Fishing Fun!

Mr. Dolan’s watershed lake is a favorite fishing spot. He free-heartedly allows us to come and bring friends to fish there. It is a shady peaceful spot. The Parks family visited us last weekend and we all went down to fish. 
The crappie and the white perch were biting. Everything went along fine. It was hot that day. Peaceful and quiet and hot. And then it happened. A terrible tragedy!

 

            
This is the story I got from the children. They all accidentally fell in. All eight of them! It was a large frightful accident! A big monster came and threw them all in. He looked like this. Yeah! Uglier! He did it! She did it! And someone got a splinter. It was tragic, unbelievable, horrid, wretched!!!!
Oh, it was just awful!
We just barely survived. You believe us, don’t you?
I didn’t even realize that the water was so wet and muddy. Sorry.
Really sorry!
We are mostly innocent and not too wet.
It was fun. We’re hungry. Is supper ready? Can we ride home in the van?
The water looked so inviting!
Can we all pile in?

 
Please. We’ll be good!!!
Not a chance. Ready kids? Start walking!

Fishing Fun!

Mr. Dolan’s watershed lake is a favorite fishing spot. He free-heartedly allows us to come and bring friends to fish there. It is a shady peaceful spot. The Parks family visited us last weekend and we all went down to fish. 
The crappie and the white perch were biting. Everything went along fine. It was hot that day. Peaceful and quiet and hot. And then it happened. A terrible tragedy!

 

            
This is the story I got from the children. They all accidentally fell in. All eight of them! It was a large frightful accident! A big monster came and threw them all in. He looked like this. Yeah! Uglier! He did it! She did it! And someone got a splinter. It was tragic, unbelievable, horrid, wretched!!!!
Oh, it was just awful!
We just barely survived. You believe us, don’t you?
I didn’t even realize that the water was so wet and muddy. Sorry.
Really sorry!
We are mostly innocent and not too wet.
It was fun. We’re hungry. Is supper ready? Can we ride home in the van?
The water looked so inviting!
Can we all pile in?

 
Please. We’ll be good!!!
Not a chance. Ready kids? Start walking!

Signs of Home

Signs are everywhere, even in the country. In small towns and along country roads, signs point our way and letter our worlds. Have you seen these signs? Can you tell where I live? 
Some irresponsible person shot this sign full of holes that have rusted, still I like this one. It is a good landmark. This sign is three miles from my house along Highway 16.

This old farm is located along a gravel road about nine miles northwest of my home. Seeing the way it has grown up, I think no one lives there anymore. A old house or barn is hidden back in the tangle.
This sign points west of highway 52. Margaret loves the horse statue because it reminds her of a horse she owned and named Princess. Many of the cattle and horse ranches in my part of Oklahoma have signs like this one with animal figures adorning them.
This sign shows how a gravel road running from highway 75 to highway 52 
cannot be traveled during the rainy spring.
Watson Ranch is about eight miles west and a mile south of our house.
 Have you seen this sign? Do you know where I live yet? 
I always wonder who painted the ivy on this sign for Liberty Church. 
Do you know?
AHHHHH
Always a beautiful piece of prairie to pass by, this field is unfenced and ready for dove hunters. 
The lopsided, hand-lettered sign is along Highway 52 west of my home.
These two signs are giveaway clues. One is on a store 14 miles from my house. The other is 12 miles. 
Haven’t you seen these signs?
This sign is missing a few letters, but it stills shows that people here love baseball!
This sign is out front of a small green frame house, built on the southeast corner of a cattle ranch. 
I love the name of this place: Clearview Ranch. It is a good name because a person can see 
for miles across the prairie here. 
I pass this sign when I go into town.  
One word gives a clue to my home place. Howard.

My front yard. Have you seen it? The driveway,the gate, the lone redbud tree?
This place is referred to by the neighbors as the Howard Farm.
There are signs even in the peaceful countryside far from trains, traffic jams, and city lights. I love living in the country with room to breathe and space to roam, and a view of the vast blue sky. This is home.
When God saved humanity through Noah and the ark, he told Noah that a rainbow was a sign 
of his promise to man. (See Genesis 9:13-16).
Later, God sent his son Jesus to earth. In Luke 2: 11-12,  He says “This shall be a sign to you; You will find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” Those two great signs are more important to us than all the signs we will encounter in this world, because to find Jesus and to find the promise of life
is to find home.

Signs of Home

Signs are everywhere, even in the country. In small towns and along country roads, signs point our way and letter our worlds. Have you seen these signs? Can you tell where I live? 
Some irresponsible person shot this sign full of holes that have rusted, still I like this one. It is a good landmark. This sign is three miles from my house along Highway 16.

