Nice to think it’s just a crust
shielding life down deep
Creatures live, under the frost
roots are holding life

Makes me think of a birthday candle
that relights itself, again and again
Winter snorts and blows
icing the world
but, aha!, nestled down
nature lives, and readies
for the world to tilt back
sun warming again
in spring

Down, down, down comes
the sub zero blanket of air
freezing all it can

Soil, rock hard
snow, crunching cold
“Crack!” noises here and there
as materials contract, shrinking

We bundle up
and just keep going
hindered, modified
trudging to the barn
early morning darkness

Why don’t birds feet freeze?
How can the cow udders be so warm?
How can hairless pigs survive?

Chop! Chop! Chop!
The horse tank’s frozen over
8 inches of ice now covering
and the cattle are thirsty, of course.

Engines purr where horses snorted
pulling loads with ease
comforts taken for granted
in the winter cold

“Cold” did I say?
Nine below with wind
chill to the bone quickly
but on with the heater
flowing warm air
toasting the smiling occupants

Used to be, so different
on the farm in Illinois
Prairie State, and still
broad expanses treeless

A baker’s dozen of Ph.Ds
sharing hearts and souls
with a hundred fifty farmers
and their supporters

The very best
from one of the very best
lecturing and answering questions
Getting their minds and arms
around the issues that drive us

Dollars and sense and marketing
cover crops and all things agronomy
Inputs and insects
diseases and herbicides
Best Management Practices
spelled out, numbered out
weather and soil

Ah, soil.
We definitely don’t call it…
Dirt.
Soil. We respect it.
Live with it. Sleep with it.
Study it six ways from Sunday!

The walls are aged red barn boards
Hauled here by horse
A hundred years ago
The Parkville sawmill fed our farm
House and barn and out buildings all
With materials to last a lifetime
And two
And three
Now four, generations.

From 1898 to 1972
The barn stood strong and true
Setting on big boulders
Its beams endured the winds and rains
The giant mow held hay
The south side a milking parlour
The northside winter comfort
For pigs and cows and us

Cold toes and fingers
stiff but not with age
grasp the icy handles
buckets and shovels and my little stool
and I park next to Bessie

Her milk plays its notes
striking, ringing the cold metal
as the cats, lined up, sit watching
waiting for a shot of breakfast

Now and then I squirt the cats
and they spring to action, licking
oh, so happy for fresh warm milk

Beginning as beautiful ebony
it hold a living world
microbes, by the millions
scurrying about, we’re learning,
they do amazing things

Winter’s skin puts things on hold
sometimes wearing pristine white
sometimes hazy gray or tan
patience quietly abounds

Life bursts forth in springtime
shades of green, then purple
tillage takes it back to black
then tiny spikes poke up, corn,
or fat duos of soybean cotyledons unfold
and we’re off to the races again

Retired from Parkland
no longer a board member
no longer chairman
but, here, a different automobile
still self propelled, still moving
still doing, still thinking
Poking, here and there, with ideas

Retired from state college business
Illinois Community College Trustees Association
No longer on committees
No longer on the board
No longer an officer
Secretary, vice president, President
retired, not tired, but
still doing, still thinking, still poking
So I’ve been retiring for fifteen years already!
How’s that working for me?
Different tires, different ‘modes of transportation’
and not enough time!

God grace flowed through you
your words, your choices
and a lot of fine things have happened

The Land Grant Colleges you birthed
have sown abundance on Illinois
World leaders are planted here
with food and machines so grand
imagination gets stretched and stretched again

Bunge, Archer Daniels Midland, Kraft
process and enrich far beyond our borders
Caterpillar and John Deere shine world wide
multiplying man’s abilities
to farm and construct
creating mountains of food
moving mountains, building buildings

I know! Hard to believe!
But if you had my window
my office, you’d see
a combination that’s new
No, not sleet
that’s ice
ah, come on spring!

Meanwhile we start a snowstorm
with something new to see
better yet get out the door
and feel it!
Yup! It IS spittin’ snow!

Lin, Adventureland, March 2015
Brrrrweather!

What drives that planter
to bury his food
into the dark, unknown, unseen?

Faith, I say,
in life and all its processes
in design
and a creator
who rewards those who step out
step forward

Deep inside that see
life exists, at the ready
so warmth and moisture
just so
can fan the ember into flame

Exploding, multiplying cells
burst the tomb
to send forth a root
tapping nourishment
and then a shoot
heading for the sun

The raindrops bind the harvesters
keeping them in their pens
their masters under roofs
Desk work and meetings often the fare
when normally they’d be in the fields
But even with the interruptions
some farmers are ‘getting done’.

