Looking Forward Signs

February is gone now, but it had some great foreshadowing events.  There were skunk smells in the air, about the second week of the month.  That usually indicates the stinky couples are out trying to find each other.  Then the females gestate for the few remaining weeks until Spring.  I know there are several animals with this same behavior, but the skunks are the ones easiest to notice with my nose.

On the evening of February twelfth, a few minutes before sunset, I was sitting on a stump, just watching what went on around me.  Suddenly, much to my enjoyment, Turkey Vultures began to appear and circle in the sky.  It was a marvelous dance to behold.  After getting over the initial thrill, I began an attempt to count them.  This was not an easy task, since they were executing multi-level circling maneuvers.  I would count the ones going west only to be confused by those who had circled back east.  It really took concentration, and there were at least fifty birds in the air when I became frustrated enough to end my efforts.  Still, fifty plus Vultures were a sure sign that Spring would return to Richmond this year.

The tips of Crocuses, Daffodils, and Hyacinths poked out of the ground and shivered.  Often these early flowers get their upward reaching extremities nipped by a frost.  I wish they would wait until the warmth was constant, but that would defeat their survival programming.  The flowers can still be enjoyed, even if slightly damaged and deformed.

So, snow away, you last days of March.  I know your cold and windy ways won't last.  I have been shown the signs of soon to be warmth and life.  I have faith winter will not retain the cold hold it has on our land.

New Years Day Ride

First Ride 2013

   By Kent Beisner    

As was my custom, I started out on a January 1, 2013 "New Year's Day" ride.  I couldn't remember a year that I did not ride on January first.  Often the ride was not very long, and this year it was only about nineteen miles.  Still, it was a determined start to the year and a statement that I would be bicycling again.  I remembered mostly cloudy days on previous rides and usually the roads were not snow covered.  This year was no exception, and a morning drizzle had stopped.  I knew the bicycle would have to be cleaned after splashing along the road.

     My pace was leisurely, because there was no other rider to keep up with.  I could push myself or just enjoy the pedals going around.  As it was, I savored the sights going by.  Winter leaves the landscape with a different covering than that of summer.  The snow was beautiful and brilliantly white, even with an overcast sky.  Passing between trees of a small forest, I appreciated the depth I could see into the woods.  Each tree was a sculpture placed on the snow covered forest floor.  The stark texture of trunks stood out far more than when masked by foliage.  It was nice to behold this often hidden character of the forest.

     Then, while I rode near a small stream, a huge grayness exploded from the water!  I jerked my head to the side to see what was happening.  In all its magnificence, there arose from the stream, a Great Blue Heron startled by my nearness.  It could not gain much altitude, but flew the curves of the stream, as it sought an opening.  I marvelled at the grace with which the large bird flew, surprised at how it navigated the small spaces between trees overhanging the water.  After several tens of yards distance an opening large enough for the great bird appeared and it flew out of the stream path into the sky.  I nearly stopped pedaling just to watch the wondrous event.  In a time to short, the heron was gone over my horizon.  I smiled to know a new memory would reside in my mind for years to come.

     As if the heron was not enough, around the next bend I spied a Red Tail Hawk sitting in a tall tree.  She sat there, so high, as if it was her job to watch me ride by.  I grinned again to recall the silhouette of this predator against the sky.  One more long hill and my ride would be flat and a few miles from finished.  About half way up the hill a startlingly bright group of Red Cardinals flew across the road.  They seemed even redder by their contrast with the snow.  I counted six of the wonderfully red birds.  What a delight this flight of scarlet provided to my eyes.

     I suspect there was a glow from my being as the last few miles were pedaled.  My spirit surly was bright with the sights I had seen.  I'm always thankful for the opportunities to see what God has created and placed in my path.  With such wonders to behold, I will continue to brave the cold of each first day of my years growing old.

