Finishing Touches

Posted on May 8, 2013 by Doc Arnett

Two months ago,
as I loped her around the small paddock
in her first bit of a workout since November,
our grey roan Foxtrotter mare
seemed more than ready
for another season of trails
and training grandkids to groom and ride.

But the bit of bleeding from Jitterbug’s nose
shifted from faint pink ooze to red trickle,
the puffy places around her sternum
grew larger and became too sensitive to cinch,
some sort of ugly growth made her ears
too sore to touch
and most lately, she began to show
some slight stiffness in her hindquarters.

After Monday’s sunset,
I tried to lead her around the pasture,
one last walk together in the deep flush
of brome and bluegrass,
but after the first few steps,
J-Bug turned back toward the barn.

Her eyes spoke of pain
and she held her head at an odd angle,
shaking it from time to time
as if trying to clear some deep angst.

The news from the vet yesterday morning
was no better than we expected.

I held her halter as he probed for the vein,
easing the needle back and forth
until the red ran up and out,
then he joined syringe to needle
and flushed the sedative.

She started to walk a circle
but her legs splayed, wobbled a bit.
She paused for a moment, head beginning to droop.
She looked off toward the field, confused,
and then went down on her side.

She tried for a few seconds to raise herself,
back leg stuck awkwardly into the air,
head held up from the ground.
I rubbed between her eyes and around her ears
as Randa gently petted her neck.
And when her head lay against the grass
and Lady J’s eyes no longer carried the seeing,
we walked away slowly.

I hope that when it comes the time of my going,
there will be those
who love me more than they fear my leaving
and will let me go gently–
a few kind strokes of love to send me along–
and will join me later
in our waiting for That Good Day.

H. Arnett
5/8/13

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Re-Work

Posted on May 7, 2013 by Doc Arnett

Four days of sustained winds
and gusts to thirty-miles-an-hour
scoured patches in the straw
leaving bare spots
and uncovered the whole south end
of the newly worked section of the yard
where I had sown grass seed.

Knowing the needs of sprouting,
I raked up the closest strands,
re-spread them and got some more
from the shed,
soaked the whole area as soon as I finished
the new mulching.

Hopefully,
it will hold until the seeds
have turned into green and growth
and they will gain a hold in the soil
that will change my toil
from planting to tending.

This is not a world
that is always supportive
of our plannings and plantings
but faith willing to show itself in work
and unwilling to take the easier course
of discouragement,
rarely works in vain.

H. Arnett
5/7/13

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A Bit Bizarre

Posted on May 6, 2013 by Doc Arnett

According to those whose business it is to know such things, the last time it snowed in these parts in the first week of May was in 1908. Being barely able to remember it myself, I had to rely upon the written record. According to that record, that particular storm brought eight inches of the untimely white stuff.

Although accumulation is a bit nebulous at this time of year around here, I did see no less than four inches of buildup at the base of the north window of my office on Thursday morning. On Friday, as I was driving across US 36 in central Missouri, I saw at least five inches completely covering fields and banks in one section. For miles, I could see clumps of grass and snow mingled together, greens and whites caught in strange arrangement.

This was not the quick flurry, a passing snatch of tiny bits of powder and pellets that I’d expected; this was a bona fide snow storm that plastered the north sides of trees and posts, sketching skeletons in the woods and stretching long rows in the bare fields. It snowed so hard and heavy that I could see clumps of white floating in the Grand River, just east of Chillicothe.

It was quite a thing, this snowstorm in May that came in the Year Two Thousand and Thirteen. Yet will bloom the flowers of summer and we will eat fresh peaches in their season. Even in the late snow, the promises of heaven will still show themselves sure.

H. Arnett
5/6/13

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Dark Days

Posted on May 2, 2013 by Doc Arnett

Yes, folks, it’s official now: the Global Warming Seminar scheduled for this weekend in northeastern Kansas is being postponed indefinitely, due to the weather forecast: possible snow accumulation of one to three inches. Yep, that’s right; right here in Kansas where the trees and flowers are blooming and the typical high temperature for the first week of May is in the eighties, we have a predicted high today of thirty-seven degrees with a low of thirty-three for the next two nights. So, no GWS for this weekend.