Translated that means harvest completed,
as a farmer’s work
like that of a homemaker
is never done!
They just move on to the next task!
Seasons blending into years
for crops and people alike.

Individual initiative is inspiring
as the farmers roll with the punches:
combining soybeans in a pond!
Our new machines with giant tires
can smooth across the soil
so different from long ago.

Two pages of issues
Candidates
4 billion spent
Gone
Darken the circle
Darken the doors
Be there

I show up once
Winners show up for years
2,4,6,8
Who will we appreciate
For jobs done well?

Now thunder rolling
Lightning cracking, sizzling
The clouds unload, raindrops pounding
Leaves doing a panic dance
Puddles forming gutters gurgling
A car splashes past
Wipers pounding back and forth in vain

Their money flows with them
restaurants and shops
hotels and motels and rentals
lift their signs:
“No Vacancy!”

The cold weary folks
shed their parkas
insulated caps, boots and mittens
toss off shirts and don shorts
swapping suits and ties for swimming suits
skin gets into the game
strangely
with gals in bikinis…
and guys in Bermudas!
What gives?

The fruit trees were very precious
cause sugar sure was high
so sweetness was very special
jams and jellies tasted mighty good
all through the long, cold, and snowy winters

Ash is a good hard wood
for making strong shovels and handles
and hand work was the way to do
The ash trees grew so tall
they seemed to touch the clouds
Strong winds served to do the pruning
broken branches made good fires
for cooking and for heating water
and heating the big old farmhouse

Over a century old now
my arms won’t reach around one
limbs way up in the trees
are big around as trees as well!
But time goes by
and nature has its way
to raise things up
and bring things down
We have the Green Ash Borer

The trees will die.

All of them.

Up two steps to the speakers platform
stepping up to the podium, the mike,
he looked out upon the moving sea
listened to the voices
watched the people moving, mixing
These folks like each other!

“Good evening!”
spoken once
spoken twice
a few folks find their seats
but the waves continue
greetings abounding
The president studied some more
and saw, it was good:
These folks enjoy each other!

Farm leaders and spouses
people who’ve risen tall
carrying the ball in many ways
plays writ out large in lives lived well
living well
Tested by storms and drought
floods and markets
government kerfluffles
the vagaries of life
they’ve taken their blows
and risen

An abrupt shift from winter
a mild one it was
so the warming sun has clicked
and plants come to heel

Swelling buds
tiny leaves
grass yawning and stretching
then racing to be mowed
farmers and gardeners itching
pulling on gloves
scratching the soil
humming of insects
chirping of birds
it is, indeed, concert time

For cash grain farmers
the same applies
to meetings during winter!

The constant change, in agriculture
drives us to always be learning
So, when winter comes
so do meetings
and they come like the snow

Computers help
an enormous boost
to be in touch almost daily
with colleges and universities
and providers galore
with information

This is they age,
some say,
of ‘information’
where knowledge is the new wealth
Genetics, computers, GIS and GPS
in skiffs, and flurries
in storms and blizzards
available!
Blowing about us!
Swirling around us!

Along life’s highway valued flags
to sift and sort some wisdom

Cowpies always favorites!
Dried, they made nice campfires
wet, like polka dots
we learned to step around them
lesson one:
cowpies happen

Nature has its ways, you see
(and smell, don’t touch)
Cows drink water
by the gallons
eat grass and hay and therefore
four stomachs later
the mixture passes out
Ker PLOP!
A pie!

Lesson two:
when playing baseball in the pasture
interesting bases are made
plain and clear they lie there
beckoning to the runner
Run TO them,
but don’t step IN them!
Hmmmmm.

One might say
we all are witnesses
to the capture of piles of stuff
and not all are bad, you see

Haystacks in a summer scene
bode winter food
for cows and horses and their needs
Stacks of money
aren’t that bad
especially if the money’s yours!

The stacks at libraries
speak treasures of words
inked for posterity, valued
treasured, for memories
and researchers looking

Farmers and their land
a communion of sorts
people combing and brushing
seeding, tending and harvesting
soil, intellect, and labor combining
to grow the things that feed us

Ideas passed among them
How to do this better?
What do we need to…?
I think WE can change this!

