Friday Night Performances

What does 

standing with your hands on your hips 

mean in nonverbal communication?

Oh well.

Another Friday night football game.

Go Panthers!

You rock!

Remember last time when I couldn't pick out one of

my daughters in the saxophone line up during marching?

Well, not this time : )

There is my other shining star.

Wow!  I actually got them both in one photo.

There she is.  Her first cheer-leading halftime dance.

She's in the center.

Tomorrow is their first marching band competition

for this year.

Stay tuned for video.

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Before Harvest

I felt the urgency to walk through

the fields by our house

and take one last look at the crops before harvest.

I never know when one day it will be here and the next gone.

The corn is dry and crackling.

The soy beans hang in multitudes.

I wish I could put into words what I feel

as I walk among these plants.

I am awestruck at what modern farming 

is capable of.  

The size of the ears of corn. 

The shear number of the pods

on each and every soybean plant.

The perfectly spaced rows.

The unity.

I can't help but put aside all my

opinions about genetically modified plants

and Monsanto.

Right now don't care where the seed came from.

The plant is perfection!

I feel reverence just being near them.

This is science, technology and nature at it's best.

This is the earth feeding us.

As I say a last good bye at sunset

and turn to look back at my little farm,

I feel small, humble

and changed.

I am among agriculture's finest.

They quietly grew while wars raged around the world.

They uncomplainingly stood in the searing heat of July.

They tollerated the weeks without rain.

They were armed to fight off disease and battle pests

and they did it well.

They performed to perfection without rest.

They weren't nurtured, touched or praised

yet they thrived.

They will feed the world.

Walk amongst the fields if you get the chance.

Know where your food comes from.

Whether you approve of where science and technology

has taken us or not.

You can't help but be moved.

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Today is Michaelmas

In the Christian world, today is Michaelmas, feast day of the archangel Michael, which was a very important day in times past, falling near the equinox and so marking the fast darkening of the days in the northern world, the boundary of what was and what is to be. Today was the end of the harvest and the time for farm folk to calculate how many animals they could afford to feed through the winter and which would be sold or slaughtered. It was the end of the fishing season, the beginning of hunting, the time to pick apples and make cider.

Today was a day for settling rents and accounts, which farmers often paid for with a brace of birds from the flocks hatched that spring. Geese were given to the poor and their plucked down sold for the filling of mattresses and pillows.

Michaelmas was the time of the traditional printer's celebration, the wayzgoose, the day on which printers broke from their work to form the last of their pulp into paper with which to cover their open windows against the coming cold — the original solution for those who could not afford glass yet had more than nothing — and the advent of days spent working by candlelight.

In the past, the traditional Michaelmas meal would have been a roast stubble goose — the large gray geese that many of us only get to admire at our local state and county fairs. Today, when most poultry comes from the grocery store in parts and wrapped in plastic, a roast goose can be a difficult luxury to obtain, but any homey, unfussy meal is a fine substitute — especially with a posy of Michaelmas daisies or purple asters on the table.

In folklore, it is said that when Michael cast the Devil from Heaven, the fallen angel landed on a patch of blackberry brambles and so returns this day every year to spit upon the plant that tortured him. For this reason, blackberries would not be eaten after today, and so folks would gather them in masses on Michaelmas to put into pies and crumbles and preserves. And they would bake St. Michael's bannocks, a large, flat scone of oats and barley and rye, baked on a hot griddle and then eaten with butter or honey or a pot of blackberry preserves.

Whether you recognize Michaelmas or not, you can still greet what comes with the symbols of today: gloves, for open-handedness and generosity; and ginger to keep you warm and well in the coming cold.

From The Writers Alamnac.

Emily's Autumn

Autumn

The morns are meeker than they were,

The nuts are getting brown;

The berry's cheek is plumper,

The rose is out of town.

The maple wears a gayer scarf,

The field a scarlet gown.

Lest I should be old-fashioned,

I'll put a trinket on.

-Emily Dickinson

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Sweet 16

Do you remember your sixteenth birthday?

Most people do;

for the rest of their lives.

I wanted this birthday to be 

special for the girls.

Special enough, that I subjected myself

to the excruciatingly painful

used-car buying process.

 I did what I could,

with what I had (borrowed).

I knew they would be pleased

with anything on four wheels.

and they were.

It was a VERY

good day.

P.S.  The girls were super surprised, 

as their birthday is still a few weeks away.

(Seriously - where do you hide a minivan?)

Also, they have always shared everything, 

from the womb to the bath water. 

They don't mind sharing a car.

2002 Ford Windstar  89K miles.
(Because inquiring grandpas will want to know.)

.

Nyla's Plan

Hello everyone,

my name is Nyla  

and I am practicing

 to scare trick-or-treaters 

on Halloween.

This is my poker face I will use as 

small children approach the house.

Completely innocent right?

Are you ready?

Scary face Nyla!!!

Whadaya think?

Pretty good huh?

linking up with  Best Post of the Week.

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Parade

The Lions Club Parade was this weekend.

Here is a video of the Norfolk Marching Band.

I think there were over 30 bands in all.

More parade photos later.

Rylee is marching at the front of the parade with the color guard.

Rikki is marching with the saxophones.

Hope you can pick them out.

Sara was with me and she yelled for them.

.

Molt

What is

the disorder called

whereby you get 

an idea of

something you want to

photograph

and then 

 can't stop taking pictures?

 You tune out everything

 and everyone.

 You don't eat

don't speak,

and you barely breathe.

Your life

is nothing more

 than

the

intense

search

for

 your

personal

best.

.