You notice them more at this time of the year.
As winter retreats (we hope), they emerge from the safety and warmth of their burrows. As they explore and hunt for food and mates — humans encounter them, point them out to youngsters, and continue on their way.
I’m talking about the real, live ones above. Then there are the year round sort — the ones artists have created for our enjoyment.
Harvey and Friend resting in St. Louis
Every person should develop a portion of patience. Gardeners and farmers need an extra large ration.
Hundred day corn. Ten year crop. Seven years to reach production.
Whether it’s a crop of corn to feed the local hogs and cattle, evergreens destined to become Christmas trees, or trees gifting us with luscious, sweet fruit, patience is required.
The above is an apple orchard. Not in the fall, when the fruit is large and ready to be picked. (And tasted.) This is one full of promise. It was a late spring the year this photo was taken. Usually the blossoms would have come, gone, and the branches would be decorated with small, fresh leaves.
Patience. May I have an extra serving? Please?
They are very popular among works of public sculpture. They tend to symbolize Strength and Courage. Patience and Fortitude.
King of the Jungle. They don’t actually live in the jungle. They prowl and hunt in the grasslands.
King of Beasts. Really? King? I suppose it’s clever that he gets the credit while the females do the hunting.
So here we go — four examples captured on my travels.
The Prowler — found in Kentucky
The Watchful — London, England
In some small towns a flat space is at a premium. So you need to make it work double – or triple – duty.
Friday night football — non-Texas style. It means it’s played late enough that you need to turn on the lights. Football practice, marching band practice, and gym class all share the same grass. Okay — when they put the fresh lines out on Friday, the others move to the side or inside.
The little concession stand/shed is parked on the sidelines during the season. And they’ve had an improvement since my days of being thankful for the wool band uniform. An actual outdoor scoreboard! First class!
And there is seating for the brave. The bleachers, like the concession stand, will be removed at the end of the season.
And you need to share in other ways. Look at the right side of the summer photo.
The preacher was fantastic. Inspiring.
Nashville steamboat captain and businessman Thomas G. Ryman heard the message at an 1885 revival. He was so moved, he put his energy and money into the construction of Union Gospel Tabernacle.
The acoustics are wonderful. The building became a popular venue for concerts and cultural events.
Renovations were made which increased the seating and preserved the sound.
Today thousands of tourists flock to the building to tour the displays and absorb the musical history of the site. But it’s more than museum. Performances occur.
You won’t find “Union Gospel Tabernacle” on a Nashville city map. But you will find “Ryman Auditorium. Frequently referred to as the home of the “Grand Ole Opry”
Small town life. It’s different from living in the city, or even the suburbs. And it’s more than a matter of the population number on the sign.
It’s a state of mind. An attitude. And the strong influence of rural surrounding. For example — the model for Crystal Springs includes more than the village of 522 hearty souls. (Have you seen the weather reports out of Wisconsin this winter? They are strong & sturdy.)
Consider the farms surrounding the town. They supply students for the school. Customers for the farm supply. Members for the church. And then there is the case of the house in the country. Perhaps the occupants have sold the land. Or they rent it to a neighbor. They may be retired. Or commute to work in a larger town 20, 30 or more miles away.
So remember when visiting a small town – in person or by reading – the fabric of the community includes more than the residents within the lines on a map.
Did you have breakfast? Supper or lunch yesterday?
Thank a farmer!
No matter what was on your plate, in your bowl, or poured from your blender — a farmer was involved.
But I got it at the store?
Let’s follow the chain back, shall we. The store got it from a wholesaler and it most likely arrived on a truck. The wholesaler got it from a grower (farmer), in the case of fresh fruits and vegetables. Or they got it from a processor in the case of meats, dairy products, grain products, and specialty items such as sugar and coffee. So go back one more link — there’s the farmer, or grower, or fisherman — selling to the processor or cannery.
I’ll say it again — Thank A Farmer!
This proud farmer marks the spot for a local summer market.
There’s a lot of history per acre here. It goes back into the 19th century and some of the first settlers in the valley.
Need a guide? Find an long-time resident with a clear memory and a keen interest in the world around them.
I’ve walked this particular cemetery many times. Participated in the Memorial Day ceremonies. Sought out the graves of ancestors. Listened to the explanation of who was related how. And what that person died of. That group? An entire family died the same year — that was when the diphtheria epidemic came through. (Suddenly that shot in the arm at the clinic made sense.)
Take your time. Read the stones. Practice your math. Infants. Children. Veterans. Parting comments from loved ones. Let a sense of peace and history settle around you.
The fable of six blind men and the elephant is a classic. It was in one of the many books around the house, and read or told many times while I was a child.
Is it true? Well, let’s see.
Pretend you are blind and you are asked to give a quick examine and then compare the animal modeled here to something else.
In the story (as I recall it) the first man walked up and encountered the animal’s side. “It’s like a wall.”
The second blind man bumped against a leg and wrapped his arms around it. “No, it’s like a tree.”
“You’re both wrong,” the third man spoke up while holding the tail. “This animal feels like a rope.”
“Not at all. I’m reaching up and feel a portion very much like a fan.” The fourth man insisted while holding the edge of an ear.
The fifth man slid his fingers across a hard, smooth surface. (I doubt the animal was in the pose above.) “The elephant is very like a spear.”
The final man stepped forward and reached out. “Snake, snake,” he called as he encountered the trunk.
Who was right? Who was wrong? It depends on what you encounter. Perhaps if each man had explored further, they could have argued over the results less.
The Caregiver — St. Louis, MO