Man faces here
some on their own
others pushed forward by spouses
together, an association was birthed
The “Illinois Farmers Institute”

Dekalb County, Kankakee County,
and Champaign County caught the scent
June, 1912, the words ‘Farm Bureau’ appeared
in an add, The Urbana Daily Courier.

The catalog company, Sears Roebuck,
sent a thousand dollars
Seed money, in need of match,
to hire a special person
a crop and soil expert
to help the local farmers

Two hundred and fifty people
mostly farmers
put their dollars on the line
the rest, we say, is history!

My 80, she called it
Ida Augusta Bialeschki
who married a hard working guy
Alfred Warfel was very well known
as a premier hard worker, smart
Why, he could shuck a hundred
ears of corn in a day
working from dawn to dusk
A trader, par excellence
of anything to do with a farm

The east 80
lies east to west
along the Sadorus road
a little rolling, some flat spots
ponding is a problem
dark soil and lighter
you know a glacier was there
by rocks, found annually
rising from winter’s freezing, heaving

As a little lad
I worked with grandpa
forking up the hay
riding the hay rack home
Grandpa was fond of contests
races, if you will,
like when me and Francis (Butler)
tried to beat him
pulling millet
one end of the field to the other
Grandpa won, just barely
I think he strung us along!

The east end
held a school
gone before my time
except for well, standing alone
complete with pump and handle
Time was, grandpa plowed
round and round he went
stopping each round
to pump some water
for a leaky, ailing tractor
Awesome, his persistence
to save a nickel or dime

A farmer kneeling
studying carefully
a doctor in his office
an army in his tool kit, ready,
pronouncing all is well

What do they know
kept secret from us?
Will the summer be
a time of abundant fruit?
Or is this just a show
a Hollywood event in color
that will flutter to the floor
cut and cast away
to never be seen any more?

Nature gives us moments
but nature holds the keys
we can but seize the moment
and do our best to capture
Verse, paint, snap a picture,
put it in our memory
but gone it will be

The shelves and drawers are full
tools of the trade are in waiting
for the five generations who’ve labored herein
Some of the tools are history
some are very recent
But every one, has current use, productive

The window looks out to a farm
livestock and crops are grown
feeding the families
feeding the world
Out there the soil is tilled
opened to awesome production
ever increasing in output, yield

Inside the window is art
cabinets sculpted just so
countertops defined by use
appliances to help create, and serve

Herein hands, hearts, minds and spirits work
In communion creating dishes of food
of colors and texture and taste
Think apple pie fresh from the oven
grandma’s rolls
pot roasts and trimmings savored aromas
early morning coffee
the clatter and chattering of lunch times
the busyness of holiday gatherings
grandma, daughters, and grand daughters together,
grandpa, sons, and grandsons together

Can you picture a perfect bath?
Settling down into soothing warm water.
Leaning back, settling in, relaxing.

The seeds are sons and daughters
products of the generations
Sifted, sorted, chosen carefully,
genes on the racetrack starting line

What looks to be a lifeless grain
is waiting to explode!
An awesome ‘click’
when elements combine:
warmth and water, and a little time
Life bursts forth in a tiny shoot
pushing to the light

The power of suns rising
matched in a Savior rising
opening heaven’s doors for us

The power in our air
the pungent scent of spring plowed soil
the clean breath of summer rain
the labored odor of oil and fuel and grain
of leaves in fall, burning brightly
of crispness with the frost
through the seasons reminding
creator and created

The mysteries of discovery
there all the time
waiting, just waiting,
for us to recognize
nano and pico
to numbers to big
again and again
now seeing the pathways
created and being

Mega tents and open air
the vendors engaged the farmers
A thousand vendors
ten thousand farmers
Connecting, sharing info

The machinery farmers dream of
shiny, parked to see
the latest, best in the world
farmers and visitors taking pictures
Machines working, side by side
out in the adjacent fields
tilling, harvesting, awesome sights

It really is, farmer progress,
married to dreams, engineering, manufacturing
Seeds and all the things
that move the world of agriculture
here, connecting the dots, the people

In the springtime I walked the fields
my feet traversing the soil as my father did
my grandfather did
my great grandfather did
Eyes seasoned by the looking, seeing,
the condition of the soil

Stopping, picking up a handful,
sensing the temperature
weighing the sun’s progress against the winter cold
sensing the moisture
sifting in the senses
the experience of generations

Decision time
bring out the machines
till the soil, sifting
the snugging the seeds into their home
on my knees uncovering them, checking them
just right depth
just right compaction
just right soil moisture and temperature
I’m sifting the season

Again I walk the fields
on my knees looking carefully
disease or insect damage?
Tiny plants by millions growing
drawing on the sifted soil
Later walking amidst waist high plants
again checking for disease and insects
A farmer works against ten thousand things we know
and many more yet to know
We know a lot
we know so little

Burns sat and pondered
what he’d done
turning the home site over
A tender fellow
more a poet
than a striving farmer
guilt surrounded him.

