An Autumn State of Mind

 

 

 What is it that Autumn does to us? What causes us to accept, even appreciate, weather that would be unacceptable in summer? There is definitely a state of mind that is unique to Fall.

When I walk on to my porch on early summer mornings, for instance, I want to feel a warm breeze and the promise of bright sunshine. I expect a sky of blue that is uninterrupted by clouds. Trees that are lush and green, and grass like an emerald carpet, are anticipated all spring, then realized in summer. A dry breeze wicks the perspiration from my skin in the summer, and I expect shirt sleeve weather to chore in.

When conditions aren’t this way in summer, I’m often disappointed. But when autumn comes… well, my taste in climate seems to change with the season. Peculiarly, what is less than pleasing weather in summer is perfect weather in autumn. Take rain for instance.

There is no frown upon my face when the Autumn rains come. I expect the rain to ride the leaves as they surf the wind to the ground below. I love the wet carpet of copper, red, yellow, and brown covering the once multi-green grass. I just grab another cup of coffee and listen happily to the tapping on the window, as the wind forces the raindrops against the pane. When the autumn rains come, it just takes a log on the fire to dry the air. The pop and crackle of the fireplace along with the pitter-patter of the rain make a comforting symphony of Autumn music.
 
I am content now with skies of peek-a-boo blue, where the gray and lavender clouds dominate from horizon to horizon. The absence of the sun, and the cool air that results, is not a grievous but welcome thing to me. I throw on a jacket, switch from a straw cowboy hat to wool, turn up my collar, and bask in the chilliness. My fingers are warmed by the cup in my hands, as I sip hot coffee and watch the effects of seasonal change on the Chicken Ranch.

Some hold the opposite opinion, I am aware. I have heard some say that they cannot enjoy the Fall because they know winter is right behind it. To me that is like despising life, because it will one day end in death. I prefer to enjoy the moment and soak up the experience of what is the here and now. I'll deal with the other when the times comes, and I’ll not be robbed of this particular day just because someday a less joyful one may come along.

No, Autumn is to be given its due. It brings fruitfulness, then rest to the plants and trees. It brings a greater amount of moisture to a thirsty earth. It brings relief from summer heat, and pesky insects.
Autumn brings peace to the Chicken Ranch, or at least a peaceful and accepting state of mind.

I know winter is coming. It is whispered on the viento solitario, lonely wind. And I say let it come. After all, one thing Autumn does is break you in gently. It makes the transition from summer to winter a most pleasant thing. At least it does for an old cowboy like me.

 

A Hero Departed

 How do you express in just a few words what 69 years of having the greatest father on  earth has meant? Just the highlights alone would require hours, if not days, of conversation. He was a great man who lived 88 years in the strength of humility. His greatest quality was kindness. He was a quiet, humble man and liked/loved by all. I’ll simply share a few memories with you at this time.

I remember being just a toddler and running to my parents bedroom early in the morning, jumping on the bed, and pleading , “Show me your muscles, Dad!” He would eventually relent and hoist those big guns that Shelby County, Ky. farm life had built. I remember being awestruck by those biceps and thinking, “ My dad must be the strongest man on earth!”

He’d take me fishing. He taught me patience, or at least tried to. He’d say, “Boy, you can’t catch a thing taking that line in and out of the water. Let it set. Be patient, you catch fish by waiting.” When I hauled my first fish to the bank of that creek in Bardstown Jct, Kentucky, I remember thinking, ”My dad is the greatest fisherman on earth.”

Lee Dennie fixed everything himself. He was amazingly resourceful. Once,  he wanted a large room addition on the house, complete with vaulted ceilings and a fireplace. Despite never having tackled a project like that before, he just built it. He asked for advice and an occasional helping hand… but Dad built it himself. And it looked amazing. He also fixed his own cars. 

