Thursday, August 25, 2016

The next afternoon after this tragedy, a beautiful autumn day, I was pleasantly surprised to come home and find our little Amish neighbor girls, Anna and Lizzie, here in our back yard, picking up walnuts as we had told them they were welcome to do.

Tragedy. The nerve-jarring news of any school tragedy is difficult to take in. But the horror in an Amish school house in a bucolic part of the world where violence is nonexistent proved to be more than we could grasp.

The lyrics of the old song made popular by the soothing voice of Eddy Arnold have spun through my head numerous times during this past week as news reports brought the horrific news of yet another school shooting in our homes.

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Since our move this past summer, I now live much closer to my sister Debi.

I have often thought the study of science ought to be fun. Mostly, the subject of science in the classroom feels, to the majority of students, like drudgery and boring recitation of facts.

While it is true that every day is filled with blessings, there is something about September that leads me to believe that there are more blessings in every single day of this certain month than we can count on our two hands.

Fannie Flagg's new novel, Can't Wait To Get To Heaven, provides some good grins and a lot of food for thought.

As I write this, I sit all alone on a 70-acre farm, but today it is anything but quiet. The Canada geese seem to consider this a gathering place, and today is apparently either their reunion or recruiting day.

Summer is nodding, on its way out. Last week, there were mornings that carried the chill of an early fall.

Throughout my life, travel has been sort of hard to come by. Growing up on a demanding dairy farm meant there was never any free time in which to squeeze a vacation.
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