Down On the Farm: Fall has finally hit North Texas for real. The last few mornings were cool enough for long sleeves and the afternoons just warm enough to shed the flannel shirt and soak in the October sun. The turnips, radishes, and beets will be making their appearance at Cowtown Farmer’s Market next Saturday. The okra is still going strong (3 five gallon buckets this week so far!). Every time I think the purple hulled peas are ready to pull up another round of them appear. We’ll also have plenty of butternut squash.
I love the farm and wish all of you could experience it the
way I do. Watching something grow, serving others, creating something wonderful
in the middle of the city I love – all these things are amazing. I can’t
believe I get to do this every day.
I was wrapping up for the day when I found another reason that I love Opal’s Farm so much. I had pulled the pump up from the river and was about to head back to the “barn”. I was about to out the tools in the truck when I noticed how still and peaceful the evening was. The river was punctuated with tiny circles as fish fed on the various insects flying too close to the water. The evening sun was beginning to sink in the west and rays of sunlight hit in ways I had previously failed to notice. Even the noise of cars on the nearby interstates seemed almost non-existent.
October Afternoons
It occurred to me how blessed I was to be in that moment, in
that place. There, right across the river from downtown Fort Worth, I was in a
place of amazing beauty and stillness normally reserved for places far from an
urban center.
It’s my hope you’ll join us at Opal’s Farm. Please go to our
website, www.unityunlimited.org and
sign-up today. Fall is the perfect time to experience the farm – not too hot,
not too cold – and we’d love to see you.
As always, you can also use the website to donate to Opal’s
Farm. We have much work to do finishing Fall and getting ready for Spring. We
can’t do it without your help! See you soon!
Thoughts From the Porch: It’s finally Fall in Texas. I was
greeted by temperatures in the forties, a crystal-clear morning, and the song
of birds that haven’t been around our area since last year. I haven’t put pen
to paper or keyboard to screen in a bit. I had a tinge of disappointment when I
realized this is the first October entry and there were only a couple for
September.
It’s been a difficult couple of months. Margaret went to the
hospital on Labor Day, came home two weeks later, and is back in the hospital
again. The only good news is that this time it’s for a broken leg. We were
heading to the porch when Maggie decided to bolt out the door, knocking her
over, and breaking the tibial plateau. Apparently, this a rare break and she’ll
have to keep pressure off the leg for the next twelve weeks. Leave it to us to
try and be unique…
Anyway, my trips are once again between home, hospital, and Opal’s Farm. It’s an all-to-familiar cycle I hope to break (no pun intended Baby!) soon. We’d certainly appreciate your prayers…
I found this gem in my morning meditation. Dorothy Day was
the founder of the Catholic Worker movement. She spent her life ministering to
“the least of these” – addicts, the homeless, the marginalized, and broken
people. She often wrote in her diary of the temptation to give up. She also
wrote of the reason that kept her going.
“Yes, I see only
too clearly how bad people are. I wish I did not see it so. It is my own sins
that give me clarity. If I did not bear the scars of so many sins to dim my
sight and dull my capacity for love and joy, then I would see Christ more
clearly in you all. I cannot worry much about your sins and miseries when I
have so many of my own. I can only love you all, poor fellow travelers, fellow
sufferers. I do not want to add one least straw to the burden you already
carry. My prayer from day to day is that God will so enlarge my heart that I
will see you all, and live with you all, in his love.”
Her honest look at herself – “the unwed pregnancy, her
quick temper and often biting tongue – that allowed her to show grace to
others.” (Phillip Yancey, What Good is God?). When I practice brutal
honesty with myself I too, find grace much easier to extend to others.
I’ve often heard others quote Jesus, “Let he who is
without sin cast the first stone” but all-too-often I fail to put those
words into practice. When I do, however, I find a peace I never dreamed
possible.
I have no idea why this posted as “Auto Draft” but here’s the real headline…
Thoughts From the Porch: Last night filled with great music, hot coffee, and a chance to check the emails filling my inbox from the last few days. It may not be most folk’s idea of a great Saturday night but it’s fine by me. To sit and get caught up, especially in air-conditioned comfort, is a golden opportunity indeed.
I get a LOT of emails. Most get a quick scan and deleted but
there are a few newsletters I read religiously. Pet MD sent their weekly
update. Anything benefitting our fur babies is of utmost importance. We strive
to be the best pet parents possible and always look for helpful tips to keep
our pets in good health.
As a writer of content and copy I know the value of a great headline. This week’s Pet MD had one of the best I’ve seen – “What Should I Do If My Dog Ate Weed?” It got my attention right away. I’m not sure I would’ve been asking that question publicly. I did notice that it said weed and not “my” weed. You know, just in case…
To be honest, I never thought of asking that question, but apparently, marijuana toxicity in dogs is on the rise; especially in states where it is now legal. Although I no longer indulge in THC (I’m in recovery, not judging), I imagine I would be mildly pissed if my dog ate my weed. From what I understand, the dime bag is a thing of the past…
How do you know if your dog ate your weed? According to PET
MD, “Clinical signs include:
Incoordination
Sensitivity to loud noises
Low heart rate
Dribbling urine
Dilation of the pupils
Low or high body temperature”
I would personally
add to the list empty packages of Oreo cookies and Hostess Twinkies scattered
about the house, a lack of motivation to chase the squirrel ten feet away, and an
abnormal fascination with the television. Just saying…
During my
younger and far more foolish years I had a Golden Retriever who once ate half a
pan of THC-infused brownies (where they came from, I’ll never tell!). Had I
known the potential for life-threatening illness I might not have had such a
good laugh (after my initial anger over the lost and somewhat expensive
brownies, of course). The THC made her quite content to lay on the edge of the
porch and watch the cars pass by. I assume she enjoyed the rest of her evening.
