Are You Making the World a Better Place?

In scanning through the writing prompts included in the book I received for Christmas, I found one that stood out.  It is this:  "Are you making the world a better place?"  It is a question I have asked myself through the years.  Another form of it is:  "Are you making a positive difference with your life?"

I think as most of us age, we question this about the life we have lived.  The young are often out to conquer the world, those in middle age are "surviving" and the old begin to wonder what it was all about.  This last day of the year seems a good one to reflect on such things.  After all, the old saying that "today is the first day of the rest of your life" is accurate.  Change begins with a decision.

I would like to think that I have had a positive influence here and there.  I certainly haven't "conquered the world" as I once thought I might.  I do hope that some word or, deed along the way helped someone to have a better day.  After all, in the end it is the accumulation of tiny things that truly makes a difference.  Rarely is it the big things.

This, the last day of the year is a good time to reflect and to give thought to the coming year.  I ask myself, "How can I make the coming year one of positive impact?  What can I do to help others in this journey?"

I like to think that my writing is a positive influence.  It is a way that I can reach beyond my limited daily contact.  It can be a force for good (I'm being optimistic here in thinking at least a handful of people actually read what I write.) 

As a first step toward the new year, I pledge to continue writing, to the extent possible, on a daily basis.  I will attempt to make my messages positive and affirming -- uplifting to others.  That will not always be the case, because there are times, I know from experience, when I will be led to write something that is perhaps a recitation of events that may serve the purpose of letting someone know they are not alone in what has happened to them.  We sometimes need to simply know that others suffer, others deal with problems.

Reflection is important, but movement forward a necessity.  So, I ask you, how will you make the world a better place?

Planning Ahead -- a fading skill?

Sometimes you park the tractor at the gate.  You know the pasture is wet, the road is rutted with standing water and the expected rain will only make it worse, so you plan ahead.  That's all it is, planning ahead.

The trouble with parking a diesel tractor at the gate is that it is exposed to the weather.  When the temperatures plunge, diesel gels and the tractor doesn't start, so you take steps to mitigate that issue.  Again, you are planning ahead.

Fortunately, if it is so cold the tractor won't start, the ground should be frozen enough to drive on with the pickup -- unless it has snowed and drifted and you can't get through.  The cattle still have to be fed.  What is the contingency?

The cattle also must have water.  Water tanks are great for keeping fresh water to the cattle, but they can freeze.  Tank heaters can correct that problem, but what happens if there is no electricity?  What do you do?

Winter is a time when thinking and planning ahead are critical for those in the livestock business.  It is something our society is conditioned against.  In a world of instant gratification where anything you might need or, desire, is delivered right to your door, the critical thinking skill of planning ahead for how to deal with various contingencies has faded to non-existent -- except among those charged with caring for livestock.  Even then, most have learned through experience.  They have dealt with the issues and found ways to overcome.

When most people were tied to agriculture -- even loosely -- critical thinking skills like planning ahead were much more common in the general population.  The drift to urbanization threatens more than we realize.

Socially Mediated

Fake News,
Phishing scams,
Hey, y'all, look at me!
It's like a circus everyday
For all the world to see.

But, what can sometimes seem so bad
Is also used for good;
Connecting with a scattered past
Is clearly understood
As the reason we continue

Down the Social Media path
That tantalizes
While it taunts
And makes us seething mad.

I guess with every good
There is corresponding bad
That brings us all together
In a way we never had

Before Facebook, Twitter and all this other stuff....

Writing Prompts

For Christmas this year, I received a book entitled "300 Writing Prompts."  It was from the one who knows me best, my wife.  She knows I often struggle with topics on which to write.

Although the book claims no author, it is a product of Picadilly Press, it seems obvious to me to have been written, at least primarily, by a young woman judging from the prompts included therein.  Many of them are gender neutral, but a large number are oriented toward feelings.  I've never been particularly adept at articulating my feelings.  I suspect that is a "male" thing, but suppose it could be peculiar to my personality -- I'm trying to be generous here and reach toward neutrality.

Some example prompts:

• What is your favorite way to spend a lazy day?
• Do you prefer taking risks or having a safety net?
• What area of your life do you tend to enjoy in excess instead of moderation?
• What is the biggest trigger for stress in your life?
• How do you act when you are afraid?
• What do the clothes you are wearing now say about you?
• How do you soothe yourself when you are upset?
• What, in your opinion, is strength?
• Who was your favorite band or singer when you were young?

That brief sample will give you an idea of the type of things listed as prompts in the book.

Setting myself the goal of writing something each day creates a self-imposed pressure to perform.  It is designed to create the discipline of writing deliberately -- to hone the craft through repetition.  Just like any athlete, a writer must write.  They must work at their craft in order to perfect it.

I make no claim to perfection in my writing -- not even to mediocrity -- however, it is something I enjoy and something I wish to improve.  I write in order to write.  It is therapy.  It is a way to maintain the neural pathways.  It is a way to record for anyone who might wish to read, that which is a part of me.

Like any recorder of history, or events, or merely thoughts, it is an incomplete record.  We record what we choose and therefore create a biased picture.  The bias is shaped by what we desire, not necessarily what we are.

I will utilize some of the prompts from the book over the coming year.  I may, or may not, warn the reader as to the source of an idea for posting; it will depend on my thoughts at the time.  I am always open to ideas.  If you are a reader of this blog and wish to request a topic, feel free to do so.  No guarantee that I will choose it, but I might!

Unpredictably Constant -- or, is it the other way around?

It has been a year of flood, then drought, then flood again.  We have had a total of over 53 inches of rain this calendar year and may see more before the year is done, yet there is a severe shortage of hay in the area due to the drought during the summer.

Weather is the constant for agriculture.  It is the constant because we know it will be unpredictable.  I wonder if there has ever been an ideal year for the weather?

Yesterday we moved the cattle.  I say we moved them, when in reality, it was a matter of shutting one gate and opening another.  We have what we call "the trap" in the center of our place.  It is where the water, corrals and vet shed are located.  It is also where we usually feed the cattle.

With the arrival of the first calf of this year's calf crop, we decided to go ahead and shut the cattle off from the bottom land on our place and open the upper pasture to keep them farther from the woods.  The new babies attract predators.  In fact, it was quickly apparent yesterday when we arrived to check cattle that there was a new baby due to the large number of black vultures.

The other good thing about getting the cattle to higher ground was the expected rain last night.  We had heavy thunderstorms that passed through during the night which dumped 2.24" of rain.  That much rain on the saturated ground means the bottom is probably flooded this morning.  I would hate for a new baby to get caught in the flood.

Knowing that the weather will be unpredictable is a good thing.  It causes one to prepare for the ups and downs.  Most folks don't think about that in their life.  We should.  There will always be ups and downs -- good times and bad.  We need to prepare for those times when the bad times come along.

With the new year upon us, perhaps it would be a good idea to include plans to prepare for the unexpected -- for the things which will come that take us unaware -- to set aside for the rainy day....

Here's the new calf: 

Discounted Normalcy

It seems each morning, about this time, I hear the whistle of the trains as they pass through town -- the low rumble of the wheels on the track, pierced by short bursts of the horn at each crossing.  The freight rolls on.

Yesterday, Christmas Day, we made a quick trip into the DFW Metroplex for a day with my wife's family.  Traffic was light on our way there, except for the trucks plying the Interstate with more freight rolling to its destination.

The wheels of commerce never cease.  If they were to do so we would be at a loss as to how to live.  We, in general, have lost most of our survival skills -- or, they have morphed into something our ancestors wouldn't recognize.  They have become feral in some ways as we seek to avoid, or to defend against the predators that come with overcrowding and concentration into population centers -- the very centers that survive only by the freight that plies our highways and railroads and, although not especially familiar to me, waterways.

