Snow Perspective

 

Changing your vantage point can make all the difference in the world. It's true for photos. And it's true for life itself.

As the snow started falling near dusk on January 8, I took several photos from both my front and back doors. The photos were pretty. But I kept looking at the wires, draped from the windmill to the house, and wishing they weren't there. (OK, if I'd really thought that through, I would be mighty thankful for those wires. Electricity is a wonderful thing.)

So, I shifted my lens to the north, trying to avoid the lines. Mission accomplished ... except that the yard light couldn't illuminate the swing the way I'd hoped. So I put on my shoes and I shifted my perspective. That change of vantage point yielded my favorite shot of our January 8-9 snowstorm.  It also made my sweatshirt and shoes wet, but they dried off.

 

I didn't really think about it at the time, but there's a lesson there for life, too. We get "stuck," looking at people and situations in the same old way - at least, I can do that. Sometimes, we need to shift our perspective to see those same things differently. 

That lesson was further illuminated - so to speak - when I compared snow photos I'd taken on a gloomy January morning - January 5 - and photos taken in the morning of January 9 after the sun started shining. Those sunless shots seemed almost blue. But, with the sun shining, there was less "flatness" and more dimension. At that point, I couldn't get down our road for a re-do of the shots. The January 8-9 snow and accompanying wind left behind plenty of drifts. 

But that didn't keep me from wandering our farmyard. Thankfully, I didn't step out of my boots, though it was close a time or two.

 I decided to take my dusk scene in the sunlight ... different perspective, yet again!

 

We have windbreaks on all sides of our house. But the wind-driven snow still made drifts on the trees and bushes, as well as the driveways.

 

It took me awhile to warm up after my snow excursion.

But the temperatures then entered the deep-freeze zone. It may start to get better tomorrow.

Hmmm ... I guess we're back to that perspective thing again.

Life is like a landscape. You live in the midst of it but can describe it only from the vantage point of distance.

Charles Lindbergh

 

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields that it kisses them so gently? Then it covers them up snug, you know, like a white quilt. And perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, until the summer comes again.' "

Lewis Carroll

"Snow ... blots and softens the top of every object like ice on a plum pudding. Hedges, telegraph wires, cars, postboxes, recycling bins. The world is losing its edges. Look upwards and it seems as if the stars themselves are being poured from the sky and turn out not to be vast and fiery globes after all but tiny, frozen things which melt in the palm of your hand."

Mark Haddon

 

And speaking of perspective ... These photos are pretty. But the wind chills that have put Kansas in the deep freeze are UGLY. I have not missed having to spend my mornings in a feed truck during these multiple days of sub-zero wind chills. (That truck never really warmed up.) I've thought a lot about the people who have been caring for livestock, fixing utility lines and doing other outside work in these frigid temperatures. 

I'm also thankful for the people who spent time in our cold attic, replacing a water pipe! Unfortunately, our old farmhouse pipes fell victim to the cold. We are thankful for the prompt and attentive service of a local business - Meyer Electrical in Stafford. Pipes to our upstairs bathroom sink burst Sunday night. Thankfully, we were still up and heard the water dripping from upstairs and through the dining room ceiling, splashing through the chandelier. We knew there was nothing they could do then, but Randy called Meyer's answering service to get on the list for first thing Monday morning. But, soon after, Jake Meyer called us back to check on us - even though it was after 11 PM. Randy reiterated that he had turned off the water to the house and that there was nothing Jake could do. We kept mopping up water and listening to it drip into the tin pans I'd placed under the chandelier. And, true to their word, Meyer Electric was out to make the repairs first thing Monday morning. 

These photos are dark, but I didn't turn on the light. You know, electricity and water don't mix!

 Thank you, Meyer Electric! We appreciate you!

 

This Is Us: An Overhead Glimpse of Harvest 2022

Thanks to our neighbor, Mark Pike, for these drone images and his permission to share them. What a gift!

***

Just like 6.4 million other people, I watched the series finale of a family television drama called "This Is Us" at the end of May. Just by watching my Facebook feed, I know I'm not the only viewer who had a Kleenex box nearby as I watched the finale episode about a family we all got to know and care about during six seasons of Tuesday nights.

I'm not sure how many people then scoured the internet to find quotes from the episode. But there was at least one. (That was easier than starting and stopping the DVR for me to take notes. And since I found a compilation of "This Is Us" quotes, I'm fairly confident that I'm not the only one.)

