The rolling prairies’ billowy swell,
Breezy upland and timbered dell,
Stately mansion and hut forlorn,
All are hidden by walls of corn.
~From WALLS OF CORN by Ellen P. Atherton

Late July and August paint heaven’s dome with soft shades of blue while the land below is brandished into bands of brown–wide bands of brown that stretch far and away across the Texas prairies.  Some of these bands are made up of row after row of corn plants that were once tall and slender and green.  Now that their ears of golden corn have been removed all that remains are acres and acres and miles and miles of brittle, brown stalks.  Since the pretty, shiny silks and the hum of the bees that feasted on the pollen-laden tassels are gone, farmers are in the process of cutting down the dead stalks, exposing the furrowed rows beneath that stripe the earth with a beauty of their own.  Although the land is currently bare, it yet speaks of holy promise and the field mice are dining like kings on the remaining nubbins still rooted in the fertile soil.

God’s continuing provisions and the uninterrupted reoccurrence of Eden’s cycles in the Genesis saga immeasurably comfort those who love and/or work close to the land.  They know that only a Divine Hand could have set such things in motion because they’ve seen time and time again that Creation is far too cleverly and intricately designed to be the result of a random, cosmic “big bang.”  Those kinds of indiscriminate explosions and sparks are finite, and there is simply nothing in them that guarantees prosperous continuance or that proves the faithful genius of a clear and lasting purpose in what they initiate.  The resulting random events come and go with no rhyme or reason.  Whereas in God’s Creation, verse and design can be found in everything; what He ordained in the beginning ceaselessly comes to pass.

There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven. . .  ~Ecclesiastes 3:1   ✝