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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Into the Secondary

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This batch was quite different than any other and I think it was mainly because of the yeast. I went to check on the airlock on Christmas morning and the plastic fermenter was about to explode. The lid was bulging out and the airlock was blocked with junk from the fermentation. I removed the airlock and replaced it with another s-type and it worked well. The fermentation however, was extremely vigorous and ran over the airlock and made a mess on the bucket. But all ended well and with only a minimal mess.
PICTURES
1- opening the bucket after fermentation had finished
2 - My wife acting like she is help me siphon the beer into the secondary ferementer.
3 - the bottom of the bucket after siphoning - yeast sediment
4 - beautiful beer in the secondary fermenter



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