Listen, grasshopper

Listen, grasshopper

do you hear?

Fall is in the air.

I do hear, grasshopper replied.

Why do you think I'm in here?

This is a conversation that the grasshopper, found in my kitchen this morning, and I, shared.  He is still there- perched on top of the cabinet door.  I will allow him to stay for now.

We live simply on this little farm.  It is a small patch of land- one of my friends referred to it as "the farmette."  It is bordered by woods and road.  We have a large pole barn, a small red barn with side room (where the chickens are housed).

Growing up, I visited my paternal grandma's farm on weekends and loved the freedom of it.  She had acres of land with three barns, cows, lambs, corn, woods, orchard.  We could play and walk and roam.  We caught fireflies at night.  We ate watermelon in the yard, seated on metal chairs.  Voices carried from the next farm over.  One can understand why the concept of farm is a romantic notion that I cling to.  Comfort, safety and warm memories all relate to the word "farm."

We live unconventionally by some people's standards.  We do not have central air.  People sometimes gasp aloud when we tell them.  I suppose "roughing it" in such a manner is a horrifying idea to some.  I love feeling the breeze pouring through the windows.  At night we listen to the coyotes yip and the songs of chorus frogs and crickets.  This time of year it is the cacaphony of cicadas.  For the unbearably hot nights we have window air conditioners in our bedroom and the guest room.  When I asked a colleague if she enjoyed hanging out laundry and had to stifle a laugh when her response was "I like how the clothes smell but I don't like bringing in the bugs."  Bugs in the laundry are the least of my concern.  One day rushing around before heading to work something caught my eye.  It was bird poop on my shoulder.  Bugs I can handle.  Bugs can be shaken off, transported outdoors or stepped on.  I don't care to go to work sporting bird poop.

Fall is in the air.  I adore fall.  It is my favorite season.  I like fall best of all.  Indiana summers are long and hot, drenching us with its humidity.  Then one morning I head out the door and experience what I call "the ah of fall."  It is suddenly cooler and I pause for a moment and audibly say "ahhhhhh."  Temperatures are dipping in to the high fifties at night now and I have already paused to say "ahhh."  The chickens sense it and have begun to lay.  Another egg was found this morning. (In a nesting box, this time.)  A cricket in the shower this morning. 

Doug is cleaning out the chimney in the fireplace room as I write.  Most days, if it is cool enough to turn on the heat, we sit near the fire.  It is cozy and warm and the animals join us.  Our Corgi, Chelsea and the two cats.  I sit with laptop or we read or doze.  Some evenings we make dinner on the fire.  Friends enjoy coming over and sitting before the fire with us.  I have a date in October with two friends for fireplace sitting on my calendar, already. 

We have a lot of company who enjoy staying here at our little farm.  One of my friends from North Carolina came with her young daughter.  They opted to sleep that January night, not in the guest room, but in front of the fire on the pull out sleeper bed.  My friend even got up to stoke the fire during the night.  She said that for them, visiting with us was like going to camp. 

I'll take this life on this simple farm shared with spiders, crickets and grasshoppers.  The simplicity of it gives me joy.  When is the last time you had a conversation with a grasshopper?