Looking on the Bright Side

April 21, 2022

We live in an instant gratification society. Information is literally at our fingertips. Wonder about something? Google it, and seconds later, the answer appears on your phone screen (or, at least, AN answer pops up on the screen.)

Forget those old cliches about stopping to smell the roses: We want to be down the road and on to the next thing at 55 MPH (or maybe faster). 

I was on my way home from meeting with three high school classmates. It was a beautiful spring evening at the park, and I was filled up from a brown bag supper and a healthy serving of good conversation.

But when I turned on to the Zenith Road, my way home was blocked by a train. And it was just sitting there. It was one of those days when I hadn't gotten my Wordle puzzle earlier in the day, so I had let it sit and marinate, so to speak. I hadn't taken time to come back to it, so I pulled out my phone and started contemplating five-letter words. 

But then, I noticed another five-letter word happening to my left: SHINE. The sunset was creating a free LIGHT show outside my driver's side window. The sunsets in recent days hadn't been anything spectacular. So this LIGHT show was a special TREAT. (I may have still been looking for five-letter words, at least subconsciously.)

I backed up, then pulled forward, then backed up again. (It was the Zenith Road, so there was no one behind me.)

I tried to position the beam of light through a gap in the elevator. It wasn't particularly successful, but it passed the time.

I drove down the lane for different angles. You can get a lot of different angles in 30 minutes, in case you were wondering. 

A string of locomotives eventually headed west, departing just like an old western movie cowboy into the sunset.

 

Surely this would be the end of my wait, I thought. I drove back to the Zenith Road. And then the locomotives came back toward me. And there it - and I - sat.

My camera's "eye" saw things more "pink" than my phone camera.

I finally decided it was time to drive a mile east and hope the train didn't stretch that far. (It was close, but the crossing was clear.)

The next day, my friend, Diana, posted a photo she had taken on her drive home, too, and I commented, along with posting a picture I'd taken from my spot at Zenith. She said, "We were hoping you would get the sun going down! It was a big red ball - beautiful! But the dang elevator was in your way!'

Diana's sunset photo posted to Facebook, taken from a car window

Yes, but it was beautiful from my angle, too. And I have a particular affinity for the Zenith elevator, since it's been such an integral part of our farming journey.

I know that trains aren't supposed to block a road for that long. I could get all "huffy" about it. But why let it ruin my good mood? It kind of went along with an email devotional I had saved:

A Time to Think

Flowers grow out of dark moments. 

 –Sister Mary Corita Kent, artist and educator

A Time to Act

Change your thoughts and change your life.

A Time to Pray

Dear God, help me always to see beyond my fears (and frustrations) to the beauty of Your creation.

It seems like a good philosophy for life.

 

No Hunting: Beauty Found

The sign said "No Hunting."

And, if you don't know they are there, it would be easy to miss the annual springtime visitors.

But because I look forward to the annual visit, I really didn't have to "hunt" to find my Zenith road flower garden.

 

For years, I've awaited the blooming of the irises at an old abandoned farmstead north of Zenith.

 

 By the middle of April, Randy was already keeping watch with me, too. I reminded him that May was usually the magical month.

And May it was again! With the news channels full of more coronavirus news, an evening visit to "my" secret garden was just the medicine I needed.

As you can see, my trusty companion went along, too. (That royal blue in the background is not a nattily-dressed deer. It's my wandering husband. Neither he or I realized he was in the shot that moment.)

Last year, the ground was marked with "For Sale" signs. Earlier this spring, a "SOLD" sign appeared on top of the real estate sign. We still don't know who the buyer is. But I am thankful for another year of appreciating the beautiful blooms.

(And to the new owner: No ground was harmed in the photographing of these irises, which I'd like to believe bloom for my enjoyment. But - true confessions - I did venture off the road and a few yards into the field.)

I love going to the spot as the sun is on its way down. It streaks across the dried CRP grasses in the background and contrasts with the deep green of the spring blooms.

