Neighbors

A key to having good neighbors is to get on their right side--sometimes literally.

This year Bob, the marketmaster at the farmers' market, moved the "blueberry girls." With the move, a once unfriendly vendor became almost friendly. After market on Wednesday he sent one of the girls home with a bouquet of flowers.

God's will

Sometimes finding God's will is easy. When it's delivered through a series of politely worded phrases and best wishes from a would-be employer, though, it still feels a little like rejection. 

Ice cream

We blew our ice cream fund yesterday afternoon at the Whippy Dip. During blueberry season we save our tips in a glass jar on top of the microwave. When we have accumulated enough change we treat ourselves to ice cream. 

Rainy morning

It was sopping wet at the blueberry farm Monday morning. The sky was gray and cloudy and a few raindrops splattered on the windshield as we drove to the farm. As we unloaded the pick-up truck it sprinkled, then it poured. Betsy and I sat in the barn and listened to the sound of the rain hitting the roof. 

After an hour and a half the only sign of life was geese and wild turkeys--no customers. Since the shower wasn't letting up, we switched the sign to "Closed."

Rainy days are a blessing during blueberry season. We girls took advantage of our break from picking and selling berries to go shopping with Mom at our favorite second-hand stores. By the time we left the stores with our bags of clothes the sun had broken through the clouds and most of the puddles were dry. 

Harvest

Wheat fields have turned from green to golden the last few weeks. Friday afternoon one of our neighbors arrived with his combine to harvest a strip of wheat around the edge of one of our fields. The boys planted the field to wheat, but some of the crop failed. So they planted oats in a portion of the field. The wheat was ready to be harvested. The oats will be ready in a few days. After a few passes through the wheat, our neighbor left his combine header in the field until the oats are ready. When all the grain is harvested, the boys will cut the stalks and bale them to make straw. 

Three dollars

I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please. Not enough to explode my soul or disturb my sleep, but just enough to equal a cup of warm milk or a snooze in the sunshine. I don't want enough of God to make me love a black man or pick beets with a migrant. I want ecstasy, not transformation. I want warmth of the womb, not a new birth. I want a pound of the Eternal in a paper sack. I would like to buy $3 worth of God, please.   ~Wilbur Rees

How much of God do you want?

Film camera

"There's a film camera like Dad's at that garage sale for five bucks," Betsy casually mentioned a couple of weeks ago.

"Does it have a lens?" I asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Is that the thing that sticks out the front?"

The camera wasn't just like Dad's Minolta SLR. It was a Canon Rebel 2000. I traded the owner five dollars for his old film camera and Betsy wished him well on his venture to raise funds to purchase a Macbook.

The camera did use the same batteries as Dad's film camera uses. So I raided his camera bag for the spare batteries and then shot a roll of film.

Some of my siblings suggested I resell the camera online. But in the digital age, a film camera is cool. So I think I'll hold onto the old fashioned camera and shoot a roll of film occasionally. 

The flash works.

So does the self timer. (It's nap time in the afternoon during blueberry season.)