Five For Lunch

                                                                                                                                                 

    Buzzards, Turkey Vultures, Chicken Hawks, and carrion crows.  These summer present birds in our skies are called by many names.  I usually call them “Turkey Vultures” and their flying amuses me each time I see them.  One can almost imagine what the wind looks like by just watching how their wings wend their ways through the sky.  They seem to be following each nuance in the air currents.

     One day I came across a single Turkey Vulture.  He had located a dead raccoon just a few feet from the road, landed, and was about to investigate.  Road kill is a common thing in the rural areas of this country.  These birds are one way the ecosystem deals with the abundance of no longer living animals.  Research has shown each one of these big black birds will eat over one hundred pounds of carrion each year.  I just noticed the Turkey Vulture and assumed he would go about his natural task.

     It must have been about one half hour later when I had to return by the same path.  To my surprise there were now five Turkey Vultures around the expired Raccoon.  It was as if they were sitting around a table, equally spaced along the circumference.  Closer inspection revealed a sixth bird, only it was not the same kind.  The single sixth bird was a Red Tail Hawk and it was sitting on the raccoon.  The Hawk’s body language gave no doubt that he was in control of the masked feast.  Five poor Turkey Vultures could only sit patiently, at a safe distance, perhaps thinking, “Just wait, my turn will come.”

     I felt lucky to have witnessed this event.  Not only did I see the dominance of the hawk, but I was interested in the strategies of the vultures.  All of the birds were roughly the same size.  What did the hawk have that allowed it to claim the prize?  The thought occurred to me that the superior number of   vultures should have had something to do with who was in control.  Then I realized each individual was acting on its own capabilities.  A single bird knew that the hawk could inflict serious damage to body and wing.  It would not have known the group could work together to win.  I suppose the hawk knew it had the sharpest beak or the most vicious talons.

     The source of food, for energy was a strong driving force for all of the participants.  Each individual needed to survive and finding food was a key to that endeavor.  The choicest first meat or the dwindling remains were all important.  Every consumed bit added to the sum of energy gained that day.  That would be one explanation for the apparent patience of the vultures.  Their past experiences probably had shown them that a turn at the table would come.  The wait was well worth the risk, especially if just the right distance was maintained.  I even imagined that the hawk with a full stomach would be much less of a threat than when hungry.

     At this point I wondered what parallel might happen in my life.  What kind of food did I search for diligently?  One apparent need that I compete for is attention.  I require someone telling me, regularly, that I did well, or that I’m a satisfactory person.  I noticed a need to accomplish something.  As folks age it becomes more important for them to realize they accomplished something during their life.  When going after what is required to survive, I don’t work with other individuals.  Each effort is thought of as an individual one.  

     Some folks require more attention than others.  I can stay on the edge of the fray and let the attention predators feast on whatever is available.  Knowing what my capabilities are, and having experienced enough attention in the past, allows me to get by with less and wait patiently for left overs.  I try very hard to avoid being ripped into by those whose needs are greater than mine.  The need is still there for someone to notice what I’ve done. 

     One thing that appears important, when I think about these needs, is for folks to feel validated.  We all seem to require at least a feeling that something we did was valuable.  A step beyond this is to realize we also need to validate others.  The animals don’t realize they should team up or share.  People have the capability to see needs in others and, from our own abundance, supply those needs.

    

Heron Wisdom

      We have an interesting bird in this part of the country.  It is called the Great Blue Heron.  For me, it is always a treat to see one flying.  In fact, I enjoy seeing one poised motionless in a stream or pond.  They are large birds and very easy for the casual observer to spot.  Often they can be seen flying just above treetop level.  Herons flying have their feet straight back in a most streamlined position.  Their necks make an “s” shape bringing heads closer to bodies.  It appears as if this neck and head position is also more aerodynamic.

     Once, while bicycle riding with a friend, a heron took off from the drainage ditch below the road level, and flew across our path.  We were both surprised as this huge bird began to rise just in front and to our right.  The wing span appeared about the width of the road as it flew before us, just a few yards away.  This bird easily exceeded our speed and flew swiftly away.  I suspect it seemed larger than it was, but it was delightful to behold such a spectacle.

