October in September

Monday was the first day of autumn and it was perfect. It was warm, breezy, and bright. I spent the day enjoying the beauty of it outdoors. I picked apples in the orchard. I tended to the dying garden. The rain came at 3:30, just as I'd finished the afternoon chores. It rained hard for an hour and washed away the accumulated dust of weeks of drought. The world looked brighter, but a bit soggy. It continued to rain off and on into the night and even gave us a little thunder and lightning. It felt like nature was saying farewell to summer and welcome to fall. Our fall is advanced this year. I looked back at photographs from past years to see what the changing trees were like. We normally hit our color peak in the second week of October, but it looks like this year it came in the last weeks of September. That's very early. I hope it doesn't mean winter will come early too.

Some of the fall color in the yard (clockwise from the top left): the catalpa tree in the meadow, blueberry bush, blueberry bush, witch hazel in the woodland garden.

After Monday, the rest of the week was mostly cool, overcast, and rainy. I was glad for the rain. We really needed it. It was a great blessing. But because of it, I couldn't spend time working outdoors, which was a little frustrating because there was so much that needed to be done. When I'm forced to be indoors, I tend to get reflective, maybe moody is a better word. I distracted myself on those rainy mornings in my usual manner as best I could. I listened to music, mostly Bach. I read my book. I'm part way through William Faulkner's Light in August. But as each morning dragged on, after a while I found myself sitting and thinking. Call it pondering or meditating if you like. I wasn't just staring into space although that might be what it looked like. And all that pondering led to some mental discourses that then made their way into this Journal. So here we go.

I think a lot about time. I've written a lot about thinking a lot about time. As a lover and student of history, I find it interesting at times to sit back and look a little deeper at the historical events that have transpired during my time on the earth. I have lived through fourteen U.S. presidents and nine presidents of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When I was born in 1958, Dwight D. Eisenhower was president of the United States and David O. McKay was the president and prophet of our church. I can say it was a different world back then, but of course it was. The world as it exists the second I'm writing this is different from the world of a minute ago and the minute that will arrive after it. That's the nature of time, and life, and history is our attempt to assemble it into some form that gives it meaning and helps us comprehend our place in it all.

U.S. Presidents in my lifetime, so far.

Presidents of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in my lifetime, so far.

I have seen great changes over the course of my life, advances in technology, changes in society, in the planet we inhabit. Things change. They have to. It is the normal condition of existence. The only time things stop changing is when they are dead. And even in death change comes in the form of decay. It never stops.

I reflected on some momentous events during my 67 years that stand out, the ones that make headlines and get included in the history books. There are political events. I remember watching the funeral procession of John F. Kennedy on the black and white television set in the playroom of our house on Bridge Street. That was in 1963 when I was five. I remember watching the first moon landing in 1969 when I was eleven. I was sixteen when Richard Nixon resigned, twenty-two when Mount St. Helens erupted, twenty-eight when the Space Shuttle Challenger blew up, forty-three when the Twin Towers fell. Those were a few events that stand out in my mind, times when the world stopped to pay attention. I feel that I have lived through another important event these last weeks with the assassination of Charlie Kirk and what has followed. From a historian's perspective, it's too soon to tell its full impact on society, politics, and religion, but I feel that it will be seen as a turning point in our nation's history. It will be included in the history books.

Knowing that these are the last days foretold by prophets and by the Lord Himself, I see things through the filter of scripture. We've been told to watch for signs that the end is nigh, when "nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. And great earthquakes shall be in divers places, and famines, and pestilences, and fearful sights and great signs there shall be from heaven." (Luke 21:10-11)  A time when many shall be "offended, and shall betray one another, and shall hate one another. And many false prophets shall arise, and shall deceive many. And because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold." (Matthew 24:10-12)