The lights and shadows provide texture, as do the pieces of bark shed by the mighty trees who've born silent witness to the blooms for years.

We lived as newlyweds in a house just a mile north of Zenith. And, as I've shared before, I don't remember seeing the irises back then, even though they are less than a half mile away. I was speeding past them on my way to and from Hutchinson to work each day. That singular focus gave me tunnel vision, I suppose. At that point, I was likely gathering speed for the daily dash to The Hutchinson News offices. Or, after a long day away, I was ready to pull into the driveway and relax for a few hours before the merry-go-round began again the next day.

 

A trip to the Ninnescah pasture on Saturday afternoon included a detour to another of my secret gardens.

 Some of those blooms were only beginning to stretch out their petals for the spring show.

 The little caterpillar-like beard seemed to begin the metamorphosis into the beauty of spring.

Others were ready for their close-up.

While Covid-19 has interrupted our lives in ways we'd never dreamed just a few months ago, there may be a silver lining.

 

Or maybe the lining comes not in silver, but in the form of purple veining streaked like Crayola washable markers along paper-thin petals and the bright yellow beards of an old-fashioned flower.

And it comes with a realization to appreciate the little things. 

²⁷ “Consider how the lilies grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. ²⁸ If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today, and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you—you of little faith! ²⁹ And do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it ... But seek his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.

Luke 12: 27-31

Pickin' and Grinnin': 2019 Corn Harvest

This sign shows the scale operator at the co-op which field this truckload is from.

Noun
pickin' and grinnin'
1. (chiefly US, music, idiomatic) Vigorous playing of folk or country music on a stringed musical instrument, especially the guitar or banjo, while smiling broadly.

***

Are we picking corn or cutting corn? That is the question.

I fall back on my wheat harvest terminology and say we are "cutting corn." My Farmer says that there just might be an old fella or two at Joan's Cafe who would correct me. They are of the "corn picking" vernacular.

No matter how you say it, we are in the midst of corn harvest. (I think my "corn harvest" semantics will please all "cutting" and "picking" camps.)

The jury is still out as to whether we are really grinnin' about the 2019 corn harvest yields. 

For one thing, we have large mudholes where we were unable to plant corn this spring. (If you're a regular reader, you will know that we planted more corn because we were unable to plant wheat last fall due to overwhelming rainfall. It remained wet through the spring.)

However, as is the farmer's lament, temperatures soared about the time the corn was filling, and we didn't get rain in time on some of the fields. So, as I said, the jury is still out on yields.

Our combine has 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.

You can see the entire combine header in the photo above.

One day last week, I went along with Randy to Zenith to deliver a load of corn.

Back when I was a teenage wheat truck driver, I used to carefully apply my blue eye shadow before I made my trips from the field to the Iuka Co-op.

 

Who knew what cute teenage boy truck drivers I might see as I was untarping the truck?

I guess I did find my cute truck driver. It just took me a few years.

It's definitely a different perspective to be rolling down the Zenith road in a semi, rather than my low-slung car.  

Photo taken another day

Once we arrived at Zenith, Randy untarped the semi.

Once we weighed on at the scale house, we went to dump the grain, this time, at the outside pit.

Photo from 2015 - headed to the outside dump location

 And I took more photos from a different perspective than I normally get. (Big surprise, right?)

 

 After we were empty, we weighed back on at the scale house ...

... where we picked up the ticket, before driving back to the field to do it all over again.

 

Yes, I was the truck driver for many years - both growing up and after I married Randy. And yes, I could learn to drive the semi if needed. So far, my services have not been required.

I know a lot of farm wives love driving the combine. But at this point in my life, I will leave that job to the guy who's been doing it since high school. Even though we bought the combine at a farm auction used, we are still paying for it. I'll leave it to my cute driver to operate the high-dollar equipment. I'm good going along for the ride.

Photo through the dirty windshield!