Showing posts with label canopy of trees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label canopy of trees. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 19, 2025

Sunday Drive on a Friday Night

 

We took a "Sunday drive" last Friday night.  

The term "Sunday drive" originated from leisurely car drives taken on Sundays in the early to mid-20th century as a form of cheap entertainment. That just happens to be the time I was a kid growing up on a Central Kansas farm. I know about "Sunday drives" firsthand as a kid sitting in the backseat of a car while my dad sang songs like "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" or "Mairzy Doats." Those - plus "I'm An Old Cowhand" - were also part of the sound track of our trips to visit my grandparents in Sublette. 

If you look up the definition of "Sunday drives," it says that initially, these drives were a form of recreation with no specific destination or time constraints. Over time, the term "Sunday driver" has evolved to describe someone who drives slowly, cautiously or inexpertly, often associated with inattentive drivers. Alternatively, it can mean "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

Since the only living things we saw on our trek off the beaten path were grazing cattle, we didn't bother any other drivers on our foray down country roads. So I guess, in this case, we'll stick with the definition of "those who take their time to enjoy the scenery."

We ate supper at Sylvia's Oasis restaurant after a fellow golfer recommended the Mexican food there to Randy. On the way home, we took a detour to the Ninnescah Pasture. Randy had been there more recently than I had. One summer when we were still actively farming, we took more trips down that road than any of us would have liked. There was a group of cows and calves that were determined to find the proverbial "greener pastures." No matter what we did, they would not stay in, so we were on 4-wheelers rounding them up more times than either of us wanted. (That group of escapees eventually ended up at the sale barn.) 

Anyway, it was nice to take a leisurely trip down the road - with no purpose in mind, other than checking out the water flow in the Ninnescah ... 

Looking east at the bridge
 
Looking west at the bridge

... And "smelling the roses" - or, in this case -  the wooly verbena. 

 

The road to another familiar pasture - the Rattlesnake Pasture - used to be lined by a tunnel of cottonwood trees, a route I loved in the summer. But several years ago, those aging cottonwoods were cleared away from the road. I'm sure it made practical sense, but I still miss dodging light and shadow as we work our way down that road. I imagined Randy's predecessors 120 years ago appreciating the road less traveled as they brought cattle to the Rattlesnake pasture and then checked them throughout the summer months.

July 2013 - This was before the township tore down most of the cottonwoods along the road to the Rattlesnake Pasture.

Maybe those nostalgic memories factor into my love of a tree-lined road near the Ninnescah Pasture, where the trees still tower over the dirt road and the sun plays peekaboo among the branches.

 

 You can't beat a Sunday drive on a Friday night.

 

Look for chances to take the less-traveled roads. 
There are no wrong turns.
-- Susan Magsamen 

 

*** 

And an update on the bridge north of our house: We drove up to the bridge last evening to check out the progress. Completion is definitely closer, but the Road Closed signs remain. However, all the big equipment is gone, and the new guardrails are in place. 

On August 5, the public works guys told Randy that the bridge would be done in 2 weeks. We'll see if their prediction holds true. 

 


Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Take Me Home, Country Roads

"Painting" filter from my camera
Come and find the quiet center
in the crowded life we lead,
find the room for hope to enter,
find the frame where we are freed:
clear the chaos and the clutter,
clear our eyes, that we can see
all the things that really matter,
be at peace, and simply be.
From a hymn/poem by Shirley Erena Murray
Words copyright 1992, 2005, Hope Publishing Company
Sometimes, going along for the ride is just the destination I need.

Randy wanted to drive down to the Ninnescah pasture to make sure his fence repairs were keeping the cows from exploring the old adage, "The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence."

Randy's favorite part of the trip was finding that the cattle were where they belong. My favorite part was a side trip on the way home through a tunnel of majestic old trees with the evening light playing hide and seek with the canopy of green.
 
I got out of the pickup and walked down the road, enjoying the glitter of light on century-old cottonwood trees and their octogenarian neighbors.
It's hard to capture on the camera, but a special filter shows the pinpoints of light streaming through the lush ceiling of green.
It reminded me of a hymn we sang not too long ago at church, which tells us to "clear the chaos and the clutter ... and simply be."

