The geese are here…winging their way back to us!  Their shouted hellos add to the cacophony of the combine and the rumble of the grain truckI am actually comforted by all the activity, although (at different points) I find I hold my breath trying to hear the geese through the noise.  When I do so; I also feel the pounding of my heart.

Listening, listening, for that odd sound, which  means something isn’t right.  Then there it is— a mess of a tire.

It slows harvest down.  A small diversion

A quick ride into farm yard— get a tire and back out we all go.  Boomer included.

Then everything is good to go again.

I sometimes think young people believe {we} old folks are a separate form of life.

That’s alright, someday they will be old and will understand…just going about every day’s business —together—is the sunbeam of growing old.

As for myself, I couldn’t ask for more.

From my world to your heart,

Linda