The Wind Rider

Yesterday, Jerry and I ran about the mountains, eating, taking care of errands, and admiring this magnificent part of God’s earth in which we are allowed to live.

Summer has sneaked away, a gradual escape, so that when I first took out a jacket from the coat closet, I wasn’t definite about needing it, but for sure now, those languid days of summer with meals on the deck and tall frosty glasses of lemonade have seamlessly dissolved into the exciting and colorful days of autumn.

“Shirley, I saw the most magnificent tree,” Jerry said as he picked me up at a store where he had left me while he ran an errand, and it was not far back to Lake Arrowhead so we turned

Image the car around and he pointed out the towering tree. “It’s almost pink,” he said. And so it was, and from across the highway, I stood beside the car and snapped this shot.

Golden trees lined up as crowned royals.

Image

. . . and some weren’t through changing out their attire, their green frocks still hanging about.

ImageYesterday was warm, I wore only a light jacket, Jerry wore none.

Beside a shallow creek bed stood a nearly bare tree, its small branches mere sticks, black and slender. It’s outfit had once been red, a deep crimson. I could tell for a few leaves fluttered in the wind, their bloody hue a mark against the black of the limbs. Their glory had danced away. Early had they known of the impending change. Image

A significant change in weather had been forecast, and we were to expect rain on Wednesday here in Crestline with snow at elevations just higher than ours. In the early evening of Tuesday, well before dark, fog began to pour over the mountains. I watched through our dining room windows, and as I’ve thought often when thick fog rolls in, it’s as though a giant hand has poured out a bucket of white foam, and it drifts down through the alpine forest, makes silhouettes of the rising trees, and settles silently onto the surface of Lake Gregory. Finally it presses our way until it is against our windows and no longer can we see Ken and Nancy’s house across our lane.

During the night the wind rose, so that when we awoke this morning, it seemed as though winter has arrived. The rain had not yet come, but the heavy fog left puddles on the decks and mist on the windows.

Image

Somehow all this beauty I’m enmeshed in, and the drastic change in weather reminded me of Scriptures that speak of God and weather elements. I’d like to share a few.

When he uttereth his voice, there is a multitude of waters in the heavens, and he causeth the vapours to ascend from the ends of the earth; he maketh lightnings with rain, and bringeth forth the wind from his treasure. Jeremiah 10:13

He saith to the snow, Be thou on the earth, likewise to the small rain, and to the great rain of his strength. Job 37:6

By the breath of God frost is given. . . by watering he wearieth the thick cloud. Job 37:10-11

Love this final one. Can’t you just see it?

Who maketh the clouds his chariot; who walked upon the wings of the wind. Psalm 104:3

The thermometer outside our kitchen window reads 39 degrees here in the middle of the afternoon. It is raining, and the weather gurus have changed the forecast: snow down to 4500 this evening. We’re at 5000! Wood has burned all day in the fireplace, we had bacon and eggs for breakfast, and marinara sauce is simmering in its pot.

Loving God, His fascinating Word . . . and life in Crestline, CA.

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About Shirley Buxton

Still full of life and ready to be on the move, Shirley at 78 years old feels blessed to have lots of energy and to be full of optimism. She has been married to Jerry for 60 years. They have 4 children, 12 grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren...all beautiful and highly intelligent--of course. :)
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4 Responses to The Wind Rider

  1. I want to live up there Shirley. Any nice houses for sale? Esther

  2. Beautiful photos, lovely words

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