That's not a natural state for me with my to-do lists and expectations. There seems to be this stereotype of a laid-back lifestyle and attitude permeating farm country. But with weather concerns for the past year, employee problems and the farm economy, I'm not feeling that mellow feeling at the moment.
Instead, it feels more like trudging through the sand (or mud) and just trying to slog my way through it.
So stopping on top of the old wooden bridge at the Ninnescah and getting out to watch the water gently ruffle the grasses lining the banks was a quiet diversion.
So was looking up at the backlit green leaves against a blue and white puffy "quilt" of a sky.
I can find that quiet center in God's beautiful canvases painted in evening skies - if I just take the time to go out and look.
Sunset over my folks/brother's circle of corn - Pratt County
Silence is a friend who claims us,
cools the heat and slows the pace,
God it is who speaks and names us,
 knows our being, touches base,
making space within our thinking,
lifting shades to show the sun,
raising courage when we're shrinking,
finding scope for faith begun. ... 
More from the hymn/poem by Shirley Erena Murray
Taken in Pratt County, just north of my folks' house
An update: Our trip to the Ninnescah to check on the cattle last night was not as successful. It was still pretty, but four pair were on the wrong side of the fence. We got two back in, but we'll leave in a few minutes to try and shepherd the rest back to our pasture. 

Tomorrow, the National Master Farm Homemaker Guild convention begins in Manhattan. I'm in charge of the Hospitality Room, so my to-do-lists have their own lists (so to speak)! Here's hoping our visitors from Iowa, Kentucky and Colorado glimpse some of Kansas' beauty during their visit to the Sunflower State. 


Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Cottonwoods: Wtiness Trees

One of Reno County's largest cottonwood trees. Can you see Randy?
I have a lifetime love of cottonwoods.  At my childhood home, an old cottonwood stood near the south driveway, the first thing visitors saw as they approached the farmstead and one of the last things silhouetted by a sunset sky at night. 
Cottonwood at my childhood home, Pratt County
Every spring, the cotton from the tree covered the ground.
My sisters and I used both the cotton and the green unopened pods to decorate mud pies.
In this photo dated April 1963, I was 5, Lisa was 4 and Darci was 18 months. I have fond memories of adding just the right amount of water to dirt and then pouring it into pie tins and buckets. The fluffy white cotton and the green pods were the decorative touch. It was all about presentation, even back before knowing anything about garnishing via the Food Network chefs.

But, sadly, that old cottonwood succumbed to old age, and it no longer stands sentinel at my parents' home.

On Sunday, July 8, CBS Sunday Morning featured a story on Witness Trees. These trees "witnessed" the battle at Gettysburg. Across 6,000 acres of Gettysburg National Military Park, rangers have documented at least a dozen "witness trees" that were alive during the battle - living links that help tell the story of the battle, according to park rangers.

Cottonwoods live from 60 to 200 years. A few of them that still survive today likely co-existed with the bison herds that roamed the Great Plains long ago. (Great Plains Nature Center, 2006).

Cottonwoods help tell my story, too, and they have "witnessed" important passages in my life. 
It just seemed right that a cottonwood tree guarded the mailbox at the home where we've lived since 1985. (Click on the link to see our tree in every season.) Just a few weeks after we moved into this home, that cottonwood witnessed us bringing home our first baby, Jill. It was a quiet sentinel two and three-quarters years later when we brought Brent home. It witnessed their wobbly attempts to ride bikes on dirt roads, their first bus rides to school and "saw" more than one 4-H calf halter broke. It waved goodbye as they left for college and greets them when they come back home. It is our "witness" tree on the County Line.

 However, it, too, is struggling to survive these days, with some branches never greening up this spring.
The road patrol driver asked about cutting it down. While there's still green to be seen, we're not ready to let it go.
Mighty cottonwoods form a canopy down many a country road in rural Kansas. One of my favorite cottonwood "tunnels" is along 4th Avenue near Huntville.
 
Though tree trimming and age have made that tunnel effect less dramatic in recent years, it's still a favorite landmark on the drive to and from Hutchinson.
June 2018
One of Reno County's largest cottonwood trees is on a road just east of that old cottonwood tunnel.  On a recent return trip from Hutchinson, Randy detoured down the road to visit. 
It's so big you can't get the whole thing in a single snapshot. Randy tried to demonstrate the massive trunk with his outstretched hands.

"It's a darn big tree," Jim Smith, former director at Dillon Nature Center in Hutchinson, said in an article in The Hutchinson News. I'm glad he did the measuring because we didn't come prepared, even to measure the trunk and certainly not to scale its height. It measures more than 28 feet around, 96 feet tall and has a spread of about 110 feet.
Early Kansas settlers found the native trees as they arrived from the eastern U.S. The wide Kansas prairie was often foreign and intimidating to settlers moving west from the Ohio Valley, the Appalachian Mountains or New England. The landscapes they had left back home were covered with trees that provided wood for building homes, fuel for cooking, fuel to warm the hearth during a harsh winter and shade to protect them from a hot summer sun. Following the Oregon and Santa Fe trails west, trees were in very short supply.

