Time....

If I had more time.....if time would just stand still.....if...if...if.

Can you make time stand still?  I wish I could.  Can you go back in time?  Sometimes I wish I could...go back and say I love you....go back and not say those words that hurt....just go back and relive some wonderful day.

But I can't.  In a few days we will return to standard time.  A mixed blessing to me.  We have lived many months enjoying cool sunrise and extended twilight.  When I was small I loved being able to go out and play after supper....night was long in coming and I had so much to do.

But now I have come to appreciate the shortness of the late fall and winter days.  There is something comforting about waking up and getting ready for the day while the sun comes up in the east..knowing that I don't have to race the heat.  The coolness of fall mornings and the pleasure of crisp days makes work easier for me.  Even as I bundle up in my warmer coat, I smile to think how the wind will feel when I face it blowing in on me.  So fresh...not like the humid hot wind of late summer and early fall.

Snow.  Snow will be here before long.  Perhaps it will wait until the new year.  That will be fine.  Heavy frost takes its place.  I love to see the white crystals on brown leaves and twigs as the sun touches them with fire...sparkling like a million diamonds.

As I turn my clock back I will say good-bye to those warm summer memories....and greet the days ahead...shorter they might be....but with memories in the making.

The Pleasures of October

This tenth month of the year is one of my favorites.  Cooler air.  Crisp bright days.  Nights that are clear and full of starlight.  The full moon seems fuller.  The sun shines beams that act as golden strands, knitting morning to noon to twilight in a continuous fabric of changing colors and hues.  Our Ozark hills are sometimes radiant with scarlet and yellow and orange.  It just depends on how nature chooses to clothe the trees in the valleys and atop the hills.

The air.  The air is so fresh and clean.  I like to chug up my hill and then cling to the nearest post and draw my breath deep down into my lungs.  Sweatshirt off.....stocking cap off.....the cool breeze that blows across my face feels like heaven.

Apples.  October apples.  In my Illinois hometown we would travel for miles to pick and buy apples that were grown along the river.  Bringing them home we would tuck them away for future apple pies and apple crisp and save a few for eating right then.  Precious apples, meant to be savored and not wasted.

Walnuts.  My mother always went hunting for black walnuts in the fall.  As they were gathered she would spread them out to dry and then hull them, cracking them open and picking out the nuts inside.  Black walnuts appeared in the fudge and cakes she made.  And they were precious commodities too.  Just like apples.

October.  A month to relish.  A month to savor.  A month to gather in the bounty of nature.  October, a month to prepare and look ahead.  But most of all, rest and enjoy to its fullest.  

  

I Heard Autumn Call My Name

I heard Autumn call my name.  She walked down the hill with measured stride, her robe of scarlet and gold brocade flowing around her, morning mist like smoke trailing behind, her feet in sparkling slippers of sapphire and deep,deep green.  She came along with the western wind blowing her hair around her in a billowing cloud.

She called my name.  And I could hear the echoes of bluebird and robin in her voice, as they made their plans for winter rendezvous.  Crickets cadence changing with the cooler air added their tune to the song.  She called my name and I saw her standing there.

Autumn called my name and beckoned me with slender hands.  She showed me how she touched the apple and grape with cooling air and caused them to blush in vibrant hue.  Her artist's brush touched tree and bush and leaves became orange and red and glowing yellow.

She called my name and bid me follow her from west to east and back again.  Laughing in the breeze, she spoke of vagabond journey's end from sea to sea, azure sky reflected in still pond and river, blazing trees mirrored in lake and stream.  "Come and see my handiwork," she teased.  "Come and smell the fragrant lift of smoke from fires and smoldering chimneys.  No other season bears this mark of mine.  Come, come and follow me.  Shake off your indolence and sleep and see the miracle of turning earth and sky and sea."

Autumn called my name and I replied, "No,no.  I have enough here on my hilltop home to see.  I do not need to follow you down into the valley and to other places and times to see what you have done.  No indeed, I ask you Autumn, stay here with me and gaze upon your handiwork that reveals itself to me in precious days that fly too swiftly by."