I, in turn, have seen my mouses!
When I was younger
I sent them packing!
My horse a tractor
some three hundred power
moving like a runner
no hesitation
hour after hour
opening the soil for winter

Back then the mouse had chances
slim to almost nothing
but times have changed
and so have I
In my getting older
I might even stop my steed
and take my pen
a muse a bit about him

Remembering my dad
to my chagrin
when he was my age then
would stop the tractor
let the little mouse pass
then roar on down the field

Now I do too!
Respect for life
has grown and grown
as children and grandchildren come
I learn with fascination
the systems there
in little creatures
and find their study good

Learned fellows
degrees in tow
study deeply
numbers and more
then make their premise
give it to us
‘Best guess’, might be
a better thought

Ten year cooling
they tell us now
along with ‘climate change’
Cooling is warming
is hard to take
for us simple folk

Doesn’t help
three decades back
the self same people said
“Ice age coming”
‘Be prepared”
We have the figures here
It’s proven.
Said and done
Prepare for cold and ice

The soil frozen hard
captive much like us
endure, we think,
for spring is coming
the calendar clicks the days
as we gaze from frosted windows
holding cups of comfort

Bits of snow
bits of ice
the wind so lonesome blows
untapped, except to chill us
through the day it goes
across our country
and out to sea
day after day it comes

Our cars shudder on the freeway
the trucks are tossed aside
and yet it blows

Bitter cold
wind, sleet, snow
fight with one another
with us in the miserable middle

O well!
We’re killing bugs!
No kidding!
Insects die by billions
as their eggs freeze and split
decimated, no more!
No one can count them
the victims of the weather
the birds still have plenty to eat

Snow piles higher and higher
school cancelled
activities shunted, other dates
people stock up on groceries
“Hunker down”, advisors say
Plan on staying home
Safety first, of course!

The jet stream shifts
and back again
the arctic winds come blowing
The sun is hiding
dry snow falling
dark at eight in the morning
Cold? 7 above!
People and engines grind with effort
but come to life again
move about, to do their things
in spite of wind and weather

It’s evening in
the life of a farmer
the year of tilling, planting, tending, harvest done
it could be a time of rest, but not yet
the soil, the mother of it all
needs to be stroked, massaged
before it is laid to rest.

The word ‘again’?
It’s two words, really:
A
and gain!

Rain is a gain!
The fields are soaking
drinking it in
Not much in ponds
not much in ditches
The soil is ‘talking’
saying ‘It’s okay”.

Are you not busy?
Nothing to do?
Ah, refocus is the word
The world is talking
but you were too busy
to hurried
to hear, to listen

What is being said?
What was being missed?
Two steps back, if you please.
Look a little deeper
Put your feet up
think of the people
and how you can help

Fences sink in snow
with ice and frost lacing
caking cars and windshields
no yielding

Trees stand ridged
sometimes frosted
(see hoarfrost)
sometimes plastered
with blowing snow

Comes a day
when weeds spike through
icy roads are melted
and water begins to gurgle
roofs are dripping
streams are rippling
The sun is pouring it on

Those days are bright
hurts our eyes
Sunglasses are in order
We can feel the sun
surely most welcome
and sense the sun is winning

Sun spots have an impact
to start our study far away
Big shifts away out there
push and pull our climate

Moving closer, jet streams,
pathways of air way up high
‘carry the mail’ this way and that,
a giant snake of persuasion
shifting cold and hot
cool and warm

The midwest is a mixing bowl
parked betwixt the arctic and the gulf
a given day can see them both
wide swings what’s displayed
might be balmy, sort of,
fog like near the gulf
a little taste of Mexico
but short lived, for, you see,
the other way is arctic cold
blasting across the prairie
ice and snow can blow so strong
we wonder why we’re here

Days and nights they thundered
through the fields of black
lifting, turning, stroking
the soils that yielded plenty
chisel plows, men call them
they scratch nature’s back
opening her skin
to air and water
microbes breathe
earthworms relax
stalks and leaves asunder
ready for winter’s freeze and thaw
bugs and weeds disturbed
springtime will find fields waiting
to receive the seeds again

