I was tempted to just delete the daily devotional from the Great Plains UMC Conference without opening it or reading it. After all, I was trying to cram four days of work into one day, while also ferrying Randy to the field three different times and trying to pack and plan for a 10-hour-plus road trip.
The reason I was trying to hurry was so we could leave to
travel to South Dakota to be with Randy's brother, Lyle. Randy and his
sister, Kathy, were informed that Lyle would enter hospice in Rapid
City, South Dakota, on Tuesday, September 8.
But I clicked the devotional open midway through the day.
And, interestingly, the author of this particular devotional talked about one of my favorite songs, "You'll Never Walk Alone" from the musical, "Carousel."
Through the years, I've copied down some of the words on cards I've sent to those who'd lost loved ones or were in the hospital. I often used the lyrics with a couple of different cards created from photos I took a few years ago during a fall walk at Dillon Nature Center.
When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark At the end of a storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
Isn't it interesting how we get these unexpected "God winks," as one of
my friends calls these "coincidences?" On Sunday, September 6 at Jill's and Eric's
church in Topeka - just a couple of days before our unplanned departure - Pastor Andrew called it a "nurge," an amalgamation of
"nudge" and "urge."
Randy finished up corn harvest and worked some ground on Labor Day, Monday, September 7, so that we could leave after an appointment on Tuesday morning.
Randy, Kathy & Lyle - Sibling trip, 2015
In May 2015, Randy and Kathy, plus Kathy's two girls, traveled to South Dakota to visit. I had other obligations, so I stayed home, but I was "ghostwriter" for their journey.
Lyle, Kathy & Randy - Sibling trip, May 2015
This time, Randy and Kathy didn't want Lyle to have to "walk alone" through what we assume will be a final journey, if the doctors are right.
Two years ago, we made a similar journey when Lyle was in the hospital. At that time, another song became my theme song. "Hills and Valleys" sung by Christian recording artist Tauren Wells also talks about God being there through it all - from the highs to the lows. The photo below was one I took on an unplanned detour. It was a wrong turn that ended up being right.
When we stepped into the stillness of the pine trees, it was quiet.
Just the rush of water flowing over a small waterfall hidden in the
trees marred the silence. The water was enough to mask any sounds from
the highway, though it wasn't busy anyway.
There's beauty everywhere, even when your mind is swirling with other things.
The first day of this 2020 trip was drizzly and overcast. It rained most of the way, so the scenery was kind of like God pushed the "mute" button.
I dodged raindrops on a brief stop at a lookout spot at the Valentine National Wildlife Refuge nestled in the Nebraska sandhills. It was the only photo I took all day. The rolling prairie, wetlands, and meadows provide
habitat for the same species of wildlife that have been part of the region's history for thousands of years.
It made me think of a quote from a book I finished the night before we left. This was near the end of the book, "The Ones We Choose" by Julie Clark. (I recommend the book, by the way.)
When
someone dies, you can't help but think in terms of last times. The last
time you talked with them, the last time you held their hand, the last
time you kissed them. But we're learning that we never really lose those
last times. They embed themselves in our genes to be carried forward, a
quiet memory of people long since forgotten. ... They are there, in the
silent rush of blood through veins, telling us what we need to know.
From the conclusion to the novel, "The Ones We Choose" by Julie Clark
Undated photos from Randy's scrapbook
On the way to Rapid City, I asked Randy about some of his favorite memories of Lyle. As adults, they ended up making very different choices in life. So Randy's favorite memories are from childhood. He says he and Lyle spent hours using toy road equipment to make roads in a small sand pile between their home and the wash house.
He also remembers going to the Peace Creek bridge to meet their Hornbaker cousins who lived just a half mile away. There, they played in the creek and fished.
Both Randy and Kathy were able to visit Lyle and said their "last goodbyes" at the hospice in Rapid City, which is in a nice facility with a caring staff. We are thankful for their care in what we assume will be Lyle's last days here on earth.
I'll have more from the trip at some point. But, for now, thank you for your prayers for Lyle, Randy and Kathy as they make this journey. We know we don't walk alone.
Dear Lord, sometimes we need to be reminded in the darkness of
our lives that we never walk alone as long as You are with us, guiding
our steps into the uncertainty. Amen.
Prayer for Reflection (also from the same Great Plains Devotional)
The days are likely numbered for the fresh peaches of summer. On a parts run to Hutchinson last week, I picked up some fresh Idaho peaches at Smith's Market. While Colorado peaches get all the accolades, Idaho peaches are just as juicy and tasty.
I've enjoyed plenty of them "as is" - cut in half and served for breakfast or a snack in all its juicy glory. But when I saw the recipe for Peach Cobbler Cookies pop up on a Taste of
Home Facebook post, I knew I wanted to try them. This cookie recipe is a
cake-like cookie rather than a crisp treat. The recipe didn't call for a
frosting.
But you know what they say about "icing on the cake." It just makes everything better.