In it, the mom, Rebecca, is traveling on the metaphorical train toward death after suffering from dementia for several years. And I was struck by the words from her "conductor," William:

"The way I see it, if something makes you sad when it ends, it must have been pretty wonderful when it was happening. Truth be told, I always felt it a bit lazy to just think of the world as sad, because so much of it is. Because everything ends. Everything dies. But if you step back, if you step back and look at the whole picture, if you're brave enough to allow yourself the gift of a really wide perspective, if you do that, you'll see that the end is not sad, Rebecca. It's just the start of the next incredibly beautiful thing." 

William to Rebecca, This Is Us, series finale

I saved the quote (and a few others). And I thought about it again when our neighbor, Mark Pike, sent some drone photos he'd taken of our harvest - our final one as active producers.

Undoubtedly, the drone gives that wide perspective - a little bigger picture than I'm able to see with my normal "boots-on-the-ground" view through my camera lens.

 

For some reason, the drone pictures - and that different look at harvest - had me pulling out the Kleenex box again.

 

 

Through the years, I've tried to document harvest to the best of my ability. Since I began Kim's County Line in 2010, I've made an even more concentrated effort, but the efforts to photographically show and tell the journey of wheat - beginning to end- have been part of my DNA for long before then.

I've taken some spectacular shots - and a whole lot that weren't noteworthy at all. But, for some reason, these photos taken from a bird's eye view were particularly poignant. 

"The way I see it, if something makes you sad when it ends, it must have been pretty wonderful when it was happening."

 

That bears repeating, I suppose. But I also know this process is a little like childbirth. The mom develops a bit of amnesia about the rigors of the birth process itself. Otherwise, the whole world would be single children - or so the joke goes.

 

So, as I look back on 41+ years of farming with Randy (and a lifetime for both of us before that), I have a tendency to remember the good - the rides in the buddy seat on the combine, my book in my hand after the conversation was exhausted. ... The wildlife making a hasty retreat as the mighty machine takes another swath of field ... The vibrant green peeking through brown soil, a yearly miracle. ... The dewy raindrops caught on green wheat. ...The sound of wheat, rustling in the Kansas breeze. God's masterpiece sunsets sinking into the western horizon as the combine rumbles toward it and seems to gobble up the light. And so much more.

You don't wax nostalgic about yet another trip to the parts counter or the third flat tire in a week or your legs sticking to the plastic seat of the truck or the buckets of sweat. You realize that you're not bounding up the steps of the combine like you did when you were that teenaged truck driver. You aren't thrilled with the rash you develop during harvest or the pesky cheat that gets stuck in your socks. You don't fondly remember those phone calls to hire a Caterpillar to come pull both the combine and the tractor out of mud - and the accompanying bill. While Harvest 2022 was pretty smooth sailing the first week, perhaps I needed a reality check - and got one. We had a rain delay, and, when we got up and running again after a day and a half, I got the call that I needed to come help get the truck pulled out. (Plus, since we hadn't used the tractor for awhile, it had to be jumped before it could do its job. Mission accomplished - but it was a circuitous route.)

But those moments of aggravation don't take away from the life and lifestyle that we've lived and loved. It's not for everyone. We didn't do it perfectly. I'd change some things.

But, a bird's eye view helps me remember that it was - and is - a beautiful life. 

Toward the truck, that field finished

 

In another quote from "This Is Us," Dad Jack tells his kids:

“That’s what we’re doing, just collecting these little moments. We don’t recognize them when we’re in them because we’re too busy looking forward. But then we spend the rest of our lives looking back trying to remember them, trying to be back inside them.” 

 

So I find myself doing a bit of that. I think it's natural, as we change directions.

Mark also included a drone photo of Randy's folks' house. It sold on June 4, and a new family will begin building a life and making memories there, beginning in mid-August.

 

I just hope they'll look back - years from now - and have those moments to collect and remember, too. 

And, as for us, we may get done with wheat harvest today, after getting rained out yesterday again. Then it will be time to get things ready for the farm sale coming August 13. 

And, hopefully, just like William told Rebecca: "It's just the start of the next incredibly beautiful thing." 

***

Mark shot drone footage two harvests ago. He didn't send any video from this harvest, but here are some repeats of 2020 videos

.  

 

I actually got a pretty awesome still shot from that 2020 harvest night, too. The sky was breathtaking. I enlarged this one to canvas size.