     One windy day, about mid-morning, I watched another peculiar flight.  There was a heron, already higher than I normally saw them, when I spotted it.  As I continued to look, it became obvious that the big bird was making large circles in the sky.  Closer observation revealed there was a gain in altitude as each circle was completed.  Then I noticed there was a steady wind from the west, and each time the heron swung its path into the wind it climbed higher.  For several minutes this circular maneuver was executed until the heron had attained a considerable altitude.  Then, as effortlessly as a feather floating in the breeze, this great bird stopped flapping its wings and began a glide into the westward wind.  As I contemplated what I had witnessed it occurred to me that it was a great energy saving strategy.  Rather than fight the wind continuously, the heron had used it in an alternating work / rest cycle to gain altitude, and then coast for an extended period.  My heron was out of sight in the western sky before it had lost enough altitude to need flapping wings.

     On several occasions, since seeing the climbing / gliding maneuver, I have watched herons flying into the wind at the end of the day.  I wonder if they know which way the prevailing winds are from.  Are they using their strength, gained by feeding through the day, to position their bodies where wind can provide energy for movement to alternate feeding places the next day?  I have seen this behavior enough times to believe herons are that smart, or that instinctive.

     An analogy, I can see, would be to use these techniques when faced with problems in our lives.  We could expend energy against the troubling situation in intermittent bursts.  First, we can try to solve the problem to the best of our ability.  Secondly, our problem solving efforts could be interrupted to analyze what has been accomplished and briefly rest from the strains.  This process can be repeated until we have enough understanding to glide into the problematic situation knowing our previous efforts have taught us how to deal with the situation. 

   When we are strong, we can position ourselves where we will be assisted in moving between future nourishing places, which help us grow, by the very things that hinder growth.   Problems can push us to solutions.

Fourth Dimension

Today it started out rain, the temperature dropped, the wind intensified, and we ended up with snow.  The snow covered the trees as it sometimes does.  There was kind of a fluff on each branch.  The edges were hard to discern, I really couldn't tell where height, width, and depth started, or ended.  Looking into a woods, the dimensions seemed to have changed.  I suppose since it was a rare phenomenon, this snow covered scenery, that my senses had trouble taking it in.  The view was almost unreal.  My mind tried familiar references to understand it and found none.  I knew the three dimensions; height, width, and depth.  A snow covered woods seemed to me as if it was a fourth dimension.  All I could consistently do was wonder at the beauty.

Skid Mark

Yesterday evening I was fortunate enough to be able to ride on a nice January day.  I passed a runner just as I turned the first corner from my house.  Riding my short town route, I saw a friend outside with his daughter, and stopped to say hello.  I was probably about one mile into the ride by then.  We spoke briefly and, as I turned to continue the ride, there went the same jogger.  We had both used the same route.  I overtook her and complimented her pace.  "I'm not keeping up very well, this is the second time I passed you," I said.  She smiled and we encouraged each other to enjoy the day.

My ride only lasted about a half an hour because the sun was nearly down before I started.  When I climbed onto the bicycle I was still in work clothes except for a helmet and a reflective vest.  This time of year one has to hurry, after working a full day, to get in any evening ride at all.  I suppose that is what the squirrel I saw was doing.  He was trying to get in just a few moments of food gathering while the sun was shinning and temperatures were moderate.

The unfortunate thing about the squirrel was that he was flat.  I could tell a car driver had tried to stop before hitting the little creature.  The poor four legged fellow could not have had less fortunate timing and managed to get under the wheel just as it was stopping.  There was a gooey skid mark, about two feet long, that ended with the flat, dead, squirrel.  I had never seen such a skid mark.  When thinking about the situation it occurred to me that both the driver and the animal were trying to do what they thought right.  The squirrel was hurrying to keep from being caught, and the driver stopped to avoid hitting the animal.  Sometimes even when we try to do the right thing the outcome is not what we seek. We still must try to do what we have learned is the right thing. Only when we discover it isn't right can we change.

