Women On Tractors: The Great Outdoors

Showing posts with label The Great Outdoors. Show all posts

10/19/2010

Autumn Leaves

Youth is like spring, an over praised season, more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers, we gain in fruits.
Samuel Butler

If ever I had to move back to a warm weather climate, there's nothing I'd miss more, than the change of seasons, for in western Pennsylvania, the transitional months between winter and summer, are an assault to the senses, with their panoply of colors and earthy scents. I'd especially miss the fall, and the showers of golden leaves that flit and flutter about on soft autumn gusts, like downy feathers from a torn pillow.

Our second year back from San Diego, I sat at my office window describing the scene outside, to my brother in Arizona. Each and every tree in my yard was a wonder, as the foliage changed and eventually dropped to the ground, where the gray squirrels scurried to gather fallen acorns, chittering to one another as they did so. I was so enthralled with the season, and its entertainment value, that one might have believed I'd never experienced an autumn before.

As a school-girl in Michigan, September and October were months spent mourning the loss of the summer, and everything that went along with it, including my freedom from school and responsibility. As a young mother, the advent of fall meant a return to alarm clocks and packed lunches, homework and bedtime tussles. In spite of its beauty, I resented the change and rejected the season.

I'm still not sure I'd appreciate the fall spectacle if I hadn't lived in Florida and southern California, where months meld imperceptibly, into one another without any showy display, flourish or fanfare. I found there was little tangible evidence to mark the passage of time save the calendar dates of holidays and the new year.

Had I a fear of aging, I suppose I'd welcome this aspect of living in the desert or tropics, but I've embraced my advancing years and the wisdom one gains from having lived them, in much the same way I've embraced the seasons and the changes they herald.

I now sagely believe, that change keeps life from becoming stale and boring. Though not real risk-takers, on our life-journey together, when given the option, Rick and I have made a point of taking the road less traveled. There's a thrill in the mystery of not knowing what's around every bend or beyond the crest of the road, that makes the trip exciting.

The conversation I had with my brother last fall, led to my typing the three words that would take my life in yet a different direction, WOMEN ON TRACTORS. I'd never blogged before, and had no idea what to expect from my endeavor, other than to appease a life-long hankering I've had to write.

At about the same time, Rick bought me a new camera. I've always been a photo freak, but never had the time or money to seriously pursue photography as a hobby. With a fancy new digital camera, an empty nest and an ever-changing world to explore, that is no longer the case.

Last January, I started down two uncharted roads, only to find them criss-cross and merge, nine months later. While initially used simply to enhance my blog, my photos have now in many ways, become my blog, and can be viewed throughout its pages, and on slideshows in the sidebar.

Like the cold, spring water that spills freely down the mountain and into the creek-bed that runs through our property, I have rambled, sputtered and gushed my way along, looking for direction and inspiration. I believe I've finally found a vantage point from which I can speak comfortably, and with ease.

Women on Tractors is changing, but it will still be the voice for people like me who would rather learn how to drive the tractor, than rely on someone else to do so for me. Some people are content, to sit on a couch and experience life through the people they see on television or read about in magazines. This blog is about inspiring you to do more - to follow your dreams, to find your voice, to stand up and be counted, and to have a good time as you do so, no matter your age.

9/21/2010

A Still Small Voice

Be still, and know that I am God; Psalm 46:10

A few weeks ago I was watching an old Disney movie about a young boy fighting for ownership of a wild Australian bush pony. When a friend asks how he knows his pony from the other seemingly identical ponies in a herd, the boy replies that he recognizes him in the same way that he recognizes that his friend is his friend: he just knows.

I know that God exists. I don't pretend to understand what God is, but I believe in a benevolent higher power. I used to just feel sorry for non-believers and skeptics who I thought were only hurting themselves by resisting or denying God. No longer.

I believe that we humans are endowed by the Creator/God with free will. We make good choices and we make bad choices. Good choices ultimately move us forward while bad ones drag us down. Good choices lead to peace, harmony and contentment.

We suffer from the consequences of our own bad choices. We become disconnected, anxious and unhappy. When this happens, we can either live with the chaos we've created or look for help in regaining order. Those of us that believe in God, look to Him for help. Prayerful discernment helps us make right choices.

For the most part, non-believers and skeptics, go blindly forth through life making bad choices. In willfully choosing not to dialogue with God they have no way of discerning right from wrong, good from bad. They create chaos, not only in their own lives, but in the lives of all around them and then blame somebody or something else.

Most frightening, are those people that deliberately create disorder in the lives of others in an attempt to create dependency, not on God, but on themselves or their agents. These would be the proponents of what is referred to as, the New World Order.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother used to admonish my brother and I, "Be still." That meant, that we were to stop squirming or dancing around, and close our mouths. I rarely ever remember being punished by my grandmother. Usually, when she told us to be still, it was because she saw trouble brewing. She was looking out for us because she loved us. Usually, we listened when she spoke because we trusted that she knew what was best. It was always ultimately our choice to listen and be still, or get into trouble.

Clearly, our culture does not encourage us to be still. This is the age of the iPod where there is audio everywhere. We are constantly bombarded by distraction. As a young mother I was exhausted and often disheartened at the end of the day. I remember locking myself in the bathroom with a glass of wine and a candle. I'd turn off the lights and lay as still as I possibly could in a hot tub of fragranced water. It was heaven. I always emerged with a smile on my face, feeling renewed.

