in fall of life

Invited into lovely white farmhouse one September morning, we gather around dining room table set with china, candles, fresh flowers. Vintage prints frame one wall; shelves of antique clocks tick in corner. It’s coffee/tea time, whichever you prefer, complemented by dainty pastries, breads, and berries passed around full circle of women.

Miguela, our gregarious hostess, immigrated years ago as new bride from the Philippines. “Jellie’s” friend secretly submitted her profile to newspaper “dating” column…lonely Iowa farmer responded. Within year of written correspondence and phone calls, she was charmed and they were married. A long distance romance blossomed… eventually seeding two children.

After tea, we admire Jellie’s flowers which surround the house with blooms all summer long. She apologizes the gardens are past prime but plenty of flowers still beckon us. Hydrangeas, zinnias, roses, and exotic Asian plants attract butterflies and hummingbirds.

* * * * *

seven hummingbirds

with green caps and ruby throats

flit among feeders


Later, we spill out of two cars with smiles and laughter into warm autumn afternoon. Clutch of classy lassies has enjoyed monthly outings for twenty-five years; in fact, our charter member planned today’s field trip. Our fun fashion of red hats and purple t-shirts glitter with glam in the autumn sunshine.

Mary, experienced tour guide with a teacher’s heart, shows us around Lakeside Laboratory campus on West Lake Okoboji. The outdoor lab, founded in 1909 covers one hundred forty-seven acres of woods, prairie, wetlands, and shoreline. Dr. Thomas Macbride, University of Iowa, established lab for “the study of nature in nature.”

We hike hilly circuit of beautiful old stone buildings constructed during depression era by Civilian Conservation Corps. Summer students have finished research projects, leaving behind hip boots, fish nets, test tubes and empty hallways. Acorns from ubiquitous oak trees drop and roll off roofs and onto walking paths.

* * * * *

hundred year old oak

rooted strong, gnarly, ancient

acorn in pocket

______________

Haibuns served at dVerse Poets pub with Mish hosting!

all fall down

Every fall, our family visits Oak Grove, a nearby park on the Sioux River. It covers five hundred plus acres of combined state and county conservation land with hiking trails, picnic areas, cabins and campsites. We park on top of the ridge and find a trail through the scrub oak trees to slowly make our way down to the river bottom.

The river flooded this past summer, changing the landscape. Sand and debris washed into the woodland, excavator tracks show where dirt has been redistributed and re-leveled. Ancient outcroppings of rose-tinted Sioux quartzite remain solidly undisturbed along the upper trail.

Reaching up, young cottonwoods glow golden in late afternoon. Scarlet sumac stunningly line the prairie grassland. The predominant oaks simply turn brown and drop large lobed leaves on the trail below their gnarly trunks. A few spruce and juniper stand green and ever verdant.

leaves blanket steep trail
hiker’s step crunches, slides on
dry patterns fallen

creeaak!

 

Our farm buildings are nestled in the protective elbow of the grove, my personal woodland. A variety of trees shield us from the blast of winter’s northwest winds. Along outer L-shaped perimeter stand two rows of blue spruce, planted early in our marriage; mountain trees for this Colorado girl transplanted to prairie. Now the rows are closed to lawnmowers and snow shoers.

Inside the west crook, reside old ash and gnarly box elder, here long before my husband’s parents bought the farm site. Random maple, scattered throughout, blaze in autumn’s golden glory. Near the road, three small birch wave at passers-by. A few more spruce shelter the apple orchard, now consisting of two prodigious trees, we planted by our driveway.

On the north, two straight rows of ash, summit and bergesen, join hands high to form a long leaf-adorned aisle where migrating monarchs flit in early fall. Next to these, six red oak raise their proud heads and stubbornly hang onto dead leaves until next spring.

Sadly, severe weather, disease, or insect pests eventually claim even the best of our trees. Walk past an old dead tree on a windy day and hear the creaking. Better to get chainsaw out before it falls where we don’t want it to. Its wood will warm us in winter and we are grateful.

 

young saplings attend
but cannot stop life cycle
dryad’s dying scream

 

IMG_3669

photo by lynn

 

 

love like blue mounds state park

 
rose quartzite cliff first beckons, then

bewilders inexperienced rock climber

 
merry wren on fencepost sings counter-

melody to deeper tones of brown thrasher

 
tall cottonwood and strong gnarly oak

together shelter and shade young nesters

 
gathering clouds on horizon bend to kiss

soft sloping shoulder of open prairie

 
Jupiter pulls Venus into closer orbit

two planets dance as only stars in sky