New Year - Old Instincts

The year 2011 was full of so much.  Bicycle tours, travel with friends, work, family and gifts from God.  I could hardly take it all in.  Now there is another year to fill.  The first bicycle ride was a mere seventeen miles, but it had some fillers.  Robins flitted from branches to earth and back.  The westerly winds continued to be prominent. 

The second ride of the year, on January 2nd, was even better than the first.  Robins again, the sound of a jay, and several Cardinals.  The red flashes of these beautiful birds were uplifting.  The Cardinals often pair up and stay in this area all winter.  Today's ride had a community that was three pairs of Cardinals.  They seemed to be keeping up with me for a while.  Some flying ahead a short distance to wait and others perched in the branches next to where I was.  Short flights took them back and forth across my field ov vision.  I don't know if they were just curious, hoping I would flush out a bit of something to eat, or just playful.  It was a delightful experience.

The trail was covered with a small amount of snow.  My tires have enough tread on them that they were picking up the snow.  It packed between fender and wheels.  At one time I looked down at the front fender.  It seemed as if the fender had grown since the snow, molded by the shape of the fender, was being slowly pushed out the front.  This snow packing made it seem I was riding with my brakes on, there was so much resistance.  Snow even began to push out the sides of the fenders.  But, these were the same problems anyone faces when riding in winter snow.  After the ride I parked the bicycle where melting snow would not harm the floor.  Then I cleaned the frame and chain, relubricated the chain, and made a few adjustments.  The snow had produced some good excuses to maintain my bicycle.

A New Formation

The skies in my area commonly have Canada Geese flying.  We see them and hear their honking throughout the year.  These sights and sounds are treats every time I encounter them.  This week something different was in our sky.  The colors were not the same, the size was larger, and their sounds were strange.  The only familiar part was the birds flying in a "V" formation.  It was exciting to both see and hear Sandhill Cranes silhouetted against a cold blue sky.  I was so excited I failed to count them, however, a good estimate would place their numbers around forty.

This was an impressive formation of birds and their constant communications proved delightful.  The sounds were constant and seemed to move up and down the line of birds.  I imagined they were in telling each other about how to keep the formation shaped and directioned.  They may have even been commenting on the gawking humans below.  The formation undulated, constantly changing, and the only constant was a southward direction.

I wondered about the instincts that urge these large birds to migrate from Canada to Florida and back each year.  My mind considered what abilities they had to execute the migrations.  How did the birds get into this cycle that takes them such extreme distances to utilize specific environments?  They have to get what they need; food and places for young to grow and survive.  Life tries very hard to continue.

The Mind In Control

Seems like this season brings more stresses and concerns.  "How will I get it all done.  Oh, there's another gathering I should go to.  Where can I find that certain gift?"  These are a few of the questions we ask ourselves.  I deal with the process a lot better than I used to.  I suspect part of that is due to having learned what is expected.  But, it still overwhelms me from time to time.  The additional, non-routine, activities and processes all tend to agrivate a peaceful state of mind.

I've learned to recognise some of the states my mind gets into.  I now know when I'm starting into a depression cycle.  I can see the signs of an anger state when I feel angry with almost everyone.  Even knowing what the indicators are, I don't seem to be able to change the feelings.  When I know I'm thinking thoughts that lead to depression, it would be logical to change the direction.  To think other thoughts.  It isn't that simple.  Just being aware of the emotions helps a little, but they are still there.  It is frustrating to have my mind in control instead of me being in control of my mind.

Generation Music

The Pastor was presenting his sermon and mentioned, "...if you are over sixty you know what I'm talking about..."  His reference was to his mother's admonishment, "Don't point.  It is not polite."  Each generation seems to have their own music and the preceding generation either doesn't like it or doesn't understand it.  What concerned me, as I thought about it, was something more than a difference in music preference.  We seem to have lost standards of politeness.  Not only is there a generation that doesn't know what it means to be polite, they don't have a substitute standard.  There are folks now who think it is normal and acceptable to just do whatever they want.  They are no longer concerned with how their actions affect others.

