The wisdom and peace of mind that comes from the porch of an old cabin at the old farm
From the front porch of the cabin on the farm in Missouri, I am reflecting on the changes and remembering the past.
The cabin, built on the frame of an old house trailer, with corrugated tin siding outside and old barn siding inside, is rustic. The 12-inch wide plank floors add to that vibe. It has evolved over 10 years or so and now has water and electricity as well as way more old furniture than we need.
We’re the old folks now. The other old folks are gone, their house rented to a young man with a couple of children. He is an electrical lineman and has spent much of the last few months in Florida, helping restore things.
My son still farms, turning over the seasons with soybeans, corn, wheat and milo with some specialty grasses mixed in for the cattle, who graze in the same pastures as their ancestors did.
We still make our way across Interstate 70 to Wellsville, which somehow survives with 1,200 people or so. Many things are gone, but the annual Halloween parade thrives, this year with several floats, a couple of politicians and a marching band, although they rode on a wagon. The annual PTA chili dinner afterwards also still draws them in.
That iconic landmark of small towns, the grain elevator has gone out of business. An attempted revival of the grocery store flopped, but the Dairy Mart is still churning out ice cream and sandwiches.
By our cabin, three peacocks strut about their flight cage along with a stray rooster that wandered in from somewhere. Bumblebees buzz around their hive, reluctantly surrendering some honey now and then.
I wish I could say I am a wise old man but it seems more like old wise guy. But the woods are spectacular, as usual, and just sitting on the porch, the sun warming me to offset the gentle cool autumn breeze, makes you feel that you have some wisdom and peace of mind.