Stay, Autumn, stay a little longer.  Let me linger here and fill my soul with all you have to give.

Happy birthday

On September 19th, 1910 Florence Alberta Stimpert came into this world.  Timing was perfect for her birth.  Halley's Comet was soaring through the sky.  And if ever a life was lived at comet speed, it was hers.

She was the third child of my grandfather's third marriage.  His previous wives had died and left him with seven children to raise.  He married my grandmother who quickly took over the family and then added two more sons, followed by my mom.  

She was a very special person.  Of course, I have a slight bias since I am her daughter.  But now on the occasion of her 105th birthday I am thinking of all the things she experienced in her life.

When she was born, women did not have the right to vote.  When she was born, the world was teetering on the edge of the war to end all wars.  She lost a brother to the flu of 1918.  She lost another brother after the Allied Invasion of France in 1944.  She was a young woman during the Great Depression.  And all of her life she fought for what she felt was best for her family.

She never backed down.  When she decided she wanted to teach physical education in the early '30s, she was met with all sorts of resistance.  But she found a way.  Her first job was in what was to become my hometown.  I'm sure several people wondered just what this young woman was doing teaching their daughters to run and jump and play games that were denied them before.

When we were young she went back to work.  Not many wives and mothers did this.  But she knew that she and my dad could never afford to send us to college if she didn't work.  Again, she swam against the current of popular opinion.  She opened a toy and children's clothing store and made it a successful business.  And then she went back to teaching.

Tragedy struck when she was widowed at age 47.  But she forged ahead.  Always, always in her mind was the fact that she needed to give her children the best start that she could provide them.

And most of her dreams came true.  

Shortly after her 95th birthday my niece brought her daughter to visit us from New Jersey.  Holding her first great-grandchild I could almost see the wheels turning in my mother's brain.  This little one is very special.  She will make her mark on the world.  

Always looking forward.  Never letting the past drag her down.  That was my mom.

And the older I get, the more I realize the legacy she left for me.

Happy birthday Mom.  I love you.  And I always will.

Working on a dream

Dreams start as small things.  Think I'd like to take a short trip.  Maybe I'll try to make my garden bigger.  Perhaps I'll write my grandkids a story.  And then they blossom and bloom.

Andy and I have always wanted to live out in the country.  That was our incentive when we moved to Missouri in the early 70's.  Peace and quiet.  A place where we could live and let live.  That was our only goal.

Life intervenes.  And so over five years ago, our dream came knocking again.  Where did we want to build a new house?  Or maybe just sell our 'too big for us' place and find a smaller one?  We looked and looked.  We were disappointed when prime opportunities were snatched out of our hands when someone else made a higher offer.  What could we afford?  What kind of house did we want?

Dreams do come true.  Just out of the blue, when we had almost given up hope, here it was. We grabbed it and started to plan.  We spent many hours working on the new property, up there on the hill overlooking a peaceful valley and neighbors to the north whose houselights twinkled at us in the night.

Finally, with a house plan drawn up and lots of energy we tackled the task of building our first new home.  What a wonderful dream.  Hard at times, but do-able.  Of course, we had help with the things we couldn't do with pick and shovel and hammer and nails.  Our brother-in-law came over and lent us a hand when we needed encouragement.  Hot summers, glorious falls, brutal winters when things came to a standstill and all we could do was put on our boots and slog around trying to imagine what it would be like to live out here.  And then the soft springtime would arrive and all the hard work  was justified with vistas of red bud and dogwood, soft green leaves budding out, birds returning to nest in our oak trees.

It was just two short years ago this weekend that we made the final move from town.  We packed our suitcase, shut and locked the door, and drove out of Gainesville in the gathering dark.  Here we were, climbing this so familiar hill in the dusk and starlight.  Pausing at the door of our new home, ready for this new adventure.  Entering our dream.  