What troubles me about this behavior is that a society needs standards.  As long as there are rules concerning what is deemed acceptable behavior, and the members of the community accept those rules, the community can function.  Everyone knows what is expected of them and what the limits are.  With no standards, or with some in the community deciding they will not obey the rules, it becomes nearly impossible for the rest of the members of the group to interact.  Each individual behaves with his or her own set of rules and others don't know the rules.  How can anyone interact if they don't know what is expected?  Additionally, the individuals may change the rules from time to time.  This makes it even more difficult because their rules cannot be learned by the other participants in the community.

Perhaps it isn't polite for me to point out a lack of standards.  It seems to me that we all need limits of some sort.  I've been searching for the limits most of my life.  Several of them I have found and I live by them.  There really are some, "Thou shalt nots."  There really are some, "Thou shalts."  Be polite.  If you don't feel it is necessary to be polite, then obey God.  I will know how to relate to you and develop a relationship.

Trial or Trail - Electric Assisted

Electric assist bicycles should be allowed on bicycle trails.  Electric assist bicycles should not be allowed on bicycle trails.  Another issue to divide folks.

I have seen a mother, with her three year old child on the bicycle, riding with her husband and friends.  She was on the family's electric assist Yuba bicycle.  It seemed perfectly ok for her to be riding on the trail.  She was, to the best of her ability, pedaling for fitness.  It was better, for the entire family, to be together while enjoying the benefits of bicycling.  If no one had told you, there would be few clues that the bicycle was assisted by a small electric motor.  There is very little weight difference with an electric assisted bicycle, so it should not deteriorate the trail any faster than unassisted bicycles.


Government officials in our town have had trouble with motor scooters and mopeds.  There have been several very inconsiderate operators of these vehicles.  They violate more than a few traffic laws.  It would be unfortunate if the electric assist bicycle was lumped with these vehicles and operators; then forced to obtain inspections, operators licenses, and registration plates.  Certainly it would be plausible for similar laws, applicable to all of these vehicles, to be created and enforced.   Government would easily see it as a source of revenue and might even believe the safety of the community would be improved.

Attitudes and actions of bicycle riders should be considered.  Most bicycle trail users I have seen are very aware of others using the trail.  Slowing down before passing, announcing their presence, and being generally considerate of others are the common practices.  As with any group of people, there will be some who are inconsiderate and abuse those they encounter.  It would be unfortunate if the electric assisted bicycle riders were to be penalized because of the actions of a minority.

Agreement Not Necessary

Be sure to listen to the stories people tell.  Each considers his or her own story to be interesting.  They have lived it and want to tell about it.  The feeling I often encounter sounds like this, "Of course my story is the correct one and everyone should be interested in hearing it.  I will listen to your story, and find it valuable, only if it agrees with mine."  It seems to me that it is important to listen to other individual's stories, but not necessarily agree with them.

We have all had different stories.  Some are more similar than others and some are so different they are difficult to understand.  I find it hard to understand even so simple a thing as dogs and cats.  When a person's story included dogs they will have a different tale than another who lived a cat story.  Often these two groups tend to be exclusive.  My story is the correct one since I had a cat.  The dog story person will argue mine is wrong.  Our stories are certainly composed of what we live.  We think that if it worked for us, and is working, then it must be the right way to live. 

Extreme poverty or continual conflict are stories I read about but have not experienced.  It is nearly impossible for me to comprehend wondering where the next meal will come from.  I cannot grasp groups of people openly carrying guns in my community.  I feel guilty when I realize how fortunate I am to live in a prosperous country with many freedoms.  Then I wonder why I was born here, and not where poverty and suffering are the norm.  Why has my story developed in its own way?

