Drifting with the seasons...

Some days when the sun refuses to shine I close my eyes and drift with the season.  Strong winds, pelting rain, gentle breezes, soft sunshine.  All in all it has been an early spring to remember.  

I have come to the point in my life when I have to write notes on a calendar and remind myself what happened when.  A journal of sorts you might say.  When did we see the four wood ducks on the pond?  Was it March 6th?  Or a late as the 23rd?  When did I see the first peek of a violet in my western sloping field....on the 13th...or the 5th?  And when did we hear the turkey gobble...the 25th..or maybe later?  

Does it really matter?  No, it doesn't, but for me it helps make sense of the onward march of day to day and season to season.   Morel hunting, the first greens that can be picked, the tender flowers adorning fruit trees not yet bitten by a late frost and snow.

Life on my hill in Luna is a chance to detach from the world that hurries by and counts its days and hours by clicking and ticking of the phone and the clock.  Unplugged from my electronics I relish the surprise I find with sunrise, noon and quiet evening.  Stars mark my seasons, the moon's shape the months, the sun a constant reminder of time of day.  Why do I need a calendar or clock?

Close my eyes, hear the sounds of nature all around me.  Content to be here in solitude.  Just to drift with the season.

Winter...and then summer.

I feel like telling these tender blossoms on my red bud tree to be prepared.  Be prepared for something other than snow, sleet, ice....be prepared for blazing sun, roaring winds, summer-time temperatures.  Because we have had them all.

Just a little over a week ago we had snow.  And sleet.  Some people had ice.  Cold.  Did I mention the cold?  The wind blew and I pulled my jacket collar tighter around my neck as I ran for the garage and the relative warmth of the car.  

How can it be that right now I am sitting in my house with the AC on?  Last night we debated whether we needed to build a small fire in the wood stove to warm it up a little.  I was chilly.  Put an extra blanket on the bed.  This morning I slipped on my lighter winter coat, popped my sweatshirt in the back seat and took off to run errands in West Plains.  By 9 AM I was suffocating in my light winter shirt.  The sun was sending blazing rays of heat into the car.  I turned the AC on and kept it running all the way to Gainesville.  

I listen to the forecast every day, just because I need to know how many layers of clothing  to wear and what to put on to strip down to.  Crazy.  Just plain crazy. 

But one thing I have noticed.  Everyone is smiling.  It is a beautiful day for the first day of spring.  And we are happy to be out in it.  After all...it could be snowing!

Old School

I went to see Benton Breeding in the nursing home on Monday of this week.  He had come there to recover from the effects of a fall and broken bone a week or so before.  I could see that he was tired as he sat in his wheelchair, but I just wanted to say hi..and glad to see you back home.  Little did I know that in a few short hours he would leave us to go and join his loving wife Genelle and his family and friends.

I will miss him.  In the spring of 1977 Andy and I came to Gainesville, bought property, and made plans to settle in town.  The first thing I needed was a teaching job.  We had been camping while we were searching for the perfect place here in Ozark County.  I asked the realtor, who was on the school board at that time, if there were any vacancies that I might apply for.  He sent me to the superintendent's office.  And I met Benton Breeding for the first time.  I was a little uneasy going to interview in camping clothes, but I shouldn't have been.  We had a little talk.  He asked me some questions.  We talked some more.  And in short order I was hired to teach half time at the Junior High and half time at the Elementary.  Talk about lucky!  I didn't know how lucky I was.

Benton, or Mr. Breeding, as I called him while he was my boss, and I always got along fine.  I could tell that he ran a tight ship.  My experience with school superintendents was varied...some were pretty much in for the ride and others ruled with an iron hand.  But Mr. Breeding was definitely old school..and just what I needed.

After he retired we still kept in touch.  We went to church together.  We visited at Vaught's during coffee time and Sunday breakfast.  I still remember how pleased I was when they named our then-new football field and facility after him when he retired.  I would drive past the sign each day when I went to work at the new elementary school, and with a smile,  recall my years teaching under him.

