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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Our Supply of Flint

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I believe our property must have been located on an Indian (Native American) route to Flint Ridge. For years the boys have been finding all shapes, sizes and colors of flint rock. My father recently plowed a couple acres directly behind our house and the boys have been finding bucket loads of flint which, for some reason, finds it's way into our house. Not only into our house but upstairs, in the playroom, in the living room, in the dryer, in the bathroom sink...yeah, basically everywhere you look you can find some flint.

Did you know that flint, a type of quartz, is the 4th hardest rock after the diamond? hence the large scratch across the top of this table....


This is the most recent collection by our oldest son.

They have found quite a few treasures as well, like these arrowheads.

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