A Walkabout While Still Locked Down

Tennessee is still under the Chinese coronavirus lockdown.  We have cabin fever because there is nowhere to go and nothing to do.  Since it has been a while since I walked the fencerow around our property, Scooter agreed to accompany me on a wild adventure.  Entering into the field is a rare treat for him this time of the year since he gets covered in stick tights, mud, and ticks.

Should I go left, right, or fly?

Wheeeeee! I'm flying!

We entered the tractor gate beside our driveway, turned south, and headed up the hill toward the front of our property.  It is the area beside my flower bed.

 

The horses left last fall because the land was overgrazed and in poor shape.  Most of it has recovered but their walking trails are still visible and easily followed. This area beside my flower bed is under closely spaced cedar trees which is too tight for a bush hog to mow.  It always is scraggly.

Looking over the fence at my flower bed from the field is a rare view.  It looks like my garden but is backward.  I feel like Alice peering through the looking glass at someone else's garden.

Going around the corner and heading east is the feeding area for the horses.  The fence ahead is beside the driveway and that makes it convenient on muddy days for the tractor to drop large bales of hay over the fence without mirring up in the field.

In the upper southeastern corner sits both watering troughs.  The land is still bare from constant trampling.

The horse trainers would back their truck down the driveway, park the bed up against the fence and let gravity pour water into the troughs.

I turned my back to the troughs, looked north, and could almost see the chicken coop and house through the trees.  This is the spot where the horses enjoyed eating corn and hay. 

Scooter led us west toward the open field.

The treeline on the left (south) and in the far distance (west) is the boundary of our property.  The trees on the right hide the black hole entrance to Scooter's outer space wormhole.  

At the top of the hill is a wet weather spring that flows after it rains.  How water can defy gravity and bubble up to the highest point of the hill is amazing.  One would think it should be at the bottom of the hill; however, I have previously proven water runs uphill in my neighborhood.  We have discussed digging a pond but if we disturbed the spring, it might never fill up.  The last thing we need on our property is another useless, empty hole. 

Immediately after passing the spring, a turkey hen suddenly flew up across my face.  Scooter barked, I screamed, and she flew away as fast as possible. When Scooter wasn't looking, I searched for the nest. It was hidden in the bushy fencerow beside the water. 

A perfect place.

We didn't get a picture due to being surprised, however, every morning she flies over the fence into the flowers and helps herself to bugs in the front yard.

We continued our hike toward the far end of the property and walked under a hated Bodock tree. 

As I turned around to get a picture of the tree, I noticed something different.  It appeared to be leaning to the left.  It wasn't tilting the last time I saw it...or was it?  Is my memory failing?

There is a new hole in the mud beside the tree, the ground has sunk, and a crack has formed in the soil beside the tree.  

When I walked up closer, I realized a sinkhole is forming and is already about six feet deep.  This is dangerous.  This past winter I whined about the constant rain in our area and it seems I might be justified in my complaints. 

We continued our stroll and reached the back southwest corner of the property.  

It doesn't matter how far the distance or how big the cage, one must always stick their nose through the fence and wish to be on the other side.

Turning around at the southwest corner, facing east and looking back out over the field, our house appears to be tiny.

As we changed directions and walked north, we entered my favorite place on the property.  In the fall when the leaves are turning, it is breathtaking.  It looks like it might have been a driveway years ago.  We don't know the truth because there is nothing on the survey plat. It was peaceful when we originally bought the house but then a subdivision was built (and is still being built) on the other side of the fence.  It has been constant noise ever since.

Next, is my least favorite place.  Before we bought the house, someone dumped roofing shingles and bricks in this area. It was an unpleasant surprise when we discovered it sixteen years ago.  At first, we tried to remove them but then realized they might have asbestos so we no longer touch them.  I hate it when people do tacky things like this.

We continued following the western fencerow toward the back of the property.  There isn't a picture of this fence post in the corner because it can't be seen for the brambles.  When the fence was repaired years ago (before our time), rather than removing the old fencing, someone piled it up and left it to rust.  You have to trust me when I say there is a corner fence post here.