Light In The Tunnel

Daylight Savings Time.  Last weekend we did the old, "Fall back" routine with our clocks.  Now it is nearly dark when we get home after a day at work.  Two of us decided to ride our Monday evening bicycle ride anyway.  "Bring your lights," was the suggestion.  The sun was just about to the horizon when we began our journey, so it was darker by the minute. 

I don't know why, but it seems to me there is an increased amount of traffic each year when the time changes.  This dusky evening was no exception.  It felt like there were cars everywhere.  One suggestion was that folks have a natural instinct to get home before it is dark.  We stayed on streets with less traffic, as much as possible, while we worked our way toward the "Gorge Trail."  From this trail we hopped onto an unfinished portion of a trail connecting to the Veterans Memorial Park.  That will be nice when it is done.  Then, up the hill we stroked and onto the "Cardinal Trail," our local rail trail.

It was nice to have no cars on the trails.  We encountered two walkers, one runner, and two other bicyclists.  Two deer were about twenty yards away as we came off of the "Gorge Trail."  We discussed light systems for bicycles and enjoyed a nearly full moon.  I recalled training under moonlight when my children were young.  I rode these same trails many days this summer and it was an interesting comparison to ride at night.  Night riding required a greater concentration on the trail immediately in front of us.  I didn't see as many trees.  We were startled to have bats fly right in front of us, nearly striking one rider.  Night riding is a different kind of excitement.

When we had turned around and begun our trip home, we passed through an arch of steel fence-like material designed to insure safety of both trail users and cars below.  During the day this structure is hardly noticeable.  This night our light reflected off of the railings and arch to make it appear as if we were in a tunnel.  Our light in the tunnel reminded me we are on a journey.  Remembering the expression about the, "light at the end of the tunnel" caused  me to think we can see our journey as being a light in the tunnel.  We can illuminate those around us as we travel through our lives.  I would say we need to bring our lights.

In A Life Time

Saturday dad and I cut down one of his Spruce trees.  He had a list of what we needed to haul to the tree.  All the tools we could possibly need were on the list.  After assembling the tools, and loading them into the truck, we drove to the tree. 

Our job was to cut the tree and have it fall in an area dad had decided was best.  We began by cutting the limbs off of one side of the tree.  Since it leaned toward the East, and we wanted it to fall mostly to the West, the eastern limbs were the ones removed.  During the process of cutting limbs off, dad wanted to take a load away.  This was so that we wouldn't be walking and tripping over them.  We loaded as many limbs onto the pickup truck as we could.  They were heavy, full of moisture, and long.  When it seemed as if the load would fall from the truck if we added another limb, we drove to the brush pile to unload them.  Back to the tree we drove.

Having cut and cleared enough limbs, so that we could set our ladder against the trunk, we climbed to fasten a chain around the tree.  I estimate our chain was nearly half of the distance from the ground to the top of the tree.  A second chain was then fastened to the end of the first.  Finally, a towing strap was added to the end of our second chain and fastened to the hook on the front of the pickup truck.  This arrangement of chains and strap allowed the truck to be safely away while it put tension on our tree.

Dad announced that I could, "...go ahead and cut your notch."  Then he climbed into the truck and proceeded to tension our chain/strap arrangement.  A few pulls started the chain saw and I estimated where the cut should be to direction the fall.  Carefully cutting the angled notch and knocking out the wedge shapped piece of wood from the opening, I moved around to the other side of the tree.  Quickly the saw's sharp chain teeth pulled pieces of wood from the trunk.  Just when I was thinking about stopping my saw to get a wedge, the cut began to open up.  Simultaneously dad backed the truck away from the tree and I increased my cutting speed.  Gently the old tree fell to within inches of where we had planned.

The process from this point on was steady.  First cut limbs from the tree.  Load the limbs onto the pickup truck.  Drive to the pile and unload the limbs.  We repeated this proceedure until I'm sure dad was tired of just climbing in and out of the truck.  Near the top I cut a Christmas tree sized piece from the trunk of our tree.  Clearing the last of the limbs, we began to saw the trunk into firewood sized chunks.  During a pause to rest I counted the annual rings.  Our tree was at least thirty seven years old.  Dad's comment was, "You can grow a tree in a life time." 