Cold, the metal sits
awaiting repairs, replacement parts
final shots of grease
all done
rest

Representative Bachmann whirled and swirled
attracting lots of moths
Pretty woman, not shy to speak
she captured hearts for a moment

Then came Perry
from Texas, be wary
who rose like a shining star
then flamed, and became
another also ran

Come on Cain!
Cause ’em pain!
Hit ’em where it hurts!
Politicians, beltway blindness
business is the answer (mostly)
to whatever ails us…

The buds swell, and the warm spring sun
first burst of green
announcing colors come
Protective shells are shucked
as life and increased energy
wrapped in soft spring green

In the areas of soft ground
softened by freezing and thawing
produces tiny buds
as the farmer watches
tunes itself to the earth again
“What we have here?”
Study
plans
boxes
plants

My toes are cold
is winter creeping, sneaking,
behind some dark barked tree?
The birds are flocking
geese doing check flights
bugs by the billions looking for refuge

The world is changing
as we watch
yes, winter is coming
we know it’s so
So, like the ant
we must hurry and go
to do a thousand things
before we rest hearthside

Early morning darkness
finds us rising and taking food
first light finds us outside
tending to machines
A magic moment comes
when a key is turned
and a deep throated roar begins

A springtime day
a touch of frost
when planting should be rolling
seeds stay warm, but in the bag
and in the shed, cozy

The farmer scratches his head
checks the weather, again
drinks more coffee
and thinks about the risks
Precious seeds, precious dollars
are sitting on the line
To plant, or not to plant
bet on the come?

Better understanding
of the soil
(never say ‘dirt’)
and adding plant food
and genetics
and planting machinery
We carefully tune ourselves in
zero in
bringing the symphony to order

Picture the maestro
stepping up on his little platform
batoon raised
gaze intense
every instrument tuned and ready
His arms go up
and the music begins
to the farmer’s senses
a ‘hallelujah chorus’
an epiphany
of praise to the Creator

Today is one of those days!
Heavy cumulous clouds are rolling past
and the corn is over the top, growing
so fast, it’s just amaizing!

Dark, dark green,
ever so lush
breezes combing it in waves
it looks like an ocean of green/black!

Add to that silver reflections from waving leaves
and the fields are really sparkling!
What a lovely day to savor, remember!

How I wish you could see it too!
Couched in knowledge
of this food, fiber, and fuel crop
that we are gifted year after year
to the extent we fill our granaries
to their tops
and then pour mountains more outside!

Sun and rain
soil and genes
do their dance so well
there is a reward for us

Early morning finds us
ripping the ears off stalks
well water coolness is just right
to capture the peak of sweetness

Soaking in the shade all day
the ears are ready for the coals
steaming themselves
tenderness peaks
and the picnic is ready
roasting ears are the fare!

Honest Abe put his hands
on that self same handle you can
I can
pump it too
just like he did
150 years ago or so

Riding the circuit
palavering in the court house
Abe would work up quite a thirst
Like the others
he’d cross the road
and pump up some clear cold water
Anything ever taste the better?

Our wind mill
whirled away
summer day, winter
the pump jack worked
lifting water
sending it through the pipe
to the big horse tank

Faithfully, three generations
cold clear water pulsed on out
filling buckets and that tank
A hundred forty head o cattle
stood and slurped
giant sucking sounds
The pigs, the sheep, the chickens
all drew from our good well

Our cars have springs
in brakes and doors
hidden here and there
Kitchens have them every where
in drawers and doors and little machines
switches and light fixtures all rely
on the power in the springs

Trains and planes and great big trucks
count on springs to stop them
Big and small
they serve us all
seldom noticed, if at all

That hidden power comes to us too
hidden in other things
Winter bonds loosening
the grass begins to green
buds begin to swell
Earth’s blanket coloring
pushed by an unseen spring
is really pretty awesome
if you stop to think
Add in the coming blossoms
the flowers that springtime brings
Nature is power
harnessed from above
created, laid out, sure
It sings,
it blesses
as it uncoils to impress us

Governments come and go
people swirling, dancing briefly
passing on and far away
So often, it seems to me
just a little group
just a few folks
take control
Fists holding tightly
Swords always at ready
slashing away dissenters