As proof, this is the backside of the corner taken while standing in the (noisy) subdivision.  What a tangled mess.

Standing back inside the fence looking east is the backfield.  It runs alongside the driveway in the previous picture.

At the end of the field begins the woods. There is a thick thicket of thorny thorns so I decided to go north into the woods behind the big sinkhole. 

Of course, we entered beside another Bodock tree.  It seems we have a gazillion of these trees.

The sinkhole is still full of water from the last rainstorm.  I should have paused and marveled at the beauty but the mosquitoes were quickly swarming their next meal.

We went east and followed the path deep into the woods behind our house.

It wasn't an easy walk.  The undergrowth has become thick after this past winter's rainstorms knocked down many branches.

At last, we made it to the back corner fence post then headed south toward home.

The back area is rough and full of large boulders.  When the boys were young, this rock was their fort.  Some of their fortifications haven't completely rotted yet.  It was a fun place in the winter when there weren't any bugs.  They would run wild while I burned fallen branches in small bonfires.  At one time, it was cleared and was a fun place to walk.  No more.  It is now out of control.

Finally, we arrived at the front, eastern corner fence post behind our backyard.

The view looking over the fence at the back of the house was welcomed.

We went right (west) and continued to follow the fence across the back of the yard behind the shed and to the garden.

While standing behind the garden I turned around to see the view when working in the garden.  Two paths diverge in a yellow wood and was sorry I could not travel both today.  The path to the right leads to the backfield - the left to the sinkhole.  The horses chose the right path to graze in the field, and the left to the sinkhole when thirsty.

We chose the path less traveled by the weeds at the edge of the woods. And that has made all the difference.

Home sweet home.

Links mentioned above:

Scooter is in Big Trouble  (The horrors of ticks)
The Horses Have Left
Secret Sinkholes
Scooter, Where No Dog has Gone Before (Wormhole to Outer Space)
Water Runs Uphill in My Neighborhood
Timbeeeeeerrrrrr! (Why I hate Bodock trees)

Passover, Sundown, April 8, 2020

When our children were small, we decided to not participate in Christmas, Easter, and Halloween due to their pagan roots.  Instead, we began celebrating the Feasts of the Lord:  Passover, Unleavened Bread, First Fruits, Pentecost, Trumpets, Day of Atonement, Tabernacles, and Hanukkah.  They are dress rehearsals of what God has done in the past or is going to do in the future.  For a protestant Christian attending a small Church of Christ before the internet existed, instructional sources on how to celebrate from a Christian perspective were not available.  All I had was a Bible.  It is impossible to perfectly "observe" all the requirements, but this is how we have managed to "celebrate" what Jesus has done for us.

We read from my Grandmother's Bible.  Whenever I look at it I can still see her sitting in front of a bright window on Saturday evenings studying her lesson for Sunday morning Bible class at her tiny, country Baptist Church.  Everyone called her Mama Susie.

The blood from the lamb roast is saved and at sundown put on the top and sides of the doorposts. During the first Passover, any house without the blood lost their firstborn at midnight but the death angel "passed over" houses with the blood.  Hyssop is supposed to be used as a brush but since we didn't have any, we used celery - one of our many improvisions. 

When all of our sons are home, the honor of applying the blood belongs to Joshua since he is the only firstborn in our family.  Bill and I are both second-born and we don't know Scooter's birth order (some of the animals died too).  Now it is done by the tallest person, Dustin.

It is difficult to see the blood and then it disappears when dried. That bothered Joshua quite a bit when he was young until his Father explained angels have superpower vision.  He still wanted to make sure it was spread heavily. Today Jesus' blood covers our hearts.  

In years past we have invited people over because Passover is to be enjoyed with friends and neighbors.  However, because we are still under the coronavirus lockdown, only our family could celebrate the seder meal together.  It is the first time since the original Passover that everyone celebrated with only their immediate family.  The whole world is sitting in lockdown waiting to be set free.

