It's been awhile

Three or four weeks ago, both Cliff and I suffered some degree of heat exhaustion and dehydration at a tractor show on a day when the temperatures were in the 90's, and I've sort of turned into a zombie ever since.  I think I'm finally getting back to "my normal".  

Our son, his daughter, and a granddaughter came to spend time with us over Independence Day, so I cooked a lot more than I usually do.  The oldest grandson spares no expense at putting on a spectacular Fourth of July fireworks display; it's his favorite holiday.  This year we celebrated on the Saturday before the Fourth.  It used to be just a family celebration, but has evolved to a whole different level, to the point where I have to search for the relatives in the crowd.  It was enjoyable, though.  I've always loved fireworks.  Since the grandson took over, I don't even have to do much except make a dish or two, which is wonderful!  And if I get tired, I can walk to the house and go to bed.  

three generations

Here you see the grandson, who is now the owner of this place (eating rice-and-raisins, one of the things I am required to make when my son is here); Cliff; and our son Jim, on the first morning after his arrival.  Cliff and Jim had already eaten.

Morgan, on the left, is our son's granddaughter.  Lyndsay is his 17-year-old daughter, who helped him with the driving this year.  She'll soon be going to college.

I've been sitting on the back porch every morning except when it's raining.  I try to tune in to all the sights and sounds.  I don't take the iPad out with me.  It's my favorite time of day.  Below you see my view toward the northeast.  It seems like during mid-summer, the sun comes up almost in the north!  When it's still pretty dark I look at the silhouettes of the tree line and pretend I'm looking at mountains.  

I treasure this view.

I love to go out when it's semi-dark and watch the world slowly light up, and listen to the birds awakening.  Sometimes I see a flock of seven crows land on a certain tree back there, cawing like crazy.  Did you know a group of crows is called "a murder of crows"?  I'd rather call them a flock.  A while back I saw the crows three mornings straight.  Then several days passed when I didn't hear so much of a "caw".  This morning, though, they returned.  I'm always thinking about the Indians who once lived here above the Missouri River, and a silly thought came to mind:  I decided I would take "Seven Crows" as my Indian name.  I won't be spreading that around, but I'll keep it in mind as another gift from mother earth.  I know the Indians were here, because the whole pasture you see here is littered with objects made from flint they left behind.  A former owner of the place let some collector come and pick up all the artifacts he could find, and yet I've found several prizes since then.

One morning last week as I sat out there, I saw a fox crossing the pasture right on the other side of that fence in the picture.  He was trotting along minding his own business; as he passed behind the blue gate, I said, "Good morning, Brother Fox", expecting him to lope quickly away.  However, he stopped and glanced in my direction as if to say, "Who said that?" before he switched course and picked up speed.  But he left me smiling.  

It wasn't even five minutes till a possum came waddling along the same fence from the opposite direction.  "Good morning, Brother Possum," I greeted it (who knows, it might have been female).  It didn't even look up, but kept on waddling along toward the east.  I'm feeling more friendly toward possums these days, since I don't have chickens for them to kill and they haven't bothered my tomatoes like last year.  

I've taken to taking my guitar out and singing most mornings.  Today while I was at it, a mockingbird perched atop the hummingbird feeder and watched my performance for quite a while.  Cliff told me he was probably planning to steal some of the songs I wrote.  

I feel pretty wealthy when I think about my wonderful mornings spent listening to the sounds of nature.