Frost on the Pumpkin

Yesterday morning arrived and with it, the first frost of the season. It was a light frost on the windshield of my truck, but it was definitely frost.

Freshly Mowed Late-October Yard

The presence of the first frost of the season changes so many things. It is a visible sign that autumn is slipping into winter and the fast approach of the season of darkness. 

The leaves dropping from the trees surrounding my yard created a blanket on the ground. Another sign of the passing season. I attacked them with my tractor yesterday and for a short while the yard was free of leaves--but the bare branches of the trees are clearly visible in the image I took of the probable last mowing of the year. 

I will likely use the mower to blow the leaves back into the forest as they continue to fall from the trees, but I doubt that the grass will grow much more. 

In honor of the season, I researched the poem by James Whitcomb Riley titled, When the Frost is on the Punkin. I had forgotten that it is written in the colloquial dialect of late-19th century Indiana, which makes it a very interesting read. 

For your enjoyment, here are the last four lines of the first stanza:

O, it’s then’s the times a feller is a-feelin’ at his best, 

With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, 

As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock, 

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock. 

When I reread poems like this one, I realize that in some respects our language has become too homogenized and that we are losing our regional character.

But, the frost is on the pumpkin and the day is getting gone.

-- Bob Doan, Elkridge, MD

To the Moon and Back

I heard a story on the Today show the other morning that caused me to stop and reflect. 

The story was titled 

Boy, 6, asks people to 'shine lights to moon' to honor fallen vet dad

The story brought tears to my eyes, thinking about six year old Darren Baysore who would never see his war hero Dad again. But, the Darren and his Dad had special connection through the moon which the he has used to keep his memory alive.

Randomly the other day, Lucas, my youngest grandson, started singing the song about the moon that I wrote for Patrick when he was young. I had forgotten about the song, but the words are as follows and I think it is appropriate:

Mister Moon

Mister Moon

Up in the sky

Looking at me

I'm looking at you

Mister Moon

Up in the sky

Following me

I'm following you

Mister Moon

Sing me a song

Don't make it long

Or I'll forget it

Mister Moon

Up in the sky

Smiling at me

I'm smiling at you

There is a second verse--but you get the idea. The tune of the song is cute and I will video Lucas next time he sings it and add it to the blog.

I hope six-year old Darren Baysore still hears his Dad talking to him from the to the moon and back. And, turn your porch light on!

-- Bob Doan, Elkridge, MD

Winter Morning

Winter's cold wind blew through my room 
leaving its frost on the lampshade by my bed 
as I slept.
Where had the heat gone? 
I could only wonder
as I rose from my slumber 
and my feet touched the snow cold floor.
Where were my slippers? I thought, 
not remembering as I padded across the wooden floors 
to flip the light switch 
and illuminate the still dark scene that was my room
only to find that the reason for the frost on my lamp 
might be tied to the unresponsive light 
meaning that the electricity was off
and my attempt to drive out the lingering darkness 
was a failure.
Where is the dog, I wondered, 
not wanting to trip over her slumbering form 
and then I heard her stirring from her bed 
to join me in my pursuit of warmth.
A lone ember still glowed in the fireplace
and seemed my only hope of driving out the cold
before I succumbed to hypothermia
I needed my cell--to report the untimely outage 
and hopefully ease my distress.
But, looking out the window 
into the faint cold dawn's gathering light
I could see the likely cause of my current powerless state 
might be related to the heavy snow 
which fell overnight 
and blanketed everything in sight
with its cleansing, but freezing whiteness 
unspoiled as it was just now predawn
I found my shoes and coat and struggled outside 
against the cold wind blown drifts
trudging across the yard making a trail 
across then ubiquitous whiteness that 
seemed too bright even by the faint glow of the morning sky.
Arriving at the neatly stacked pile of logs 
which held the promise of fire and heat
to drive away the intense cold, 
I loaded and armful
in the orange-hued dawn which 
was brightening against the black sky 
driving the darkness away by each moment.
My breath seemed to freeze to my nose 
as I exhaled thinking of walking back to my house
with the wood and to create warmth from cold.
It was as clear a morning as I could remember.  
The  cold gripped me, 
shaking me from my momentary dream 
reminding me of my mission to find heat. 
Shuffling back through the snow and into the house 
I could not tell which was colder--the house? or the outside?
I had forgotten my gloves 
and my hands were numb as I laid the logs into the fireplace 
and tried to start a fire. 
I wonder if the water pipes would burst when the heat returned? 
Had they frozen? I went to the sink 
and turned the knob hoping 
to start a small stream running to save the pipes
And I did. Perhaps they would survive.
In a few minutes the fire was blazing 
driving away the cold and 
returning the room to a livable  temperature.
Coffee. 
I needed coffee, 
and decided to heat water in a pan on the fire.
Three quick successes improved my mood--
the fire, the water, and the coffee.
I looked at my pathetically under decorated Christmas tree, remembering the trees of my youth
but thankful for the one that now, 
in darkness adorned my room.
Dawn had finally broken and light poured into the room 
with it, the promise of the day 
reminded me that this cold, winter morning 
was but another step in the journey 
and that with each obstacle comes the opportunity for success.
I was kidding myself. 
I should have stayed in bed and waited for the power to return.
Oh--I still hadn't called the outage in.
The dog joined me on the couch after the call, 
I sipped my coffee and we both marveled 
at the gift that we had been given that morning.
The gift of life and of each other
the promise of another day 
even in the middle of Winter's cruel cold grip.