This old farm is located along a gravel road about nine miles northwest of my home. Seeing the way it has grown up, I think no one lives there anymore. A old house or barn is hidden back in the tangle.
This sign points west of highway 52. Margaret loves the horse statue because it reminds her of a horse she owned and named Princess. Many of the cattle and horse ranches in my part of Oklahoma have signs like this one with animal figures adorning them.
This sign shows how a gravel road running from highway 75 to highway 52 
cannot be traveled during the rainy spring.
Watson Ranch is about eight miles west and a mile south of our house.
 Have you seen this sign? Do you know where I live yet? 
I always wonder who painted the ivy on this sign for Liberty Church. 
Do you know?
AHHHHH
Always a beautiful piece of prairie to pass by, this field is unfenced and ready for dove hunters. 
The lopsided, hand-lettered sign is along Highway 52 west of my home.
These two signs are giveaway clues. One is on a store 14 miles from my house. The other is 12 miles. 
Haven’t you seen these signs?
This sign is missing a few letters, but it stills shows that people here love baseball!
This sign is out front of a small green frame house, built on the southeast corner of a cattle ranch. 
I love the name of this place: Clearview Ranch. It is a good name because a person can see 
for miles across the prairie here. 
I pass this sign when I go into town.  
One word gives a clue to my home place. Howard.

My front yard. Have you seen it? The driveway,the gate, the lone redbud tree?
This place is referred to by the neighbors as the Howard Farm.
There are signs even in the peaceful countryside far from trains, traffic jams, and city lights. I love living in the country with room to breathe and space to roam, and a view of the vast blue sky. This is home.
When God saved humanity through Noah and the ark, he told Noah that a rainbow was a sign 
of his promise to man. (See Genesis 9:13-16).
Later, God sent his son Jesus to earth. In Luke 2: 11-12,  He says “This shall be a sign to you; You will find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” Those two great signs are more important to us than all the signs we will encounter in this world, because to find Jesus and to find the promise of life
is to find home.

A Tree by the Water


The rain poured down. The gullies and ditches were soon full and water rushed in torrents. A fallen branch washed along the stream and I watched it go—amazed at the power of flowing water. Lightning flashed in huge bolts that television weathermen love to call “deadly” lightning. There is certainly much drama in a storm!
The heavy rain and hail beat the blossoms from the redbud tree which has cheered us with its pink lemonade salute to spring. Green shows now along its slender branches.  

This morning, below the hill a temporary pond of rain water has a chorus of tree frogs chirping and calling in that rising-falling pattern of cicadas on a hot summer evening. Snowy Egrets and Great Blue Herons stalk the water in solemn procession. Songbirds are busy at the feeders and carrying twigs and bits of grass to their nesting sites—all but the brown-headed cowbirds who wait until the nests are complete and then lay eggs in those to be tended by diligent birds
The old oak tree that supports the tree house and dangles a rope swing is breaking bud. The goldfinches sit among the yellow green almost invisible for the match. They flit down to feast on dandelions that have suddenly sprouted in yellow patches across the yard.
The oak tree will soon be garbed in emerald and its sturdy limbs will be a shady refuge all summer. No drought has reached this tree. Drought summers have killed younger trees and trees that had not put down roots far enough to reach underground rivers flowing with the wealth of spring rain.
Once, they say, these prairies sported no trees, except along creeks and streams. Settlers had to scout rivers to find trees big enough to build houses. My own house was built by pioneers as the Evening Star School. It was built with the boards split from logs hauled by oxen teams from the banks of the Deep Fork River.
River water grows wonderful trees that put down roots and find all the water they need. Strong to stand against winds and floods, these trees are stable and grounded. Our oak grew along Cane Creek. It drinks now from underground streams that flow to its ever-wandering bed.
God wants me to be like a tree planted near rivers of water. That is living water—the  Word of God. To drink constantly from that deep stream will cause me grow strong and fruitful. He means for me to able to survive long hot summers—even the drought summers. He wants me to stand sure in stormy weather when winds whip my branches and tear at my leaves.

The Lord has provided plenty of water. It soaks the land. It swells the ground with its life giving presence. He calls us to be fruitful trees—like the flourishing olive tree, like the cedars of Lebanon, like a green fir tree, like fig trees, like lofty palm trees—not grass or wildflowers that spring up in the night and are soon wilted and faded, or raked up to be burned in a fire.
I need roots that stretch and reach for the deep water—not dependent on the surface water that dwindles as soon as the clouds pass on and the puddles reflect the sky.

