Frost on the pumpkin. This morning I arose to see the neighbors roof covered with frost as well as the football field across the road south laid out with a white carpet. The valley where the foxes bark at night was chilled with its promise of cooler days ahead. Its harvest time in northcentral Kansas, the corn fields reduced to bleak brown stalks, the soy bean fields standing stark with dropped leaves awaiting the giant combines to reap their bounty. Every hour of daylight dust flies in the fields and giant farm trucks, driven by family members, rumble toward the Elevator to sell the grain which will feed the world. But this morning, a new day has dawned, its happened for a thousand years. What wasnt ripe last night will now become ripe, ready or not. Its 32 degrees, and that means its to cold to grow anymore, theres frost on most every pumpkin and tree leaves will show their colors. We knew it was coming so we began preparing by moving summer furniture into storage, outside flowers groomed and grass cut. The joy of it all is that we perhaps will live to see another winter, and you know what follows winter. Spring always comes sooner or later.
Posted on: Sat, 11 Oct 2014 12:37:48 +0000
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