Four hours was all it took for us to process nearly fourty years of energy and nutriant gathering by a tree.  The old Blue Spruce had stood in mom and dad's yard for most of the life of my oldest son.  it was a beautiful tree and many eyes enjoyed it.  We discovered two Robin nests in the branches.  I wondered how many birds lives had been nourished sheltering in the life of this tree?  What winds had it heard, and storms endured?  I pictured the snow from tens of winters on the tree's branches.  How many hundreds or thousands of pounds of snow had our spruce held?  And I imagined hot summer days that were just a little cooler because of the shade and energy absorbtion of the tree.  Thousands of gallons of water had showered the branches and flowed through the vessels inside. 

Now the tree will serve as a home for rabbits and mice as a brush pile.  Birds may still alight in branches devoid of needles.  Micro organisms, fungus, and bacteria will resolutly consume the accumulated nutrients.   It will slowly diminish in size and eventually become dirt.

I wonder too about my role in the process.  How soon will I continue the cycle, leaving my life behind?

Sounds of The City

I always enjoy the sounds insects make in the Summer and Fall.  There is an increase in the different sounds being made, the urgency of the sounds, and more individuals making them.  A lot of the noise seems to be a call.  It's as if all are saying, with whatever mechanism works best for them, "Here I am!...Come here!...Where are you?...We're getting closer!"  on a warm evening, the insistent repetition is comforting.  Insect's calling evokes memories of summers past.  The familiarity is wonderful.

And all of this noise keeps getting louder, longer, and more frantic as the weather cools.  That is, it gets more intense, until the first frost.  Then, suddenly, almost all of the sounds stop.  Only a few, quieter, cooler, subdued sounding insects continue the orchestration.  It is a sad time to hear the last remaining music makers trying to accomplish their purpose.  One can almost hear the beginning of a cold winter wind in the near silence.

While napping, on my screened porch the other evening, I was awakened by howling of coyotes.  At first I thought someone was fighting in a nearby home.  My mind was trying to interpret a seldom heard sound.  I tried to discern words of anger being shouted.  Then I realized what I was really hearing.  There was no mistaking the sorrowful wailing of the pack.  Perhaps they were morning the warmth gone.  Not having heard them very often, I was not familiar with what they were trying to communicate.  Was there a, "Come here." in their voices?  Or, were they just fussing among themselves?  Whatever the conversation, it was nice to be able to hear it.

There are sounds so subtle I cannot hear them.  The rabbit hopping about my yard, a skunk slowly turning over bits of sod, and the raccoons scurrying from the sewer grate to the neighbor's bushes are all those soft sounds.  I would listen if I could find the volume control.  As it is, seeing supplants the missed sounds.

Soon the wind will remove most of the leaves from the trees.  It is harder to listen to cold winds.  They seem to be foretelling weather that will come.  Knocking the leaves off of trees is forceful.  Strength in the wind will push snowflakes and rains in the near future.  I tend to ignore the wind sounds.

Rocks And Hard Places

I was watching a waterfall and noticed piles of rocks at the base of the falls.  These rocks didn't appear to move.  Rather, the water was splashed by them as it fell.  But, they weren't always so solid.  At one time the rocks fell from the land the water was rushing over.  Then the small particles of sand and silt were washed away.  The pebbles and small stones were moved downstream by the fast waters.  Only the unmovable rocks remained.  I'm sure they still move a small amount from time to time.  The falling water is relentless in its pressure.  It is such a slow movement that it probably cannot be seen while watching.

The thought came into my mind that I am like the rocks.  There are a number of superfluous parts of my life that have been "washed" away.  The small things, little irritants, that used to concern me, are no longer present.  I am looking at my life to find what the rocks are.  What has fallen from what was once a firm part of my life, yet  remains?  Are there things that I cling to so forcefully that they cannot be moved?  One of the most important questions that arose was, "What is pushing on my rocks, like the water over a falls?

