The Season of Change

Every autumn leaf peepers travel to New England to see the changing colors of the trees.  Although I’ve never had the opportunity to join that pilgrimage, I believe the fall colors of eastern Tennessee could give those Yankee trees some serious competition. 

This week we’ve been in Vonore, TN for maintenance work on the Dawntreader.  While we waited for all the items on Tim’s list of concerns to be addressed, 

I paid a visit to my friend Julie.

and another visit to Smok'N Bonz, a local barbecue place we'd first discovered last fall which has raised the bar for all the barbecue restaurants we've ever tried.

However, it was the fall colors that lured us to the hiking trails in Fort Loudoun State Park and in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. 

Jakes Creek in the Great Smoky Mountains

More than any other time of the year, to me, fall is the season of change.  Change is not a state of being that I embrace.  This first year of life on the road has challenged my comfort zone.  As we’ve moved from one campground to the next, I've figuratively held my breath until the Dawntreader is safely moored once more.  And while I've enjoyed the comradery of other Care-A-Vanners on the Habitat for Humanity builds we've participated in, I've missed being a part of a close-knit community of friends.  Still, this chance to travel has opened up new vistas to admire like these of eastern Tennessee.  

Poets express the beauty of this season much better than I ever could. 

"Autumn, the year’s last, loveliest smile."  ~ William Cullen Bryant

"The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky." ~  Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree." ~ Emily Bronte

"How beautifully leaves grow old.  How full of light and color are their last days." ~ John Burroughs

But there is One who never changes.  He is always with me no matter where I am; no matter the season of my life.  As it says in Psalm 90:1-2,  “Lord, You have been our dwelling place in all generations.  Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever You had formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, You are God."

From the shifting chaos of life, God forms beauty out of change.  A favorite hymn of mine, written by Henry Francis Lyte two months before he died, is Abide With Me.  Its second verse is a testament about the presence of God in our lives regardless of the changes that threaten to overwhelm us.

Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim;
its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.

No matter the season, the location or the circumstances of my life, I'm grateful that the Lord abides with me.

Lincoln's Childhood Homes

Over the course of his life, Abraham Lincoln lived in humble homes, in middle class homes and most famously, in the home that has housed all American presidents since John Adams, the White House.

Over the course of our lifetimes, Tim and I have visited four Lincoln homes: the White House, his home in Springfield, Illinois and now two of his childhood homes on this leg of The Jacobsons' Journey.

Or perhaps I should be truthful and say that this past weekend we visited a log cabin replica of his birthplace and the stone foundation his childhood home.  Nothing else remains of his formative years.

Tim and I are en route to Washington, D.C. with scheduled stops in Louisville, KY and Nashville, TN to visit family and friends.

Terry and Debby are friends from Louisville.

However, we serendipitously stopped at two national parks, land originally owned by Thomas Lincoln, father of the famous Abe.  At the Black River Visitors Center rest stop on Interstate 64 just across the state line from Illinois into Indiana, we read an exhibit about Lincoln's Boyhood Home located nearby.  With time to kill before our dinner with Louisville friends that evening, we decided to detour there and add another tick mark on the list of National Park Service properties we've visited during our first year on the road.

That's our RV, the Dawntreader on the right.

Lincoln's Boyhood National Memorial is just ten minutes off I-64.  This is the frontier property claimed by Thomas Lincoln after land disputes in Kentucky forced him to move his family 100 miles west to this densely forested claim.  

It was here that Abraham spent his formative years from seven to 21, years that shaped his sense of honesty, pursuit of learning, respect--but not love--for hard work, compassion and notions of right and wrong.  

Illustration displayed at Lincoln's Boyhood Home

"My father taught me how to work, but not to love it...I'd rather tell stories, crack jokes, talk, laugh--anything but work," recalled Lincoln.

Only the stone foundation of the Lincoln's one-room cabin remains.  

However, a living farm, staffed by volunteers, recreates the hard life of pioneers who settled this area.  While we watched, a volunteer demonstrated how early settlers made candles by pouring melted beeswax into a tin candle mold and placing the mold into a tub of water to set.  

