It is a bit warmer in the last days of summer. The drought continues. People are puttering about with purpose. 2025 is on the move. 2026 is often referred to. It is just around the corner. This is the time of year we visited Maine in the last few years. Lobster was on the menu daily. Fresh Maine lobster can not be beat. Lobster in pasta is wonderful. The Taste of Maine has a giant lobster on their roof. We had a wonderful server who told us that the lobster was ‘Yum.’ Indeed, it was. As the temperature turns to fall, we will be scurrying to have Happy Vibes. Vibes that recall the many happy times we have had. We seek the input of joy. Trouble will find you. You do not have to seek it. At times, joy must be worked for.

The Woods was bright with sunshine rather than lovely, dark and deep. That comes later in the year. Mama Turkey was leading Junior across the busy road. She looked back at him and told him to hurry. He seemed to not have a care in the world. Junior was happy being with his mom. Junior had heard of Thanksgiving, but was not worried with a mom looking after him. His friends had told him tales of Turkey and oyster dressing and a warm oven. Junior knew that the stories had to be Turkish Tales. There were no ovens in the Woods, and what was oyster dressing? The simplicity of the Woods comforted him. Recently, Sally Squirrel admonished him to gather nuts for the winter. Junior watched with wonder as Sally and her husband, Sam Squirrel, worked from dawn to dusk in their nut-gathering business. They even sold Nuts by the side of the road. People in Little Egypt like nuts. They bought them by the pound. Nuts are good for the holidays. Business was booming.

Sylvester Snake asked Sally Squirrel what was so good about nuts? He had never eaten one. Sylvester saw everything at ground level. Sylvester noted that he is misunderstood. ‘I am an introvert and do not bother others,’ Sylvester said. ‘I want to come to the fall picnic on Sunday and may bring some nuts,’ Sylvester grinned with delight. ‘Susie is making pumpkin pie and potato salad,’ Sylvester noted. ‘I like hot apple cider,’ Sylvester commented. ‘Also, I enjoy apples…you may have read,’ Sylvester laughed.

‘I will be at the fall picnic, Bernie Black Bear said triumphantly. ‘My family came up from Tennessee last year,’ Bernie continued. ‘We like the Woods a lot,’ BBB said with a dance. ‘We are part of the Dancing Bears,’ BBB noted. ‘For many years we performed in the circus,’ BBB commented with pride. ‘We think that there should be more black bears in the Park,’ BBB proclaimed. ‘If you like, we will perform some of our dances at the event,’ Bernie asked. I am famous for my Irish Jig,’ BBB said as he danced on one foot and then the other. ‘Some humans do not understand us and seek our removal from the Woods,’ BBB said with sadness. ‘We Black Bears seek unity with all man and beast,’ Bernie offered. ‘We want to offer our talents and skills for the betterment of our community…we do not want to be strangers in the Woods,’ Bernie said softly.

We are aboard the Holiday Train. The year has had ups and downs. We have booked a sleeper car for the journey. Meals served and a complimentary drink. A little bed to lay our weary heads. It could be that train travel will become our new go-to transportation. Planes are a bit stressful. The hurry up and wait is painful. Everyone is looking and few are talking. They know they are soon going to be in the air. Being in the air does not come naturally to us. We do not have wings. Angels have wings, but we are no angels. We are angels with dirty faces. We muck about in the dirt and broken potsherds. Some of us seek an advantage over our fellows. Perhaps we can get more if our neighbor has less. It is a zero-sum game for some. We are the country that proclaims, Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.’ Now we say America for Real Americans…and how do the powers that rule come up with their definition of Real Americans?