Today will be one in which many of the gifts of yesterday will be returned for credit, only to be exchanged for something just as useless.  There is an obsession with the material that is part of the acquisitive nature of every person.  Perhaps, in some sense of irony, the exchanges will result in a multiplication of items because the post-Christmas sales offer huge discounts, so the credit of the pre-Christmas purchase is multiplied upon return.  Maybe the best gift for a materialist is one they don't desire because they can exchange it now for two of something they had hoped to acquire.

Already, the minimal nod to the "reason for the season" has faded into the normal hustle and bustle of life.

Some of us are merely "lost" because we don't know what to do until the return of normalcy.  I wonder, will it be multiplied due to the discounted value?

Christmas

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.
Luke 2:8-20

Family Time at Christmas

For the last couple of days we have celebrated Christmas with family.  Our kids were home, though briefly, and not at the same time.  It has been a good couple of days with the sounds of laughter and happy activity, lots of good food and time together.

One of the things that sticks in my mind is the look of sheer joy on the younger kids faces when they crossed the creek in the Polaris Ranger -- their father driving and mother keeping them corralled.  I was the "gate man" and therefore able to watch their faces as they made the quick crossing, yelling and laughing.  There was no water in the bottom, but it was muddy and the sides are steep.  I wish I had thought to pull out the camera on my phone to capture the moment.

Saturday, we had a special meal prepared by my son.  It was his gift to us and a very special one.  He and his girlfriend visited on Saturday.  There were games of cards and dominoes and checking cows and visiting.  It was a long hard trip for a very short time for them, but we appreciated it greatly.

Sunday was filled with my daughter and her family.  Little children always add to the joy of Christmas.  Their excitement and laughter are contagious.  I know their parents sometimes worry about the noise and activity, but children playing is good for this old guy's soul.

We have also had my in-laws and a visit yesterday from my wife's sister.  We will be at her house on Christmas Day.

Once again we are reminded that Christmas is a time for family.  On this Christmas Eve, I hope you are blessed with the presence of those you love.  I regret that we won't be able to see my mother and siblings this Christmas, but I hope they know we would like to be there.

"While they were there the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to their first-born, a son.  She wrapped him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn." -- Luke 2:6-7

Travel and Christmas

There were many times through the years that we would leave work on a Friday and drive 6, 8 or, even 10 hours to one of our parents home for the Christmas holidays.  Sometimes it would be a "quick" trip that allowed for only a day or two at one house and then it was another drive to the next family Christmas with the other side of the family.  There were also the expected gatherings at a grandparent's house -- or, sometimes a couple of them.

Holidays can be hectic.  Marriage brings with it the need to meet obligations on both sides.  Everyone is understanding (usually), but it can be crazy trying to manage all of the places where you want to be or, need to be, or sometimes, are expected to be.

Children make it even more challenging.  It is important that they get to spend time with extended family, but the logistics of hauling all of the paraphernalia needed for a baby and then later as the kids grow and the family expands, it sometimes is difficult to get everything packed into the limited space of a vehicle for the trip.  The bigger the family, the number of gifts grows until it becomes a nightmare for some.  Who needs clothes, right?

At some point in most young families life, a decision is made that Christmas will be at home, with just immediate family.  It is a hard transition for some, but a necessary one.  It is part of the growth in independence and self-sufficiency.

It is good to maintain the extended family contact, but sometimes it is more important to maintain immediate family sanity.  Sometimes we need to slow down and remember the reason we celebrate Christmas.

We have reached a point in our journey where we are waiting up until the "wee hours" for kids who are traveling to spend a brief day with us before heading back to other obligations.  We are thankful for that time.  We covet that time, but we also know it is hard on them.

As we enter these final days before Christmas, be mindful of the needs of others.  Be thankful for what you have.  Remember the reason for the season.

"So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.  He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child."  -- Luke 2:4-5

Handmade Ornaments

Many years ago when the kids were young and so was I, we lived in Nebraska.  Our place sat up on a hill overlooking the Republican River Valley.  It was a scenic and rural location where we often saw wildlife in the corn stubble across the road which lay between us and the river.

We were on the great Central Flyway which is annually traversed by millions of geese and Sandhill Cranes on their migration to warmer climates.  The geese attract Bald Eagles which we used to count whenever we drove along Interstate 80 which parallels the Platte River.  We even had one in our yard one morning.

One of the things I miss about that place was the shop building.  It had a fabulous metal shop building that we enjoyed greatly.  I had a few woodworking tools and we set up an area in which we would build things.  It was great for the kids to learn some of the basics of using the tools and of creating things.

One Christmas we made wooden cutout Christmas ornaments.  We also made a small Christmas Village out of old fence pickets.  I did the cutting, the kids did the wood burning and painting.  Each year some of those items still find their way onto our Christmas tree.

It seems that most of us become fixated on finding the perfect gift for someone.  If we can't decide what to buy, we get them a gift card so they can choose for themselves.  We spend far too much time and money on such things.  It is difficult to recall those gifts.

But, the handmade items that are kept from year-to-year are special.  They find more than a place in our home, they find a place in our heart.

Saving and Needing

Sometimes I tend to be a hoarder
Because I see the potential in things.

I can't seem to make myself throw away
Things as small as old strings.

I think, "But, what if I need it someday?
I would have to buy more of it new!"

So I tuck it away in a box or, a jar
Or, maybe a cabinet or two.

You just never know when such things might be handy
And to throw them out is such a waste!

In the fight against this old disposable society
I refuse to succumb to such haste!

So, like my grandparents who went through the war
Which followed the Great Depression,

Saving the things that might have a use
Is something of an obsession.

But, every once in a great big Blue Moon
I go through and toss and I burn

All those things I'd collected that might have a use,
Into rubbish they suddenly turn,

And I throw them away, they'll ne'er fit a need
They are wasting the space in our home

Until only a week or, two after they're trash
I realize I need what is gone!

The Burden of Caring

Sometimes the burdens we would impose upon ourselves
Are much larger than those which the world would place upon us.

It is because we care.

We care what others think,
What they feel,
What they need.

But, most of all,
We care about doing what we know we can do to the best of our ability.

The burden is one of responsibility.

Those who accept
Are generous,
Conscientious.

But, sometimes
Allow their self-imposed standards to allow other to take advantage.

Finding perspective is key.

We must remember
It is choice,
It is value,

That is our contribution
To the betterment of self, others and to society as a whole.

Fences and Hogs

Yesterday, when I went out to feed cattle, I decided I needed to make a thorough check of the electric fence around the hay meadow.  We are letting the cows continue to graze what they can there while we let the upper pasture (away from the creek bottom) grow some.

The cattle are used to the electric fence and know where the boundaries are, so they make no effort to cross it.  It probably doesn't even need a charge to keep them in now.

We have had a little wind along with the recent rains and I just thought it might be a good idea to check it out.  It was a nice day and the meadow still very wet, so I decided to walk rather than take the Polaris around.  Besides, part of it runs through a stretch of woods and I can't drive along that stretch.

I made a beeline to the far end near where we have a deer feeder.  I have bright red flag tape tied on the wire between each post as an "eye catcher" to make certain the cattle see where the fence is located.  I could see from a distance that some of the bright red spots were not where expected.  As I approached, I knew immediately the fence was broken.

The charger is on the other end of the line and I didn't want to make the walk back to turn it off before repairing the break.  I started with the end of the line that I knew would not be charged due to the break and began putting it back through the insulators which I had to search the ground to find and then threading them back onto the posts.  As I approached the vicinity of the deer feeder it became apparent as to why the fence was broken -- the hogs had plowed the ground like a Panhandle farmer getting ready to plant.

I then headed for the "live" end of the wire in hopes that I could stretch it to meet the other end and tie it back together.  I was wearing rubber boots and thought they would insulate me from the shock.  Thankfully, I was correct in my assessment.