Yet, what I found most meaningful was the Trail of Twelve Stones.  Leading from the site of his boyhood home to the cemetery where his mother Nancy Hanks Lincoln is buried, this 1/2-mile path through the woods is dotted with stones, enduring witnesses of significant events in Lincoln's life.  

Gravestone of Nancy Hanks Lincoln

Two years after their arrival, his beloved mother contracted fatal milk sickness, a disease that occurs after drinking milk from cows that grazed upon white snakeroot, a plant that contains tremetol which is poisonous to humans.  In 1845, Abraham Lincoln penned these words that capture his feelings about his boyhood home:

"My childhood-home I see again, 

And gladden with the view:

And still as memories crowd my brain, 

There's sadness in it too."

A selfie with Jillian

Saturday morning we traveled from Louisville, KY to visit our daughter Jillian who lives in Nashville, TN.  We didn't plan to stop, but I noticed while mapping our route on the atlas that Abraham Lincoln's Birthplace was not too far out of our way.  Since this weekend was shaping up to be an educational exploration of Lincoln's childhood, I talked Tim into diverting from the interstate to Hodgenville, KY and Sinking Spring Farm, the scene of his birth. 

Thomas Lincoln, Abraham's father, was the younger son of his parents which meant that he did not inherit their land, but instead had to make his own way in the world.  He became a skilled carpenter but what he really wanted to do was farm. 

When he finally had enough savings, he purchased 230 acres and moved his pregnant wife and one-year-old daughter into a one-room log cabin built on a hillside near a water source called Sinking Spring.

Almost 100 years after Lincoln was born, a cabin thought to be his birthplace was disassembled and reconstructed within the Memorial.  

It's not the original Lincoln cabin but it is similar to what Thomas Lincoln might have built.  

The Memorial itself is an imposing edifice, financed with small donations from countless Americans and placed at the height of the hill with 56 steps symbolizing the 56 years of Abraham Lincoln's life leading up to it.

I always thought the Lincolns were dirt-poor.  I'd read what I called, based on the book's bright color, his 'orange biography,' one from the children's biography series, Childhood of Famous Americans, published in the 1950s by Bobbs-Merrill when I was a child, never realizing that though based on fact, much of their content was fictionalized.  So, while the Lincolns' pioneer lives were austere, a look at the tax roles of LaRue County where Abe's birthplace cabin sat show that the Lincolns were in the top 20% of landowners in the county.

Land disputes were common in that day when surveyors were few so when his claim to Sinking Spring Farm was contested, Thomas moved his family of four ten miles to a farm on Knob Creek where the land was richer.  This location is also under the authority of the National Park Service.  It was here that Abe received his only formal education, two years of blab schooling so-called because of the constant recitation of lessons, a technique much favored when books were few.  It's hard to believe that this gifted orator and statesman had only two years of formal education.  Amazing what one could achieve with only a few books and the Bible as resources!

So over the course of this weekend, we've gained new insights into President Lincoln's life, insights that we would never have gained had we stayed on the interstate.

"I happened, temporarily, to occupy the White House.  I am a living witness that any of your children may come here as my father's child has." ~ Abraham Lincoln

Highlights From Home

Today Tim and I waved goodbye to the farm.  It’s hard to believe that seven weeks have passed since we arrived home on September 8^th.  

Somehow amid taking meals to the field, trucking grain from the field to the elevator or storage bin and challenging my mother to yet another game of dominoes, the time whizzed by! 

Looking back at our layover at home there were several highlights: 

Attending the Kansas State Fair in Hutchinson, KS was one of them. 

The racing pigs and the trick dogs were my favorite shows at the fair.  My older brother Doug raised a pig when he was a member of 4-H, a club for youth that's popular in rural areas.  Perhaps that prompted my predilection for the porkers.  And dogs have always been at the top of my most loved pets.  When Jillian and Richard were growing up, a basset hound followed by a black labrador and then a golden retriever were important members of our family.  I miss owning a dog.  Sharing the tight quarters of our RV with a dog, however, would be difficult.  That's why a visit home is such a treat; there are three farm dogs upon which to lavish love.