Make a Difference

Yesterday evening we took a bicycle ride and had a light discussion of politics.  I was lamenting the fact that little could be done to make a difference in what city government does.  My fellow rider pointed out that he had measured roads, posted the lane widths online, and government officials used the numbers to write part of their proposed transportation plan.  He also mentioned that contractors are the only reason the bicycle racks he initiated, and city government approved, are not installed.  I had to admit that one person has made a difference.  Perhaps I should try harder to make my difference with city government.

What does it take to make a difference?  Does one just gather information and keep presenting it?  I've received promises from people in office, but the promises do not seem to be kept.  It might be I didn't wait long enough.  I have written letters, spoken in meetings, sent comments to the newspaper, and talked with representatives.  Can't see that I have accomplished anything other than exercising my rights.  As I said during the ride, "I'm a better mechanic than I am an advocate."  It was suggested I make efforts to utilize my strengths.  I can put together presentations, I'm at least a satisfactory teacher, and I have both written and verbal communication skills.

Better Days

On Sunday's ride I encountered runners and bicyclists.  I greeted folks with, "Nice day to be outside."  I suppose it could have been my words that evoked the positive responses, but I think it was their genuine feeling.  Everyone responded that it was a good day to be outside.  Most of them went beyond that comment to say it was a very good day, or a great day to be outside. 

This time of year, with days getting shorter, and temperatures cooling, we hang onto the sunshine filled days.  It is as if the sunshine is more valuable now than it was even a few weeks ago.  The clouds and coolness we have seen hint that the sunshine of Fall will soon be replaced by the days of winter.  Knowing that the supply is limited makes the  value higher.  It works with economics and warm, sunshiny, days.

These Fall days, with sunshine and just a little cooler temperatures, are better days.  They are better than the days to come.  I'm going to focus on finding something better about each day that comes.  In some way it will be better than the days following it.  Today is a good day to be.

Autumn Thunder

It is time for harvest and the combines are roaming the fields.  Soy beans get picked first in this part of the country.  Although, if the beans are wet, the harvest may move on to corn.  With soy beans, the noise is there; a constant rumble as the machine cuts, separates and loads the seeds.  Corn makes a different and louder noise.  One can hear it in the distance when the combine is working.  It is like a throbbing thunder from over the hill.  The corn cobs thunk and rumble through the machine.

The farmers are happier when their yield is high, and the product is dryer.  The harvest is the culmination of an entire year.  Planning what to plant, choosing the hybrid seed, deciding when and what chemicals to apply, and hoping for rain at the right times are all parts of the season.  The harvest tells the story.  It will answer the question, "What has all of the hoping and planning produced?"

We do a lot of planning and hoping in our lives.  What school to go to, how to obtain the things we think we need, and what to do with each day.  I hope for a thunderous harvest in my life as it progresses.

Going to have winter

They say we are going to have a cold, wet, winter.  Seems like this time of year someone always has the prediction for our winter weather.  The caterpillars have an extra wide stripe this year, or they may even be one solid color.  The "Farmers Almanac" said.  Certainly there are plenty of predictors predicting.

This phenomenon happens each year.  I wonder why folks are so interested in what the winter will be.  My memory tells me it is very similar each year.  We have snow, it gets cold, the wind blows, and there is some wet weather.  It doesn't seem to matter what is predicted, it usually happens.  Perhaps it is an urge to store food or prepare for harsh conditions, so that we can survive, that drives our concern for future winter weather. 

Some of us have a natural tendency to worry.  If we don't worry about the weather, we  have to find something else to be concerned about.  A sense of fear ferments in the worried mind until it seems to rot reason.  The fear of what might happen pushes toward the feared reality being more real than what actually happens.

I say, do the best you can with the weather of the day.  If it is cold, dress warmly.  Should it slicken, keep thinking and be careful.  When it warms, enjoy a different comfort and wear less.