Once, when we were eating breakfast at Vaught's, I got the chance to thank him for hiring me on that May day so long ago.  I told him how wonderful my time had been teaching at Gainesville and that he was a big part of that.  He had paved the way for our school to be one of the best I had ever taught at...and I told him so.  He smiled.  He always smiled.  He thanked me for the kind words.  I hope  he knew just how sincere I was.

And then I remember my first Christmas teaching here in Gainesville.  I had just dismissed my junior high class and was getting ready to leave for the elementary school when word came from the office that Mr. Breeding needed to see me.  Something about a "Christmas bonus".  I was surprised.  I had never gotten a Christmas bonus before.  What could it be?  I knocked on his door and he told me to come in.  All smiles, he reached down beside his desk and pulled out a shiny apple and a huge orange.  "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Elder!", he said.   I replied, "and Merry Christmas to you Mr. Breeding."  

Old school.  Definitely old school.

Winter's not done yet.

March snows have become something to deal with here in the Ozarks.  Usually we have had at least one or two good snows a winter, but lately that has been the exception rather than the rule.  We have been spoiled this year by spring-like weather since late January and all through February.  People were even saying they would have liked to have at least one snow before spring came officially.  Well....they got their wish.  

It didn't snow very long up here on the hill.  The morning was gray and cloudy.  Threatening skies seemed to say that winter had not left us without a last hurrah.  Shortly after lunch it started up here.  Thick flakes fell fast and furiously.  The wind blew snow up on the porch and plastered the sides of trees and buildings and even our bluebird house.  I wonder where Mr. and Mrs. went to hide from the wet flakes swirling around the entrance to their preferred home?  They were probably nestled down in the nearby woods, out of the cold and the wet.

Buzzards gathered on a tree to our south.  I went out to take their picture when it stopped snowing.  They took exception to my presence and flew off before I could get more than a few shots taken of them huddling on the branches.

All in all it is a pretty sight to see the snow falling up here on the hill.  Nice to be inside where it is warm and cozy and not having to fight my way through the wind and cold.

Winter is not over yet.  We still have a few weeks to go.  And who knows what these last days of the waning season will bring.  More snow?  High winds?  Or maybe just gentle breezes and welcome sunshine.  Whatever happens, winter is almost gone.  And I, for one, am ready to welcome spring.

Perfection

When I look at daffodils  I see pure sunshine.  Even on a cloudy, blustery day, their brave faces still speak of what lies behind the cool wind and rainy gloom.....the sun is shining somewhere, up there, in a blue sky we can't see from down here.

We have some beauties that we planted long before we had a house up here on the hill.  They were nestled into the ground up under our martin house in the fall.  We covered their beds with leaves and mulch and added a layer of chicken wire to keep the armadillos from digging them up over the winter.

The snow came.  The rain came.  And in the spring we could see the beginnings of green shoots coming up through the brown and matted layers of their winter bed.  Pulling the chicken wire off was another matter.  Trying to be careful and not damage the tender stalks we finessed the protective mesh off the daffodil bed.  And they bloomed.  Not very strong...just small little bits of sunshine there in the greening grass.

We nurtured those blooms and mowed around them....protecting them from harm while we decided where to put them when it came time to dig up the bulbs in the fall.

Since we had not built our house yet, we hit upon the idea of putting them down by the road so they could be shared with anyone who drove by.

And that is where they are today.  It has been several years, and as daffodils are prone to do, they have spread and multiplied along the bank above my county road.

I look for them each spring.  Searching the ground for the tender green shoots.  Being careful not to step on any that are beginning to break through to the light.  But I have found  these flowers to be very forgiving.  They will spring up again and again.  They don't need much encouragement.

You have all heard the saying "Bloom where you are planted".  My sunny daffodils remind me of that every time I see them.

Blooming right there.  Bringing sunshine to me even when times are gray and blustery.  The perfect reminder to hang in and hang on.  Because the sun is always shining...and the sky is blue.  Maybe not here...but somewhere. 

Perfection...in a sunny little bloom.