My preparations for the upcoming gun deer season took me on a walk through the woods the other day. While my purpose was to prepare my deer stand, I also needed the walk for therapeutic reasons.
As we march through the end of October, the harvest season is earlier and going full throttle in farm country, thanks mainly to a long stretch of dry weather.
Lilac bloom time is one of my favorite parts of spring, so my senses were sent catawampus when I inhaled their fragrance last week. The nasal insufflation took me back to May when it was October.
There’s always a sense of urgency to get outdoor chores completed when the calendar turns to fall.
I sat on the back stoop on the cusp of autumn, coffee in hand, and bade goodbye to summer. “Seems like I hardly knew you,” I said.
School is back in session, a sure sign that another summer season has flown by.
The summer season is winding down but August was usually the month for our family vacations – which were difficult to come by when you lived on a dairy farm.
“Do you know where you are going?”
My assignment as an 11-year-old on a hot summer day was to rake hay. The sun was shining, the hay was cut and we were going to bale hay.
I had a dream the other night.
It was a hot summer day and I was in the hay mow stacking bales. I could feel the chaff on my sweaty skin, hear the chatter of the elevator chain bringing up the bales from the wagon and smell the sweet aroma of the freshly dried alfalfa.
Passing the age of 60 gives me the right to slip into what I believe is my curmudgeon persona, which means I can complain about certain things that I dislike or just don’t understand.
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