Prayers
-
I, Too
I didn’t intend on staying away from this blog for so long. And I can’t really give words to why I have been silent. Oh, there are things I could say, reasons I could offer. But even while turning these things over in my hands, letting the honest sun glance across them, I see that they are inadequate. Deeply personal things are never expressed adequately, not ever, not to anyone. Laura Wood is a powerful, perceptive writer. I read her blog because she writes of beauty, of sanctity, of things lost, of hearts betrayed. I read her most of all because she understands suffering. Laura Wood carries suffering with her…
- Books, Daily Life, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Jinx, Music, Photographs, Prayers, Quotations, Reflections
Days and Days
The year has rolled back to the time when spider webs are more prominent in the mornings, especially with the dew hanging on the sturdy strands. This morning I saw one suspended beneath the maple in the back yard, the sun just starting to glance off the night’s architectural marvel. So much work. To be undone in so short a time. Such is the way of this world full of beautiful tragedy and melancholy art and small, fragile creatures with their arduous work and deceptive power. Speaking of the small creatures of the earth, Mrs. Orr told me something delightful last night. “Do you know what a group of ladybugs…
-
Fright And Grief
When I arrived home tonight, Mrs. Orr was cooking up a feast of salmon patties, new potatoes, green beans and a cucumber & tomato salad. We ate, and then Jinx and I went out for our evening stroll. A couple of years ago, one of my readers helped me identify a type of milkweed I’d never seen before. That same strain of milkweed is everywhere this year. As Jinx and I walked, I counted more than eighty of the plants along a twenty yard stretch of our road. The butterflies will be well pleased. Back at the house, I decided to set all of my wife’s pot flowers (as in…
-
For A Taste
Jinx and I were on the road this morning as the world came alive to the day. I awoke with a gimpy knee for some unknown reason, so I walked slowly behind the dog as he scoured the fields for his meat & drink: delight in all things. I prayed a bit while scanning the horizon. Do you hear me, Sky-decker? Bird-painter? Are you aware of my thoughts, of my misgivings? And I watched Jinx as he loped down the hill and crossed the road in front of me, tail hooked over his back, grinning like a car salesman. He was not fretting about some slight he’d suffered at the…
-
Fodder Wing
I’m vocal and unapologetic about my love for and fascination with animals. This personal quirk invites people to poke fun at me, which I try to accept with good humor. I’m not the sort of person who would hoard cats in a tiny apartment or feed a chihuahua from my fork or invite a grizzly bear to eat me on camera, but I do find myself drawn to any animals near me. My wife describes me as having a “mystical connection” with wild things, and they do seem to feel comfortable approaching me. Here on this blog, a reader once described me as an “Ellie Mae,” a reference to the…
-
A World Diminished
It sits just off the highway a few miles from the turnoff to our farm, a squat, unremarkable building in the middle of a blacktopped lot, two gas pumps out front. Two donkeys live in a corral adjacent to the building, and customers sometimes saunter over and offer treats to the pair. It’s the Market, and for almost four decades, Danny owned and ran the place. Danny’s market was one of the first places we patronized when we bought our place years ago. From the get-go, he was a genial shopkeeper, helpful and gregarious. In addition to groceries, cigarettes, beer and whatnot, the market stocks a large variety of useful…
- Church Life, Holy Days, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Lectio Divina, Prayers, Quotations, Reflections, Saints
The Feast of Saint Joan of Arc
Five hundred and ninety years ago today, a devout 19 year-old virgin from an obscure French village was fastened to a pillar in the village square of Rouen and burned to death by Church authorities, their actions born of political intrigue, spiritual blindness, worldly greed…and great evil. Young Joan hears her voices For deeply personal reasons, I have a special devotion to the Maid, and have maintained an intimate relationship with her through prayer and meditation for some years now. There is no one like her. And her presence in the living world of today is real and undeniable. I am celebrating the Maid’s feast day on this last Sunday…
-
That’s The Deal
When I arrived home this evening, something was different. Jinx wasn’t there to greet me. He is always either lying in front of the door, or sprawled in the grass, or he comes running from the back porch, and he greets me with all the I’m-so-glad-to-see-you-again joy that characterizes our daily reunions. But this evening, he was absent. He’s a rake and a rambler, and I know he sometimes strikes out for the Territories, or at least for the Baskervilles up behind the house, but by the time I had changed clothes, fed Dixee, and prepared his supper, Jinx still hadn’t appeared. And I began to be uneasy. I walked…
-
Aged Curl
When Jinx and I finally left the house this morning, the rain was draped across the mountains in an undulating line, gray and sweet, the droplets magnifying the scent of honeysuckle and jasmine and violet. I wore hat and boots and coat. Jinx wore his blue collar. We made it to the end of the driveway, and then Jinx saw him. Methuselah has roamed this farm since before we arrived. The first year we were here, I saw him hanging upside-down from one of the bird feeders, trying to gnaw his way through the metal into the sunflower seeds. I lifted my BB gun and popped off a shot in…
-
Third Sunday in Easter
On certain days, when the sun lifts into the sky, the first rays travel across to the copse of trees across the road from our house, where they light on the center of the trees and ignite them in morning splendor. Yesterday, I happened to look outside just as this happened and was able to get a picture of it. The picture of course does not capture the deep beauty of the true moment, but it does communicate a certain surface element of the beauty. Sometimes when I scuff along the graveled lanes that twist around our farm, I feel blind to what is around me, so intent am I…