Central PA Summer: Golden and Corn Green

I live in rural central Pennsylvania, and I love to watch the seasons as they go by. The corn is very tall now, and for some time, I have been admiring the field of it that grows near the building where I work at Penn State. It looks like a really cool corridor, doesn't it? A magic space that you could enter and be transported to another world. . . .

I have two other bits of news that aren't quite so positive. But I have a feeling that I'm going to have to get used to that. And I must learn to celebrate what I've had and enjoyed, rather than whining and crying over what I might no longer have.

Last summer, my husband and I delighted in the antics of the caterpillars that lived on the milkweed plants along the front of our hedge. This year, we were excited to see that we had nearly 20 plants, up from just a handful last year.

I had a name picked out for this year's very first caterpillar: Franklin. I spotted him more than a week ago, and we instantly became fast friends. Well, there is a sad story that goes with this. On this morning, two things happened: one is that I took a very nice shot of dear Franklin enjoying the morning sun. You may see that in the extras. Isn't he adorable?

The other is that at the same time, I spotted, and removed, several blackened caterpillar carcasses from the milkweed plants. I have no idea what caused it, maybe some kind of black death for monarch caterpillars? I feared for Franklin, though, and hoped he would make it through this scourge, whatever it may be.

However, I am sorry to admit that when I came home from work, I spotted one additional, small, black caterpillar carcass. I hope it wasn't Franklin, but of course, I fear the worst.

If we did indeed lose him, I am glad to have caught, and celebrated, one of his last shining moments. (I still hold out a bit of hope,*** no matter how tiny, that he has just gone away and hidden, and that I may see him again.)

The other story is this: the brakes went on my 1998 Mazda on this day. It wasn't very fun. In fact, it was a little bit scary. In the morning, I went for my brakes and put the pedal almost to the floor. Not a good sign.

Later in the day, the red brake warning light came on. I drove home from work very slowly, using a combination of the front brakes, or what was left of them, and the parking brake, which wasn't providing a lot of help either. (As my father astutely observed years ago, if you're not stopping, what do you need brakes for?)

So my Mazda and I made it safely home, which is well worth celebrating. But the car sits now until we can figure out what is wrong with it (leaking brake fluid? a whole rusted-out, ruined brake line?) and determine whether it makes sense to fix it. At this point, I don't know if it can be saved, or whether we even should.

So here is where I'm going to say this: I want to celebrate this beautiful golden and corn green day. I want to celebrate a wonderful car that I've enjoyed so much, that has given me all kinds of adventures and fun. And I want to celebrate dear Franklin and his beauty, and especially his golden moment in the sun.

Thank you, corn.
Thank you, car.
Thank you, caterpillar.

The soundtrack is Terry Jacks, with Seasons in the Sun.

We had joy, we had fun
We had seasons in the sun
But the hills that we climbed
Were just seasons out of time


***Update: Franklin lives!