I completed the repair and then walked over to pull the SIM card out of the game camera near the feeder before completing my circuit of the fence.  There were no other breaks, but there were numerous places where there were tree limbs that had fallen on it and had it pushed to the ground.  It probably wouldn't have shocked me as I tied it together since it was grounded in so many other places.

It's a good thing cattle don't have the ability to reason but, are good "learners" in that they knew where their boundary lay.  They could have been off in the woods and difficult to get back in otherwise.

The hogs are a problem in this part of the world.  We probably lost a half acre or more to their rooting -- and that was just this one instance.  The photo below isn't current, but is typical of what we see....

Tote the Load

Sometimes inspiration hits us in a flash;
We know the very thing that we should do.
But, other times we search for it and nothing comes our way
Until we sink into a fruitless mental stew.

I think that God is teaching us the way that we should go
And it starts with how we must depend on Him,
But, part of how we trust Him is in knowing He is there
In fact and not a feeling or a whim.

When we are in His footsteps we must simply move ahead
And trust that He will always guide our way;
It's not a sense of nearness or, of Him so far away,
It's faith that He is with us every day.

So, when we have those moments when we don't know what to do
We must simply place a foot upon the road
For we have His assurance that He's always by our side
To help us carry many heavy load.

A Not So Ordinary Dream of Kenya

I dreamed last night of being in Mombasa.  I have never been to Mombasa, but I have been to Kenya.

The dream, like all dreams, was somewhat disjointed and jumped from scene to scene, but was consistently placed in Mombasa.  It was a chaotic place with people closely packed and the presence of foreigners both common and noticeable.  There were several of us together as part of a group that had been dropped off there after taking a Matatu (bush taxi) from Nairobi.  We were searching for lodging and for some reason, I was the defacto leader of the small group.

We entered into a hotel in the heart of the city.  It was an ancient building -- a remainder of the former British Empire of which Kenya was once a part.  People of many nationalities lounged about, engaged in conversations spoken in many languages.  The dull roar filled the lobby area as I approached the desk before suddenly being transmuted into a different locale within the same city.

In my dream I was suddenly negotiating for something -- I don't know what it was -- with a mixture of gestures and words, both in English and the occasional Swahili which I somehow had picked up in the brief time we had been in the country.  The negotiation ended with a shift of scene to the waterfront where ships of many nations were to be seen in the port.  Many were container ships with familiar metal containers often seen on rail cars in our country.

The dream ended with my waking from the view of the harbor.  I've no idea what might have triggered such a dream.  I record it here merely because I found it interesting...

I pay attention to my dreams.  I believe they are clues to unlocking the desires of our heart.  They are efforts by our mind to store and catalog disparate thoughts into an organized pattern that can be a stimulus for creativity, a well of knowledge to inform behavior, or merely a record of our experiences.  Some, like the dream above, might perhaps be a clue to to something we desire to do.  Visiting Mombasa is now on my bucket list.  Maybe some day....

The Mud is Getting Deep!

We've parked the tractor by the gate
Because the mud is so deep;
Even with the 4-wheel drive
The pickup is not a Jeep.

It's about a half mile to the pens
Where I must feed the hay
And rain keeps falling from the sky
Day after dreary day.

I know I should not complain about
The rain that has no end
Because last summer all my prayers
Were that God, rain would send.

So, I feed the cows some hay
In ever growing muck
So deep that even my mud boots
Off my feet it would suck.

I'm thankful for this rainy spell
And glad that it has come
But, we could use some drying time
And wish to see the sun.

Only the Few

One can easily be lulled
By the sameness of each day
Into lethargy.

The challenge is to break
The numbing, unchanging,
With imagination.

To soar on dreams that define
A pathway from the valley,
So desirable;

To execute the steps that lead
Inevitably toward the prize
Is commendable.

Few are meant to stand
On accolades so dear
In adoration

As the toil of dreary sameness
Is replaced by the fire
Of passion.

Blue Norther

I understand the Panhandle is looking forward a cold front passing through.  Growing up in that part of the world, I am quite familiar with the weather.  Thoughts of experiencing it inspired the following:

As the light begins to rise
I look toward the north
And see a line of darkest blue
Down low, near to the earth.

The breeze which blew from south, then west,
Has settled down to calm;
The period of quietness
Just before the storm.

I watch the low and scudding clouds
As they precede the blow
With swelling gusts and puffs of dirt
From the Arctic start to flow

And then it hits as though a wave
From off the polar ice
Has rolled across the placid Plains
With tumbleweeds as froth.

It's Carhart's, gloves and woolen cap
As temperatures do plunge
And stinging drops which turn to ice
Begin to pelt the earth

Leaving coat of crystal clear
On all that is exposed
To howling winds that bite
The face and chill the toes.

And tiny stinging balls of sleet
That sing of more to come
In form of swirling flakes of snow
That soon begin to pile

Behind each post or clinging plant
Where shelter give it home.
And each long, mounting pile of white
Is pointing to the south,

Accusing that which left behind
Wrapped up in bitter cold
Those who surely know
The Blue Norther passed this way.

Wood Smoke and Fireplaces

The smell of wood smoke fills the air this time of year.  When you live in an area with abundant trees, I suppose it is to be expected.  To me, it seems barely cold enough for an open fire in the fireplace, although I have always found them to be attractive, both visually and as a way to warm yourself after coming in from the cold outside.

We didn't have a fireplace growing up; instead, we had what I recall as panel-ray wall heaters.  They were natural gas, or propane fueled and mounted in the wall.  They were great to back up to and warm yourself, or as a child, lie on the floor in front of while watching the television.

Once they moved to town, Grandma and Grandpa had a fireplace.  They usually didn't light it unless company was coming over.  It was always the first place I'd go after saying my "hellos" to everyone -- over to stand in front of the fire and visit with Grandpa across the room in his recliner.  I think he enjoyed watching the flames dance among the logs.  Sometimes he would have me bring in more wood, or stir the fire to get a better flame going.

When we lived in Nebraska we had a couple of fireplaces.  The house we live in now actually has a couple of fireplaces.  The house was built in 1956, but sometime later, the chimney's were capped and the roof extended over where they once stood so that now, the fireplaces are merely decorative.  I have thought at times it might be good to re-build those chimneys and open up the fireplaces.

Years ago we went to a Shaker Village in Kentucky.  The main hall was a multi-floor building full of fireplaces.  I can't begin to imagine how much wood was required to keep them going all of the time.  Those fireplaces were the only source of heat, but also the location of the cooking activities which went on from before dawn until darkness every day of the year.

No one cooks their food in the fireplace anymore.  Now they are as much for ambiance as anything.  They aren't necessary for heat and in fact often allow more heat to escape when not in use than they produce while burning.  Most of them weren't particularly efficient.

Some places have banned construction of fireplaces in new homes.  Politicians in those places have fully accepted the idea that burning wood is bad for the environment.  I have to admit the smoke can sometimes make breathing a bit unpleasant.  Their concern is for the release of carbon into the atmosphere and the resulting impact toward global warming.  I don't think they quite understand how that particular carbon has been released and recycled for thousands of years in the carbon cycle.  The crazy thing is how those politicians fly around the country in their jets which release carbon from fossil fuels which is carbon that has been taken out of the carbon cycle until released back in by those flights.  I just shake my head at their behavior.

Data and More Data

Last night was one of those nights where I slept poorly.  They don't happen frequently, but for some reason I kept thinking about work-related items.

This morning I awoke to an e-mail that is going to require extensive research before I can respond.  Somehow, on a subconscious level, I suspect I expected the e-mail and that is why I couldn't sleep.  My thoughts during the night and what was requested are much too similar for there to be any other explanation.

