The Enchanted Forest

An enchanted forest is just moments away from our door. Our neighbor has created a hideaway in an old shelterbelt. It's been the setting for an intimate wedding and a stroll for a church group during Halloween. Its creator, Gary, also invited us to meander down the path he spent hours clearing and decorating.

During harvest, Grandpa wanted to take Kinley and Brooke to explore the enchanted forest. There was time before the combine geared up for the day, and Grandpa was probably more excited than the girls ... at least, before we got there.

But after they arrived, they were just as enamored as Grandpa. There are surprises around every bend of the path.

Gary has placed gnomes and turtles and owls and frogs and tree people all throughout the forest.

There are so many things to see that you don't always glimpse everything on the first pass through.

Each discovery had the girls running ahead to find the next hidden treasure, kind of like one of those hidden picture puzzle books ... but even better because you can do the exploring with your own two feet.

You know how earlier I said there were surprises around every bend of the path? Well, this was the site for our encounter with a deer crashing through the trees. And not long after that, it's where we got a little too close to a skunk. (Read the whole post about that by clicking here, but here's Kinley's drawing, in case you missed it before.)

I'm not sure whether the trauma of repeated baths with hydrogen peroxide, Dawn dishwashing soap and baking soda will keep all of us out of the Enchanted Forest or not.

But I do know that Gary's creation inspired Randy to make a mini version across the road from our house this past winter.

Randy put up the gnomes in January, which is when I took the photos above. That's why there are no leaves. He had to wait to show them off to the girls when they came for harvest in June.

He used the tree's "toad stools" as little gnome houses. (It sounds better than fungus, doesn't it?)

The Dollar General at St. John probably wonders why this farmer was buying them out of small gnomes. 

But look at those faces ...

 

 ...that's why!

This face was pretty happy about his creation, too. Just sayin'!

A Path Less Traveled

This quote is found in the Dillon Nature Center educational area. I added it to one of the images I took on our recent walk on the nature trails there.

Sometimes I go nowhere on the treadmill. Sometimes I kick up dust on our dirt road. And, once in awhile, I travel the road less traveled.

Randy and I had a little extra time between appointments in Hutchinson last week. So we went to Dillon Nature Center and walked the trails there for a change of pace - pun intended.

The birds sang. (No, I couldn't capture them in my camera viewfinder as they darted quickly from tree to tree. But I did catch glimpses of red and brown among the branches of trees as they flitted from perch to perch.)

The overhead branches formed a canopy of light and shadow over the nature trail. And I couldn't help but think of the very first song I sang for a music festival in junior high.

I know a green cathedral

A shadowed forest shrine

Where leaves in love join hands above

And arch your prayer and mine.

It's a lesson in irony to remember lyrics from a long-ago solo and not be able to remember why I came into a room. But it's my reality, it seems.

Some of the annual flowers brightened our way. My favorite was this beautiful columbine.

Flowering shrubs provided fragrance and beauty, too.

The sun created bursts of light through red buds and green leaves.

 

It was almost as if these cypress roots are like little people enjoying the view from the shoreline of the pond.

We enjoyed the view, too.

Down a Different Road

When there are more than 6,600 head of cattle going through a sale ring, it takes awhile. So we took a break during the action at Pratt Livestock and took a detour to the Pratt County Lake.

The Ninnescah River

We had our walking shoes and some time. It was a nice change of pace - so to speak - from my winter walks on the treadmill or on the gravel roads of the County Line.

Even though it's my home county, it had been years since I'd been at the Pratt County Lake.

We weren't the only creatures enjoying the lake on a sunny, early spring day.

And though the colors still seemed more like winter than spring, the warm day was a nice prelude to the season.

There's beauty in all seasons and in all places, if we just open our eyes.

Look Up!

I started my walk with my eyes up. I was in search of Monarchs, the "Queen" of butterflies. It's time for their annual migration, a journey that takes them from northern climes to the warmth of southern California and Mexico for the winter months. The Kansas Wetlands Education Center near Great Bend hosted a Monarch Mania event the second weekend in September, and Quivira National Wildlife Refuge's comparable event was last weekend.

Just that morning, I had seen a photo of Monarchs on Quivira's Facebook page.

Photo from Quivira National Wildlife Refuge's Facebook Page - September 20, 2013

I'm just a few miles from the refuge, so I hoped I would find a similar scene nestled in the trees on the County Line.  As I gazed upwards, I glimpsed a few Monarchs, flitting in and out of the canopy of trees just down the road from our house. They would dart into my line of vision, gracefully catch the air currents and drift away from view into the maze of green leaves. Kind of like a busy toddler I know, they didn't pause for a formal portrait by an amateur photographer.

