Changing Seasons

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Today a flock of geese congregates on the pond. They honk their nasal greeting at some stragglers flying overhead. The pair in flight lowers their flaps and puts down their landing gear. They bank and glide, catching the wind at just the right angle to slow their approach. Their feet hit the watery runway. They ski into the flock, pulling in their flaps as they come to a complete stop. The noisy greetings fade.

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Crushed to God’s Glory

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Today I hunt for wild grapes. The vines are everywhere, climbing fences and trees and boulders along the wild country roads. Many of the vines are bare. But some have clusters of tiny purple grapes, miniatures of their cultivated cousins. A couple of light frosts have made them as sweet as they’re going to get… which is not very sweet. They’re far too tart to eat plain. But they make excellent jelly. I fill several ice cream pails and head home.

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