I picture mighty Egyptians
chariots racing
chasing Hebrews across the desert
My mind’s eye sees Romans too
chasing Hebrews, chasing Christians
So powerful! So intimidating!
Gone

Leap forward to modern times
a band of Russians, focused
taking command of a vast country
expanding the borders
Fists holding tightly
Swords always at ready
slashing away dissenters

Yet another small group
a manic, powerful leader
taking command, declaring war
brutalizing people, cities, nations
Millions marching, goose stepping
arms held forth in salute
attacking, expanding
slashing away dissenters

Some establishments sit,
quiet mornings, abandoned,
slowly stirring afternoons,
coming awake evenings
Music begins
cigarettes are lit
alcohol begins to flow
Relief from work breaks out
greeting, talking, laughter spices,
the evening eases on
Come midnight things get serious
Music is loud, minds get fuzzy
Finally the hour comes
and folks go home.

The other group is waking up
planning a day of work
breakfast temptations climb the stairs
coffee? Oatmeal? Scrambled eggs and bacon?
The earth is about to move
Clear minds focusing on tasks
as sunlight smothers the darkness
Outside, the air is fresh
laden with morning dew
Engines begin to hum
hands move levers
and work begins to roll

People of the dark
have become people of the light
the day theirs to shape and form
into buildings built
products made
crops planted, tended and harvested

The prairie folks
in the flyover zone
have a different rain
Horizontal, they call it
Let me explain

Just yesterday I labored
inside a brand new shed
Fifty feet wide, seventy feet long
with giant doors for giant machines
Thunder boomed, lightning cracked
closer and closer it came
A wall of rain was visible
across the fields ’twas coming
Ting! Ting! big raindrops hit the metal roof
The east door open, I worked in the west end.

The wind picked up, as did the rain
which now was pounding like a snare drummer
Ten feet, twenty feet, the rain came in
and then I was getting wet!
Sixty feet from the door, and I was wet!
That’s horizontal rain!

The warmth of the sun
and breezes blowing
soak up the lakes in time
But the plants are dead
and the bare spot beckons
rich soil, waiting

At just the right moment
no longer muck or mud
I’m back with the planter
and loaded with seeds
snuggling a fresh batch in

Moisture, warmth, and mothering soil
are electric to the seeds
They swell and pop a shoot right out
and grow like there’s no tomorrow
Hurry! Grow like crazy!
The race has just begun
to beat some frost
that will surely come
to keep the harvest small

Lake beds yield
but not the same
the weight of water squeezes
Compacts the soil
limits moisture movement
limits space between soil particles

First he built a lean to
just next to a tiny stream
water
every day, necessity
close at hand

Winter came
the family huddled
somehow they survived
Cold days, frozen soil,
HJ and son would journey
horses and sled
to a local sawmill
hauling back the cut boards
from which the home was built

Still, the stream supplied

Mondays found great grandma
Christina Mueller ne
with buckets in her hands
water from the stream a carryin’
to do the weekly wash

Tuesday was washing day
carrying was too hard
to wash that self same day

A train carload one day
unloaded in Tolono
“Hogsheads’ the containers called
large wooden kegs
some hundreds of gallons holding
HJ bought one, brought it home
buried it by the house

First he filled it
from the stream
and then roof water filled
HJ ran a pipe
from granma’s kitchen sink
down into that big ole barrel

Picture granma’s arm a pumpin’
water into her sink
tears running down her face
so happy
no more carrying water
from the nearby stream

Yawning in the morning sun
shaking off the frost
I walk across the frozen skin
soon to be blackened mud

Cold iron lies in waiting
engines wintered long
oil like syrup
drags them back
resisting, resisting, then
Roar! they spring to life!

Oh, it feels so good!
To stir the pot of spring
plans coming off the papers
into piles of seeds
and machines pawing to work

The soil that looked so lifeless
sprouts hair fine tiny plants
they leap and grow
and color the land
green, is coming again

Red
Not just any
but one that cries out “Life!”
Electric!

Once a medic
half century a farmer
I’ve seen the color before
On others, injured,
on me, minor cuts
The brightest red flows out

Life! The maple shouts!
I have it but it’s slipping
Springtime birthings
summer soothings
and now fall, crisp and power full

A line’s been drawn
rescission cells
a line that halts the flow of life
now this
a special red

Grass as fresh as springtime
green and growing and loving the cool, the wet
Tree trunks blackened with rain
India inked and clinging leaves
But some, get this, some
with colors defying
Gold and yellow and red and mixes
shocking our senses so quickly

Where did the colors come from?
They were there…
all the time….