Traveling to Chicago for the October 1st wedding of Tim’s niece was a treasured family celebration.  Those Jacobsons really know how to party!  I was so caught up in the fun that I neglected to take many photos.  But Tim's cousin Dave took this photo of our immediate family.

Richard, Montana, Jillian, Cindy and Tim

We returned to the farm in time to see my brother Jon take possession of a 4-wheel-drive tractor that was new in 2012, a monster with tires taller than me.   I joined him in the cab for a test drive, a jolting, bumpy ride worthy of inclusion at an amusement park.  Still, the purchase brought a smile to Jon's face, especially when he contemplated how much quicker he'll be able to cover ground versus his old tractor.  As he said, "Time is money!" 

Tailgating at a Kansas State University football game was the icing on the cake.  We arrived early enough on Friday to walk the campus and marvel at all the changes that have transformed the school since I graduated 40 years ago.  That night my cousin, Julia Anderson, and her husband Matt joined us for dinner.  They were anticipating the birth of their second grandchild, Ivy Mae, born Monday evening.  Early Saturday morning I met Sheila, Lou Ann and Terri, friends from my four years of living at Smurthwaite Scholarship House, for brunch and caught up on recent events of their lives.  That afternoon was a perfect day to watch K-State beat Texas.  Then, after the game friends and family joined us for a tailgate supper.  Sunday we went to church with Jon's old roommate and took Jon's sons, both current K-State students, out to lunch.  Whew!  We packed a lot of fun into a short weekend.

Clockwise from upper left:  Mom & Jon;
Terri & Cindy; Derek & Cindy; Anderson Hall, a KSU icon

All were great times with family and friends. 

Now we’ve pointed our RV, the Dawntreader, east.  We have annual doctor appointments scheduled in Washington, DC.  And the Dawntreader needs its check-up, too.  We'll stop in Vonore, TN for several days for its tune up.  Along the way to Washington, we’ll see Jillian, our daughter, who lives in Nashville and Terry, a former co-worker of Tim’s, along with his wife Debbie.   We’ll also have the opportunity to spend time with our son Richard who lives in DC. 

So, once again the Dawntreader is on the move.  And after laying aside this blog/diary these past several weeks, I've got to become more disciplined about snapping photos and writing about our life on the road.

The Farm Report

Fall harvest is in full swing on my family's farm in Kansas.  In fact, it's been so busy I've barely had time to take any photos. But, two friends have shared theirs with me, along with their permission to post them here.

The photo above was taken by Tate, our hired man, while he was driving the grain cart.  I love the way the sun at dusk gleams on the combine driven by my 85-year-old father.  Tate used his camera-equipped drone with its remote control to capture this amazing photo.

Then, on the morning of the equinox, Elizabeth, a friend from Bible study, caught a view of the sun rising between the former antique shop and the bank.  Again, another amazing shot! 

Mom

So, what's been keeping me from snapping my own photos?  Three tasks!  Cooking for the harvest crew, caring for my mother who has dementia, and calculating why my entries in the farm's Quick Books do not match the bank's statement.  Ugh!  There's a reason I never became an accountant. 

My brother Jon

Noontime often found the crew tailgating, not at a stadium before a sporting event, but on a country road next to the field they were cutting.

Nephew Miles and my camera-shy Dad

Caught you, Dad!

Schlepping the meal to the field had its perks.  Who wouldn't want to enjoy an alfresco meal under such a gorgeous blue sky? 

Or watch the combine in action

as it dumps a load of corn into the semi.

Then, there's the cute truck driver, my husband Tim.

This fall harvest is yielding not only a bumper crop of corn, but also milo.  In fact, so much grain has been harvested that the local grain cooperative has filled the elevator.  There's no alternative except to dump the excess grain in huge piles on the ground.

Our crew took several loads to town to the Coop, but most of our grain is stored on the farm in grain bins.

This gives Jon the opportunity to sell the grain at what will hopefully be a better price once the market supply dwindles.

What won't dwindle is my appreciation of a Kansas sky.

The expanse of sky unconstrained by any buildings speaks to my soul,

reminding me of God's goodness.  Thank you for a bountiful harvest, Lord!