Thank You

 I've been thinking about my dad a lot this past few weeks. 

His 101st birthday falls on Thanksgiving Day. One week after that is the anniversary of his death last year.

He lived long. I hope he felt that it was a mostly good life. The first two decades, though, were difficult. The  Great Depression colored his life as an adolescent and teenager. 

He didn't say much about those years, except to comment that he didn't much like beans. His family consumed a lot of those during the Depression.

Then again, I never asked him about life during the 1930s, the Dust Bowl years. I wish I had. One doesn't get a real sense of historical events unless you hear people's stories. Especially when it comes directly from someone's lips to your ears.

I did hear first-hand accounts of his time fighting overseas during World War II. 

He saw fierce combat; saw his best friend killed next to him on the battlefield. German troops captured him and others in his group. They were nearly executed, but then spent several months in a German POW camp. Not a fun experience.

But he did what he had to do. All of his life he just did what he had to do without complaint. At least I never heard him complain.

As I face an uncertain world, I will strive to draw on his strength, to do what I have to do without complaining (much, anyway). 

Lend me your strength, your resolve, your conviction, Dad.

And I will do what I must do.

Thanks.

Burn It

 

Sometimes you've got to let it burn.

Fire clears the way, gets rid of useless debris, and allows the sun to warm the soil to make way for new growth. 

A few weeks ago two people from the fire department set our 10 acres of weedy brome grass ablaze. Today the field is green with fresh, succulent growth.

We're not sure whether we'll take the next step of killing out the brome grass with herbicide to clear the way for seeding native prairie grasses and wildflowers next year. Or will we let the brome grow a while for hay?

If we kill the brome and don't get the cost-share fund to help us seed it to native grasses next year, we'll be left with a dead field full of weeds and no hay. We won't know until next year whether we get the funding. Federal agencies are notoriously slow. 

Of course, a method exists by which we can plant native seed without poisoning the brome, but it takes longer. And we still won't get hay because the brome must be kept mowed too short to bale.

Or we can simply grow and maintain a good stand of brome grass and see if our neighbor wants to use it for hay.

None of the choices are entirely satisfactory. I want native prairie, which can make great hay, too. But uncertainty plagues us. Will we get cost-share funds? Native prairie seed can be quite expensive. Could we renovate the field without cost share funds? 

What's our next step?

At least the way is cleared.

Sometimes you've got to let it burn.

Fire moving across the field.