Welcome.  Welcome home.

Fall is in the air

Don't get excited.  This picture was taken last fall on one of our trips to Caney Mountain.  But the past few days have certainly seemed fall-like in temperature and humidity.  Don't you just love it?  And in my current state of limited walking, it is just the incentive I need to do those things that will get me back on the trail again.  Fall is one of my favorite seasons...right up there with spring, and winter,....and summer.  

There is something about the change of season...any season....that just seems right to me.  My mom felt this way too.  She retired to Florida and lived there for many years.  It was better for her health for sure.  But she missed what she called "the change of seasons".  The slight change from hot to mild and the amount of rain didn't seem very satisfying to her central Illinois soul.  So she would make her annual trip up to see us in August and always stayed until the end of October.  It was her favorite time of year.  

As I look from the porch, I can see the slight change in the trees over on the river bluff hill.  Crickets are sounding very autumnal.  There is a difference in the air.  The foggy mornings have even changed minutely, but living day to day as I do, I can sense that the earth is getting ready to cool down and brighten up.....clear nights,  red and gold vistas,  rising harvest moons,  softer sunsets, mild winds that carry a hint of frost.  Our baby blue birds have passed their bug-catching lessons and are ready to find a place to spread their wings and fly. 

Fly.  How I would love to fly over that hill.  Down in the valley.  See the clear water where the fish run in schools, darting after minnows or breaking the surface to catch the unwary bug.  And then soar up again, over the hill and down along the road that curves and wanders around the houses and farms of my neighbors.  See the cattle in the fields.  Watch the horses feeding on the lush green grass on the water's edge.  See the last of the white tails of deer disappearing into the woods.  Smoke rising from the morning fires in nearby homes.  Sounds of tractors starting up, ready for the day.  Roosters crowing.  All to welcome a new season.

Come on Fall.  We're ready and waiting. 

On being an optimist

I can't help it.  It's in my DNA.  I understand that my dad's mother, Ada Belle Myers, had the same trait.  So perhaps I came by it honestly.  I love life.  I love to smile.  I love to laugh.  And I try to find as many times and places as possible to do indulge in it.  Do you remember that song from the musical South Pacific?  Cockeyed Optimist?  That could be my theme song.

Don't get me wrong.  We all have times when we are sad and hurting.  I have had my share.  But I take my lesson from the beautiful roses in the picture above.  A little rain, some sun, a few thorns along the way...but still it thrives even in the worst of conditions.

Every day is something that we can experience.  Not just endure.  It's hard, I understand.  However,  I have always tried to make the best of what is happening and look ahead.  Maybe  tomorrow won't be any better....but, golly, there is next week and next month.  And next year.

I am a morning person.  Many people in my family were  not morning people.  Case 1.  My brothers.  Both of them.  The conversation at the breakfast  table  went something like this: Me: Blah,blah,blah,so happy, blah,blah,blah.  Paul/Derek: murderous stare, no comment, if you don't hush up we will do it for you.  Yes, it is true.  And I soon learned to quiet down and just keep the  AM joy to myself.  Case 2:  My co-worker at the Amerind Foundation, Sonny Jerkic.  (Living in a ranch house in Arizona for 8 months while we mended pots and recorded data from a dig in Mexico)  Me: Good morning.  Beautiful day. What do you want for breakfast?  Do you think we'll get done with Unit 3 today?  etc. etc.   Sonny: blind, blank stare, no comment, familiar sense that I am talking to a stone who is not responding to my chatter.  Finally, after the third or fourth morning we had  a talk.  Rule for mornings:  Take the breakfast order the night before.  No talking to room mate  before 10 AM.  Problem solved.

Don't you know that I was well pleased when  I fell in love and married  a man who was a morning person as well.

My philosophy is this.  God gave me a good life.  My job is to show my appreciation for that in being the happiest, kindest person I can be.  And sometimes it just spills over into uncontrollable joy.  And optimism.  So be it.