Years ago I determined that graduate school was not my thing.  I started down that path but, became disenchanted with the political aspects of it.  It's funny how through the years I have probably researched and written the equivalent of a good number of thesis -- maybe even the equivalent of a dissertation or two.  Perhaps it's God's way of pulling a joke on me...

This past weekend was spent organizing and evaluating a fairly large data set.  Yesterday was spent in analyzing it.  Today will be spent in supplementing it.  Oh, well, it give me something to do....

Checkbooks and a Gold Standard

I grew up "old school" when it comes to managing your checking account.  I balance everything to the penny.  I learned how to reconcile my bank statement against my check ledger when my first account was opened.  It was very important when the money never seemed to go as far as the needs and you had the issue of "float" to deal with.

Today, it seems many people don't worry about balancing their check register or reconciling it against their bank statement.  They just look online to see what they currently have available at any given moment.  Their paycheck is deposited electronically and most of their payments are handled electronically.  Checks are something to be avoided and what isn't automated is handled with plastic -- either by debit or credit card.

I know such ways of doing business are time saving and convenient, but I haven't adopted them for the most part.  We do use a credit card for most purchases, but it is because we get "points" by doing so that can then be used in exchange for other things.  Our preferred is with Cabela's/Bass Pro.  With the credit card purchases, though, we save every receipt and reconcile them against the statement when it comes in.  We don't carry a balance on the card because interest on consumer items makes no sense at all.  For other purchases we write a check, record it in the ledger and reconcile it against the monthly statement.

Occasionally there is a surprise.  Occasionally a number is transposed or recorded incorrectly and the balance has to be corrected after reconciliation.  A worse surprise to me are the items like an auto-renewal on the anti-virus subscription for our computers.  It happens annually and isn't like a regular monthly item that you know to expect.  At least they e-mail you a receipt.

Banking has changed a lot in the past few years.  Almost everything is done electronically.  Even checks are turned into electronic images.  Trade between businesses is done electronically as is transfer of funds between countries.

Once upon a few centuries ago, it was a matter of lugging around bags of gold and silver coins.  In the case of large transactions, it might require a chest or two.  Eventually that became paper which represented the gold and silver.  Now the paper represents something more nebulous -- it represents a theoretical value established by the marketplace.

The U.S. Gross Domestic Product -- the value of annual goods and services produced by this country in 2018 is expected to be $19.4 Trillion.  There has only been $7.5 Trillion worth of gold mined in the history of the world at the current price of $1,250/ounce.  It's a good thing we aren't still trading in gold coins.

A Cold Rain and Muddy Cattle

Yesterday there were lots of photos across social media of snow -- especially from those of my acquaintance in the area where I grew up.  Most of them were of scenes around their homes with snow piled on cars or in the yard, but some were from the farmers and ranchers who were out working in it, feeding cattle, or other livestock.

I remember feeding cattle in the snow a few times.  I also remember getting stuck in drifts and the wind blowing the snow to the point you couldn't see.  I remember having to walk to a phone to get someone with a tractor to help me get unstuck.  I remember breaking ice so thick you needed an axe or, a sledgehammer to get through it.  It isn't much fun for the folks having to take care of the animals in such weather.

Grandpa always told me that he'd rather deal with a snow storm than a cold rain.  His reason was that the cattle would form a crust of snow on their hair that acted like additional insulation for them.  They might look like they were freezing, but it probably wasn't nearly as bad as it looked -- especially if they could find some shelter out of the wind.

While the snow fell in the western part of the state, we got cold rain.  The temperatures hovered in the upper 30's to low 40's and a steady light rain fell for almost 3 full days.  On top of the already saturated ground, the additional moisture turned the land to the consistency of cake batter.  It isn't much fun feeding hay in those conditions.

It's hard on the cattle.  The rain soaks into their hair and they are wet to the skin.  Fortunately, there has been almost no wind to accompany the rain, but it is obvious that the cattle are feeling it.  They gather around the hay bales with less than their normal enthusiasm and stand all humped up.  I'm just thankful calving season hasn't started yet.  We are still about a month away from the beginning of that.

The hay lot is a muddy mess as is the trap where we feed.  Water is standing in many places.  Fortunately, the mud isn't too deep.  The topsoil is thin and a layer of clay lies under it.  That adds to the soupiness of the topsoil because the water is unable to percolate quickly into the ground, but instead sits on top of that clay layer for days.

Sigh, I guess we will be dealing with the mud for awhile.  I know, I shouldn't complain.  It seems like only a short time ago I was complaining about drought....

A Little Science Fiction

I love to read science fiction/fantasy.  Through the years I have tried my hand at writing some.  Below is an excerpt from a fanciful piece I started once upon a time....yes, in a galaxy far, far away.

Beidercats don’t bite.  In reality, they aren’t cats at all.  Why they call them cats is a mystery to me but, that is definitely a Beidercat looking me in the eye.  Do you suppose they actually spit venom from their eyes like some people say?  I hope not.  If they do, this isn’t going to end pretty.

This planet was certainly full of surprises.  First, it was the landing.  Those gravity shifts are tricky.  Skipping a landing craft like a smooth pebble on a pond was definitely a new experience for me.  Both of my shoulders ache from jolting against the harness.  Once is expected but, seven times?  I think that must be a record.

The jammed door was no surprise, but, the static should have been discharged through the grounding mechanism.  Fortunately, rubber steps kept me from being fried.  I could have used those boots though.  If I could just find something to replace the melted soles I might make use of them yet.  Oh, well.  At least it was the serpent and not me that fried.  I was lucky the steps landed on him when I opened the door otherwise, I would have taken the full charge.  I think I’ll file a complaint with the Galactic Rocket Company.  Redundancy should be required – even on economy models!

I headed directly for the nearest settlement.  At least that’s what I thought.  The powers that be at Colonial Birthright, Inc. swore there was one about three degrees north of my landing site.  They’re the ones that hired me.  They should know.  I should have reached it about thirty minutes ago.  My Triangulator picked up their ping almost immediately upon landing.  My course has held true and my suit display immediately laid in the proper course.  The problem is, as I walk forward, it recedes.  There is no way a colony can move.  After all, it is supposed to contain at least forty colonists.  It has to be a glitch in my nav system that isn't responding properly to the shifting grav field.

But, enough of the past.  I need to focus on the now.  What do I do with a Biedercat staring at me?  Shooting them is out of the question.  They phase shift.  I could fire a dozen times with my Enerjet 40 and it would just be wasting juice.  They only partially exist in this reality.  That’s why they don’t bite.  They feed on energy.  That is what the so-called venom is supposed to be – a jet of pure energy.  So, I froze.  I just didn’t move.  I tried my best not to shiver with the fear coursing through me.  I know that animals sense fear.  I wondered if that applied to an animal that was partially phase-shifted into another dimension….

Slowly, he lowered his head.  It had to be the position he would take in order to shoot the venom.  I was on the verge of panic.  Suddenly I felt heat.  It was becoming unbearably hot in a very short time.  A vibration seemed to surround me.  Then, a rush of….something….I don’t know what….passed me and the Biedercat was blurred by what looked like heat waves shimmering in the desert.  It was another predator.  It had to be a Velocishifter; the only known enemy of the Biedercat.  It could shift dimensions too.  Suddenly, a brilliant flash of light and I was alone again.  A smell like burned metal filled the air and I sighed with relief.  When in hunting mode, the Velocishifter sees only the rifts in the fabric of this reality.  I was fortunate that it was hunting.  Otherwise, it may have noticed me....

Reasons for the Busy-ness

The month of December always seems to be one of the busiest of the year. Work goes on as always, but added to that are additional items in preparation for the end of a year, plans for a new one (business) and the inevitable Christmas parties and shopping.  If you still have young children, or grandchildren there are programs to attend.  Church Christmas programs also mean extra rehearsals for those involved.