-- Bob Doan, Elkridge, MD

Autumn Breeze

Autumn Breeze

The cool autumn breeze rushed in the through the open window 

Caressing my face as I slept warm in my bed snuggled deep under my covers.

Summer had passed the baton while the night deepened

The warm air turning cold to grace the leaves and hasten their change

It's arrival not unexpected was just undesired as the joys of summer

Slipped into the memories of places visited like waves crashing on the beach.

I woke to the coolness, startled by its refreshing kiss

Wishing for the sultry breezes which had previously graced my slumber.

I piles the covers high on top of the spot where I strove to sleep 

Preserving my warmth from the breeze which would snatch it away. 

I could feel the summer pass, like a good friend waving goodbye before 

Entering the TSA checkpoint to board a flight headed for some exotic location.

I felt alone and abandoned by the passing season, autumn had arrived and

even the constellations in the sky affirmed the inevitable change

At my feet, even my dog nestled further into the rapidly growing pile of  bedclothes

Seeking to retain her warm nest and catch a few more precious minutes of sleep.

Although still dark outside, the dawn was beginning to grace the eastern horizon

With its brilliant hues of red and orange as if announcing the season's change

Another season in an endless string of seasons had arrived with its challenges

It was time to face the next chapter of the year once I decided to wake

For now, my eyes are heavy and I will return to sleep If only for a few hours.

There is time to find autumn’s secrets, later, before the winter arrives.

The Week Before Christmas 2012

It was the week before Christmas
And throughout Columbia Mall
Every shopper was scurrying
With lists and bags full

The sale signs were hung
by the doorways en masse
In the hope that my credit card
would soon disgorge there

The crowds they were stifling
the  kids not about
'twas noontime on a school day
and the parents were out

The shelves were stocked full
of the wares all for sale
and the sales clerks were worn out
from weeks without breaks

The parking garage was a free for all
the streets jammed with cars
more than one fender bender
was out and about

The lines at the counters
were twenty feet deep
as cashiers were tallying
up sale after sale

I walked through the mall
from  one end to the other
just to walk to the other end
and do it again

I lept to my truck
when I finished my shopping
and drove out of sight
feeling most very lucky

And as I drove off
from the mall parking lot
above the engines I heard
a faint carol of sorts

The song was an old one
I knew it by heart
the words made me pause
amid all of the screams

The notes stopped me short
a tear crossed my eye
for the song that I heard was
O Holy Night

The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Saviors birth

-- Bob Doan, Elkridge, MD

Sunset in November

The orange ball hung low on the horizon casting its red glow onto the still autumn clothed trees making them seem to be on fire against the crystal clear cyan sky.

I am not a fan of seeing the sun setting as I am leaving work, but I could not help but be awed by the colors in front of me as I was driving.

I had a hard time not looking directly into the bright ball of fire--I was almost mesmerized by it--seeing it for what seemed like the first time after a hurricane and seemingly weeks of gloomy weather.