Harvest 2020

A shot I got Saturday night, June 25, reminded me of that one. 

Harvest 2022

For more from the post about the 2020 harvest, click HERE. And, thanks again to Mark!

Diametrically Opposed

 

It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.

Andre Lorde

I love staying connected with people via Facebook. It's a way to interact with people from my past and present in a way that wouldn't be possible from a solitary dirt road in south central Kansas.

But a friend and I were talking on Tuesday about the contentiousness we also witness on Facebook. There are people who feel strongly about lots of things - whether it's the current occupant of the White House and his second in command (yay or nay)... Covid and vaccines (yay or nay) ... racism ... the thin blue line. The list - and the "sides" - go on and on.

Of course, it's the beauty of America that we can disagree - even with our own government. But my friend and I were lamenting the seeming inability to objectively listen to another's point of view ... and then perhaps think about something in a new way.

I don't understand the animosity often witnessed if a Facebook friend or acquaintance disagrees with a post - or with a commenter who has a different opinion than the one they just shared. Most often, I mutter an opinion under my breath and then scroll on by. But there are plenty of people who will share their opinion ...and share it loudly and clearly and often.

 

 

I thought about this inflexibility as I wandered around my farmhouse yard this week. On Monday afternoon, I ventured out to take photos of the blooms that punctuated our yard with springtime color.

 

 The purple and white lilacs were just beginning to bloom.

Most were still tightly holding onto their blooms in their buds, but a few were peeking out to enjoy the sunshine.

 

Our redbud tree lifted its "arms" toward the bright blue sky. 

Colorful tulips were poised to greet any guests who might arrive at our front door ... and give us joy in the meantime.

 

I knew that if the weather forecasters were right, the overnight hours might spell a premature end to the riot of spring color.

 

My pear trees loaded with bountiful blooms would likely be wearing a white "sweater" by morning. 

 

And they were.

 

But the beauty was still there. I had an 8:30 AM district church meeting via Zoom, so I hurried with my radio report and blog post so I could venture outside to snap a few photos before the snow melted away with the forecasted sunshine. 

 

 

There was plenty of beauty in the pre-snow and post-snow landscapes. (I can find the beauty as long as it didn't hurt the wheat crop either Tuesday or Wednesday morning with the dip of the thermometer below freezing.)

 

But, the snow-covered blooms were undeniably pretty - even if it caused me to lament a possible outcome for my pear crop and the wheat.

And it again made me think about looking at things from a different perspective. 

 

We don't get harmony when everybody sings the same note. Only notes that are different can harmonize. The same is true with people.

Steve Goodier

 

As an amateur musician, this quote rang true for me (so to speak). I love hearing harmony. When I'm singing along to the radio in the car, I often harmonize with the singer. A few weeks ago, during a Palm Sunday service, I led the congregational singing from the lectern. It had been a year since the community's ministerial alliance had gathered for a joint service. The wave of four-part harmony coming toward me from congregation members from several different churches singing "All Glory, Laud & Honor" literally gave me goosebumps. 

 

Those congregations don't have the same views about every aspect of theology and polity. But you sure couldn't tell that as we sang those familiar songs in harmony.

It's something for me to ponder. I know it's a simplistic analogy. But maybe it's a start.

Through a Glass Dimly

 

After the Chiefs won their football game Sunday night, we drove to a pasture a couple of miles away to watch the sunset. It's a favorite location at dusk because of a windmill near the road. Who doesn't love a good windmill silhouette as a foreground for a beautiful sunset?

 

It was another gorgeous winter evening, and I did my usual take-too-many-photos-in-search-of-the-perfect-one routine.

But, as we were traveling back home, I took another glimpse of the scene through the passenger-side rearview mirror. It's cracked, so the view was definitely a different one than I'd been trying to capture as I looked westward and clicked both my regular camera and my phone's camera.

I had Randy stop so I could take a photo through the broken glass. A Bible verse flitted through my head, so I looked it up the next day. The King James Version of 1 Corinthians 13:12 says:

For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

It's a familiar verse, but what does it really mean? I looked at the Amplified Bible translation ...

For now [in this time of imperfection] we see in a mirror dimly [a blurred reflection, a riddle, an enigma], but then [when the time of perfection comes we will see reality] face to face. Now I know in part [just in fragments], but then I will know fully, just as I have been fully known [by God].

... and the New Living Translation ...

Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.