I
decided a brown butter frosting would be the perfect compliment to the
spicy peach cookies. I kept seeing "brown butter" in recipes and
thought, "Oh, it's probably not worth the effort!" I am not afraid to
say I was wrong. Brown butter adds another dimension of nuttiness and
flavor.
As with most peach recipes, you'll need to have the peaches ripe for the best flavor. If they are a little "green" or firm when you purchase them, just leave them on the kitchen counter until they soften.
I left some unfrosted, then I used the icing in a couple of different ways. I used a decorator tube to make a "fancy" zigzag pattern on some. And I just smoothed a dollop of the frosting on others.
Whether "naked" or "dressed," these Peach Cobbler Cookies will give you another taste of summer before those lovely fresh peaches are gone for another year.
If you try them, let me know what you think!
Peach Cobbler Cookies
with Brown Butter Frosting (Optional)
Adapted from Taste of Home
1 cup butter, softened
1 cup sugar
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 large egg, room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla extract (or vanilla bean paste)
1/4 tsp. almond extract
3 cups flour
1 1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp. cream of tartar
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
1 cup peeled, chopped fresh peaches
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in egg and extracts. In another bowl, whisk together all dry ingredients. Gradually beat into creamed mixture. It will be stiff. Remove bowl from mixer. Stir in peaches by hand. This will loosen up the dough.
Using a cookie scoop, place batter onto prepared baking sheets (either sprayed with cooking spray or parchment paper lined.) Bake until set, 10-14 minutes. Cool on pans for 2 minutes before removing to wire racks to cool.
If desired, frost with Brown Butter Frosting (optional). Store in airtight container.
Brown Butter Frosting
1/3 cup butter
2 cups powdered sugar
1 1/2 tsp. vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste
2 to 4 tbsp. half and half or milk
Heat butter in a saucepan over low heat until golden brown, about 5
minutes. Don't burn, but let it go until it's a nutty color. Cool for 2 minutes; transfer to mixer bowll. Add powdered sugar
and vanilla. Beat in half and half, 1 tablespoon at a time, until frosting
reaches desired consistency. Frost the cookies.
***
Do you have other peaches that need to be used before they're too ripe? Try these other tried-and-true peach recipes from the County Line.
Always remember: Your focus determines your reality.
George Lucas
This
past weekend, we drove to two of our summer pastures to check cattle. On Saturday, at the Ninnescah, the cattle were hidden in the pasture's abundant nooks and crannies. But we didn't see any cattle tracks in the road. Unlike last year, our summer hasn't been filled with every-other-day phone calls from people in that area, telling us that our perennial group of escapees had absconded once again. (You may recall those rascals went to the sale barn last fall when we eventually caught them.)
Looking east
As
usual, I had my camera along for the ride. While we didn't get to see the cattle, but we did stop at one of my favorite photo spots, a small wooden bridge over the Ninnescah River.
Looking west
Just south of the pasture, I spied a large windmill near the intersection. With the cloudy sky
forming an interesting backdrop to the north and west, I asked Randy to stop instead of
making the lefthand turn he had planned. He's used to such requests.
We stopped in the middle of the intersection. It isn't a well-traveled road. And, even if some other farmer came along to check his own crops or cattle, we would have plenty of warning with the flat landscape stretching in every direction.
I noticed a couple of fence posts left behind - probably from an abandoned loading chute - and decided to frame the windmill in a different way.
After clicking a few frames of the windmill with both my Nikon and my camera phone, I noticed the a few sunflowers creating a splash of color in the ditch nearby. Looking closer, I noticed how the shape of the sunflower mimicked the shape of the windmill blades and added even more images to my memory card.
When we got home, I downloaded the photos and clicked through the images, now much larger on my computer screen.
And I discovered a couple of different things. In some of them, the camera had focused on the sunflower, so the flower was in crisp focus and the windmill was just a shape in the background.
In others, the windmill was in sharp focus, blurring the flower itself. Sometimes, the camera chose the close-up view. Other times, it chose the view at the horizon. And, no, the operator did not notice at the time.
My later inspection also revealed I should have paid closer attention to the sunflower I chose for the close-up. Its petals were buffeted by the wind and seemed to have provided a plentiful buffet for insects who had munched the yellow bloom. I wished I'd chosen a more model-worthy specimen.
At the time, I was more concerned about the shape of the flower and the windmill blades. It was only later that I focused on the details. Unfortunately, I've had that happen before when taking photos. I always think I'll learn from my miscues. And I usually do ... for awhile.
The next day, when we visited our Rattlesnake Pasture, I made sure I was focused on a large, intact bloom.
I did notice that the flowers were giving me their backsides in the shot below, but sunflowers turn toward the sun ... or the direction the light would be on a sunny day, at least. But since the bulls were giving me a pretty shot anyway, I was happy with the splash of color on an overcast day.
But let's face it: Give me a few weeks, and I will inevitably go back to my old ways and forget to pay close attention to the details.
Isn't that a metaphor for life itself? We can get stuck viewing life through a particular lens. We see life, people and God through that internal lens called
attitude and perspective.