I like the busy-ness of the season, but it often adds to the level of stress for many.  Fortunately, I'm not usually especially stressed.  I realized long ago that I can't do it all and therefore I don't worry so much about what doesn't get done; I know it will all work out.

The stress of the season is not a good thing.  It takes away from the meaning of Christmas.  We should be focused on family and friends and most of all, the reason we celebrate in the first place -- Jesus.  In spite of what the world would try and push on us otherwise, Christmas should be all about the gift of Jesus.

As you go about your busy-ness this year, remember the reason we celebrate.

Embrace the Inevitable

I think we all recognize that change is inevitable.  Sometimes change is gradual such as the slowly aging body, or the appearance of a gray hair, but at other times change is dramatic as in the loss of a job, or a move across the country.  Change happens.

How we adapt to change varies with each individual.  Many people are deeply rooted in the present.  They are like trees which stand amidst the raging change around them.  You find those types of people in every small town.  Many are descended from families that established themselves multiple generations previously.  Others are tumbleweeds.  They may grow in one spot initially, but reach a point where change becomes the norm.  They are constantly moving from one location to another, from one job to another, or from one adventure to the next.

Change is a sign of growth, but it can also be a sign of death and decay.  Change can be cyclical, much like the seasons of the year.  As I age, I see more and more of the cyclicity of change within my own life -- how a change moves me into a new phase in which I grow until reaching a point of diminishing returns (an economics term explained below *) and then another change.  Each of these small cycles dwell within larger cycles such as childhood, adolescence, adulthood and old age.  The ultimate end of our earthly existence is death which is the ultimate change -- especially for those of us who believe that the result of death is new life.

Change is a good thing.  It is going to happen whether we want it to or, not.  Even a stagnant pool of water changes because of the growth of bacteria and microscopic organisms that dwell within it.  We must learn to accept change and respond in ways that benefit us and those with whom we come in contact.  Accept change and make it beneficial.  Embrace it and run with it.  Fighting it only increases stress.

I don't really know why change is on my mind this morning.  I suspect it is some subtle subconscious sense that change is about to happen.  I like change.

* Diminishing returns:  The law of diminishing marginal returns states that, at some point, adding an additional factor of production results in smaller increases in output.

Something From 2008 Because I'm Short on Ideas Today....

Some days it is hard to come up with something new to write.  Today seems to be one of those days.  In lieu of a new creation, I am pulling out a devotional that I wrote back in June of 2008.  It includes the mention of 3 blogs.  Two of those have been eliminated and this is the only one that I maintain now.  The devotional is below:

Matt. 28:18-20 says:

Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.  Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.  And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.

The Internet has brought the world to our door.  It shouldn’t, nor does it, take the place of going out to the nations with the message of Jesus.  It does offer those of us who are bound to one geographic area the means to communicate with people in other places.

One of the big things on the Internet today is Blogs.  A blog (short for web-log) is a place to record one’s thoughts and ideas.  It can be a private blog (diary) or a public blog (commentary).  It can be about anything you like.  Many are political.  Others are about modern culture such as art, music, movies, etc.  Some are Christian in nature.  I have 3 blogs.  One is a creative outlet.  One is work-related because it is about agriculture.  One is political.

I have found that on all of the blogs there come occasions when I am able to share my beliefs with others.  There are several other bloggers and commenters with whom I have developed e-mail acquaintances.  There are others that merely exchange comments with me on my blogs.  Some ask very difficult questions about Christianity.  Others attack Christianity.  They are scattered throughout the world.  The following paragraph is from a recent e-mail exchange with a Political Science professor in California.  I had mentioned to him that I preferred the term Christ-follower as opposed to Christian due to the watered down nature of Christianity in most people’s eyes.  He said,

“You're probably more in tune with actual Christian doctrine and practice among the laity than I am. I simply place myself in the Christian Western religious model, which comes from my studies in political philosophy. If you can explain in a couple paragraphs the reasoning behind the shift to "Christ-followership" I'd appreciate it.”

This gave me the opportunity to share with him what I believe.  In a subsequent e-mail he has asked for more information.

My point is this.  God provides many ways to share His word with the people of this planet.  It’s not always what we would expect.  It is our obligation as followers of Jesus to meet those opportunities however presented.  When was the last time you shared your faith?

Getting Rid of Dead Wood

There is something satisfying about burning brush piles.  Most of them on our place have been there for about a year.  That's about how long it takes for them to dry down to the point they will burn.  We also have to wait until the weather is "right" so the chances of a stray spark catching the woods or the pasture on fire are reduced to near zero.

With the recent rains we have had, the conditions are good.  Now, it is just a matter of catching a day with no wind, or only a slight breeze from the appropriate direction.  The winter grasses are short and the summer grasses have been grazed down so there is little to no excess fuel to worry about.

Why is it satisfying?  I suppose it is because it leaves the landscape cleaner, more open.  It gets rid of an eyesore -- a nuisance pile of decaying debris.  It's a little like spring cleaning except in the fall.

Some of the wood in the brush piles is from my clearing or, trimming trees and brush, but much of it is dead fallen branches from diseased trees that have died over the previous year.  This is a good time of year to drag it out of the woods and pile it for burning as well.  I have a long way to go to get our place in the kind of shape I want it, but each day I have the chance, I like to get out and work at it.  This is the best time of year because it is cool enough to put in a day of labor in the woods.  During the summer it is like an oven with high temperatures and high humidity.  During the spring it rains almost constantly and the humidity is so high you need scuba equipment in order to breathe.

Ideally, I would set a match to it and let the fire clear all the deadfall out of the woods.  That's the way it would naturally be kept in control.  That's how the natives and early Anglo settlers handled it.  They would clear the forest with fire.  It was efficient, it was fast and it left the basic nutrients on the soil to be absorbed by the grasses and other forbs that quickly followed in natural succession.  Today's attitude of leaving the forest detritus to decay in place has led to a dangerous situation in areas where dense forests cover the land.  It has caused an extreme accumulation of fuel to be available for any stray spark to create a conflagration that is unstoppable.  It is a primary reason for the devastating fires which so recently have ravaged large swaths of California.  Now they will have to deal with the erosion that will follow because of the loss of cover on the land.

We need to recognize that fire is a management tool.  Some environmentalist will argue that fire releases carbon into the atmosphere that should remain stored in that fallen debris.  They fail to recognize that the carbon is being released anyway through the decaying processes.  It just takes longer.

The carbon stored in that debris is part of the free carbon on our planet which is part of the carbon cycle.  It is constantly being released and then reincorporated into plants and animals.  It is part of how nature works.  Much of the carbon on this planet is in longer term storage in the form of coal and oil which is buried deep in the earth.  This is sequestered carbon -- carbon that has been set aside by natural processes.

The human-centric global warming alarmists need to distinguish between free carbon and sequestered carbon.  We certainly are releasing a lot of sequestered carbon through burning fossil fuels and need to explore ways to reduce that process, but it is the problem, not dead wood lying on the ground in a forest and certainly not agriculture which captures carbon continuously through the growth of crops which become food for a rapidly growing and hungry world population.

Sometimes getting rid of dead wood takes time.  In the case of my brush piles, it takes about a year for me to get rid of it.  In other cases it seems to take longer....

Sometimes I ramble....

Timing, Patience and Faith

Timing is important.  Many things hinge on timing.  I'm sure everyone experiences it occasionally.  We wait in anticipation of some event that must occur before we can move forward.  If that event is within our control, it is much more bearable than if it is not.  Right now, for me, is one of those times of waiting.

Waiting is something that has always been a bit of struggle for me.  I hate standing in line, or waiting for an event to begin.  I am not naturally patient.

I have learned through the years that patience is a partner with faith.  Faith is one of the most important things -- if not THE most important thing -- that God wants us to learn as we grow in our reliance on Him.  Faith is putting your trust in someone else (Him).  Patience is trusting that something will happen that is out of your control (His control).