A walk awaited - whether the butterflies cooperated or not. And I was again reminded that sometimes we overlook the small gifts of everyday in our peering for the next big thing. All week, Randy had mentioned the thousands of yellow butterflies that seemed to have become "squatters" in our alfalfa fields.

My internet search to positively identify them came up empty. There are plenty of websites focused on the majestic Monarch, but I didn't find one where a little yellow butterfly was the star of the show.

But as I took a detour from the dirt road into the alfalfa field, the little yellow "flying machines" came in for landings on colorful alfalfa blossoms, drinking in their nectar.

Were they dramatic Monarchs, with their brilliant orange and black, stained-glass-like markings?
No.

Did they have a beauty all their own as the sunlight seemed to illuminate their paper-thin wings?
Most assuredly.

As I returned to the road, I saw even smaller moths, hardly bigger than the fingernail on my pinky finger. If I hadn't been looking up, I'd never have seen them.

Sometimes, I'm guilty of just plodding along, staring at my feet, lost in my own thoughts. It can happen on a morning walk. It can happen metaphorically, too, as I get lost in the minutia of a to-do list and don't pause to appreciate my everyday blessings.

Blessings don't just come on the wings of Monarchs. They can come from lowly moths and dried up corn stalks. We just have to look up.

A Time to Think

To pray is to listen, to move through my own chattering to God, to that place where I can be silent and listen to what God may have to say. –Madeleine L'Engle, author

A Time to Act

Use today as an opportunity to listen to God's voice.

A Time to Pray

God, thank You for the moments that wake me up to this perfectly beautiful world.

(Wisdom from a Guideposts daily email devotional)
*** 

Today I'm linked to Jennifer Dukes Lee's Tell His Story.  Click on the link to read more!

Birds of a Feather

Photo taken December 26, 2012

At a glance, the sky seemed streaked with wisps of smoke drifting skyward into a clear blue sky. From a mile away, the illusion continued, a gray-Crayon-smudged line climbing upward from the horizon.  But as I turned the corner toward home, the “smoke” awakened as thousands of birds took flight. The whoosh of flapping wings seemed to be in stereo, as the birds scattered in every direction.

It's like an intricate ballet. As I came closer, the sky was their stage, and there was more whirling and twirling than an afternoon matinee of The Nutcracker.

The birds arrive as winter temperatures get cold. They come because feed is scarce. They blanket crop fields and find food and shelter in feedlots. Starlings swoop in, morning and evening, filling the sky. Today, there are more than 200 million starlings across the United States, with about 5 million flocking to Kansas during the winter each year.

These birds damage crops, eat livestock feed, and have potential human health and safety concerns, such as salmonella. A study by the USDA in 2000 estimated that starlings cause roughly $800 million a year in damage. In 1999, three Kansas feedlot operators reported a $600,000 loss from bird damage alone. Feed and grain prices have skyrocketed in the past decade, which means even more significant losses for Kansas producers and especially feedlots. Several area feedlots have volunteered to be part of a new study by the USDA, looking for ways to control the pesky interlopers.

I'm not a bird watcher, but on this day, I was mesmerized by the free show. It reminded me of a scene from Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds," which I saw (and was terrified by) as a child. And while these birds aren't attacking me, the starlings are a nuisance this time of year in farm country, no matter how poetic they seem, set dramatically against an azure sky. 

A Step At A Time

Faith is taking the first step 

even when you don't see the whole staircase.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

While we'd love to have rain, the unseasonably warm December weather has been good for something. It's been the perfect  weather for Randy's road toward recovery after back surgery on November 26.

He came home with a page and a half of instructions and a nearly 6-inch scar on his lower back after the decompressive lumbar laminectomy. (Sounds impressive, doesn't it?) One of the bullet points on the list is, "Take short, frequent walks."

That's been easier now that last week's nausea is a thing of the past. Each day this week, we've increased the distance just a little further down the road.

It's a long journey. Earlier this week, Randy said, "I think this is going to take awhile."

I responded, "Yes, that's probably why they said it's a 3-month recovery. It's just been a little over a week."

But, we'll make it. Together. And with the help of a lot of friends who've been praying right along with us. Thanks to all of you!

Early Morning Symphony

I rarely use my ipod when set off on an early morning walk. Instead, I listen to a different kind of music all around me.

Birds trill a morning greeting.
Cows call to their calves.
Dogs wake up their masters.
The coyotes answer back.

