Ruby Red and Butternut Gold

Autumn is here. Not as bright as it is in the north but lovely all the same. Charli is excited with me as butternut gold leaves fall from the Indonesian cherry tree. The mulberry is still mainly green but many bright yellow leaves sift down when a cool breeze drifts through. “I love fall,” Charli exclaims as she does one of her cheerleading twirls. At the porch a ruby red hummingbird takes a long draft at the feeder, probably storing up for his long southern flight. Amanda finally snapped a picture of the illusive little guy.

Under certain favorite pine trees squirrels have dropped debris from their pine nut feast. I am amazed at the industry and skill of the squirrels. The very day after Charles D blows our driveway nice and clean it will be scattered thickly again with half eaten and wholly stripped cones. Sometimes I hear the little rascals high in a tree munching away and dropping fingernail size pieces of cone. It must be as hard for them to eat pine cones as for a mule to eat briars or a western cow to eat cactus leaves.

Near our mailbox a monarch butterfly flits from burgundy zinnia to golden lantana, sipping as he goes. One last bright orange canna lily blooms over the tops of azalea bushes, and there’s a crape myrtle bloom at the very top of the tree by the bird bath. The blue plumbago is brightly dressed thinking the party is still in full sway while camellias are loaded with swelling buds preparing for their winter show.

Our tiny garden is a-tumble with weeds. Okra stalks measuring seven feet are still making pods that are delicious sliced, floured, and fried in an iron pan. Jane Poole has become our faithful okra picker. Bell peppers are ready to pick anytime we want one and sweet potatoes ready to dig. If it’s like last year we’ll be finding potatoes for months after harvesting a five gallon bucket full. The big difference between last year and this is that Charles is unable to harvest the garden he energetically planted in May. Leukemia and lymphoma have sapped his strength so we’re depending on Will and others to dig the potatoes.

Moving into a chapter of chemotherapy is definitely not something we would have chosen. It is very hard to be unable to do even the simplest things you’ve always loved to do. Or to watch the one you love so dearly beset by such discomfort and weakness. But there are blessings all along the way–the help of friends and family, the sincerity and deep concern of doctors and nurses. Also we have a sharper awareness of things like the changing of seasons, the enjoyment of squirrels munching on cones and a hummingbird preparing to fly south.

The biggest blessing is in knowing God is holding us in the hollow of His hand. We pray for healing and are thankful for so many who are praying for us. We are surrounded every day by His peace, wonderful peace. It is indescribable, a gift to those in the valley.

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23