There are many things that can and will blur the focus of our lives. Distorting our focus are judgment, prejudice, anger, resentment, jealousy, fear, hurt, offense,
ingratitude and a lot of other "stuff."
These give us the wrong images of life, people and God.
Unfortunately, when our focus has become blurred by such things, we accept this warped view as reality, when it’s actually the
projection of our own experience, pain and problems. This sets us up for wrong
reactions, bad decisions and even some mental and emotional
misery.
A favorite Bible verse has this to say about where my focus should be:
Brothers and sisters,
whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is
pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent
or praiseworthy—think about such things.Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.
Philippians 4: 8-9
Back in my voice lesson days, my teacher assigned the song, "Think On These Things." Even though I cleaned out a lot of music when I downsized my office shelves, I kept that particular piece of music because I love the message so much.
It's old enough that I couldn't find the Merle Miller Sacred Songs arrangement (1947) on YouTube, but I did find a high school choir singing a different - yet equally beautiful - song based on the same Bible verses.
Here we are in a pandemic. News stories this week have talked about a "twin-demic" which could happen as winter approaches and brings our usual influx of garden-variety flu on top of Covid-19.
Coupled with rioting and the political rhetoric that bombards us from all sides as the election approaches, it's sometimes hard to focus on anything other than gloom and doom and "noise."
So a quiet trip to a beautiful places to "think on these things" is a good start.
It's not that we get rid of the noise or the things that mar our vision. If you look carefully in the photo above, there's an old drainage pipe that makes the scene just a little less lovely.
Maybe it's a matter of stepping back just a little bit and taking in the whole picture (and hiding that old pipe with a few more pretty purple flowers by using a different angle). Or maybe it's focusing on the even the smallest things ...
... the intricate petals of individual flowers ...
... like tiny blue flowers, hiding in pasture grasses ...
... like cattle (where they are supposed to be), enjoying plentiful grass - even in the late summer ...
... imagining the fisherman who left this fishing pole behind so he/she would be ready for next time ...
... wildlife at nearby Quivira National Wildlife Refuge ...
... and picture-postcard scenery in my own "neck of the woods ...
Do I need to readjust my focus? Sometimes, it's as simple as taking time to really look ... and to start to "think on these things" instead.
The Message puts Philippians 4 in even clearer terms:
8-9 Summing
it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and
meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling,
gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to
praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from
me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes
everything work together, will work you into his most excellent
harmonies.
You might be a farmer if you are secretly thrilled to bring in the first load of a crop to your local elevator.
OK, maybe it's not such a secret thrill.
Jeff Foxworthy might not have used that particular attribute in his "You might be a farmer if ..." list. However, some other of his observations seem to fit, too:
You Might be a Farmer ...
If using an elevator relates to grain harvest rather than in a tall city building.
If regular social conversation with your friends at the
local cafe involves rainfall, equipment repairs, hybrids or herbicides.
If the 5-gallon buckets hydraulic oil comes in are almost as valuable a
tool as the oil for feeding livestock or for portable parts or tool
storage, and you’ve never ever thrown one away that was not busted.
If you refer to land using the names of the farmers who owned them a generation ago.
You own a ton of hats (mostly free) but continue to wear the same one or two of them.
But if Jeff Foxworthy had thought of it, he might have used the "first to the elevator pride" as a common denominator for farmers, too.
We brought our first truckload of the 2020 corn harvest to Zenith last Thursday, August 27. And we were first there. While other farmers have been cutting some high-moisture corn and hauling it to the feedlot, we cut the first dry loads of corn to arrive at the Zenith branch of the Kanza Co-op. Then, on Friday, we were the first at the Stafford branch, too.
However, a cold front with some moisture arrived on Saturday, so corn harvest came to a standstill over the weekend. It was still too wet on Monday, too. We'll see what today brings.
We are primarily wheat farmers. Last year, because
of weather conditions that prevented wheat planting in fall 2018, we
raised corn on 600 acres. This year, we are back to 180 acres committed to corn.
We planted a 100-day corn, meaning it's estimated to be 100 days between planting and harvest. (As a comparison, my brother in Pratt County planted a 114-day variety.)
This year, we began planting corn on April 20 and finished on April 28. To harvest the corn, our combine uses an eight-row header. (In the photo below, you can't see all eight rows.)
I think they look a little like missiles as they move down between the
rows. The corn ears are pulled off the corn stalk and are dragged into
the combine with rollers. Inside the combine, the corn kernels are
separated from the husks and cobs. Then the cobs and debris are
dispersed out the back of the combine.
Once the combine bin gets full ...
... it's time to dump it into the truck.
Many farmers have a grain cart
pulled by a tractor to do this step, but we unload from the combine
directly into the truck.
If the weather cooperates, we'll be done in a couple of days.
So far, Randy has been pleased with the yields, but a final tally will come once all the grain is delivered to the co-op.
You might be a farmer if "yield" means bushels - not a sign on a highway.