4th Street cottonwoods, September 2015
When a cottonwood tree was spotted, thoughts of shade, water, wood and back home filled the minds of weary travelers. The cottonwood gave those traveling through the state a respite from the summer sun and the courage to continue west.

When the Kansas Legislature chose the cottonwood (Populus deltoides) as the state tree in 1937, the proclamation read:
"Whereas, if the full truth were known, it might honestly be said that the successful growth of the cottonwood grove on the homestead was often the determining factor in the decision of the homesteader to 'stick it out until he could prove up on his claim'; and Whereas, The cottonwood tree can rightfully be called 'the pioneer tree of Kansas.' "
4th Street cottonwoods in winter
They are like the old family patriarch - tall, stately, but maybe a little rough around the edges after years of standing through the changing seasons. Many a country road is lined with these big old trees, which seem to wave a friendly greeting in the Kansas breeze. On early morning or late evening trips to check cattle, the cottonwood's leaves rustle and birds serenade from their branches.

Their attire changes with the seasons - whether clothed in green for summer or in yellow finery for fall or stark and drab in winter's solemnity.
July 2013
For years, the road to the Big Pasture was lined with cottonwoods. It's just not the same after they were cut down last year.
The Palmer Pasture cottonwood in better times.
A cottonwood near our Palmer Pasture came crashing down two summers ago. I still miss it when we pull into the southwest gate of the pasture.
I always appreciate the fall colors on the cottonwood trees as we leave the Ninnescah Pasture to bring the cattle home each November.
And a grove of old cottonwoods frame our secret garden of iris each May along the Zenith Road and the glimmer of the shiny leaves at golden hour make it even more picturesque.

Long may these witness trees live!

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Love the Tunnel

A tunnel may conjure up images of a car being swallowed up by a black hole. Once inside, the hum of the car tires traveling over asphalt echoes off the claustrophobic walls and the lights streaming by make it seem like you're the bouncing ball in a fast-moving video game.

Not that I have all that much experience with those kinds of tunnels living on a farm in Central Kansas. But I do love another kind of tunnel - what I call "tree tunnels."

It's one of my favorite things about summertime. Along a country road, a blanket of vivid green envelops me, kind of like a child being tucked into a tight cocoon of blankets at night. 
Quivira National Wildlife Refuge has even labeled one of its tree tunnels. I need to go back and take photos at different times of the day to see how the light shifts and changes. These photos were taken in the evening, following a trip to check our Rattlesnake pasture.
But it doesn't have to have a brown-and-white label to create an overarching canopy of green and texture floating over a secluded country road.
One of my favorite parts of going to the Rattlesnake is seeing how the branches and leaves perform a ballet of light and shadow, a show for which I get a free, front-row seat.
And it's always new - from hour to hour and from season to season.

Monday, May 18, 2015

Loving Leftovers

I personally don't mind having leftovers in the fridge. It simplifies the next meal or two. So, I guess I shouldn't mind having leftovers creep into my photo files either.

These were photos I took this spring that didn't make it into a blog post. But I decided they were worth another look anyway, since they provide a snapshot - literally - of what's been going on.
This first one just makes me smile. A cow looked ready to depart the cattle trailer for her summer vacation. "Open the door already!" she appeared to be telling us.
The next two were from the Palmer pasture. I shared photos from the Rattlesnake and the Ninnescah, but, for some reason, these didn't make the cut the first time around.
These ladies sure weren't complaining when we let them out of the trailer. They left their chauffeured ride without a backwards glance.

I always look at this trio of trees just before the pasture gate at the Ninnescah. They never disappoint - no matter the season.

"I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as a tree." I sang a song based on that Joyce Kilmer poem at one of my first music festivals. I just didn't know how true I would find it throughout my lifetime. I love traveling through this tree-lined canopy on the way to and from the Rattlesnake pasture.


The wild mustard provided a scenic foreground to the pasture fence just south of our house. I'm glad I captured it, since the bright yellow flowers have faded now.

Since I take hundreds of photos, I am sure there are others hiding in plain sight. And that's OK. Sometimes, taking the photos opens my eyes to the beauty and blessings all around me - whether I share them or not. That thought was confirmed by a recent email devotional from Guideposts:

A Time to Act

Become more aware of the blessings that surround you.
 

A Time to Act

Oh, Lord, teach me to remember You in all things, every day of my life.

A Time to Pray

Creator God, thank You for the works of Your hand
that cry out the awesome truth of Your care for me.