hiding places for the deer, they are now porous and open. And with the beans and corn harvested, the contours of the fields are visible and picturesque. With no corn to hide the view, it seems as if you can see for miles--miles you didn't know were there before. Open. I like the sensation. And "new" homes have suddenly appeared--privacy blown away by the autumn winds.
The wild flowers are, of course, long gone. In hiding until next year. And there are no barn swallows on the wires. Even the mourning doves have gone off to who knows where (one of my favorite places) even though I know they spend the winter in Ohio. And no buzzards soaring through the gray blue skies. Glorious from a distance; somewhat grotesque up close. I guess the road kill is tastier farther south this time of year. There was some activity. I actually passed a van. "Hi"--even though they can't hear me. The obligatory wave. Backroad tradition, remember. And one farmer was still finishing reaping his corn. His reaper must have been a little angry to be one of the last to have to work before winter's rest. Had "spit" some shucked ears out on to the road. The crows and Canadian geese are serving as gleaners. Too bad they don't have a love-sick Boaz to tell the reapers to leave a little extra for the gorgeous gleaner coming up behind. Not that either of them would fall into the "gorgeous" category. I can relate.
The only drawback to traveling gravelless gravel roads is that you can see the floor of the one lane wooden bridges over the creeks. A great test for your faith. They look a little splintered and worn this time of year. And that's another frustration, now that I think of it. There are several back roads that have barriers in front of them with the ominous warning "bridge out" so and so many miles down the way. As a dedicated explorer of back roads, it's difficult to handle such privations. When, pray tell, am I going to get to slowly explore those roads? I mean, come on Morrow County ODOT, it's been a couple years for some of them. Torture. Don't they know that "curiosity killed the cat owner"? Guess I need to run for county commissioner. On a platform of "bring bridges back to Morrow County." At least I'd find out who the other hopeless romantics are.
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