The key to patience is faith.

Strength comes through exercise.

Shed a Little Light

On the shelf beside my desk sits a small framed plaque inscribed, "One heart dedicated to God can bring Light to the world."  It is a reminder that what I do -- what each of us does -- has impact on others with whom we come in contact.

For some reason that framed placard caught my attention this morning.  I am one who prefers to avoid contact with other people beyond what is necessary.  I am most content alone walking through the woods or, across the pasture.  I find peace in solitude.

Yesterday, we went to Rockwall to do some Christmas shopping.  Normally, I would have begged out of the trip and spent the time doing something else, but I needed a haircut and so felt compelled to accomplish that feat.  The pile of silvery wool that fell to the floor was a testament to how long I had put off the task.  The young lady who cut it looked somewhat askance when I told her how short I wanted it, but when I explained that it had been awhile, she accepted that I actually knew what I was asking.

Afterward, I walked across to a store on the other side of the parking lot where my better half was shopping for items on her list.  It was a pleasant walk and the weather was nearly perfect in the low 70's.  I had to use a good deal of caution due to the high volume of traffic craziness that seems to be normal this time of year, but made the trek unscathed.

I caught up with her in the farthest corner of the large store and assumed my post as escort and "basket pusher" -- although, come to think of it, I didn't push the basket although that would be normal since it gives me something constructive to do as she shops.  I don't recall speaking to anyone other than her in that huge store.

We later went to lunch at a restaurant we prefer and had some interaction with the waiter who seemed a nice young man.  We both told him he was doing a good job and it was the first smile I had seen on his face since we sat down in the busy restaurant.

The next stop, I remained in the vehicle and read.  It was warm with a very light breeze that made it pleasant.  We then made a final stop at a small specialty store that held some interest for me and I went inside where I spent a good deal of time visiting with one of the clerks who was attempting to sell me on an item that was far above the price range we were willing to consider.  I repeatedly told him so, but he kept trying to redirect us that direction.  I have to admire his persistence, but he completely missed a sale by failing to listen to our wishes and directing us appropriately and instead insisted that the higher priced item was right for us.

My point in this commentary of my day, is that I doubt seriously that, other than the brief words to the waiter, I brought much light to the world yesterday.  I don't think I contributed to the darkness, but I also didn't exploit every opportunity to share the Light, which is Jesus, to those with whom I came in contact.  Instead, I mostly chose to minimize my interaction with others in spite of the myriad opportunities.  I need to do better.  We all need to do better.  We are called to be the Light.

Matthew 5:16 -- "In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."

A Legacy of Compassionate Conservatism

George H.W. Bush, 41st President of the United States, has died at the age of 94.  As I write those words, in my head I hear the voice of Walter Conkrite pronouncing them as though introducing the lead news story on the NBC Nightly News.  Although President Bush has lived quietly for a number of years now, his passing marks an end to a remarkable life.  I won't attempt to provide a biographical sketch of the man here as it is available all over the Internet.

In some ways, President Bush epitomized what I thought a U.S. leader should be -- at least to all public appearances, he had the good of the nation at heart in all that he did.  He was a patriot of the first order but, he had a global outlook.  He first brought the phrase "compassionate conservatism" into the mainstream.  It is a view I believe we all should take during our current struggle between nationalism and globalism.  It is the middle road.

To me, compassionate conservatism acknowledges that those who have much should care for those who have little.  It is a social responsibility that gives flesh to the tenants so clearly laid out in the Bible in the words of Jesus.  It is both a national view and a global view that doesn't sacrifice one for the other, but seeks to raise all.  It is not based in a socialist approach that takes from one group in order to redistribute, but instead calls on the higher road of moral responsibility for ones fellow man.  It also is not a system of greed that seeks only to accumulate and to hoard.  It calls on each of us to contribute through our labor which gives meaning to our own life, while blessing those around us with the fruits of that labor.  It spreads wealth voluntarily, not forcefully.

We as a nation are struggling with self-identity.  In that struggle, we must remain aware that our blessings draw contempt and envy from those who have not participated due to various reasons -- location, ignorance, historical disadvantage, ability, or victimization.  We must see the world with compassion while being good stewards of what God has allowed us to accomplish and to produce.

I pray that the legacy of George H.W. Bush will be his call for compassionate conservatism.  It is not isolationism and it is not globalism, it is faithful stewardship of what we have in a way that blesses and raises all with whom we come in contact.  We must be the bright and shining light upon the hill, not an unattainable light, but a beacon of hope for the world.

A Golfing Memory

Years ago, Dad made a golf club out of scraps found in Grandpa's junk pile.  He used a piece of steel rod for the shaft and a piece of flat iron for the head.  It had a slightly larger piece of iron pipe on the end of the shaft to act as the grip so it would be easier to hold.  The head was probably at about the correct angle for a 2-iron.

I couldn't have been very old when he did that, but I remember him building it just outside the door on Grandpa's old barn.  The welder sat in the corner of the shop and had long leads which would reach outside the barn where it was unlikely that a spark could get back to the hay which was stored in the back of the barn.  The acetylene torch was also inside the shop, right beside the welder, and the hoses on it would also reach outside.  It wasn't the ideal workspace, but it was workable.

Dad had a handful of golf balls which were probably someone's "driving range" balls which he had acquired somewhere.  He took that club and golf balls and went out in the backyard of Grandma and Grandpa's house there on the hill and proceeded to hit golf balls across the dirt road and off down the hill into the Wylie pasture.  He was a natural at it.

A couple of my uncles who were still at home also tried hitting balls with the club.  It was probably their incentive to go off into the pasture and "shag" the balls Dad had hit.  I was hardly big enough to pick up the club, let alone to swing it.

That was the first time I recall "golfing."  It was primitive, but it was a start.  It wasn't long after that Dad took up the game in earnest and became an excellent golfer.  He loved the game and it was one of the few things he would "splurge" on over the years.

I tried taking up the game while in High School.  I could "knock the snot" out of the ball, but just like with a baseball, I had little control.  I seemed to always be playing from the wrong fairway, trying to find my way to the correct green.  It's pretty sad when you have to hit over another green to get to the correct one.

It was probably a good thing that I at least learned the fundamentals of the game while young, because as I became older, there were times it was useful in a business setting.  One company that I worked for would frequently have "customer appreciation" golf tournaments in which I was expected to participate.

It has been a lot of years since I attempted to golf.  I have a set of clubs out in the garage that are probably antiques by now.  I noticed them standing against a wall the other day, collecting dust.  I probably should sell them.

One thing is for certain; any time I think of golf, I will think of Dad and his love for the game.  He loved to play it and he loved to watch it on television.  If they golf in heaven, I suspect he has a foursome together, headed down the fairway....

Boxes and Treasures

For some strange reason, I seem to collect small boxes.  I have old cigar boxes, Altoid's boxes, small wooden boxes, boxes that checks came in -- tucked away in drawers with various things inside.  I use them to store smaller items that I wish to keep for some reason.

One of them that comes to mind contains pocket knives.  Some of the knives were given to me, some were purchased by me, some belonged to a relative and they are reminders of that person.  I have a box which contains several old belt buckles.  Most of them have no value -- either sentimental or monetary -- but, I have kept them nonetheless for some reason.  I have boxes that contain things like old driver's licenses, old hunting licenses, and other documents that are no longer valid, but have made it into a box.  I also have a few small puzzles in a box -- the type of puzzles made from metal or, wood, cut into strange shapes that you either take apart or reassemble depending on its current state.  I always enjoyed puzzles.  I have boxes of old business cards.  Many of those cards are no longer valid, but for some reason they have found their way into a box.  Perhaps they construct a history of my career in some small way.

