October 9, 2024
Similar to 2024’s tomato crop,
this year the walnut tree that rules over the north-east corner of our small domain
had little to no production of walnuts. The entire purpose of the walnut crop,
in my opinion, is to feed the local rodents. They aren’t the sort of walnuts that
one can do anything else with, either. As to the lack of production I’m hearing
that this year was just not as great for growing things in this area as was last
year.
Those who live more in tune
with the land will tell you that’s simply nature’s way.
Our walnut tree is the last to
get its leaves in the spring and the first to lose them—usually that begins in
early August. Typically, when the first walnut hits the ground, so do the first
leaves. Last year, we had a couple of near misses, navigating our way from
house to car, never knowing if a walnut was headed to our, well, heads. The
bombardment, some days, got to the point that I very nearly dug out an
umbrella, thinking to at least slow the velocity of any missile that dropped
from tree, on its way earthward to me.
Like a lot of things in recent
days, I didn’t quite get around to digging out that umbrella.
Last year’s was a hell of a
good crop of walnuts, and when we were outside, we always did our best to pick
them up off the road and toss them onto the grass, and sometimes into the
garden that borders the house in front. Otherwise, cars would inevitably roll
over them. Have you ever heard a walnut being flattened, suddenly, under the
press of automobile tires? It sounds like a firework—or a gun shot. The
squirrels and chipmunks seemed to appreciate our efforts, too, because they did
a good job of taking those yummy (to them) walnuts away.
During this time of year, when
there is a danger of incoming walnut bombs, our daughter does park her car out
of reach of any possible barrage—when she thinks of it. Or perhaps more
accurately, after weighing protecting the car from possible dents versus that
extra block’s walk from and to the car. Her work is quite taxing, and her days
are often long.
As I’ve sometimes put it, it’s
not so much that we’re lazy here as that we give priority where it is most
beneficial. That’s our story, and folks, we’re sticking to it.
October, in the Ashbury
household, is the first month of winter. Here, in this family, we acknowledge
the reality of things. Winter runs from October 1 to March 31, inclusive.
Spring, summer and autumn can just fight over the other 6 months.
Spring has always been my
favorite season. The time of freshness, of renewal, the optimism that
everything can be new again after winter’s cruel grip upon us is broken. Of
course, the last couple of winters haven’t been all that cruel. But that doesn’t
mean it won’t be this time around.
When one has lived through
times that have been a real struggle, it’s difficult to put those memories
away, completely. The “old wives” have all sorts of maxims that demonstrate
that principle. Once burned, twice shy is the one that comes to mind in this
moment.
It can be challenging these
days, especially if one is determined to try and figure out what is going to
happen next. Logic no longer seems to be in vogue, and folks, I regret to
inform you that common sense is not only no longer common, I fear that it is
dead and buried.
After much thinking I’ve come
to a conclusion that will surprise no one who has read these essays. The best way,
the only way, to face whatever comes next is with an attitude of gratitude.
A healthy, strong sense of
gratitude for everything is the best shield I have found to dispense with life’s
slings and arrows. Gratitude is one of my most cherished possessions and my
everlasting prayer is that it always will be so.
Love,
Morgan
https://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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