On the other hand, the Climate Change group does plan to convene, weather and Al Gore permitting. Of perhaps greater interest, though, the “I Swear I Saw in the National Enquirer That We’re Headed for Another Ice Age” meeting will proceed as scheduled with events commencing on the ice floe that is forming beneath the Pony Express Bridge. First up will be the keynote address, “Thirty-five Edible Types of Arctic Plankton,” followed by a variety of breakout sessions on “Harvesting and Preserving Sub-Tundral Plant Species.” Of course, the organizers would like to inform you that in the event of an unexpected degree of sunshine, meetings will be held in the storage facilities of the Artesian Ice & Inflatable Hypothermia Company. Please bring your own seal blubber and frozen whale fin snacks.

Of course, whether it’s the weather or wars or rumors of wars, there will always be something disturbing, some ominous omen or perceived harbinger of disaster. Eventually, Armageddon will come.

But, for today, I believe I will say my prayers, find an umbrella and wear a coat. That seems to me to be much more effective than sticking my head in the sand or hiding out in the survival shelter.

I will be taking my camera along, too. I want to be able to show my great-grandkids pictures of When It Snowed in May… back in Thirteen… and then tell them how the Lord was able to deliver us from that, too.

H. Arnett
5/2/13

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Of Wind and Work

Posted on May 1, 2013 by Doc Arnett

On the morning of Betty Prescher’s last day,
I tried to mulch the newly seeded lawn
on the west side of the house
where I had shaved away the slope
and left something closer
to the shape of flat that makes
a game of croquet play a bit better.

The wind
kept blowing away the strands of straw
until finally I gave up,
knew that whatever else this day
might be good for,
it wasn’t this.

I thought I might be able
to finish the larger part that afternoon
but the wind kept blowing
throughout the day,
even shoving the truck a bit sideways
on my way home from work.

At dusk, the wind lay off enough
that I could finish the work
I’d started earlier,
scattering straw in the dark
and grateful for knowing her
and the way she always seemed to know
whether or not it was a time for giving up
or for coming back later.

And that a thing that wasn’t worth finishing
shouldn’t be started.

H. Arnett
5/1/13

Posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Death & Dying, Family, Gardening, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Poetry, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation, Work | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off on Of Wind and Work

Parable of the Pear and the Pair

Posted on April 30, 2013 by Doc Arnett

The Bradford Pear is in full bloom now,
thirty feet of boughs and branches
covered with false promises,
white as heaven, each blossom a little lie:
there will be no fruit.
This tree is made for beauty,
a herald of spring,
a fling of scent and sight
without the slightest offering of sustenance.

Across the drive,
the two tiny peach trees
are also ripe with color,
buds opened into blossom,
pink promises
declaring their presence and purpose.
Absent the interference of sufficient evil,
these small branches will bow to earth
under the weight of their fruit,
yielded and yielding
to the delight of harvest.

We were not redeemed for seeming beauty
but rather for bearing nourishing fruit,
rooted in faith and living in the world,
yet not of the world.

H. Arnett
4/30/13

Posted in Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Farming, Gardening, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Poetry, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

A Good Day Off

Posted on April 26, 2013 by Doc Arnett

I had planned to spend the day yesterday doing some inside work, finishing up the surround for the whirlpool tub. After three fairly early morning medical appointments for some routine stuff, I went over to Menard’s to pick up the wood I needed for doing the trim around the bottom of the tub skirt. The plan was to cut a rabbet along the top edge so it would slip over the lower edge of the beadboard. Then, I would miter the corners, install and paint. That was the plan.

But when I got home and stepped out into the sixty-degree air on a beautifully sunny day… well, plans changed. I put the wood in the garage and shifted to the new plans.

First, I used my little Kubota tractor and an old rear-mounted blade to re-grade the driveway. After the pounding rains from last week, it needed it. Then, I changed from blade to Bush-Hog and mowed the banks along the highway. After the pounding rains from last week, they needed it. Then, I spent an hour or more sweeping and picking up small broken branches (mostly birch) and catalpa pods. After the heavy rains that came with the pounding rains last week… well, you’re probably picking up the pattern here. After loading those up in the back of my little Ranger pickup and adding them to the burn pile, I got the John Deere riding mower out of the shed for its first work of the season. When that was finished, I put the landscape box on the back of the Kubota and had some real fun.

I’d started leveling the northwest part of the yard two years ago, reshaping a long slope that channeled water into the basement. I’d managed to create a relatively flat section that drained to the north side of the yard instead of toward the house. I wanted to expand that and cut deeper and farther into the west bank. It was so dry last year that the ground was too hard for me to work with my small equipment. Yesterday, though, was an entirely different matter. The rain we’ve had in the last month had produced a perfect degree of moisture. I used the front-loader to scoop up and move several tons of dirt. With the landscape box, I smoothed and sloped the whole area.