The Hebrews were instructed to eat their meal in haste with their cloaks tucked into their belts, shoes on their feet and their staffs in their hands.  At any minute, all would be set free from slavery and must flee.  We wore our shoes but tucking in our cloaks and holding our staffs - that meaning was lost in translation.  We never leave the house without car keys or wallets so they were set beside our plates ready to be grabbed.  However after re-evaluating, next year we will update and add our cellphones and guns.

Dustin was the youngest present so he had to ask the question, "What does this all mean?"

Everything used in the first Passover foreshadowed Christ's self-sacrifice as the Lamb of God years later.  The lamb represents Jesus.

Bill and Dustin drank real wine but I can't due to allergies.  White grape juice was available but not red since my local stores are not fully restocked. (There is still no toilet paper since the wild panic at the beginning of the lockdown.)  My grandfather, Daddy Fred, made wine from Concord grapes he grew in his backyard.  He drank it at dinner every evening from this glass.

Unleavened bread without any yeast is to be served because there was no time to let it rise. The dough was wrapped in cloth, placed in kneading troughs and carried on their shoulders as they left Egypt.  These were made from ground barley or buckwheat mixed with oil, water, and salt.

Bitter herbs symbolize the bitterness of being slaves in Egypt.  French Sorrel and garlic is what was available in my garden. 

Beside my plate sits a cucumber.  When the going got rough on the trip through the desert, the Israelites murmured in their tents and complained about missing cucumbers and garlic back in Egypt.  I whine too much and this is my reminder to not complain.

A fresh salad made from greens picked from my garden represents God's abundant provision.  He has always provided our daily meals.

A fresh fruit salad soaked in cream symbolizes the sweetness that lies ahead in the promised land of milk and honey.  It is the hope that will sustain us through the desert immediately ahead.

The potatoes roasted in butter didn't represent anything.  We just like them.

No one is forgotten at Passover.  Scooter got to clean the dishes but he wisely avoided the bitter herbs.

Shabbat Shalom, y'all.

Passover Celebrations (2021)

Signs in the Heaven from God

Amish, Under Coronavirus Lockdown

Yesterday, I ventured forth from self-isolation to make a trip to my local Amish community to purchase fresh milk, eggs, and tomato plants.   It has been three weeks since my last visit and the world is a different place now.

When I arrived at the milk house of the family where I have a standing order, the father of the family met me at a distance.  He explained how they are practicing social distancing and obeying the State of Tennessee's mandatory stay-at-home order.  No one in the tightknit community has become infected by the Chinese Coronavirus.  Even without modern communication, they knew what was happening.

He brought the full jars from the milk house as I opened the large ice chest in the trunk of my car.  I stepped away to make space so he could place the jars in the ice chest.  Normally, we stand side by side to avoid dropping the cold, wet glass jars.  From opposite sides of the car, we chatted for a few minutes.

There were no children running to peep into the chest to grab their favorite color popsicle.  No long conversations - just necessary business.  After the milk was loaded, I put the popsicles in a grocery bag to be disinfected before being touched by the children.

When paying cash for bedding plants at another home, my fingers accidentally touched the lady's hand.  Out came my hand sanitizer which I shared with her and then she shared how to disinfect cash by leaving it in the sunshine (cash is probably cleaner than touching the buttons on an atm anyway).  As we stood far apart inside her greenhouse, she wondered if the world will ever be normal again.  I replied, the last time the whole world was shutdown was during Noah's flood;  nothing was the same after it and it won't be the same now.  Hopefully, a few more people will survive this time.

As I was leaving, I drove the long way home, not being in a hurry to leave the quiet countryside.  There were no customers anywhere and all the men in the fields were working alone.

Everyone obeyed the social distancing rules except for one group: the pigs. They were snoozing in the dirt under a shade tree without a care in the world.

Our lives have been disrupted severely by the pandemic, but as for the Amish, their lives have hardly changed at all.

Amish, Buying Fresh Milk