This summer I must find time to rest and sit contemplating the beauty of life. More importantly time to become more deeply rooted in Bible study. Time in the Word is sadly often sadly the one activity we need most, but the one we give lowest priority on our summer schedules. We know the importance of keeping our bodies hydrated, yet will we neglect to afford ourselves the spiritual water we need to make it through dry times and stand valiantly through storms to come? I hope not. I hope not.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord and in his law doth he meditate day and night. And he shall be like a tree planted by rivers of water, that brings forth his fruit in his season; his leaf shall not wither and whatever he does shall prosper.
Psalms 1:3

A Tree by the Water

<!–
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:”Cambria Math”;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:1;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:””;
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:”Times New Roman”,”serif”;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-size:10.0pt;
mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
–>

<!–
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:”Cambria Math”;
panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4;
mso-font-charset:1;
mso-generic-font-family:roman;
mso-font-format:other;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-unhide:no;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:””;
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:”Times New Roman”,”serif”;
mso-fareast-font-family:”Times New Roman”;}
.MsoChpDefault
{mso-style-type:export-only;
mso-default-props:yes;
font-size:10.0pt;
mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt;
mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;}
@page Section1
{size:8.5in 11.0in;
margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in;
mso-header-margin:.5in;
mso-footer-margin:.5in;
mso-paper-source:0;}
div.Section1
{page:Section1;}
–>
The rain poured down. The gullies and ditches were soon full and water rushed in torrents. A fallen branch washed along the stream and I watched it go—amazed at the power of flowing water. Lightning flashed in huge bolts that television weathermen love to call “deadly” lightning. There is certainly much drama in a storm!
The heavy rain and hail beat the blossoms from the redbud tree which has cheered us with its pink lemonade salute to spring. Green shows now along its slender branches.  
This morning, below the hill a temporary pond of rain water has a chorus of tree frogs chirping and calling in that rising-falling pattern of cicadas on a hot summer evening. Snowy Egrets and Great Blue Herons stalk the water in solemn procession. Songbirds are busy at the feeders and carrying twigs and bits of grass to their nesting sites—all but the brown-headed cowbirds who wait until the nests are complete and then lay eggs in those to be tended by diligent birds
The old oak tree that supports the tree house and dangles a rope swing is breaking bud. The goldfinches sit among the yellow green almost invisible for the match. They flit down to feast on dandelions that have suddenly sprouted in yellow patches across the yard.
The oak tree will soon be garbed in emerald and its sturdy limbs will be a shady refuge all summer. No drought has reached this tree. Drought summers have killed younger trees and trees that had not put down roots far enough to reach underground rivers flowing with the wealth of spring rain.
Once, they say, these prairies sported no trees, except along creeks and streams. Settlers had to scout rivers to find trees big enough to build houses. My own house was built by pioneers as the Evening Star School. It was built with the boards split from logs hauled by oxen teams from the banks of the Deep Fork River.
River water grows wonderful trees that put down roots and find all the water they need. Strong to stand against winds and floods, these trees are stable and grounded. Our oak grew along Cane Creek. It drinks now from underground streams that flow to its ever-wandering bed.
God wants me to be like a tree planted near rivers of water. That is living water—the  Word of God. To drink constantly from that deep stream will cause me grow strong and fruitful. He means for me to able to survive long hot summers—even the drought summers. He wants me to stand sure in stormy weather when winds whip my branches and tear at my leaves.
The Lord has provided plenty of water. It soaks the land. It swells the ground with its life giving presence. He calls us to be fruitful trees—like the flourishing olive tree, like the cedars of Lebanon, like a green fir tree, like fig trees, like lofty palm trees—not grass or wildflowers that spring up in the night and are soon wilted and faded, or raked up to be burned in a fire.
I need roots that stretch and reach for the deep water—not dependent on the surface water that dwindles as soon as the clouds pass on and the puddles reflect the sky.
This summer I must find time to rest and sit contemplating the beauty of life. More importantly time to become more deeply rooted in Bible study. Time in the Word is sadly often sadly the one activity we need most, but the one we give lowest priority on our summer schedules. We know the importance of keeping our bodies hydrated, yet will we neglect to afford ourselves the spiritual water we need to make it through dry times and stand valiantly through storms to come? I hope not. I hope not.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord and in his law doth he meditate day and night. And he shall be like a tree planted by rivers of water, that brings forth his fruit in his season; his leaf shall not wither and whatever he does shall prosper.
Psalms 1:3

Evening Prairie Primrose

The primrose is a delicate pink, sometimes pure white with a yellow center. It is one of my favorite wildflowers. Primrose grows in ditches and along fencelines and pathways where grass is mown and it can get plenty of water. I have seen it fill in a whole ditch so that when the wind blew, it looked like the the ditch was overflowing with foamy pink tissue paper.

The name, of course, is one of the attractions. Evening Prairie Primrose- what a sweet name. There is nothing so mysteriously beautiful as an evening coming on the prairie with choruses of tree frogs and the hoot of owls from the creek beds. The wind beginning to lie still for the night, brings a peaceful calm and the coolness steals in with the fading day. Coyotes howl and yip out in the orchard and a rustle in the garden tells me a rabbit is seeking  his burrow. A cow may bawl at its calf or a horse whinny.


This patch of primrose is young. It will grow and fill so no green shows- just the pink waving in the warm wind, bowing at us as we pass like little girls in pink dresses curtsying at the end of their dance.

Here is a all white primrose.

The primrose is one of the treasures of the prairie.