Looks like my favorite time of the year is approaching fast. Spring is my favorite time of the year, and I call it ‘resurrection time’ because all of nature is made new.
The trees are budding in preparation for a new coat of leaves, the grass is getting greener, the first flowers are emerging, the frogs have started their love songs, the insects have appeared including everyone’s favorite, the mosquito, and the snow is all gone — at least for now anyway.
Snow is awfully pretty and the coat of white makes everything look so clean and fresh, but I sure don’t like to travel in it.
Summertime is a fun time, especially for the little crumb crunchers, because they can run and play all day and half of the night, if allowed to do so.
The fall of the year is simply beautiful, but a little sad too, because when the leaves are falling it is as if the trees are weeping and the leaves represent teardrops.
But God makes it all happen and is not trying to please mankind, but doing the will of the Father.
If mankind could rearrange things to suit his own fancy, it would be utter chaos.
In the spring one used to hear those commands resounding up and down the hollows like, “whoa, gee, haw,” and “get up!” — all to guide a horse or mule.
You don’t hear sounds like these anymore. The old- timers who used to labor so diligently to provide for their families are a thing of the past. The younger generations wouldn’t know which end of a horse or mule to hook to a plow, so these old hillsides have about all been reclaimed by nature.
In the spring one could smell the aroma of cornstalks burning in preparation of hitting the ground ready to plow for the new crops. All the leftovers from the previous year were piled and burned because they had no other way of disposing of them. About the only benefit to the ground was the ashes.
Those who had cows and/or horses would spread the manure over their garden spots, and it was better than commercial fertilizer. Of course, it didn’t have the best aroma around, but it sure did work good, and thank God the odor didn’t transfer to the produce in taste.
Well, I’d better get back to the funny farm until next time.