A tractor's drone lends a steady bass rhythm.

My tennis shoes crunch gravel with the cadence of a brush on a snare drum.

The Amtrak train rumbles through Zenith, 4 1/2 miles away, the hum of the train tracks punctuated by the whistle at dirt-road intersections.

Water sloshes in my right-hand. 

Squirrels clamor for cover and make the leaves sing as I near the old cottonwood tree at our driveway.

Turkeys scramble away from feasting on the yard's grubs and dart through underbrush, softly talking to one another in their hurry to get away from this human interloper.

Soon the migrating geese will add their own music to the mix.

I love music, and it often plays a soundtrack in my mind. But this is a symphony all its own.

No Excuses

 

There's nothing like interviewing the 1938 Ohio state high school pole vault champion to put things in perspective. At age 92, he's given up using a slender little stick to propel himself skyward and over a bar hanging precariously in the air. But he still goes to the YMCA or Genesis Health Club every day.

Yes, every day!

And then there's the woman I talked to who completed a triathlon at age 79. That's 3 miles of walking/running, a half-mile swim and an 11-mile bike ride. 

It makes me tired just thinking about it.

There are days when I don't want to walk my 4 miles or exercise for an hour.  I just might be known to roll my eyes when the workout warriors on Leslie Sansone's Fat Burning exercise video smile through the entire 5 miles. Seriously, Nicki needs to turn the smile down a notch. I'm all for being pleasant, but nobody is that happy about sidesteps or kickbacks.

Then there's Audra who wears a midriff-baring workout top to show off her perfectly toned abs and arms. I would just like to tell Leslie and Audra that I know Audra didn't get those muscles by simply using the "walk away weighted balls," the "walk belt" or the "punch up your walk weighted gloves." (Still, I like Leslie and her simple steps that even this dance-challenged, 50-something exerciser can do. And you can't beat her positive attitude.)

 

Next time I'm tempted to grumble about my walk or my exercise DVDs, I think I'll remember Les, the pole vault champ, and Lloyda, the 79-year-old triathlete.

Good health should be its own silver lining. But a beautiful morning sky doesn't hurt either.

In the Weeds

We're in the second year of a drought. The crops that are supposed to grow are struggling to survive as the sun bakes the earth in 100-degree-plus heat yet another day.

But as I walk along our country roads and look out at the fields and ditches, I notice that the weeds seem to have no trouble. Why do the weeds flourish when all around us the "good stuff" is dying?

I tromp out across the fields to take a picture and the dust crunches beneath my tennis shoes. It's dry and barren. But those silly weeds persist.

And I think how it's really an analogy for life. I have the best of intentions. I plan to pull the weeds in my life. I vow that I'll do better with my weight. I insist that I'll give up worry and anxiety. I declare that I'll clean out the basement. I promise myself that I'll call that friend and meet for lunch instead of just commenting on Facebook. I swear I'll send that card or visit that friend in hospice.

But then I don't get it all done. The weeds of worry and neglect threaten to sap the Living Water right out of my life.

And the Lord shall guide you continually and satisfy you in drought and in dry places and make strong your bones. And you shall be like a watered garden and like a spring of water whose waters fail not.

Isaiah 58:11 (Amplified Bible)

That's a good thing to remember this Monday, I think. I believe it's time for a little weeding, Lord. I can't do it without You. (And, by the way, these fields are again getting worked this week to knock down the weeds. So what am I waiting for in my weeding journey?)

Today, I'm linked to Michelle's Hear It On Sunday, Use It on Monday at her blog, Graceful: Faith in the Everyday. Head on over and check out what other bloggers are sharing this Monday!

Out of the Blue

Details create the big picture.

Sanford I. Weill 

A bright blue summer sky stretched from horizon to horizon. But, at 55 miles an hour, I missed the other blanket of blue.

It wasn't until I was walking that I saw the ditch filled with little blue wildflowers. 

It was like a gift - a gift I could open only when I slowed down enough to see it.

“Now if I believe in God’s Son and remember that He became man, all creatures will appear a hundred times more beautiful to me than before. Then I will properly appreciate the sun, the moon, the stars, trees, apples, as I reflect that he is Lord over all things. … God writes the Gospel, not in the Bible alone, but also on trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars.”

— Martin Luther

 (I saw that quote on Jennifer's Getting Down with Jesus blog last week and thought it was a perfect fit for today.)

Sometimes, I need to stop and smell the roses.

 

Or see the wildflowers.

Erect dayflower: I figured out the name by looking at the Kansas Wildflower website.