Autumn leaves on Lake A warm October afternoon. A rarity--clear blue sky, sunshine and ever the slightest breeze. Perfect for canoeing on Caesar Creek Lake. Even more perfect than one of a summer's day. The water level is low. Either in preparation for catching winter runoff or as a result of this season's dryness, this Army Corps of Engineers flood control project reveals the remnants of the many trees that once covered the banks of Caesar Creek, before the flood control project of... Read Full Story

We do not have a shortage of snakes. In fact, Black Rat Snakes are often seen cruising our property--the fields, woods and outbuildings in this rural area providing plenty of small rodents to keep them well fed. We appreciate them for the work they do. And know full well how quickly we’d be overcome, were they not around. In the summer months, the long black adults are the most obvious—hanging around the yard and hunting in the tall grasses. But with the arrival of fall, so does the next... Read Full Story

The last week has given us spectacular skies-- clouds that linger for the afternoon, and part just as a red sun begins to set. Rayleigh scattering, the explanation for the colors in blue skies and red sunsets, from small particles within the atmosphere that reflect light, perhaps even more apparent in this time of drought. A hint of color, late in the day. With each step closer to the horizon, a deeper shade. Until, against a dark blue sky, broad orange reflection-- the backdrop to... Read Full Story

I woke this morning to the sound of raindrops on the roof. And, for the first time in a very long while, eagerly awaited sunrise to greet them. So little, so late--another drought for the Midwest. Through the sparse brown grass on the lawn, the dry earth is easily seen. Open areas have become dust bowls, where birds gladly fluff their feathers, as if in water--the fine particles of our clay soil, a smooth and cleansing dry bath. More bad news of the global economic decline leads the... Read Full Story

The perfect season for a mystery--when morning fog shrouds every form, and the woods and fields have grown quiet. Shorter days steal the last light from the deepest recesses of the forest. For what we cannot see— there is imagination. I stepped off the leafy path last weekend, where the grass leads into the dark pine woods. Beyond the crunching of dry fallen leaves beneath my steps, it became suddenly quiet, the ground a densely woven blanket of randomly strewn green and brown needles... Read Full Story

The world is full of deception. At every turn, something is not what it first appears to be. And a closer look reveals the true being. Autumn Evening Even in our field, now quiet of birds and chirping insects, except for a lone cricket in the tall grass, a deceiver is among us. Winding around the heavily flowered stems of goldenrod, peeking from the bright stalks as I walk past, Locust Borer beetles. Their inch-long slender black and yellow striped bodies more like those of yellow... Read Full Story

We’re on that bumpy road to autumn. Where chilly mornings give way to hot afternoons. And a light jacket becomes your best friend—never too far from reach. Cherry leaves We received, after weeks without, a day of rain. Just enough to brighten the fading colors of summer in the field and leave its dust-spattered signature on my newly cleaned windows. It seems drier in these last several years, than I can ever remember. The grass on the lawn, crunchy and brown. Trees’ leaves, curled and... Read Full Story

‘T was the night before Skywatch, and all through the land, every blogger, preparing a photograph grand; Their cameras were perched in empyreal places, in hopes that sheer beauty would soon fill those spaces. So, morning chores finished and laundry begun, I marched ‘cross our field on the heels of the sun; Scanning high, peeking low, in the world I did roam, and with every thing captured, found my way back home. When out o’er the pond there arose such a clatter, I sprang to my... Read Full Story

It is the season of change. When all around us, leaves turn from the bold green of summer to the withered brown of winter—with all the brightness of color, scattered in between. More favorite, even, than red—the golden tones that bring warmth, especially on a chilly day. The soybean fields have turned, as well, almost overnight, into fields dotted with yellow. A sponge-painted canvas, catching the afternoon light. Leaves with burnished edges, hint of what this expanse will soon become... Read Full Story

Early morning, first light. When sounds of the nighttime mix with those of the approaching day. Birdsong from the woods, a Barred Owl’s questioning call in the distance—and persistent chattering and fussing from the yard below. Our bedroom door, open, to the upstairs porch and the sounds of the waking fields and woods. Our narrow road, close below, between them. For quite some time it continued, as we lay warm beneath blankets, a disturbing, unsettling call that we decided must be a... Read Full Story