Tuesday, February 28, 2023

Work Boots


As Gus Leaves the hearth he notices Jeanne’s muddy workboots by the back door. He can’t stand to look at them nor can he bare picking them up.  So there they sit. He heads out to feed the chickens and contemplate a fresh mushroom omelet for dinner. 

Monday, February 27, 2023



Jack brings his dad sunflowers from Java Joe's. They remind Gus of his wife Jean who passed last year. He tells Jack to keep them because he doesn’t want anymore reminders. Jack quietly puts them in water and leaves them on the mantle piece. Afterall, it was his mother who died and he needs to remember her.

Sunday, February 26, 2023

Java Joe's Hipsters

With his BA in anthropology, Jack made it clear to his dad that farming wasn’t his thing. Instead he donned hiPster clothes and chewed the fat with Java Joe. Gus recognized the jacket as an old favorite from the 70’s.  But what interested him more was where Joe got the sunflowers.

Sunday, February 19, 2023

The Bosque

These cottonwood leaves had long ago lost color but still they hung tightly on the sleeping buds. They made a distinctive rustling sound as the gentle breeze passed through their papery leaves. The rustling comforted Gus and he supposed, the cranes as well. 

In a few weeks, spring buds would unseat them for the final fall. And when the last leaves dropped it would be time for the pair to join the flock and continue their migration north.

Village Church

Gus didn’t know how he felt about religion. As a farmer, he spent his days in the field connected to the mercy of mother nature. He knew life was about change, but under the dependable sun, moon and stars, his prayer was to be at peace with that fact. But from time to time he would look up at the village church and it blew his mind. Man Made? How could that be. It was truly divine.  

Saturday, February 18, 2023

Barn Fire

Gus headed out to the barn after lunch and set aside his pending decision about what to grow in the north field. Instead, he set to work prepping the barn door for a fresh coat of paint. 


He mused that even though he might be older than most people, he has collected more memories. One particularly stunning memory was a barn that caught fire in 1954 when he was 6 years old.  After getting the animals out in time, his family stood back and watched. He felt the terrible heat while listening to the crackle of the fire.  They watched their barn burn to the ground. At times, though terrifying, such events could be awesome as well.  


Barns can be rebuilt, as was this one.  As was the previous one. Except for the doors, this latest one was made mostly of metal and concrete. 


And the days of flammable gas lanterns were long gone. 


These memories made his solitude more interesting. And he was happy to have survived some of the more gnarly ones. He has reached a point in his life where he enjoys looking back and appreciating all that life has had to offer. 

Tuesday, February 14, 2023

What to Plant

As Gus finished plowing the north field, it started to rain. He had just enough time to make it home for before it poured.  He looked forward to a nice lunch of a BLT on buckwheat bread with tomato soup. The buckwheat seeds he bought last month would find a home in the south field. But he wasn’t yet sure of what to plant in the northfield. Should he plant corn like always or try something new. He didn’t have much time left to decide. But Sunflowers would be so much more exciting. He just wished more people wanted sunflowers. Gus would try to decide this afternoon as tomorrow was planting day.


Monday, February 13, 2023

Both Sides Now


Here's to all of us that indulge in bouts of melancholy while bathing in beautiful clouds, poetry and music. Thank-you Joni Mitchell and Judy Collins for making it cool to look at life from BOTH SIDES NOW.

Rows and flows of angel hair

And ice cream castles in the air

And feather canyons everywhere

Looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun

They rain and they snow on everyone

So many things I would have done

But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now

From up and down and still somehow

It's cloud illusions I recall

I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels

The dizzy dancing way that you feel

As every fairy tale comes real

I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show

And you leave 'em laughing when you go

And if you care, don't let them know

Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now

From give and take and still somehow

It's love's illusions that I recall

I really don't know love

Really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud

To say, "I love you" right out loud

Dreams and schemes and circus crowds

I've looked at life that way

Oh, but now old friends are acting strange

And they shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed

Well something's lost, but something's gained

In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all

It's life's illusions that I recall

I really don't know life

I really don't know life at all

Tuesday, February 7, 2023

Mercy Ship


My mother died in hospice coming up on 8 years ago. My sister and I were present and holding her hands as she passed. During this time an image came to mind and has stayed with me ever since.  And it is this image of a battleship on the horizon taking her back to her homeland. Once the ship vanished into the horizon, I knew I would never see her again.  In my mind it was a good ship. A protective one that knew I would try and swim to her if it were smaller and more inviting.  A formidable ship is not something to take lightly. It had her and they were going going gone. 


And then it occurred to me this morning that my grandfather worked on a Mercy ship as a medic in WW1. Maybe he was the one who picked her up. Maybe he is living out his heaven healing those wounded soldiers that didn’t make it.  



Friday, February 3, 2023

The Erratic


Here sits an erratic, boulder that has arrived on the scene over 10,000 years ago during the end of the last ice age. It surfed into place on top of an iceberg and then was dropped in place during the iceberg melt. Now it lingers as a permanent outsider that has become welcoming place for travelers to sit and ponder which way to go next.