I've seen earthquakes in divers places. At the age of thirty-six while living in Mission Hills, California, my young family and I experienced the 1994 Northridge Earthquake. In 2004, I watched the devastation from the Sumatra-Andaman Tsunami, and in 2011, the quake and tsunami in Sendai, Japan, and numerous other earthquakes. I've lived through wars and rumors of wars. I've seen famine, and pestilence, and fearful sights. I've seen people offended over almost anything and everything. I've seen hate and iniquity abound. And yet…

We know that in the end, although evil for a time seems to have the upper hand, righteousness will prevail. In addition to the wickedness, violence, and corruption in the world, wonderful things have happened and are also happening. I gauge the level of the wonder by what I've seen happening in the Church of Jesus Christ. When I was born there were 1,555,799 members of the church in about 300 congregations, most of them in the United States and mostly in the intermountain west – Utah, Idaho, Arizona, and California. There were ten temples all of them in North America except for one in England, one in Switzerland, and one in New Zealand. By the time I went on my mission in 1978, membership had grown to 4,160,000 and there were 17 temples scattered further across the globe. Today as I write this, there are 17,509,781 members. There are 208 dedicated temples all over the world with many more under construction, nearing completion, or in the planning stages, bringing the total to 382. I could not have comprehended that when I was a young man. I can hardly comprehend it now. It is a blessing to be here to witness it and to be a part of the marvelous work and a wonder of the restored Church of Jesus Christ.

On Tuesday, because of the rain, I stayed indoors all day. I made applesauce from the apples I'd picked on Monday. We froze it and will give it to Sarah to process in the freeze dryer. I also began processing pumpkins. I only had six of my Winter Luxury pumpkins that ripened this year. They are the only kind of pumpkin I grow to eat. The other pumpkins are for decorations. Winter Luxury is a small pumpkin. They fit perfectly in the Instant Pot whole. I steamed one for 45 minutes, let it cool, cut it open, peeled off the shell and scooped out the guts. We froze the flesh from that one for use in baking. Pumpkin cookies are a favorite. I will also make some of them into pie filling and then freeze dry it. It reconstitutes beautifully and makes a perfect pie.

Winter Luxury pumpkins waiting to be processed.

Wednesday was my weekly acupuncture appointment and that took up a big part of the day. When I got home from that, I spent some time looking through catalogs, making plans for next year. Sarah has started a list of things she wants me to grow for her. I added a few more items of my own. It's soothing to sit and look out at the dilapidated, soggy garden and already have a vision of what next year's will be like.

Later that afternoon we had an incident with the pigs. It had stopped raining and I went out to walk around the garden. I saw something big run through the orchard. It was a pig. They had broken through their fence and were loose. I ran in the house and called Miriam to help me. I took an empty bucket and deceived the pigs into thinking I was going to feed them. Miriam held the gap in the fence open and I went into the pen. The pigs followed me in. Then we closed the gap and wired it shut with heavy wire. The trouble is, the pigs want food, but only certain things. They have a bin full of hog pellets that they nibble at reluctantly. I throw buckets and buckets of apples to them. They have become spoiled. The slop I give them for their evening meal is either boiled old rice or old pasta. They want carbs. They dump the apples out of their trough and trample them. If I give them vegetables, things like smashed tomatoes and other garden casualties, they push them out of the trough with their snouts and walk on them. And they scream for food every time they see me, but only for carbs. I've started taking them carb slop in the morning and evening now hoping it would satisfy their carb craving, but no, I think I could take them slop ten times a day and they would still scream for more. November can't come soon enough.

The rain was over by Friday and it turned out to be a beautiful day. I kept busy catching up on the things I couldn't do while it was raining. I weeded part of the long border. I cleaned out two more raised beds in my vegetable garden. One of them was my brassica bed where I had cabbages and cauliflower growing. It was not a very successful bed. The peacock loves brassicas. He had already eaten up all the broccoli that was planted in a different bed. He'd eaten most of the leaves off the cauliflower, so I decided to pull them up. I was surprised to find a few heads that he'd missed. I brought them in for us to eat. He also pecked most of the cabbages to where they were useless. I pulled them up and then loaded it all, cabbages and cauliflower plants, into the wagon and hauled it out to the pigs. I learned now that I must completely fence in my brassicas next year. Or get rid of the peacock. I'm tempted.