I know I did.
If I’d known
then, what I know now…
Fortunately,
my dog survived her momentary intoxication without any ill effects. In fact,
she slept it off until the next afternoon. However, I did notice she was
unusually attentive to the sound of storage baggies opening. Had I known about
weed toxicity back then I might have been a bit worried, but all’s well that
ends well…
The take-away from all this is don’t get your dog high, no matter how much they enjoy it, either intentionally or unintentionally. It’s not good for them. Store your weed (and your cookies) out of reach. Keep your weed and your pet safe and secure.
Thoughts
From the Porch: We sold out early at the farmer’s market Saturday.
We sold much of the week’s harvest on Wednesday, so we were a bit light for
Saturday’s market. Our normal crowd was a bit smaller due to the rainy morning.
Even a few of our farmers took the day off for other pursuits. Hopefully,
everyone enjoyed a much-needed break from summer chores. I know I did.
Our friends Melvin and Janice called Friday night to invite us up to Lake Murray for a camping weekend. It was a perfect Saturday morning to leave market early and head to Oklahoma. Cell service is almost non-existent there. Spending a couple of days unplugged from everything is a periodic necessity. A couple of days in a quiet campsite with good friends is just what the doctor ordered!
Life is full of small pleasures. My Sunday morning meeting was covered by someone else, so I slept in for a change. Upon awakening I made the coffee and headed for some serious porch time. I made the mistake of checking out my CNN app and discovered twenty-nine people had been killed in two mass shootings just hours apart: one in El Paso and the other in Dayton, Ohio. It was difficult to separate the horror and sadness I experienced from the rising fury toward the hatefulness of the crimes.
I wanted to write
about it but growing older (and hopefully wiser) has allowed me to hit the
pause button on such occasions lest I speak or write out of anger. I tend to
say things I later regret or that are misunderstood. It makes apologies and
amends to others for my emotional outburst extremely difficult. So, I’ve mulled
this over for the last couple of days before sharing my thoughts.
Same
story, different day…
The storyline has become all-to familiar. Another mass
shooting. The news covers all the vigils held to honor the dead. Finding
relatives of the fallen or hospital room interviews with survivors are a
ratings bonanza. There’s an outcry against gun violence. Politicians and
political pundits from both sides of the aisle pontificate on how to prevent
this from happening again, just as they did the last time and the time before
that. What happened Sunday will happen again today, tomorrow, and so it goes.
According to data collected by the non-profit organization,
Gun Violence Archive, (as of August 4th, 2019) a mass shooting is
defined as “an event where at least four people, not including the gunman, were
shot”. By this definition, there have been 292 mass shootings in last 219 days
of this year alone. I’m no math wizard but according to my calculations, that’s
1.3 mass shootings a day.
We simply don’t hear about most of them. It seems only a
large body count is newsworthy. Maybe we’ve become numb to “average” shootings.
Many occur in communities most folks ignore anyway. Sadly, if this weekend’s
events are like previous mass shootings, the media will play with the story for
a few days until another ratings booster comes along…
Words can
kill just like bullets
The FBI is unsure as to the motive of the Dayton shooter, but are treating the El Paso event as an act of domestic terrorism based on white supremacy. The shooter’s motives were clear so he several hundred miles to carry out a planned attack on immigrants because of the “Hispanic invasion of Texas”.
The “Hispanic invasion”. “Those people”. “Go back where you came from”. All words and phrases coming from the highest office in the land. All words that spark hate, division, and most of all, fear. When asked what we can do about the problem with those people, someone shouted, “shoot them” and everyone present laughed. Except for one 21-year-old from North Texas. He took those words literally…
I don’t know what to do about gun control, red flag laws, or mental health issues and gun violence. I don’t know if the present occupant of the White House will change his words, but maybe we should hold him accountable for those words. Words kill. They accounted for at least 22 of the deaths this weekend. Hateful words, attitudes, and divisiveness pulled the trigger as much as the gunman did. Donald Trump is as complicit in the El Paso shooting as the gunman.
What I do know is to counter hateful words and actions with
love and grace, despite my anger and sadness. The grace shown to me by a loving
Abba will guide my actions. I’ll not allow hate and division to interfere with
loving and uniting others, especially “the others”.
What I know for certain is, “The only thing necessary for the
triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”―Edmund Burke(in a letter addressed
to Thomas Mercer).I
won’t be quiet, nor will I sit still.
gregoryjoel.com 