Not all creatures
see all colors
but we do, we can
See, and ponder
the changing seasons
Nature nurturing, confirming
the complexity of creation

Have patience, we urge
don’t jump from the ship
or the frying pan to the fire
Maybe that should rather be
from the fridge to the freezer?

It’s minus 12
and I’m inside
but the house is pretty chilly
66, the dining room
70, my office temp
80 degrees of difference

From 150 feet
below our house
water flows around
warming our house in winter
cooling our house in summer!
round and round it goes

My grandma told me
of ‘way back when’
the winter of ’82
Her parents sheltered
on this land
staked out as their own
A lean to home
a constant fire
a lot of clothes
and cold
Still they made it
built a house
lived through many winters

An idea is born
some winter season
spoken
and comes to being

Springtime finds the chosen seeds
carefully placed in soil
Mothered well
tiny plants poke up
and drink in sun and water

Oh, how they stretch and grow
taller and taller through the days
days of warmth, and days of wind
days that stroke, and days that test
taller and taller they grow
then birth their seeds
marked with mother and father

All along,
the harvest season
has been a part of the plan
Some day, you see,
the harvesters roll
set their sickles, fine tuned
to the plants
and begin the final swaths

The plants devoured
but the seeds carefully saved
are food for today and tomorrow
and seeds for next year’s harvest

No telephone a ringin
no one knocking at the door
Just some time to slip away
lights out
maybe even snore!

Then there’s times
when work is done
the clothes in the washing machine
the hot shower soothing oh so good
and we settle in somewhere

Favorite tools
have a special place
for those who use them often
Some are passed down
through generations
gaining in honor steadily

Oh, the memories
that go along with them!
Priceless, the tools become
as they wear
the marks of thousands of usings

A two pound hammer
a little sledge
is one I often use
Grandpa Clementz used it
to budge some stubborn bolts
My step dad used it too
I got it without a handle
and promptly added that
then used it heavily one summer
in tearing down old buildings
Sunup found me pounding, prying
knocking down
the hired man’s house and barn
No longer used, the buildings stood
so the lumber was recycled
The hammer is a favorite
so handy as it always was
pounding stubborn things
to fix the old or make the new

Time was, sometime ago,
when my vision had another problem
a retinologist laid me down
a nurse held me down
and a lazer fixed my eye
from a blood red thick curtain seen
the world came back to sight
I knew what I was missing

Time was, sometime ago,
age caught up with my eyes
I just couldn’t see precisely
doing my work got harder
my quality slipped a bit
but a doctor laid me down
put me into la la land
and I awoke to better vision
cataracts can cloud ever more
but now I’m fixed again

Time was, and is, it marches on
and bodies do wear out
Just this week
a nice young lady and her machine
checked my hearing and frowned
“Mr. Warfel”, she said to me
“I think you need to consider…
some help with hearing.”
I had been told
by those who love me
I was missing things they said
I knew I had a problem.

So, I make the appointment
and set my mind
to go through it once again.
Age 50?
Age 60?Age 70?
Some guy gets to see my insides
Colonoscopy, they call it.
Oh boy!

A hospital trip
kill a day
just do it all…their way
They’ll put you in dreamland
if you wish
or you can watch the monitor
if you’re brave and a little nutty

Fascinating
how our insides look!
So complex, our ‘machinery’
Digestion and elimination processes
are combinations, out of sight,
but critical to if and how we live
One of my friends
a learned professor
lecturing to his grad students one day
proclaimed, in an un PC way:
“You should thank God for your liver!”
Well, we should!

It could be life
the meeting of love…for a lifetime
of a Savior, lifetime and more
or special times less
but still ‘sweet spots’

For me
The Chi O hallway
the door opened
and Kay walked in
to stay…for a lifetime
A small church
a stairway
prayer with Sobol
connection with all things

Children born
count them
one two three four five
each so special
oh so fine
mine
ours
His

In 89
“Farm Leader of the Year”
by my peers
farm leaders all
lifting me
toasting me
Whew!

In ’06
“Trustee of the Year”
Illinois

In all of history
one loser was the most
Mankind did their best
to put him lower than low
Spit? Beat? Humiliate?
Hang naked on a cross on a hill
for all to see him die?

In all of history
he broke the chains
to conquer death
and make a way to heaven
for you
for me
How’s that?

A sister did her best
put herself on the dotted line
and worked and worked to win a post
only to lose
A hard, hard thing.