The last cauliflowers spared by the peacock.

What the peacock did to the cabbages.

The sunrise on Saturday was spectacular. I'd slept in a little and when I woke and looked out the window, the sky was ablaze. I hurried and dressed and went out to enjoy it. It was chilly, 44°, and I hadn't put on enough clothes, so my walk to the beaver pond and back was brisk. I stood and watched until I began to shiver and then came reluctantly back to the house, showered, dressed more appropriately, and embraced the day.

Pausing in the meadow.

Down at the beaver pond.

The rest of the day was busy. I think Saturdays should always be busy. I grew up singing the Primary song:

Saturday is a special day.
It's the day we get ready for Sunday:
We clean the house,
And we shop at the store,
So we won't have to work until Monday.
We brush our clothes,
And we shine our shoes,
And we call it our get-the-work-done day.
Then we trim our nails,
And we shampoo our hair,
So we can be ready for Sunday.

That's how Saturdays should be in my mind. That's how yesterday was. Lots of work, errands, and cleaning. First Stacey and I drove up to Wellsville. We cleaned the chapel. We went to the library to pick up a book for me. We stopped at the thrift store to drop off some items. We went to a feed store out near Greenwood, New York, that we'd never been to before to see what they had. It's a pretty great store. I bought a sack of pig feed and also a bag of hydrated lime that I'm going to use to whitewash the chicken coop. Our trip took us along roads through eastern Allegany County and western Steuben County, New York. It is unbelievably beautiful country, especially now with the leaves changing. We got home about noon, had lunch and then went to work.

I mowed, blew leaves, and then burned them along the road. Then I mowed the orchard, maybe for the last time this year. Hannah finished power washing the house. It looks nice and clean. Miriam worked on the walls in the living room for a while and then went next door to help the Fosters. They removed the overgrown shrubbery from around their house. Meanwhile, Stacey was busy in the kitchen processing tomatoes and making all sorts of food. It was a good productive day.

Burning leaves.

Hannah power washing.

The day ended as it began, with a spectacular sky. I walked out to the edge of the neighbor's sheep pasture to watch it. I never tire of seeing beautiful sunsets.

Sunset over the long border.

Sunset over the sheep pasture.

I'd written most of the above off and on during the week and edited it last night, thinking I'd just add a bit more for today and then send it out. But when I got up this morning, after getting ready for church, I sat down to catch up with what was going on with my family and the world and found that the world had shifted. I saw chatter from last night among my western children and Miriam, who was up late. They were chatting about the news that Russell M. Nelson, the president and prophet of our church had passed away that night at 10:00. He was 101 years old. He was a great man and a great servant of the Lord. He was called as an apostle in 1984 and became president of the church in 2018. During his presidency, he brought profound change to the church. He began the Come Follow Me program focusing on home centered, church supported church. He modified policies and procedures to help the church adjust to its expanding global growth. And he announced 200 new temples. Next week is General Conference where we expected to hear him speak. Because of his health, lately he prerecorded his comments. I wonder if he did this time and if they will play it. I wonder if we will sustain our new prophet and president at this conference. He will be succeeded by Dallin H. Oaks, the next apostle in seniority. Ours is a living church led by the Lord through His prophets and apostles. Change comes as needed through revelation. The work of the Lord will continue as we prepare for His Second Coming. I will miss Pres. Nelson. I have been profoundly blessed by his life.

I wrote that paragraph this morning before we left for church. Now we are home from church and we saw on the news that one of our chapels in Michigan was attacked, people were shot, and the building was set on fire. Details are still forthcoming, but it has cast a sad pall over this Sabbath. More violence. I hate to leave this journal on such a grim note. I think I'll go out and sit in the garden now. Despite the condition of things in other places, it is a pretty autumn day here. I will sit in the sun and reflect on the goodness of God and the ultimate triumph of good over evil.