The rearview mirror view on a different evening in a different pickup from the driver's side

There's a presidential inauguration happening on Wednesday. Some of my friends are overjoyed. Others are mourning. And most are probably like me - tired of the fighting and the political maneuvering from both sides.

As I watch the news, I feel as though I'm seeing "through a glass dimly." I pray for people to find a clearer way - one without the agendas perpetuated by whatever media stream their "side" prefers.

I receive a daily devotional from the Great Plains conference of the United Methodist Church. Saturday's was by the Emporia State University campus minister Kurt Cooper. (Click here for his entire devotional.) In it, he talked about taking an intensive course called Theology, Civics and Civility while a student at Saint Paul School of Theology. The course challenged seminary students to ponder the intersections between the church, the political landscape and secular culture. 

 

 At the center of those discussions was what Christians know as The Golden Rule:

John 13:34-35

I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Among the other texts they considered was written just after the turn of the 18th Century by a young colonist named George Washington. He's still fairly well known (tongue firmly inserted in cheek), despite being the 1st in a line of U.S. Presidents who will grow to add a 46th this week.

President Washington adopted what became known as the 110 Rules of Civility, principles he used throughout his life to guide his style of leadership and his life. These 110 hand-written rules heightened his successful Presidency and contributed to the shape of the Office of President. 

The theology students adopted their 25 best suggestions for following the Rules of Civility today:

• Let others go first.
• People have names: Use them.
• Consider everyone’s point of view; all voices have something to contribute.
• Avoid generalizations and blanket statements.
• Debate should end when the meeting is over — keep conversation in the room.
• Consider your responses before acting — practice prudence.
• Be conscious of one’s surroundings so as not to impose on others.
• Be proactive in hospitality.
• Acts of lying, cheating, stealing, coveting are uncivil.
• Speak the truth in kindness when expounding a grievance.
• Use language that uplifts rather than language that degrades.
• Listen carefully to the words of others before distracting yourself with your own response.
• If you take initiative, take responsibility.
• Be willing to laugh at yourself and smile often.
• Let insults go unheeded — Never kick a SKUNK.
• No finger pointing, regardless of what finger you use.
• Endeavor to raise standards rather than lower them.
• Share all you can without resentment.
• Make sure everyone understands the rules and customs that will be followed.
• Play well with others — everyone gets a turn.
• Challenge uncivil behavior.
• Respect God’s creation: All life depends on it.
• Recognize your own self worth and the value of others; we are all Children of God.
• Pursue Physical, Emotional and Spiritual health and Wholeness.

It's a pretty good list, don't you think? I figure I can do a better job of putting them to practice. I figure we all can.

You see, we all come from different places, with different experiences and that colors our actions and reactions. I was reminded of that again as I witnessed a winter sunrise this past week.

So I wouldn't miss the show, I didn't clear the frost from my windshield. When I first arrived at my sunrise tree, the view to the east was somewhat obscured.

I got the full picture - or so I thought - as I stepped out of the car and pointed my camera east. But then I saw the western sky.

It looked totally different, but it was just as beautiful. If I'd only looked in one direction, I'd have missed part of the show. 

Perhaps it's a reminder to stop and think. Will we be colored by the positive? Or will the negative win the day? It truly is a matter of perspective, isn't it? It's kind of like the parable of the six blind men with the elephant, who touch the beast in different places and come up with wildly different impressions because of what they "see."

Looking north at sunset, January 17, 2021

It seems to me that our world could benefit from a look at different perspectives. No matter which side of the political aisle my friends claim, I would suggest there's validity in listening to another's point of view ... whether it's politics, race or even whether someone plans to wear a mask in public or not.

And isn't that the case with life? We get so focused on what's in front of us that we forget to take a breath and look around.

Some of the most beautiful things are found on the other side. 

Maybe it's the other side of the argument.
Maybe it's the other side of that bad mood.
Maybe it's the other side of sunset. 

 The "other side" of the sunset, October 25, 2018

 

Take a breath. Look around. Enjoy the entire view. Get a different perspective. You just might find beauty there.

Maybe our world could heal - at least a little bit - if we all were passionately on the quest for new perspectives. Worth a try?

A Time to Think

Every day we live is a priceless gift of God,
loaded with possibilities to learn something new,
to gain fresh insights. –Dale Evans Rogers, singer

A Time to Act

Encourage me God, to see the value in what I have.

A Time to Pray

Dear God, lead me through today with new insights and new hope.

From Guideposts email devotional