By the time I was 8 years old, I knew a crescent wrench from a boxed-in wrench, a blade from a Philips screwdriver, and how to socket up a ratchet. Just from helping my dad. He taught my little brother, Ivan,  and I so well that, as teenagers, we could buy an engine for a car or truck at the junk yard at 8:00 in the morning on a Saturday, put it in the  vehicle, and be driving around town before dark. Ivan and I replaced a transmission in an old Ford Fairlane by straddling a ditch with the car and laying timbers and plywood at an angle to keep us up out of the water. We were in Illinois. Dad was home in Kentucky. I was 18, Ivan was 14. Dad had taught us well. I called again, and again, and again over the years for help and advice about car mechanics (and every other kind of advice) .You see, we thought “Dad was the greatest mechanic on earth”.

He was a fast pitch softball player at one time. He could make a softball  dip and dive and curve like an amusement park roller coaster. I remember one time he was practicing pitching. He came to me and showed me how to squat down like a catcher, and where to hold the glove. He said to me, “Don't move that glove no matter what. The ball is going to come right there in your glove.” Well, he backed up, snapped that ball off of his hip, and that ball blazed. It went up and down and everywhere but where  my glove was, so I did what he told me not to, I moved the glove. Big mistake! The ball landed exactly where he said it would.  Problem was,  there was no glove there now. I’ve always been known as a bass singer in my adult life, but because I didn’t listen to him that time, I honestly thought I would be singing tenor all of my life. He was, to me, the greatest pitcher on earth.

There was a time when I did not revere my dad as I should. I was 19 years old, after all, what else was there for me to learn about life? I had all the answers now! Sure I did. My hair got long and my vision short. My dreams were big but my thoughts were small. I went out of town… and off the rails. But in a couple of years my brain returned. So, I called Dad and said I needed to come home for a little bit.

 In “Death Of The Hired Man” by Robert Frost, there is a line that reads ”Home is the place where, when you have no place left to go, they have to take you in.”  I remember Dad saying “I’m glad you’re comin home, but remember, the rules and conditions are the same now as when you left.” I remember thinking that my dad was “the most steadfast man on earth”.

Time doesn’t permit me to tell of the help he gave us over the years after Patty and I were married. He seldom admonished but always encouraged. He always told us to love and raise our girls in the Truth of Gods word. He cherished his grandchildren and great-grandchildren above all the gold in the world.  He mostly just kept living a Godly life before us. One of the greatest examples on earth.

 The last few years for Dad were rough, at times very, very rough. There was no “Why me”, however,  no anger at his conditions;  just a progressing weariness met with humility and resolve. He beat the heavy odds against him time and again. Finally,  God said ” Lee, my good and faithful servant, it’s been enough. Come home and rest”. 

He remained to the end  the Elder of the little flock who met in his home on Wednesdays and Sundays. His trembling voice would lead the meeting, his trembling hands would pass the communal bread and  wine. In the last days he could become confused about the order of the meeting, but when it came time for him to speak, there was a clear spiritual message every time. Dad loved God and demonstrated it everyday. He was one of the most humble men on earth.

So we have come today to honor his good and simple life. To say goodbye and release the tears that those left behind must shed. A time of joy and sorrow interwoven.

I’m gonna miss you Dad. There’s a hole in my heart the size of Texas. But, I know that you’re  finally getting the peace and rest you so richly deserve. I promise to try hard to live up to your expectations. I’ve had nearly 7 decades of the best example I could possibly have. I’ll try hard. 

After all, Dad, when I grow up, I want to be just like you. 

Love, your oldest son, Kevin

The Prairie Winds

 

 

THE PRAIRIE WINDS

The prairie grass bows and bends
Then rises quickly tall and thin
In a dizzy spirit-dancing spin,
And repeats, in rhythm, over and again,
When the wild prairie winds blow.

The hair blows high upon the back
Of the hungry coyote on the track
Of his early evening snack.
He stealthily pounces in attack
While the wild prairie winds blow.

With the effort of every bough and limb,
Trees reach out to catch the wind.
Briefly subdued, it exits then
You can hear ghostly music in the end,
When the wild prairie winds blow.

Seen only by its grand affect,
Felt on the back of this cowboys neck,
As I fight to hold my hat in check,
I’m glad when it quiets ..and yet,
 How I love when wild prairie winds blow.

K.L Dennie 2017