The Holiday Train offers many delights and treats. There is a car designed for bobbing for apples. There is another for Ghost Stories. The vehicle that has the family Thanksgiving Dinner is always in demand with its stuffed turkey and giblet gravy. Several train cars have a Christmas theme. There are Santa, Mrs. Claus, and all of the elves sitting around a fireplace. Rudolph and all the reindeer take up two cars. They are smoking cigars and drinking holiday beer while playing poker. The reindeer are a rough and ready lot. The manger and the baby Jesus are the most desired characters to visit. The shepherds stand vigil at the baby, surrounded by animals and straw and all the common elements of a barn. There is no flash or glitz. The lambs smile contentedly. The Son of God has come to earth. He has come for the good of all creation. Everyone is welcome, and no one is turned away. The Conductor calls out All Aboard. The Poor of the Land climb the train steps. The immigrant and the stranger in the land take a seat in one of the pristine train cars. All are welcome as the lame and the blind take their seats. There is a peace that passes understanding. There is a calm that you can breathe. Hope is palpable.

Church was wonderful this morning. There was neither the clanging of cymbals nor the beating of drums but a calm assurance of being in the right place. The quietness of faith overwhelms me. The mercy of God is from everlasting to everlasting, the Bible tells us. We live under the canopy of angels. Often, we are anxious without reason. Our story progresses. There is a peace that passes all understanding. We live in disquieting times. Clowns to the left of us and jokers to the right, the song tells us. We are stuck in the middle with Grace.

The darkest of nights yield to the brightness of the new morning. The mountain we could not climb is but a foothill. At times, we felt alone, misunderstood, and rejected. The devil was peering through the crack in the door. He smiled a wicked smile. He danced an Irish Jig. Job’s comforters told us to curse God and die. We considered their admonition. Scraping boils with broken pottery is not for the faint of heart. Then the light shone through the same crack in the door that the devil was peering through earlier. Suddenly, we knew everything was going to be all right.

Autumn winds are blowing this afternoon. Moms held their kids’ hands as they explored the Trillium Trail. I was snapping photos of the massive rock face when a young man asked me if he was at the right place for rappelling. He figured that the Old Man with the brown leather hat must know. It is Sunday in September. The year has flown by. The Holiday Season is knocking. Life is good on the Blue Orb. Crickets are singing. A change is coming.

We hunger for purpose. What is it all about, we say. Is our purpose to get a good job, buy a home, and have two cars? Is money the measurement of our success? Neva J used to tell me that money can not buy happiness. In those golden days of youth, I thought that I would like to see for myself. Mr. Rabbit ran across the lawn. He was late for an important date. He had his three-piece suit and a wonderful hat. He had a stopwatch attached to his watch fob. Mr. Rabbit was known for his expediency. He got things done. If you want a job done right and quickly, ask for Mr. Rabbit. Robby Rabbit felt good every day. He was the Energizer Bunny. That is, until a car hit him on Giant City Road. Robby was laid up in the Wildlife Hospital. He pondered his mortality. His fast friends in business seemed to forget him. ‘Hello, my friend…are you feeling better?’ Tom Turtle asked with a wide smile. ‘I brought you a couple of thousand-piece puzzles to put together during your convalescence,’ Tom Turtle said with a grin. ‘I put these puzzles together over the winter months when it is too cold to get out of the den,’ TT said. ‘It will not be long before you will be in racing form again, and we will marvel at your exploits,’ TT laughed and winked. ‘You are the fastest rabbit that I have raced,’ TT noted. ‘We will race on the same team this time and drink from the winner’s cup,’ Tom Turtle danced about as turtles do when they are happy.

Peace was the word for today. Cool breezes and autumn leaves. The Old Man got right in for a haircut. The white hair wafted downward. I told my barber that MJ says I had black hair when we got married. I told her I thought it had been brown. She said that her hair had gone prematurely white. She does not like people to call her hair gray. I remember Earl laughing and telling me that he saw a pronounced bald spot on my head as we rode the ski lift at Gatlinburg, Tennessee. I was in my 30s. In those halcyon days, I had quite a bit of gray hair.

So we wonder if our bodies have a soul. The reality is that we are a soul that has a body. I have been in the presence of several people as they died. Nothing is more evident than that once they expire, they are not in the bed before you any longer. We make decisions regarding those we meet from how their body looks. We have missed the mark. The person is on the inside of their body looking out.

So it goes as we enter fall. A settled feeling permeates the air. We are ready for what is to come. Health and happiness, as well as challenges and days in the Valley. All are on the rollercoaster ride we are on. The Grand Experiment has not been revealed. A Veil is separating us from the next stage of existence. Peace of place surrounds us. A magnificent story is unfolding and we are in the middle of the narrative. First, our children were born, and we joyfully brought the babies home. Were we the first to experience parenthood and the joys and challenges of the journey? The kids mature and finally take care of us. What a circle. Is time linear or is it a circle? Have you ever been to a new place and felt like you had been there before? Have you met a stranger and sensed in your bones that you had shared secrets? We are in the middle of a massive mystery. Those who say they have the answer avoid.

The message of Christ is to love others as I have loved you. Christ loved the poorest of the poor, the leper and the stranger. Jesus came to us clothed in flesh as we are. If you are a Christian, you ascribe to the belief that he is the Son of God. He modeled how we should treat our brothers and sisters. As he wrote in the sand, the stoners of the woman caught in adultery walked away. What did he write? Christ’s critics called him a friend of publicans and sinners and a winebibber.

A bit of a chill is welcome. It is a feeling I remembered from the past. It is nice to be out of the microwave. The leaves are falling in the Woods. Our drought has something to do with it. A little rain has fallen. The dust has settled. I am fascinated by the big rocks in the Woods. Sandstone formations. People long ago carved their names in them. Many were full of sap like a young tree. They had their lives before them, and nothing was going to get in their way. We are the visitors, the rocks are the residents. We come and go; they endure. If you listen closely, you can hear distant laughter. Young people making plans and old folks dreaming dreams. Kids ask how the rocks got there. Spirits watch.

We humans want to beat the system. Where is the key to glory and power, we say. Are creative lies good if they increase our bounty? Ms. Squirrel is gathering nuts for winter. The baby deer was hidden in the Woods’ thicket. He knew he was safe as he waited for his Mom. She told him to stay put while she checked the area for strangers. The Old Man was taking pictures as he was wont to do. The yellow flowers were pristine and plentiful. The Baby Deer could see the Old Man through the yellow flowers. He did not resemble the deer he had seen. The Old Man smelled like sweet but not woodsy. He had on a straw hat. Baby Deer thought that he would enjoy a straw hat. A straw hat would distinguish him among the other deer. A straw hat would be a bit regal. No other Baby Deer had a straw hat. Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bullrushes. The Baby Deer jumped up and, in one motion, had the Old Man’s straw hat and was off like a deer.

Soon we will light a fire in our fireplaces. Many years ago, I was substituting for an absent crew boss at Anthony Hall, which was the White House of Campus. The President of the University had a majestic fireplace in his office. One of the many specific instructions for such an important building for the Custodian to perform nightly was to ‘Lay Fire.’ At the conclusion of the shift, I asked a person on the crew what ‘Lay Fire’ meant, and she told me it was to strategically place wood and paper in the fireplace, whereby the President could simply put a match to the affair, and fire would ensue. She assured me not to worry as they did not ‘Lay Fire’ every night.

So we will lay fire and enjoy the warm glow. Long nights of reflection. Where we have been and where we are going. A pot of stew on the fire for lost friends. A candle in the window to light the path to our door. Animosities and hurts forgiven. Conspiracy theories set aside. The Star of Bethlehem will light our way. We are home from the hunt. Understanding is in the pages of our next chapter. All of us cry. We all laugh. Our eyes tell the story of our lives. We are still here. Our loved ones surround us. The fire is crackling, and the stew smells delicious. Hope is on the horizon. Peace is ours if we will grasp it. A sense of place encompasses us. Big boulders with inscriptions and baby deer with straw hats around us. There comes our lost loved one up the path. Light the Christmas Tree, we will have Christmas now…

A day like fine art. I saw some lovely yellow flowers in the Woods. There were hundreds, maybe thousands. The Woods were quiet after Labor Day. A cool breeze was blowing. Mr. Woodpecker was working. The bees were busy. They had to visit each yellow flower. They sang, ‘Bzz Bzz Bzz’. Some welcome rain fell overnight. The sound of it falling was a bit unfamiliar.

Have you ever been approached by someone trying to sell you shares in the good life? If you do what they tell you, success will happen for you. They have the secret to success for a down payment of a few hundred dollars and the rest on installments. Much of what they say is common sense. Common Sense used to be free. Often, the purveyors of possibilities become richer from their knowledge of success while you become poorer, making them richer.

Mom and Dad, as well as Grandma and Grandpa, worked a lifetime living frugally to build a life. Warren Buffett buys an egg Biscuit and a cup of coffee for his breakfast each morning when his stocks are doing well, and on those mornings when they are not, he just buys the coffee.

For most of my career, I did not buy lunch. To save temptation, I did not carry money. Most of our resources went to our family and their welfare. We did not go hungry, but we did not often spend money frivolously. I am a coffee aficionado and carried a thermos with me to work, including most of my years in management. We took vacations, but we had a budget. Life is fun on the frugal side once you get used to it.

It is nice to have money for something you need or, at times, want. The Black Hole of family finance is debt. It is advisable to not go into debt for anything other than an automobile and a house. Most other things can wait until you have the cash. When you wait, you have time to reassess the real need for the bauble or trinket that was so compelling. One of the largest contributors to a family estate is setting aside enough money to invest. You have heard it said Let your money work for you. You have a limited number of years that you will be a wage earner. Pay yourself first. Not the Preacher, not the speed boat, or the waterski.

Nothing happens if you do not stay on track like the Happy Locomotive. Do not stray to the Hills of Prosperity or the Valley of Vice. You may not have the newest car, but it is fun to know you can get it if you want to.

After I purchased my first new car in 1978, my pastor told me that I should trade every two years. This had been a common theme in former generations. When I went to trade cars, I quickly learned that my current car was not paid off and that the difference would be added to my new car payment. Not a prescription for success. MJ and I typically drive our automobiles for ten years or more. New cars are fun, but so is financial security.

Get-rich-quick schemes are rampant in our society. Go to the head of the class in one chess move. Have what mom and dad worked a lifetime for in a fraction of the time.

Evening writing is good. The sun is sinking, and our hopes are rising. The air is fresh. Breathe deeply, our soul says. You are here. You are present. You are special.

The pumpkins grow in the Patch. Many are rotund. They have a sense of place. They have purpose. The white cat looks languidly about. He is a cool cat. When he is happy, he does not show it. He does not want to be thought of as a pushover.

Mylo and Mommie are doing the ‘Whee’s’; they do them nightly and some during the day. Mommie lifts Mylo off her lap and cries, ‘Whee,’ and gingerly places him down. Mylo has a look of surprise, pleasure, and endurance in the face of ritual. Mylo is somewhat like us. He knows the rhythms of the day. He knows what is expected. It is all in the family.

Last month, the sun shone brightly at 7:00 P.M. Now the evening shadows fall. Mr. Woodpecker was busy at his job in the Woods this morning. Tappity Tap Tap rang out. Mr. Woodpecker is singular in his purpose. Nothing stops his daily routine. He dances to the sound of his own Tap Tap Tap.

Harvest time approaches. It is dry and dusty. The corn does not look good. No rain for over a month. The Bullfrogs are tuning their instruments. They are in excellent voice in the fall. Many listen to their song.

The clock is ticking a bit slower in September. The days of wine and roses. Days of meditation. Days of hope. Days of prayer for good things. A time to gather limbs for bonfires. Chili will soon be the order of the day. Homemade vegetable soup and baked bread with a thick crust. Learning for learning’s sake. Understanding the world and our place in it. Soon there will be candles in the windows. A light in the darkness for our lost loved one. He will see the light and come home.

It is Wednesday, and it seems like Tuesday. Labor Day squeezed in. We miss beauty when it is small. Big captures our attention. The sequoias are awe-inspiring. The Grand Canyon is majestic. In our society, cash is king. We labor in the trenches with the hope that one day we will be the king. In reality, we are laboring so that the king will have a new robe. Boards of corporations and Universities seek the well-to-do to take a seat among the elite. Money and fame are equated with wisdom and understanding. Those who are satisfied with what we have are considered unmotivated. Our colleagues ask us what we do with our days. They have a get-rich-quick scheme tailored for our needs. We are clothed and comfortable and often in our right mind, yet somehow diminished due to a lack of motivation to acquire more. Of late, our government has entered the business of owning parts of private businesses. This is from the political party that swears against socialism. Who shall the government give the next contract to: the independents or the business that they own part of?

The Old Man saw a little hummingbird lying on the sidewalk, dead. The Old Man studied the little creature for a moment, as it is hard to see them well when their rapid wings are moving. The little hummingbird is a marvel of God’s creation. A beautiful creature. A bird with a mission of drinking the sweet nectar of life. He gathers no coin. Little Hummingbird is happy to be in the game. Few have his long beak. His rapidity of winged flight is unparalleled. I think he must have hit the grocery store window. No doubt he was looking inside for some sugar water.

The days grow short when you reach September. So it goes with our lives. We spend years chasing the capitalist dream we inherited. Paula Abdul told us, ‘Two steps forward, one step back.’ We working folks see the summit and marshal the strength to apply our climbing pick ax and get another foothold, only to slip and swing by our safety rope. Many of us do not have a safety rope. Churches took to preaching the Prosperity Doctrine many years ago. Jesus wants you to be rich, the preacher told us. As we worked towards the goal of Christians getting a free pass to economic glory, we noticed that the Preacher was rich, but many in the congregation were poorer than ever. What about the poor Christians, we ask? Did they not get the memo? Did Christ have servants? Did he say render unto Cesar the things that are Caesar’s and put an extra coin in the hand of the tax collector to obtain a better seat at the table?

Have you looked at the butterflies? They are lovely in their handiwork. It has been said that the poorest hard-working people leave the best tips at restaurants. Those who labor know what a tip can mean to the ability of their server to pay their bills for the month. The Little Hummingbird is settled next to the homeless children outside the restaurant. He watches as they look forlorn and seek a few pennies to buy something to eat. He wishes he could bring them some sugar water…

Today is the first day of the rest of 2025. We enjoyed a grilled pork chop lunch yesterday. Aaron is a grillmaster. Jennifer Annelise and Lee joined us for the Labor Day Feast. Jenniffer is a sweet girl, and her kids are the kind of people I enjoy being around as well. Their lovely personalities are engaging. After dinner, we played cards, and the Old Man won. So it was a red-letter day. We saw a Great White Heron and a turtle. Mr. Beaver was busily building his dam. He did not get the memo regarding taking off for Labor Day. The State Fair has come and gone. Jennifer brought MJ some Taffy. We like State Fair Taffy. Today is the beginning of meteorological fall. There is a nice cloud cover and a cool breeze. It is dry in Little Egypt. The ground is cracked open, and the grass is dying. If the forecast is correct, there will not be many more mowings left. I told Cody in the spring that, although we were experiencing a deluge of rain, we would probably face a drought before the season was over.

Fall whisks by like a weaver’s shuttle. Favorite seasons always pass rapidly. I rejoiced in my friend’s brilliant smiling face this weekend. We have been friends for a long time. Now we look to maximizing our kindness and minimizing our worries and frustrations. I discovered that as a child, I could choose to trumpet my hardships or focus on the good all around me. Usually, I select the good. I wonder if one of the keys to life is a positive attitude.

There is joy in the journey. Soon Frankenstein, Dracula, and the Wolf Man will make their appearance. These old-time Halloween creatures captivated my attention as a child. The overcoming of Dracula by the cross inspired me. Evil can be overcome by good. I watched Ari Melber on a Labor Day special news show last evening. When a guest recommended the new movie “Weapons” for his viewing, Ari said that he walked out of the showing because it was too frightening. I took away from the movie that it involved the weaponization of children, which is scary.

The race for the Pennant and the World Series is afoot. Cubs fans never say die and never lose hope. We believe that our time will come again. A long life teaches that whatever shape we find ourselves in, things change. Paul said that he learned that whatever condition he found himself in, he had learned to be content. This is my compass. I often told my love, MJ, that we should enjoy each year as it might be our last. We are closing in on 48 years. Some days we were down, and many we were up. What appeared life-changing became foggy in the memories of the past. Time may not heal all wounds, but it is a strong bandage.