As the crow flies, my farm is less than two
miles from the Willamette River that flows
deep and brown through the fertile valley
of the same name, in Northwest Oregon.
From my porch upon a hill, I have views
out over that valley looking east and north
and as fall comes around, early morning
light and dampness transfers hints of rich
river scents, this added moisture paired
with the absents of wind pervades and
manifests an enveloping shroud of silence,
with low moving banks of slow white
ghostly ground fog that renders striking
visual contrasts to the landscape, with its
stands of emerald evergreen trees, and
autumn dressed orange and yellow leaved
varieties of deciduous ones, along with
sculpted brown newly plowed fields.
Another of Nature's own fleeting ever
changing painted canvases that never
disappoints.

One must rise early at first light on these
chilly morning to witness this seasonal
panoramic scene, but it is always worth
the effort. And what the heck, I'm retired,
I can snap some photos and always crawl
back into my nice warm bed to sleep, or
merely cogitate on what I've been witness to.

No scholarships came, two years of
college and football down the drain,
lack luster grades did me in, so
floundering a bit, almost 20 years old,
what next? Some change of scene and
a little adventure sounded good.

Like some dream or nightmare, in the
dark at 2 AM, I found myself standing
at rigid attention atop yellow painted
footprints, upon the very threshold of
manhood, in front of a building wearing
a large red and yellow sign that proclaimed
"Receiving Barracks", as two very indignant
faced formidable looking men in smoky
bear hats moved rapidly in and around
us harshly issuing selected colorful insult
profanities, to confuse and befuddle, issuing
our stunned stupefied group the riot act, at
the very top of their intimidating loud voices,
while ejecting bits of too close up spittle into
the faces of our band of mostly scared kids,
many of whom were no doubt starting to
regret their rash decisions in having joined
up for this. I however was kind of enjoying
the pulse pounding moment in an odd sort
of way.

And so those 90 hectic exhausting days
of boot camp had abruptly commenced.

That old clock is ticking away,
the days bleed on one into another,
mostly all the same, nothing much
new to report here. I do what I can,
what my aged body will allow.
A limited return on my investment
I guess, but still finding little joys
that sustain me, mostly given up
on big dreams and illusions, anyway
being rich and famous was never on
my wish list agenda, all in all it's been
a very good run, with strong family
love given and received, our linage
prospers and continues, that is after
all the only real reason any of us, man
bird or beast were put on this earth.

To believe otherwise is but a
human delusion that in the end
matters not in the least.

In the quiet thread of Rakhi's grace,  
Lies a bond no time can erase.  
A promise wrapped in silk so pure,  
Of love that forever will endure.

Beyond the playful jests and cheers,  
There’s a truth that whispers through the years.  
Life teaches, in its gentle way,  
That bonds of heart can never fray.

A sister’s strength, a brother’s shield,  
In life’s great battle, neither yield.  
For in this bond, we truly find,  
The lessons that reshape the mind.

When storms of life come raging through,  
It’s love that guides, it’s love that’s true.  
And like the Rakhi, strong yet thin,  
It’s the simple things that let us win.

So cherish every thread you weave,  
In bonds of love, choose to believe.  
For Raksha Bandhan’s silent art,  
Is life's lesson: protect the heart.

I walked the woods today,
strolled under the quite shade of
towering old growth evergreens,
their scent upon me conveyed
simple peaceful solitude, there were
birds and squirrels unconcerned
with me, busy with their own pursuits.
A young Deer browsing raised his
antlered head for a quick peek, then went
right back to eating. For a moment I felt as
if I was the only human in the world and
that thought did not disturb me in the least.

There is electricity in the air,
I feel it on the back of my neck.
The morning sun from the east
is fading, ominous blue black
clouds are massing to the west,
announced by the sounds of the
distant percussions like kettle
drums, beating and rolling.

It's getting closer now, the thudding
of drumbeats have become the earth
shaking booms of bursting cannon
roars, streaks and flashes of lightning
flare and detonate, their reverberations
felt for miles around, our chickens
flee into their coops, cows disclaim
their pasture for the shelter of the
barn, the yard cats run full tilt back
to their sheltered beds on the porch.
The birds have gone to ground,
vanishing to hide away in the trees.

Visibility east into the valley is fast
disappearing socked in by clouds
and mist, becoming rain pouring.
The exploding thunder shakes the
windows and rattles the doors.

When the thunder momentarily
subsides, an ominous still quite
pervades the land, as all of we
helpless creatures remain holding
our collective breaths. Suddenly a
steady hard rain loudly pelts the
roof and pings the skylights of my
living room.

Mother Nature now rules the day,
and we all remain at her benevolent
Mercey.

Humans are born into this world encumbered
with ignorance and spend a lifetime endeavoring
to overcome its grip. Sadly, most of us never do.