As family tradition would have it, I go all-out celebrating Christmas and wake-up the first week of January, sick-as-a-dog. This year was no exception. Finally over my cold, Rick and I were aching for a winter retreat. We headed to the cottage.

The first order of business each morning is to potty the dogs. Saturday was no exception. The night before, we saw bear tracks so thought I should probably accompany the four of them outside. I didn't intend to stand there any longer than I needed to as I was only wearing a bathrobe and my slippers. Aside from the movement of the dogs as they nosed through the snow, it was completely still and I was unexpectedly captivated by the quiet beauty of the landscape. Everything around me seemed to be in harmony. There was a 'oneness' about the landscape.

Normally, I'd be able to hear the rush of the water in the rocky creek-bed below. Even that was frozen over and still. I watched as one of the big dogs walked out into the middle of the ice, followed by one of the scotties and I became a little anxious. Even though I couldn't see or hear the icy creek water, I knew it still rushed freely below the surface of the ice. Protectively, I called the dogs back up to the cottage.

Like the dark water flowing beneath the ice and snow, I don't have to see God to know that He exists. I admit that there have been desert times when I've been angry and blamed God unjustly or when I forgot to ask for help and charged head-on into disaster. Luckily, I've never lost my faith completely and I eventually remember that I just need to be still! and know that He is God.

And He said, Go forth,and stand upon the mount before the Lord.

And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the

mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord

was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:

And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.

And it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out . . . Kings 19:12-13

4/20/2010

Moral Ambiguity

The biggest threat to our well being is the absence of moral clarity. Rick Shuman

A few years ago, Rick and I purchased a little cabin in the woods of western Pennsylvania. Our primitive little cottage was built in 1918, by my uncle's grandfather, from lumber salvaged from the burned ruins of a one room school house that previously occupied the property. The cottage's charm is enhanced by a sleepy little creek that babbles continuously as it tumbles toward it's end and into the larger French Creek.

The property surrounding the cottage had been neglected for two years following the death of my aunt; its gardens ravaged by the elements. Less than a year before she died, we walked the property, arm in arm, as she proudly pointed out the contributions she'd made to the nearly century old flower beds. The current shabbiness made me sad and I resolved to do what I could to restore them.

In spite of the fact that I love gardening and am familiar with most of the eastern perennials, the task before me was daunting. My Aunt had been reluctant to rid the yard of the remnants of some wild roses, which had now established a strong foothold throughout the yard. They were the first to go, as they were no longer capable of producing any blossoms but had lethal thorns.

Next, I had to sort the weeds from the flowers, which was made more difficult by the fact that wildflowers had infiltrated the beds. Few of the plants were in bloom, so I had to identify flower from weed by leaf and growth pattern alone. I hated to remove anything of value, so decided to leave some of the questionable plants.

Which brings me to the three hours I spent this afternoon, weaving my way in and around the known perennials to pluck out a particularly invasive wildflower I'd allowed to proliferate. I admit to feeling a bit guilty for removing them, but their reproductive rate was astonishing. They were literally taking over the garden and the payoff wasn't that great, as the flowers were small and insignificant. I had a back-breaking project ahead.

About fifteen years ago, my Aunt gave me a little yard sign that said, "You're never closer to God, than in a garden." I've always loved that sentiment and find that its quite true. I never seem to spend more than ten minutes with my hands in the dirt, before I find myself deep in thought. Today, was no exception.

As I yanked stalk after stalk of the undesirable plant, I noticed that hiding beneath them, struggling to survive, were beautiful flowering bulbs that most certainly had been planted years before. The invasive plants were literally, chocking them out. I was struck by the ambiguity of the situation. Had I chosen to allow the invasive plants to live, I would have doomed the more worthy ones, but who knew?

It occurs to me, that my garden is a microcosm of the world at large, where we make choices that have lasting consequences of unimaginable proportions. When I decided to tackle my garden, I had previous experience with gardening and access to a library of botanical encyclopedias. I felt, that I had a reasonably good chance of making wise choices and decisions, thus I went forward with the project.

I worry that we are living in a time of moral ambiguity where there is no clear sense of what is right or wrong. The most basic moral imperatives, the Ten Commandments, have been banished from public schools and government institutions. Every day there's another example of some sports star or politician caught in an ethics violation or worse, and debates rage over how or even whether, they should be punished or prosecuted.

Some say, its nobody's business if a star quarterback violates a team code of conduct, if it doesn't affect his performance on the field. Same goes for the golf star that cheats on his wife and children. Who cares if a United States Senator cheats on his taxes or pays her nanny under the table? So what if a woman has four kids out of wedlock to two different men, pays no taxes and lives on welfare, as long as her children are fed and clothed.

Who are we to judge? We all need to accept each other for who we are. Live and let live!

You can't run a society or cope with its problems if people are not held accountable for what they do. John Leo

A society with eroding ethical standards, an ambiguous moral code, and an unwillingness to adjudicate, is like a garden full of invasive plants. If no action is taken, the greater good will be choked out and the culture doomed to wither and die.