Bittersweet Farm

The frost was on the pumpkin this morning out on Bittersweet Farm. The leaves are letting go high in the Maples around the old house dappling the grass with beautiful yellow-gold and orange leaves.

Just a few months ago I put on a jacket and sat out on the porch longing for those same leaves to bud and turn from the light-green of early spring to the dark green of early summer. Now they are falling to the earth and a chill west-wind is blowing them across the yard in the beautiful dance we call autumn. The leaves that remain hold the sunlight glow as it streams down through the woods.

This afternoon I will sweep the leaves off into the fields or burn them. More will follow. In a few weeks the trees will be bare as pencils again. Last week the Turkey Vultures stopped on a Sunday afternoon on their way south. They sat for a while as if brooding in the low branches of the Walnuts and on the Volleyball post until I disturbed them trying to get their picture, then they fled to the peak of the barn for the rest of the afternoon.

This week the first Sandhill Cranes were out in the near-north field calling. In the last few days they have numbered about a dozen. The corn is gone from the fields and the deer are out nibbling away at the nubs left on the ground.

I wonder if they know they are safe as long as they don’t stray to the west or into the woods north of the far-north field. I wandered out into that part of the woods north of the north field within a few hundred yards of the Falling Waters Trial and a couple hunters were out scouting a place to lie in wait with their crossbows.

Along the edges of all the fields the Bittersweet is easy to spot this time of year. I’m planning to make a grapevine wreath and decorate it with clusters of Bittersweet to remind me of the powerful truth that God turns all things to a good purpose for those who love Him and cooperate with his purpose of conforming them to the image of His son.

I button my shirt-jacket against the west wind. It’s growing a little colder every day. The Maples flame yellow and orange and red against the blue October sky. The cold air clears my head and stirs my heart. One day God will take away all that was bitter and all that is left will be sweet forever. That is the story I live that comes back warmly to my heart, especially in the waning days of autumn.

Ken Pierpont
Bittersweet Farm
Summit Township, Michigan
October 18, 2018

I returned from church this afternoon in time to take a long walk afield. It was in the high-fifties and sunny. A walk on a Michigan autumn evening is a sacramental act. The sky is October blue, the trees brushed with color. The corn is dry and brown but it’s been rainy and we are still ahead of the first frost, so the grass is green and lush.

After my walk and sat out on the porch and read draining the very last drop for the bottom of the cup of this sweet Lord’s Day. Finally the sunlight dropped into the trees. The evening grew chill. I stepped down into the leaf-strewn yard and looked west one more time to where the sun and dropped behind the trees just in time to see a perfect V-shaped flock of geese cross the sky over the farm honking their way south and west over the line of trees.

Your Default Home Setting

Last week I received permission from the woman who owns the land north and east of Bittersweet Farm to freely walk her property. The generous gesture moved me to tears. It is a large tract of land including farm fields, wetland and woods. So I set off exploring on a brisk October Friday.

When I dress for work Hazard ignores me but he can tell when I’m dressing for a walk and he tails me around the house while I’m getting ready as if to say; “Take me too. Take me too.” I took him along and walked due north of Bittersweet Farm along the rocky, overgrown fencerow. We had covered about a mile going north in to the field behind that, skirting the east side of a low spot and woods. So two long fields run end to end north of us and woods is north of that. Beyond that, further north, is the Falling Waters Trail. Just south of the woods I let Hazard off his lead. He would run ahead and I would call him back before he got to far.

We repeated this an half-dozen times then I got distracted by a huge deer rub and about twenty Sandhill Cranes fishing and sunning in the pond in the south edge of the woods. I surprised them and they all rose into the air flapping their huge wings and calling out with their loud rattle-like call. They flew over the trees and east out of sight. By the time I climbed back to the high ground little Hazard was nowhere in sight. I called to him. He didn’t come.

I called Lois and told her that Hazard was lost. We prayed we could find him before Hope got off work. I turned and started the long walk back to the house. Along the way I called for Hazard. I worried that he might have strayed onto the property west of us where we don’t have the right to walk. It took me a half hour or more to get back to the line of trees that separate the two fields north of the house.

When I walked along the north side of the thicket I could hear Hazard barking. A smile came to my face when I realized that when he could not find me he beat it strait for home. No one was there but he was standing on the porched barking for someone to let him in.

He has a powerful instinct for home.

This week at Bethel I started a series of messages about Jonah, the prophet who, when he received his assignment, thought he could flee from the presence of God. I told the people this: There are three things I want to tell you about fleeing from the presence of God.

First, it is natural to flee from God because of our sin.

Second; It is Impossible to flee from the presence of God because of his power.

Third; It is foolish to flee from the presence of God because of his mercy and love.

The rest of the afternoon I sat in my chair and did some reading. Little Haz curled up on the ottoman at my feet, safe, secure, and well-fed. Take a lesson from Ole’ Haz. Train your soul to run for God whenever you are lost or lonely our burdened with guilt or shame.

Ken Pierpont
Bittersweet Farm
Summit Township, Michigan
October 15, 2018

Here is a little treat for you. This is a short clip from a Camp Barakel Men’s Retreat in October. My little brother, Nate is playing the piano, so my brother Kevin sent me this clip.

https://youtu.be/PgCLBSFddUE