As the sun was setting, I led the horse back over from the pasture to the pen and gave him his sweet feed. As I walked back to the house, I surveyed all that I had done that day: smoothed and shaped driveway, freshly trimmed grass on a neat lawn and a future croquet court. It was as if the universe had conspired for my desire; conditions were perfect for every one of my little projects.

There are days that just seem destined for the very thing that we are doing. And in the doing, we find a satisfaction that exceeds pleasure.

H. Arnett
4/26/13

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Unseasonably Gorgeous

Posted on April 24, 2013 by Doc Arnett

“Unbelievable!” “Ridiculous!” “Disgusting!”

Such were some of the responses I heard or overheard yesterday during our more than fashionably late snowstorm. It wasn’t just a flurry or two swirling through the air in the manner that makes you wonder whether or not you actually saw snow as you glanced out the window or walked past a glass door; this was the real deal. By the time I left the doctor’s office around ten in the morning, there was already close to an inch of the white stuff. There was enough accumulation to show tire tracks on the roadway but the most obvious build-up was in the grass and on the trees. And on the bridges.

When I crossed the Missouri River back over to Kansas, there was enough slush that even those of us inclined to rush toward the rest of our day decided it made sense to slow down. In the next few miles past the bridge, I could still see ridges of snow and sleet, especially in the left hand lane on 36.

It was surreal to see the white clustered shapes of Bradford Pears nearly disappear against the sudden backdrop of snow. Fallow fields showed pure white. The northern edges of bare-branched trees starked white-boned sketches against the hills. Closer at hand, fringes of green spiked from the edges of lawns and pastures. Along the roadside, the snow/sleet mix fixed bright clumps among tufts of fescue.

By the time another hour had passed, the roofs of campus dorms and the tops of cars in the parking lots were covered with another inch of snow. Even though it began melting slowly as soon as it landed, the rate of supply greatly exceeded the rate of depletion. At least for a couple of hours. By mid-afternoon, there was little left except in the shadows and thicker clumps.

In spite of the general hostility surrounding me, I found it fascinating, a rare blending of spring’s rich colors mingled for a bit with an unwelcome extension of winter’s cold covering.

It seemed wise, though, to keep my appreciation to myself. One should be careful about antagonizing people with a celebration of something they despise. Scoffers do not often respond with delight at the sight of the penitent rejoicing in their salvation.

H. Arnett
4/24/13

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Gettin’ Ready

Posted on April 23, 2013 by Doc Arnett

Over the years
I’ve helped wipe away
the tears of loved ones
who’d lost someone dear,
someone who actually mattered to them.

I’ve held the hands
of those whose final hours
were upon them,
prayed with their families
in that time of groaning and grieving.

I stood by their beds,
felt the light leaden shadow
of their passing,
heard the last sounds of breathing
and sensed the lightness of their leaving.

I’ve seen the weariness of living
take hold of old bodies
worn thin by the distance
from their beginnings,
seen the longing in old eyes
for release from this life.

I’ve grown comfortable
with the dying of such others,
believing that theirs
is a relieving of all things bitter
and a receiving of something better:
a fine rest well earned.

It’s only lately, though,
that I’ve come to know
that I’m practicing for a time
when such calmness and caring
will bring its sharing
much closer home.

H. Arnett
4/23/13

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The Pastor’s Visit

Posted on April 22, 2013 by Doc Arnett

Tethered to the long green line
that runs from the tank,
she spends her time
turned toward the windows
of what she used to call
her living room.

She’s in remarkably good health for a dying woman:
nothing really hurts,
everything else works
with both mind and body.

But a few steps across the floor
leaves her gasping for air,
even with the supplemental oxygen.
Since she cannot sustain enough breath
for conversation,
she hesitates to call anyone
and the visitors have become fewer
and farther between.

I sit in the chair
where her husband died slowly
nearly ten years ago
and now it seems only half that time to me
and at least twice that long to her.

Sometimes the silence filters around us,
and we sit together,
waiting for the ending that will not come
soon enough.

We talk about loss and flowers,
blooms and seeds,
and how a ripe peach from the tree
is the only one worth eating.

H. Arnett
4/22/13

Posted in Aging, Christian Devotions, Christian Living, Death & Dying, Family, Metaphysical Reflection, Nature, Poetry, Relationships, Spiritual Contemplation | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment