What Bugs Me?

There are a few things that continue to puzzle me about how the way I see things are not lining up with the way others see things. It's not about having differences of opinion. Differences of opinion are healthy in that many times discussing differences results in better understandings. This happens when new facts are brought to light and allow for a usually reluctant change of mind. When I have an opinion, I try to look for evidence that supports that opinion and, lately, there have been a few things happening that confirm what I believe and yet seem less than convincing to friends with alternate points of view.

An area of concern for me is climate change (global warming or whatever you may want to call it), Although the matter has been studied for over fifty years and the vast majority of scientists who study it agreeing on the issue, there are still a lot of folks who question if it is real. We even elected a president who claims it;s a hoax. Oddly enough this issue has become a partisan one with one party more likely to say climate change is happening and the other saying "not so". It's at this point that I look to the natural world I love and believe God has created for some clue as to the reality of the situation.

Although it will not likely change anyone's mind, I've observed a definite change that nature is showing me that confirms what I believe about climate change. When my first wife and I moved into the home we built with the help of friends and relatives we noted that the first sighting of fireflies (lightning bugs if you prefer) occurred within a day or two of her birthday, June 10. She has been called to her final reward. However the fireflies still hibernate each year and begin their amazing courtship light show every year. I saw the first firefly this year on May 20, a full twenty-one days earlier than forty years ago. Will this change that has gradually taken place make any naysayers believe climate change is real and needs our attention. I believe it should. God gave us this whole world over which we are to be good stewards. Let's admit we did a poor job of it and repent.

Raking It In

If you have followed my blog, you've probably picked up on the fact that I like writing about the things my grandfather Eli did and also about his concern for the loss of the remarkable American Chestnut tree. I believe he would be pleased with the efforts being made to develop a blight-resistant tree that will hopefully be reintroduced into the forests where its ancient relatives once dominated. Granddad often spoke about the wonderful qualities of Chestnut wood and the great versatility it provided, being used for practically any wood projects as well as coming from a tree that bore copious quantities of nuts for animal and human consumption.

Granddad was the last generation to essentially live off the land, never having what you would describe as a occupation. He lived by growing food, hunting, fishing and selling the occasional load of mine ties or props from the forest.  In this way, he and his wife provided for their family of eight children, all of whom are no longer living. It was a very different era, one filled with simple pleasures and plenty of hard work. Granddad had hay fields that, for the most part, were mowed and raked by hand and then the hay was hauled into the barn for animal sustenance during the winter months. The raking of hay was accomplished with a wooden implement, often homemade from materials at hand and one of those rakes survived on display on my back porch for the last forty years or so. A couple weeks ago, I found it on the porch floor apparently dislodged form where it hung by some critter (I suspect a Phoebe trying to find a nest site). The handle (a not perfectly straight sapling) had broken off where it joined the head beam and the two bows that jointed the handle to the beam had shattered.

I'm in the process of repairing the relic, not so much because I want to rake hay but because it reminds me of from where I've come. A couple of the teeth had been missing from the time I hung it up there so long ago and I've replaced them and reshaped the end of the handle using a draw knife that no doubt has felt the sweat of Granddad's hands a long time ago. Then almost as though I'd never seen it before, I realized that the beam of the rake was fashioned from a piece of , you guessed it, American Chestnut. How appropriate; a memory that reminds me of my past and within it a piece of that precious wood that Granddad figured would be no more.

We must always consider what our purpose is in being given the lives we live here on Earth. In some ways that was easier in Granddad's era. His purpose was to do what was required to keep himself and his family in provision. I believe he understood that all the provision came from God and even though he had to do the hard work, God provided the means and material. Once the rake is back together and in its place, it will be an even stronger reminder of the gratitude we all must have for those from whom we're descended and the everlasting faith we must have in a loving God.