A short time passing,
she has thanked the Lord
for changing how she’s lived
The winner waded in
and found a swamp so smelly
he’s challenged every day
to keep above the smell
While she invests in little people
grandchildren growing quickly
to spend her retirement grace fully

Now comes a friend
who did his best
if he were a bear he’d be a grizzly!
For over a year
he walked the county
meeting people
making friends
then putting up signs
giving his all
His family pitching in
and walking in parades
speaking warmly of who he is
a man of many talents

Company names
in bright catching colors
with numbers and letters all different
A closer look
shows some differences
in height or breadth or color

They’re different hybrids
the result of skills
applied to ‘make it better’
The latest offerings
on display
for farmer’s choice, selection

Just last eve
I attended a session
where company offerings were touted
Their very best
all growing nicely
preached about to us
Me, and my fellow farmers

The study done,
we marched to a tent
where good food was awaiting
A smiling crew
all prepared
to fee the hungry fellows.

And then it happened
a moment so choice
poignant to be certain
“Let’s have a blessing”
said our host
and the caps came off
just like that.

No one said
take off your hats
No one said
bow your heads

Fluffy the cat
with two inches plus
of thick luxurious fur
prefers the outside
instead of my shop
heated to 45

Enter me
bundled to nines
toes and fingers still cold
as I climb a ladder
to check a bin
breath blowing fog
eyeglasses steamed
Starting a truck
uh, uh, uh,
kerboom!
Ker chug chug chug
It spits and coughs
then evens out
but starting, none the less

Then there’s big diesels
oil like tar
fuel at risk of jelling
that just wait for spring
or warmer days
No problem sitting quiet

I remember times
we milked some cows
early morning and evening chores
I sat on a stool
and milked away
my head warming from the flank
and my hands warmed by teats like toast!
The milk steamed
in the ice cold pail
as I carried two to the house
The basement was warm
from a giant coal furnace
as Grandma ‘separated’ cream

We had an axe
we chopped the ice
from the horse tank every morning
Then the cows drank deeply
40 gallons per daily
amazing to see them slurp!

One time in economizing
grandpa got some hay
spoiled, useless, some fellow thought
so grandpa got it free
We heated water
and heated sorghum
mixing the two together
then poured it on
the nasty hay
and watched the cattle woof it!
Problem was
our pants got stiff!
Would stand up in the basement
without us in them!
Ever walk
in frozen pants
and hear them crack and crackle?

A hungry world is watching
Oh come, harvest come!
Feed the nations!
One more time!

Selah, Lin 06/08

We see so dimly
take a seed
that looks so plain and lifeless
a handful, a sackful, not impressive
just lying there so lifeless
like the soil
our present eyes
see not beneath
the covers
there’s life therein, you see
waiting for us to discover
whether towering oak
or fields of corn
the seeds are tied together
deep inside
the genes have codes
that fit together neatly
bring together
circumstances
and life bursts forth

Winds whisper gently
“You need this”.
Soils will soak it in
hold it
for summer’s plants
to gain
and surge
to harvests plenty

Gray light yields
more gray and black
leafless trees
etched in ink
road lines all laid out
shining strips across the fields
light poles straight and tall
stern, it is
this gray and black
But all of us are knowing
we’re but a tiny way
from blazing white profusion

Its sister rain
is hiding too
as thunder teases us
raindrops fall
other places
succoring thirsty plants

How does this work?
we are led to ponder
the pathways thunder takes
the byways rain does course

And then the rains came
soft and gentle
soothing all
the crops and people
great full thank full
once again
the grass was green
the crops did what they could
their season was ending
for some was over
but on that final edge
the crops drank in
did what they could
to yield their fruits for us

Farmers have
a lot of habits
maybe in our genes
but in our culture
One habit being
in three dimensions:
remember back
bout previous years
study what’s at hand
and plan for next year
always three
Tuned in to nature
God’s creation
the picture always in motion

When plants and people
begin to notice
supply is running low
they pause, look up,
are reminded
how small our efforts are
The lightning, thunder,
clouds and wind
are out of our control
So too, is rain
whether more or less
we can ask
that’s all

Interesting that,
the Good Book says,
God caused a mist to rise up
then created rain
followed by plants and…man

In the communion therein
we live today
rain, and plants, and man
to watch, and grow, and be

Oh, study, yes we do,
and often do discover
hidden layers of creation
only to find
another layer
and another