Aug 25, 2013: And the green grass grows all around…everything!

Can you hear it?

No, not the dogs howling with the sheriff’s siren every time they think he’s driving by…

Nope, not the frog chorus trying to drown (ha, ha) out the insect buzzing…

Nah, the storms are over (for now); there’s no thunder, tornadoes, or weathermen to hear…

I mean the silent roar…of green. It’s inescapable. The minute you step outside, look around, and just take in all the plants exploding everywhere, you can’t help but be knocked off your feet by the roar of GREEN’s silent [boom].

What an incredible witness to the power of growth, redemption, healing, and life! No matter how dead the forest during winter, how dry and yellow the grass after drought, how barren and stark the clay dirt after a flood, or how broken the rubble after the storm’s destruction, the roar of green cannot be contained, restrained, or explained. I can barely maintain my sanity trying to keep up with the mowing, trimming, and mulching. The watering has taken care of itself this year. (snort)

Just saw a hummingbird at our window twice this morning. Our 17-yr old friend down the street is shooting off his shotgun at snakes in our pond in the hopes of becoming the next Steve Irwin. We’re about halfway done going through our camp gear from our trip to Colorado. ┬áThe country life moves at the speed of nature, which can be slow as Christmas in the winter, and exploding with energy during the summer. Guess our speed today: give up? Somewhere between steady and reckless, I think. Some days, it’s hard to say for sure.

It’s also hard to say for sure what might happen next. I changed several things this summer, going from a private Christian high school math department to a public middle school science department, from a football coach to a softball/basketball coach, from a non-denominational modern church exploding with growth to a non-denominational established church exploding with community, and from two and a half part-time jobs to two and two halves…kind of. Lemme ‘splain.

I still work online with ORU’s eAcademy, but my hours with Huntington Learning Center as a tutor have been sporadically replaced with the optional monthly income of Brown Mackie College, where I teach science to nursing majors…sometimes. I’m still open for business as a tutor, although I won’t be seeking any clients until the spring. So that makes two part-time jobs I do fully part-time, and two part-time jobs I do partially part-time. I won’t use any smaller fractions, I promise.

Our ducks and chickens have stopped laying to molt in the heat, and our pond has finally succumbed to…scum. Duckweed, to be precise. The whole summer, it stayed full and clear without the sun on it all day, but now, the heat and late sun have made it less vibrant; even the turtles are absent. Ah, well…the snakes also seem absent, and that’s good news. Our snake hunter took one live from our driveway, and it was venomous. God is gracious to keep us so safe from the world around us. I found out recently that I can sell the pelts of any fur-bearing creature for varying sums locally, so perhaps the shoe is on the other foot, the tables have turned, the dice have been cast down onto the gauntlet…or something vaguely ominous and threatening. Or it will be, as soon as I get my firing pin replaced.

I wish people could eat hackberry saplings; I could feed the town with what we grow every two weeks in the land next to our hill. This year, though, I have kept the hill itself cleared the whole summer, and increased the usable area around the pond. It feels so good to see progress. And the wasps haven’t been too bad; a couple of stings early in the summer, but they have moved up the house recently, and their numbers are dwindling. I left them alone this year; maybe I’ll continue that practice if they continue to do the same.

New seasons, new challenges, new relationships and new ways to reach out…I look forward to what God has for us next. We hope bees and goats and a new deck are coming, and that the basement will get finished, but each thing in its own time as God directs. It’s His story, and He tells it best. See you on the next page.


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