When I was growing up, serious things weren’t serious, they were ser’ous, as if the emergency of the situation made that “i” too much of a nuisance to pronounce.
Well, the dry spell we’ve been having in our part of Texas is “ser’ous.” The picture here is of one of our ponds on the farm, and where I was standing to take it would’ve been knee-deep with muddy water this past spring. In case you can’t tell from the shot, it’s a hike from where I’m standing in the picture to the pond water. See that white pole on the right? It’s usually barely visible above the surface of the water.
I’ve never seen the pond as low as this, or the one at our house as low as it is. The other day, a Great Blue Heron walked across the eastern part without getting even a toenail damp.
The trees are so dry and tired, they don’t have the energy to change color this year. Usually the golds and reds are breath-taking by now, but everything is either still dusty, drab green or the sad rust color of death. As much as I love fall, this is heart-breaking.
Times like this are almost scary. A soul wonders if the landscape will recover, or if the ponds will just dry to dust and the trees will shed for their last time. This isn’t like the usual fall where everything glows in glorious color as a final farewell until next year. No, this makes you wonder if they’ll even be back next year.
When I look outside at the crackling grass and wilted plants, I have to remember,
While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease. (Gen. 8:22)
The freshness of new green is just a few months away.
Several years into it, and this blog still refuses to be categorized. It's eclectic and includes everything from writing posts to snippets from my ordinary life. 
Linda W. Yezak 
Nebraska’s always ser’ously dry. I heard somewhere that we were supposed to have a rainy fall, but it hasn’t materialized yet. Actually, up until this last week, it’s felt more like summer than fall.
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I bet you’ve been happy for the summer weather. I ought to bottle up some Texas heat and send it to you to save for this winter. š
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It’s too bad the dry has robbed the fall beauty. We don’t get much fall beauty in west Texas, dry brown is fairly standard. I grew up in Wisconsin and fall is a riot of colors there so I know what you’re missing.
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I bet it was beautiful in Wisconsin. Did you have culture/climate shock when you moved to Texas?
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“The freshness of new green is just a few months away.” When I read this the first thing that popped into my head was “The freshness of a new soul is just moments away.” Guess if I was Lynn I’d write a devotional on that….:>)
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Great thought, Terry. If I was Lynn, I’d write a devotional on it too. She’s far better at it than I am.
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Wow. I thought you might be heading for a discussion on serum–the water part of the blood. Maybe in a sense it was.
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Oh, my! You credit me with way too much knowledge!!!
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