The Seasons: A Poem

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Sunrise over Amazing Grasses Family Farm The mad Artist wields His brush, Painted colors rush, To life and give flush, Before the quiet autumn hush. The life seems to pour, As colors fall to the floor, To be seen no more, Outside the dark, grey door. Brightness from below, Sun upon the snow, High, cold clouds blow, Flakes and ice appear to grow. The man melts with little seen, Underneath, pale, grey green, Hides life in dark unseen, Waits for warmth and to careen. Buds on branches show, Patience starts to grow, Trickles, streams and veins flow, Bringing fruits of melted snow. Sprung to life it springs, Bees, birds, sound rings, Lush green flings, Its gift bounty brings. Green growth gives one last rush, Underneath the Painter's brush. The mad Artist wields His brush, before the quiet autumn hush. More poetry is available from James M. Hahn in  The Last Dragon and Other Poems  available now. My new book of cryptogram puzzles " Secret Messages from the Saints " is avai
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Pumpkin Porter

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As many of you know, I brew the beer I drink. I wouldn't have it any other way. I was at a Knights of Columbus social meeting last week and had a commerical beer with my dinner. I don't know how anyone can drink that stuff. Anyway, I have been carefully brewing my latest creation Hahn's Hobgoblin Pumpkin Porter. When I was cooking it it smelled like pumpkin pie and made the house smell that way for two days. That has been the only batch of beer that hasn't drawn complaints from my lovely wife. I finally bottled it after a month of letting it simply sit, relax and make itself at home. Of course I had to taste it even if it is flat and it was good! It was pretty spicey. I could taste the pumpkin pie spice and the cloves.

Thursday evening I bottled it and placed it in a dark room to mature and for the flavors to mix. I'll crack them open for Thanksgiving. Pictured above is the fermenter. You can see the remaining yeast and sediment on the bottom of the fermenter. I spilled a little on the counter while bottling, yes, I cried too. Strangely enough I thought the mark left by the spilled beer under the bottles looked like cousin Bucky on his tractor. Yet the spooky thing is that when I went to grab a rag to clean up the mess I came back and found the beer had somehow moved into this pumpkin form. IT'S ALIVE!!!!! And I can't wait to drink it. I'll let you know how it turns out. I also have five gallons of Hahn's Hoppy Red Ale brewing. I'll let you know about that too...

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