A Peaceful Sunday

There is a swivel chair in our living room by the window. When I read, I turn it from its conversational purposes facing inward so that I can look out over the deck and see the lake. At twilight today, a short border of blue sky was beneath the pale pink cloud cover almost like a soft blanket overhead. The lake to the left and right reflected the overhead pink but in the middle directly in front of me were the bright green trees of Gerald’s little home-made island duplicated in the water. A new moon was already bright in the western sky. I was torn between the book and the visual beauty in front of me.
It had been a peaceful Sunday. Gerald had his usual phone calls with his buddy Bobby down in Texas and with brothers. After church services, we ran into Marion to my favorite restaurant to enjoy dinner—the designated gift to us of a friend from Pennsylvania. Son-in-law Brian came down yesterday to their camper to spray their acreage east of Woodsong and readying for more corn harvesting at the end of this week on some other rented land he farms. So we phoned to see if he’d like to go with us, but he had already eaten.

Driving to and from town, we noticed Brian’s soybean plants are yellowing. Driving by neighbors Ryan and Megan’s house, we enjoyed the huge pumpkins decorating their lawn—the first fall display I’ve seen. The cool weather confirmed that autumn is almost here. I bought a mum from little Miranda—some kind of fund raiser in the community—and it is loaded with buds waiting to pop out soon. The roses seem to be showing off with bigger blooms in a last-ditch effort to celebrate the end of summer. Gerald’s turnips are two or three inches high. He and neighbor Scott are all ready to finish the harvest of the corn plot on the other side of our driveway tomorrow, Jerry Pirtle’s new truck is outside sitting there waiting for Gerald to use to haul off the corn, and Gerald loves few things better than driving a beautiful new truck. It is a busy and happy time of the year when the harvest goes well, and a restful Sunday is appreciated.