The news last week was the economy in danger of going south. The news had people talking, but no signs of panic or fear that their material worlds may come crashing down. Everyone seems to think that the people who control the money will save us. The very same people who got us into this unearthly mess to begin with.
Regardless of what the outcome is in the upcoming election, people are going to have to make adjustments in their lives. What we value most will become more basic and to the heart. No one seems to be asking Mother Earth if she is part of the "American Dream." She would tell us that she simply wants all her living things to be healthy, happy, and contribute to her. That's pretty basic and to the heart. This is something I wish everyone would think about. Cast a vote for Mother Earth, a leader we can trust. We all need to demand that change come about in her favor, as her cause is naturally our own.
It's good to hear the Canada geese honking as they pass over. The fall season has them thinking of gathering and sharing the journey south.
There still hasn't been a hard frost yet in the valley, and I'm still enjoying a nice insect concert each night. The extended warm weather will help ensure the crops will ripen in the fields. These days it's hard to put all the right weather conditions together and come up with a decent field of corn or soybeans. The truth is, it's dry. Some of the soybean fields like kinda scrawny and aren't going to produce many beans. Because of how dry it is, I haven't been seeing many wild fall mushrooms. There's still time for them to pop if we get some rain in the forecast.
Late this afternoon, I took a walk up the hill to the woods above the house. It's the place where the gnarled old Grandfather trees live. They are spread out over an area about a hundred yards wide in the middle of the woods.
This stand of woods is second and third growth trees, and was logged off many years ago by the looks of the old rotted tree stumps. It's a crowded forest environment, where the trees grow tall and fairly straight, making them very desirable saw logs. Competition for light makes the trunks long and limbless until further up the tree.
The Grandfather trees, on the other hand, have huge, stocky trunks that are shorter. The very large limbs reach out in every direction like the arms of a great octopus, making a vast canopy. They are very old and had spread their huge limbs to the sun long before there were any other trees. They grow in an open prairie environment long before the woods formed around them. Many of the trees that were logged off were over 100 years old, but the Grandfather trees are 300 years and older.
The Grandfather trees speak to me with their long, twisted dead branches and dark holes, cracks and crevices. Their dead limbs tell the stories of crows, hawks, and passenger pigeons that once perched on them. One trunk had been struck and split in a thunderstorm 100 years ago. Even the old one who has finally fallen over, and dies gracefully in a shroud of moss and mushrooms, has tales to tell of the past, as well as the future. Now woodland asters grow and enjoy the open, sunny space in the woods where the Grandfather tree cast a shadow for three centuries.
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