I think most people have a tendency to store away treasures -- either real, or perceived -- in boxes.  As a child I always enjoyed reading books that included buried, or hidden treasure.  It isn't so much about the desired wealth they might contain as it is about the mystery of their contents.  Of course, discovering a buried box in the backyard which contained old belt buckles would be quite a disappointment if one is expecting gold coins or precious jewels!

Grandpa used to have a box or two with various items secreted within.  I remember that he had old silver dollars in one which was stolen many years ago.  One of my uncles in Oklahoma used to have a box full of old pocket knives which he collected.  Perhaps that is what gave me the idea to do the same.  I suspect most people have small boxes of some sort tucked away in their homes that contain small treasures and keepsakes stored there for memory and for posterity.

If my discourse on boxes causes you to think that I have lost my marbles, take heart, they are probably in a box somewhere, tucked away on a bookshelf or a bedside table drawer.  I suppose I should list the contents of the various boxes, but first I must find a pen.  Now, I wonder which box contains the pens....

Watching the Deer

Yesterday, I again had some time to hike to the back side of our place.  It was light jacket weather and very little wind.

To get to the southwest part of our land you have to cross two creeks with a stretch of woods in between.  The first creek crossing is usually the first to be crossable after a rain, but the crossing on the second creek is often impassable for several days even though it has an old concrete slab that must have been there since the 40's or 50's -- possibly even longer.  There is evidence that there was once a road that led to it, but it has long since grown up in trees and brush.  Some of the trees appear to be in the 30 to 50 year old range.

As you come up out of the creek, there is a fairly steep hill to climb.  I walked quietly and slowly so as not to disturb any wildlife that might be in sight as I crested the hill.

As I came over the top I saw nothing except a few birds flitting among the scattered trees and weeds.  The grass is very lush because it can't be grazed due to the inability to keep fences intact at the creeks.  The tall summer grasses are dry but, beneath them, is a solid growth of tender green ryegrass which will stay green through the winter before maturing in the Spring.

I continued to walk quietly toward the north, around an old Bois d'Arc tree which had shed its bright yellow fruit on the ground, until I reached the highest point, where I stopped and stood in an open area, just looking around and enjoying the day.  Almost due north of me I saw a young whitetail buck slipping quietly through a grove of small trees.  He seemed undisturbed by my presence and I stood watching him for at least 15 minutes as he would stop and graze, look around, take a few steps and graze more.

Shortly a couple of whitetail does made their presence known as they stepped from behind a small shrub and began to graze as well.  The buck slipped off to the east and out of sight, but I continued to watch the does.  After another 15 minutes or so, the buck came walking up the hill out of the creek to join the does.  I continued to watch them and to photograph and video them with my phone.  In total, I spent close to an hour standing in one spot watching the deer grazing and wandering around the hillside.  The two does came within about 15 yards of me at one point before getting nervous and bounding off a short distance to graze more.

Below is a photo of the buck shortly after he came out of the creek after circling around the hill.

Hunting the Draw

Grandma and Grandpa's house sat on a hill overlooking Runningwater Draw.  Across the dirt road which ran along the south side of their place was what I knew as the Wylie pasture.  It was owned by some people who lived in Plainview that I never met, or even saw, to my knowledge.

At various times Grandpa would lease the Wylie pasture for grazing cattle.  For me it was special because it was the first place I got to hunt by myself.

My brother and I had Beagle/Bassett cross puppies that we got from Smitty, the Sheriff who lived just down the road from us on the edge of town.  (I've mentioned him previously in the episode of riding his sheep.)  We called them Daisy and Cleo -- mine being Daisy.  It wasn't long before it was decided that Daisy and Cleo would live out on the farm with my grandparents.

When I was old enough to carry a gun and hunt on my own I persistently begged to be allowed to go hunting.  That finally occurred as long as I always took Daisy with me and stayed in the Wylie pasture.

The thing about that pasture is that Mom could see me from my grandparents house -- no matter where I went, I was in view.  I could walk from the old wooden bridge which was about 1/2 mile west of the house, all along the draw to the southeast and then up the east fenceline and end up back at the house and never be out of view.

Daisy was a requirement because she would find any rattlesnakes before I did.  She was bitten at least once that I recall although not when I was with her.

I would climb through the fence by the mailbox and head off down one of the washes toward the draw.  Sometimes I would detour by a depression in one of the hills which overlooked the draw to see if I could spot a rattlesnake.  That depression was all that remained of an old dugout that had been located there in the early years of settlement of the area.  It probably was a line shack for the old Slaughter Ranch that once occupied that land.

Sometimes I would jump a jackrabbit or cottontail.  Daisy would always give chase and her deep baying voice was a joy to hear.  Maybe she is the reason I have always been partial to hounds.  Once, I shot a running jackrabbit just in front of her (purely by luck).  It went cartwheeling to a stop and she pounced on it.  It was the only time she ever caught up to one of the rabbits with her short legs.  The episode almost ruined her as a rabbit dog since from that time on, she would only give chase a short distance before stopping to look at me like, "Well, aren't you going to shoot it?"

On the south side of the draw was a wash that came from the general direction of the Aigaki place which sat up on the hill opposite my grandparents.  That wash was filled with junk and trash which had accumulated over many years.  Dumping trash in eroded washes was common in those days as it was thought to stop erosion, which it did.  It just wasn't the best thing for the environment.

I used to enjoy exploring that old wash filled with trash.  It was a good place to jump a rabbit or, possibly a small covey of quail.  In later years, after pheasant had moved into the area, it became one of the best places to jump a pheasant.

Between where that wash entered the draw and the bridge to the west was a stretch of willow trees.  They lined an old waterhole.  In the earlier years of settlement there was probably a spring where they stood.  Due to irrigation lowering the water table, there were no longer any springs along the draw in my lifetime, but the willows still stood.  I jumped lots of quail among those old willows.

Those were good times -- just me, my dog and a rifle alone in the pasture.  My imagination would carry me to worlds of pioneer explorers as I traipsed up and down that draw.

I still enjoy taking a walk alone with a rifle in hand to see what I might see.  I rarely fire it, but it is a habit long established.  In fact, just yesterday, I took a walk through the woods to the back side of our place where I sat down and just enjoyed watching the show of fall colors and birds flitting from tree to shrub to weed.  It was a beautiful day.  This was my view as I sat and enjoyed the fading day:

Finding Something New on a Path Well Traveled

Yesterday we decided to take a walk in the woods.  It was a cool, but not unpleasant morning, although a little windy.  Down in the woods you don't notice the wind except for the sound in the branches far above your head.

We took the path down through the woods to the back side of our place hoping to spot a deer, or some other wildlife out and about.  We took lots of photos of the Fall colors which are rapidly developing in the trees.  I may post of few of those photos in coming days.

On the way back through the woods I noticed a shrub I had not noticed previously.  It appeared to be in full bloom at this late time of year.  As it turned out, it wasn't in bloom, but the seeds were opening up getting ready to release.

We spent some time researching the plant when we got back home.  It is a Groundseltree (Baccharis halimifolia).  We are on the extreme western edge of its range.  It is primarily found in Florida and along the Gulf Coast to the east of us.  Below are photos.

Wind Warnings

Our weather forecast for the day is one that we don't see often.  We are under a wind advisory with winds 20-30 and gusts to 45 mph.  There are high-profile vehicle warnings and concern for debris on roadways.  Such warnings are rare here.

It seems like a strange thing to write about -- the wind -- although, if you look back to some of my posts from 2010 and 2011 when we still lived in the Panhandle you will see a number of them.  I suppose for most people it isn't something they think about on a regular basis.  I grew up with wind.

In the High Plains area of the Texas Panhandle/South Plains region the wind blows almost every day.  It is usually just a light breeze but, can be a howling gale that sweeps everything before it.  Winds in the 20-30 mph range with gusts to 45 are not uncommon.  They happen frequently in the Spring and in the Fall and the Winter, but usually not as frequently in the Summer.  It is the one time of year when there are many days with only a light breeze.