I wished it was the hot sun of summer, baking the interior of my truck to temperatures above 100 degrees turing the cab into an oven-like place that I could crawl into like a lizard looking for warmth.

But it was not.

The day was cold, 45 degrees, seemed like colder, as I drove away from my place of work.

By the time I arrived home--the sun had set and all that remained of it were the oranges and reds of the sunset--a fading memory of the day as the stars began to illuminate the darkening sky.

I like dawn more than sunset because dawn offers the promise of the day ahead, while sunset is the period at the end of the day. Time has run out--like the final gun or horn at a sporting event. The day is over.

Not even an overtime period to try to correct the miscues of the day. Daylight is fading into black and with it, the promise of the light.

The sunset silhouetted the bare trees along the highway as I approached my home, bathing their black branches with the colors of the dying day.

Although the sunset was breathtaking in its diminishing glory, nothing good ever happens after dark especially during the morning hours right after midnight it seems.

Tomorrow the dawn comes again, with the promise of a new hopes for a new day which is then bookended by yet another sunset.

-- Bob Doan, Elkridge, MD

Two Roads and a Field

A cool September's morning mist
hovered above sun scorched grasses
in a small field sandwiched between
two rush hour crammed highways

The motionless scene, frozen in place
framed by a stunning blue sky and the golden dawn
provided a visual respite from the traffic clogged highway
creating a paradox of traffic and nature

I longed to stop my truck and walk into the field
feeling the coolness of the place
savoring the fragrances captured in the mist
expecting damp softness to caress my face

Pausing, if only for a moment
enjoying the thick wet dew on my shoes,
or better yet, kicking them off
walking barefoot among the late summer foliage.

Springtime's greens had long been bleached brown
by the relentless summer sun
dried Queen Anne's lace haloed in the mist
sparkled in the morning light recapturing its beauty

Trapped behind the wheel of my steel steed
I could only imagine the small plot's peace
isolated between the hazards of the highways
yet captured in my mind, as a place of escape.

-- Bob Doan, Elkridge, MD

Dancing on the Horizon

The bright orange ball danced
just in my view
along the horizon
moving between the trees
like a big rubber ball
the kind I used to play with
when I was a kid.

It hid behind the trees
and then behind a hill
as I made my way to work
as if it was rolling there
waiting for me to pick it up
and play a game of dodge ball

I remembered the paved playground
Where games always played
during the all too brief recess
between the classes of math and reading
looking forward to a respite
and then back to the studies
with the games but a memory.

I was entranced for a moment
racing down the parkway
by the memory of the days past
realizing that nothing has changed
I still look forward to playtime
it's just that the toys have changed.


-- Bob Doan, writing from Ithaca, NY

What I Saw--Yesterday

Drivers changing lanes so rapidly that I wanted to pull over and calm down as one narrowly missed my bumper.

Crocus in the lawn.

Blue skies and warm temperatures.

A bottle of wine waiting on the table for my arrival at the house after another 12-hour day.

My dog, at the door barking happily at my arrival.

The pillow on my bed and my head nestled into it.

Darkness as sleep came over me at the end of a long day.


-- Bob Doan, Elkridge, MD

Christmas Songs Sound All Alike

Radios blare the tarnished tunes
like silver set out for the feast
once a year, the songs are played
then stored away again.

The tunes have played too many times
sentiment lost, still the words I sing
frozen tunes, the melodies strive
to stir the season in my soul.

Snowmen and Santas and coming home
the words repeat too many times
meant to help spread peace and joy
yet now are just more air.

I heard Longfellow's famous words
of old familiar carols play
too familiar it seems today
their notes ring all too hollow

Songs frozen in times long gone past
drape the season in familiar clothes
I come back again each year
to seek anew the season's reason.

The joy of birth, new life and hope
Of angel's songs and God come down
of gifts, and love, and seeking men
of peace on earth; good will to all

Shake off the tired striving songs
cast out the ghosts of Christmas past
for God came down on that great night
to live with us--and hasn't left.

December Rain

It rained overnight.
At least it wasn't snow.

The temperatures are still above freezing and
although the days are short,
I enjoy the prospect of being outside,
even if only briefly.

I know the snows will come,
too soon.

And with the snow,
the cold and ice.

