The city was our home, but the farm in Applegate, Michigan was our home away from home, especially during the summer. Located less than a quarter-mile from Lake Huron, you could see the lake from our property, just beyond the woods. My father was a savvy business man, so it wasn’t unusual that shortly after he purchase the farmland, he rented land out to neighboring farmers, enabling them to expand their crop harvest. Every summer, this was my view from our side porch door; acres and acres of corn rows.We were never on the farm when harvesting took place, though we’d often take a Sunday drive up to Applegate, stopping at stands along the way to purchase fresh corn, Indian corn, and MacIntosh apples as the summer ambled into fall.
Change is inevitable though. I no longer live in Michigan, but in Southern California. No Indian Corn or MacIntosh apples fresh from the stalk or branch sold in roadside stands here. In fact, in recent years, I haven’t seen any MacIntosh apples in the market bins at all and Indian Corn is small, not nearly as big or color-vibrant as the ones I remember.
September used to herald in the start of the school year and a slight turn in the weather. Not so anymore or here. A few years ago, the surrounding school districts opted to begin classes in August (markedly the hottest month of record in these parts of the country). The reasoning had to do with statewide testing that is held following the holiday, or winter, break. The break would cause a lapse in retention of important facts needed for testing, the teachers said. It was best to begin the academic calendar earlier, so testing could be done before the break. Whatever. Nothing screams, “It’s NOT time for school!,” more than triple-digit temperatures and the sound of the ice cream truck at two-thirty in the afternoon.
“He changes the times and the seasons” (Daniel 2:21) though, even if it’s difficult for us to see or feel the shift because the subtle differences don’t quite add up to our expectations and senses.
“It is the imperatives of nature that nothing remains constant. Climates change. Mountains erode. Rivers embark on new courses. Deserts and forests march and retreat. Ice flows melt. Seas rise. Volcanoes alter the landscape, their debris darkening the sky and dimming the sun. Tidal waves and storms chew relentlessly at the shores. Islands rise and vanish. The mighty plates undergirding the continents are themselves ever in motion. The grain of sand was once a boulder. A new Atlantis may even now be imperceptibly vanishing into the deep, or an old submerged and vanquished mountain may be preparing to reassert itself…all of life must accommodate to these changes or vanish.” ~ William Longgood, THE QUEEN MUST DIE
Here’s to a honey of a fall.
Blessings, dear reader