Many years ago we moved to Nebraska.  We were in the southeast-central part of the state which is much more humid than the western part of the state.  I recall one of the first days there when there was absolutely no wind.  It was creepy.  It took me a few minutes to realize what was wrong.  It was totally still.

Where we live now is much like where we lived in Nebraska except warmer.  We rarely get much below freezing in the winter, snow is very rare and the humidity remains high throughout the year.  Because of the lower elevation here, water saturation levels in the air sometimes make it difficult to breathe -- at least for this Panhandle born individual.  We also have many days with little or no wind.

I guess I'm looking forward to a windy day today.  I'm curious to see how folks around here will handle it....

Building Positive Memories

It's funny how memories trigger memories.  We were fortunate enough to spend a little time with family over Thanksgiving.  In visiting, the post I wrote a couple of days ago about Grandpa's old barn came up (proof that some in the family read what I post -- probably to see what cockamamie thing I might come up with).  I need to go back and fill in the other items that everyone remembered about the barn now!  Mom even pulled out an old photo of the barn that she had used as a model for painting it.

I think memories are important.  I'm not sure why reminiscing about the past is such a strong tendency, but I'm sure some psychologist somewhere has written a paper or two related to it.  It is something we do when we are with others who we may not see on a regular basis.  Sometimes it is something we do in moments of reflection when we are alone and perhaps "feeling sorry" for ourselves.  There must be some deep-seated psychological need that it fills.

I bring it up for this point:  We need to create strong, positive experiences for our children and grandchildren.  They will become a reservoir to be called upon in times of sorrow, or defeat.  They are the glue that binds family and friends in many ways.  They are important.

Family get-togethers are important.  Cousins spending time playing in the back yard builds memories.  Photographs and written records, in time, become keys to unlocking those memories and making them available to meet unforeseen needs.  Sometimes holidays can bring negative memories as well;  I am sure they are also important.  Those negatives include lessons and point to opportunities.

Our society is extremely self-oriented.  Such orientation is a short-term view.  We need to shift our emphasis to the longer term and invest in the next generations.  Make your life count by providing those positive experiences.

Thanksgiving Wish

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

May we all pause and ponder the blessings in our lives and give thanks.

Grandpa's Old Barn

Yesterday as I wrote about Grandpa going hunting each Thanksgiving, I had a strong mental image of his barn.  I spent lots of time in and around that old barn.

It was a Quonset barn which sat about 100 yards almost due west of the house which sat on a hill overlooking Running Water Draw north of Olton, Texas.  The soil was poor and thin and was underlain by caliche which could be a problem at times, such as digging a cellar, or a post hole.

The doors to the barn slid to either side along a steel rail which had been damaged at some point prior to my becoming acquainted with the old barn which must have been built some time in the early 50's.  Because of that damage and subsequent repair, the doors didn't move smoothly and because of their very nature of hanging from rollers that ran along the rail, tended to move in and out rather than stay in the sparse guides along the bottom.  They didn't run in a track on the bottom, but Grandpa had welded a couple of metal guides, the middle one having been reinforced with a small amount of hand-mixed concrete which kept it steady and I suspect was designed to make it difficult for a thief to get in by prying out the doors.

In the middle, an old chain ran through two holes, one on each side, which had been punched through the tin with some tool that left the holes with jagged edges.  They had been worn smooth by the chain which had the patina of continual use running through them.  When closed, the doors were secured by a Master padlock through the chains.  I recall Grandpa's keychain having many Master padlock keys upon it but, he knew which one was correct for the barn by the number.  As I grew older I was proud to be entrusted with a duplicate of that key so that I could access the barn any time I needed.

To the left of the sliding doors as you faced the barn, was a normal entry door which would have gone directly into the shop had it not been secured on the inside in a manner that was semi-permanent in nature.  It ended up behind the sliding door on that side when the main doors were open.  The only other thing of interest on the front of the barn were the electrical wires leading in from the utility pole which sat near the corner and the insulated wire coming out below them that ran to the electric fence which ran over the old gate to the corrals which was at the corner of the barn on the left.  It was the only opening into the corrals between the barn and the old loafing shed which provided shelter for the livestock housed therein.

As you entered the barn, the smell of dust and hay filled the air.  There was the hint of rodent smells and oil as well.  To the left sat the shop which was a wooden sided structure built into the corner of the barn.  To the right of the door leading into the shop was a wooden ladder which led up top where sat an air compressor.  There was also old junk stored there.  That junk varied through the years, but my earliest memories were of an old propane stove and a few pieces of old harness.

To the right of the ladder, tacked to the wooden side of the shop were the deer antlers and turkey beards and at one time a full turkey tail and a deer skin.  Suspended from the antlers were bridles and bits and hackamores and spare reins and other pieces of tack.

Behind the shop on the left side of the barn ran a slab of concrete.  The rest of the barn had a dirt floor which was permanently powdered from the lack of moisture and the continual traffic which pounded it to a consistency much finer than flour.  On that slab at one time had been a couple of grain bins.  Through the years they had fallen into disrepair and eventually were torn out.  My earliest memories include a time when the first of the bins contained shelled corn which was used for the cattle.  Sometimes the chickens laid eggs inside those old bins.

Prior to my coming along, Grandpa had a number of milk cows.  He no longer had any except an old Jersey cow which he kept for the milk or as a nurse cow for orphaned babies from his beef herd -- at least within my span of memory.  I have herd many stories from my mother of having to milk those cows when she was growing up.  I had the experience of helping my uncle milk the Jersey a few times.  She was kept up in the lots and we milked her under the shed.

Continuing beyond the grain bins on the slab, there were a few pieces of old equipment stored.  They were covered by a fine coating of dust and many were from a time before automation.  There were quite a few pieces of chicken related equipment.  I don't know what you call them but, they were for the chickens to build their nests in which made it convenient to gather eggs.

The barn also had double sliding doors at the back which were permanently chained and very difficult to open due to the accumulation of dirt and weeds behind the barn which required clearing if they were to be opened.  The back of the barn was to the west from which prevailing winds continually added to the stockpile of dirt and weeds.

In front of those doors sat an old silage cutter.  I recall it being used when I was very young.  Grandpa used to always cut silage which was put into a pit out behind the corrals.  It was quite an event when during silage harvest everyone helped either running the cutter, the wagons which caught it, or the tractors which packed it into the pit.  I also recall riding on the old ford tractor with one of my uncles feeding silage.  The tractor had a large scoop on the back which was used to move the silage to the feed troughs for the cattle.  It was very heavy when full and he would have me sit on the front of the tractor as added weight to help hold it down where he could see where he was going.  The front of the tractor would come completely off the ground and he would have to steer by using the brakes on the tractor.  I always thought it was a lot of fun.

In the back right corner (northwest part of the barn) there was almost always a large stack of hay.  I helped stack that hay a few times and helped feed it many times.  It was almost always alfalfa hay in small square bales.  Grandpa kept top quality hay.

Along the north side of the barn was other equipment including old irrigation motors and various small implements.  There was more old harness suspended from baling wire along the inside of the wall and even an old cotton scale and a balance scale and other items from days past.  Near the front, just inside the door was a huge pile of re-bar electric fence posts and in front of that were many oil cans.  The oil cans were generally Amalie oil in 5 gallon cans used for the irrigation motors.  There were also a couple of 55 gallon drums of oil for the gearheads on the irrigation pumps.

Also on the north side sat a couple of racks with saddles on them.  The straps were always neatly placed up over the seats and the blankets laid on top.  A couple of curry combs and brushes were tucked into the boards on the wall which were attached to the frame of the barn.

There are lots of good memories tied to that old barn....