But for now,
I'll enjoy the mild weather
as December slides into January.

The dark is oppressive,
I noticed it last evening
as I was leaving work.

I experience the dark now
on both ends of my daily journey.

But this morning, I am thankful
for the rain is not snow.

And the leaves which still remain on my lawn,
are mixing with the Christmas decorations.

October Night

Low clouds moved fast across the face of the half full moon
stars as beacons pierced the voids of dark black sky
leaves rained down as October slides into November
wind collecting them into ever increasing piles leaving
bare branches to cast eerie shapes across the lawn.

Calling out in the moonlight, a lonely fox makes her presence known
the slumbering house is awakend by the barking of the dog inside
seeking to answer the fox's quest for companionship
stirring, unkept faces push their noses onto the window pains
trying to understand the commotion and reason they no longer sleep.

From the shadows she yells out again--the dog in the house responds
the moon breaks out for a moment, illuminating the fox in the driveway
baring her teeth as if smiling at the commotion she is causing
they briefly reflect the pale light as it flickers behind another cloud
she stands, glances at the house and moves off into the night's shadows

Casting uneven light across the "middle of the night" scene, the moon flickers
noses move from the windows and disappear into the dark house
quiet now the dog has ceased its barking and moves away from the door
returning to a warm bed, turning around before resuming slumber
the night is again quiet

Leaves contine to pile into mounds in the yard
the fox stalks a rabbit, unaware of the impending doom
life is everywhere, despite the dark and quiet
and the moon continues to bathe the scene in its light
while the newly bare trees reach longingly to the sky.

October Arrives

Cold rain slapped hard on my face
punctuating the 40 degree bone chilling cold
that greeted me at the door as I
stepped outside to start the day.

October arrived cold and raw
driven rain greeting me on my stoop
dark mornings as the sun lags
by rising later for each new day.

The goblins are waiting for their night
by then darkness will fall
before I get home from work
and the moon will master the evening light

Cold and wet, even my dog resists
it just isn't fun to be in the still green grass
watching the trees don their autumn garb
and then lose it to the ground.

The pool is closed and quiet now
slumbering in advance of the coming snows
waiting for the sunlight to reign again
and shake off the approaching darkness

October, arrived with no applause
and grasped the remnants of summer fun
shaking off the light and plunging
day into ever increasing darkness.

Cold hard rains that too soon turn to snow
and become drifts obscuring the yard
with ice and cold and darkness.
October please, do not long tarry.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Rainbow Dr,Elkridge,United States

Moon over the Roof

I noticed the moon, full and bright
hanging in the predawn sky
while I was walking Makayla.

It was casting faint shadows on the ground
blotting out the stars in its immediate vicinity
in the still dark sky.

Hanging there.
The light given for the night.

I remember,
not too many weeks ago,
when it was light as I walked
Makayla this early in the morning.

Yet today,
it was 45 degrees outside.
Cold.
I am going to have to wear a jacket
ver my Aloha shirt
when I head off to work.

September is full of seasonal changes.
I guess swimming season in the pool is over
and I need to begin planning for that saddest day of the year
when I give in to the changing seasons
and close the pool.
I do not enjoy looking at the green mesh covered pool
during the months from late-September until late-April.
It is as if the fun
has been taken from the world.

But the moon shines bright
on my rooftop. Bathing my world
in the cold light that it provides.

Whispering into my ear
that change is near.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Mist in the Trees

Driving to work yesterday morning, I looked out over the trees
Blue-tinged mist was hanging in the green leaves
As the humid day got off to a full throttle start.
The dampness was everywhere, palpable
the smells of the maturing springtime into summertime were sweet
to my nose as I noted that the fully now green trees
were standing tall against the gray dark rain swollen clouds
waiting to drench the land yet again with rain
which to vast areas of our country has reached damaging flood levels.
And I thought of the tornadoes which ravaged Missouri
my sister and her husband live there, not too near but still there,
the trees I am enjoying this morning would be reduced to toothpicks
in the face of these horrific storms.
The mist was still--hanging in the motionless air
reminding me that the days are longer now
a short couple months ago I would be driving to work in the dark
with my only my headlights to illuminate the world
I never would have noticed the mist hidden by the darkness of the night.
I snuck a final glance at the mist in the trees
as the road dove down taking me beneath the canopy
where I could no longer enjoy the rolling green
which stretched out to the horizon,
undulating, like waves upon the land
happy that the springtime was blossoming into summer.

