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The Old Mule

Old Mule Farms - Graves, Ga.

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Supper Time

A view from my back porch…

  Today begins like most others for me with my set routine here on the old farm. The sounds of cows calling out as the cold morning air stirs a restless side that is heard echoing through the woods. This calling is also one that nature has needs and is dependent on us as we are on it. The land with all it has is our prideful path, but the stewardship rest upon our shoulders. After feeding time my day will find me busy keeping up with as much as I can before nightfall calls with familiar voice “its time to head back to the old farmhouse” where supper is warming on the stove. Then as the clock ticks the hands of time lead once more into peaceful sleep preparing for another day in this timeless hollow that I call home…………………………..Dan

The Table is Set

A view from my back porch…

  The farmhouse is ready and our Thanksgiving table is set to welcome what family will gather. Thankfulness comes in many forms each with different meanings that tell the true story of all things given. Tradition is rooted in history and nowhere is that any better understood than here on the old farm. Yes well eat the feast of turkey with all the southern fix`n that one could ask for, but the greatest of all is my family carefully seen through another year. Most of what we hoped for has been given, other things desired that did not happen during the year is left up to the one who knows best. With such a great year behind us we pause to give thanks for each of the best that crossed our path. Knowing how precious time is life carries a deeper meaning that is saluted with a grateful spirit at our farmhouse table………………………………Dan

Winters Calm

A view from my back porch…

  The start to that laid back time of year is now upon us as cold rushes across the farm. Winters hay is under the shed with all fences in good shape. The old barn is repaired once more to stand the test of future times all while trying to maintain the rest of the farm. I`d say bring on winters cold so we can get on toward spring a little faster. Even that big ole moon that has been hanging around the last few days seems to be calling for a fast exist. I have stocked up on coffee, piled the firewood high, even polished the old wood heater. Once again the ole hollow calms from summers tasks to refuel with rest. Laying peaceful like clock work so our work rests as well. My mind is set on making it through another year, so come along...………………..Dan

Leaving This Nest

A view from my back porch…

  As I was sitting on old back porch the other morning my view was second to none. A mighty hawk was flying carefree over the east pasture. What looked like no effort was upheld by that mysterious invisible wind that has the ability to propel the smallest to the largest of birds. There is know doubt that a hawks view high above is far better than mine, but the knowledge of knowing that we are watched over is all that one could ask for. Soaring high then diving low brought breakfast close for us all. What seems graceful might just take more effort, but then if one has never flown it might be understood better between the creator and the created when its time to leave this journeys nest ……………………………..Dan

Late Night Homestead

A view from my back porch…
The last several nights have brought that seasonal awareness that our temperature is changing. The walls and halls of the old farmhouse slowly squeak creaking their way through the night as they have year after year. I don`t really know whose bones crackle or pop more mine or the house, but together we play our symphony of musical sounds right along like clock work so there you go.
All is looking busy for the rest of the week around here so with that said I`ll employ all my tricks to make things happen. My focus is knowing that before long that laid back time called winter will arrive giving me more rocking time on the back porch of the old farmhouse……………………..Dan

Color Change

A view from my back porch…

  The old farm is taking on a different look as the season has finally started to change. Our weather has been much different up till now bringing somewhat of a slow start to the changing of colors. Before long a pallet of all known colors will find stance before turning loose to fly downward as a carpet along the hollow floor. A cooler breeze makes its way across the back pasture then knocks against the back door of the farmhouse. Lite by only a oil lamp my porch waits ready for winter to blow in although there will be many weeks to go before that moment arrives. I should have enough time to prepare my thoughts as I drink one more cup before heading out to take on the task of chores that awaits me in the barn…………………Dan

Rails of Sound

A view from my back porch…

  In the pre hours of early morning the sound of steel on steel crosses over the trestle bridge about a mile away. When conditions are all lined up one can hear as far as allowed and so our day starts with distant echos racing across the floor of this old hollow. A darken night brings sound to what is ignored in the light of day. As I listen to hear, small yet equally important movement scurries in the side yard. All in all much is among the living, moving about, rolling as wheels along rails making tracks toward another day. Once the sun is hanging high then we will find our place in the order of things. May our sound be a pleasing one to those who listen in contentment……………………………Dan

Barn Roots

A view from my back porch…

  Pulling back age old moss draping from large oaks I find my mind this morning going over the journey of a lifetime conjuring up visions from what was a common day on this land during the plantation area just a few short years ago. In all likely hood it was much the same as it is right now as fields were worked during the southern heat. My Old Mule barn is made of wood all the way, where others were made using field stone for walls allowing heavy wood timbers to form there inner structure. If time could talk life might have been hard, but barns speak volumes of a great era faded now in the past. A time found only at memories best bringing with it hardships coupled with laughter. Farms great or small had backbone with all hands on deck grinding out a lively hood second only to pure innovative ingenuity. As I touch the signs of the past, a great connection comes over me that anchors my roots even deeper in the fact that where we have come from is why we are where we are today………………….Dan

Fiddling Around

A view from my back porch…

  With autumn now in calenders sight I see the nights getting somewhat longer as the clock ticks towards winter. The sun is slower to rise giving me that awareness that before long firewood will find a home next to the cooler mornings on the ole back porch. For now we live out life with a few more hot days on the agenda, then as the cycle unfolds we will surly find that much needed change before our blinking eye. Yes sir, natures best and the good part is we have nothing to do with it. Brought to us by our Masters hand. Now with that said what ever I fiddle around with today is about all that needs to be tampered with on another fine day in Dixie…………………………………Dan

A Squirrel Forecast

A view from my back porch…

  Well our summer garden has just about played out with little to nothing left. There are a few peppers hanging on in hopes that we will pull them before they fall. Its been a good summer for all things garden related. Now its time to move on into the next season of thinking. My mind has been on fall for weeks now. In fact just about the time the squirrels started to fill their winter pantry I started to think about cooler things as well as my regular slowing down for the year. With that said we still have more hay to cut as we fill the barn for a long winters night. Up to now its been a very productive year for us and the old homestead is ready to end summer and coast on into the final quarter before it all starts over again. As for those squirrels they know weather better than you think, so I`ll bank on their wisdom as nature moves closer in my thoughts…………………………………….Dan

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