Sunrise

The orange ball hung in the sky--
like a basketball as it pauses above the rim
after bouncing off the iron;
above the horizon, coloring the clouds
gracing the early dawn sky
with glow that made them alive
a flight of geese, silhouetted
flew across its face
while I was driving to work.

I watched the geese fly
skirting the trees--
they joined another flock
to begin their day
as was I--
speeding down the pavement
in my classic Jag on a rare outing
hurrying
on my way to work--
I could only take a snapshot
in my mind

I enjoy images like this as they happen
more
because they seem to happen less
or is it just
I notice them infrequently
I am lost in my own thoughts--
focused inward
I forget--
God's handiwork is better than
any painting in a gallery
fetching millions at auction.

I have be ready to see the scenes

Geese flying across the rising sun
they are still there
caught in my mind--
for me to replay
and be comforted and excited
about each sunrise--
every day.

December's Snow

It was blowing across the parking lot yesterday morning as I arrived at the gym at 5:30 AM.
White and powdery I could just make out the fine snow as it glistened in the headlights of my truck
Blowing in the wind but not really accumulating, ensuring I was aware that the cold December wind
Was bringing the snow which was falling on my windshield as I navigated the mostly deserted car park.

I reflected for a moment on how it was kind of pretty, like dust, or sand on the beach
But then I remembered how cold it was outside my warm, fully heated vehicle, twenty-something anyway
And the wind was whipping across the open areas--I could feel it slam into the truck on the overpasses
As I made my way to my appointed racquetball time at the gym and to start the day.

It was dark outside, but the stars peaked through the broken clouds and cast their cold light on the scene
I thought for a moment of a couple traveling from Nazareth to Bethlehem some centuries ago
How cold it was, and how they huddled together for warmth and to protect their unborn child from the wind
I wondered if it snowed and if there was a warm fire outside their tent as they stopped for the night.

The wind whipped through my hair as I stepped out from the warmth and made my way to the building
I was shocked by how cold it was, this morning, but the stars in the sky were beaming down at me then
As they did on a night--so many years before, when the promise made to man by a loving God was fulfilled
When the birth of a small child, in a barn, off the beaten path of the world, changed everything for all time.

Dawn

I love dawn
when the sky transitions from night to day.
The first hints of light silhouette the landscape,
I can just begin to discern shapes along the horizon
but the stars remain in the still night sky.
It begins as a narrow band of light.
No color.
As it expands and dark colors begin to come into view,
I can begin to make out shapes on the landscape.
The world has no depth.
Only dark shapes on the horizon.
Dark trees and buildings.
The light continues to build,
orange gold colors of the morning begin to grace the sky.
I can begin to make out some depth in the land.
I can tell the trees are losing their leaves to the coming winter
And so quickly
The darkness is driven away by the light
The stars are gone
The world stirs from its slumber
How quickly it happens
Darkness and then light bathing the land
And I can see the colors of the trees
and the houses and the depth of the landscape.
Night is gone.
Day arrived
full of promise and plans.
And I witnessed the miracle, again.

Yellow Today and Gone Tomorrow

They are nearly bare now,
the trees.
Last week adorned in royal autumn robes
now cast aside like confetti
A bright colored canopy strewn on the ground,
the parade has passed and the heroes are gone
they stand still tall,
bare
branches reaching up into the sky
defiantly calling to the north wind
unafraid of the snow and ice.
Some will not see another spring
to wear green leaves again
they will stand
for the beetle and woodpecker--
though dead
they will support life
until they too fall like the leaves
for so many seasons before
to renew, restore and live again.

Blades of Grass

Green. Alone among the millions
growing in my yard.
The mower cut them all the same
no individuality here.

Despite the lack of rain this year
my lawn remained still green.
And so I mowed it every week
as each grass blade grew new.

Summer's sun has lost its heat
and frost too soon will fall.
The blades of green will change then too
become the brown of Fall.

And lay beneath the royal robes
adorning trees that shade.
The blades which once were green and warm
will sleep beneath the snow.