Reflections
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CLXIII
Today marks 163 years since a young peasant girl, removing her stockings while preparing to wade into a stream in Lourdes, France, was visited for the first of several times by the Blessed Virgin Mary. I have long been fascinated by the story of St. Bernadette, one of the two young French maidens who have figured so large in my spiritual life, the other being Saint Joan of Arc, for whom I have a special and intense devotion. When I was a little boy, I watched the old black & white movie, The Song of Bernadette, on television with my mother. I was quite bored with the movie, except for…
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Hallways
There’s something sublime about wandering through our home in the quiet hours, alone and unnoticed, looking at all the little bric-a-brac we’ve accumulated through the decades, listening to the whisper of my own feet on polished boards or soft rugs, inhaling the air through which my wife and I move each day and night. The holy hush. I am surrounded by it. I feel forgotten, like one of Merton’s monks, and I enjoy the feeling. Through the hallways I move, watching, listening, aware, ready. But time and the outside world always intrude. ~ S.K. Orr
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On the Feast of St. Scholastica, Virgin of the Church
Out in the back yard with the dogs this morning, I saw that most of the snow has melted, leaving just a scattering of white patches around the land. I knelt and poked one of the patches with my finger. It seemed to be made of tiny glass beads, and it yielded and melted beneath my touch. The day is supposed to be mild and cloudy, and the earth around our farm will probably be completely bare of snow by the time I return home tonight. But more is forecast for a few days from now. We have certainly gotten our share of winter in the mountains this year. Arriving…
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Returning Home
Sunday evening, a flicker landed in the snow outside the door. He drilled down like a sewing machine in search of his meal, solitary in the white yard, looking around as he did his work He must have seen me taking photos through the window, because the flicker flew over to the weeping willow tree and perched on the trunk for several minutes, looking fat and sleek, before he departed for the deeper woods. When I returned home last night, I was so glad to see Jinx and he was so glad to see me, we danced around each other. He barked and whined and did his best to tell…
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Sexagesima Snow
If you look closely (or if you can enlarge it) at the photo above, you’ll see a black spot near the bottom, just to the right of the center of the frame. That’s a black bear. I saw him while Jinx and I were out on our walk this morning. The bear was several hundred yards away, loping away from us towards the south, but I knew that if Jinx spotted him, it would be Katy-bar-the-door and every-botty would be kung-fu fighting. I yelled and made silly noises to distract the spotted menace while trying to snap a few pics of the bear. This was the clearest of the ones…
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Septuagesima Sunday
There was snow on the ground this morning, but it was all gone by noon, a quiet rain melting it all down into the winter grass, clearing the way for more on the way overnight. Jinx and I did a fair amount of rambling, and I spent quite a bit of time examining the buds on the bushes and shrubs in the woods. The green is slumbering, but it will awake. Will Arthur ever awake? Or will his England stagger on without him, growing colder and more pecked-apart by the hour? I envy those who have legends. Here, in my haunted South, we have no more legends. We have kudzu-choked…
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Romancing The Coon
The day was raw, but it didn’t prevent me from doing some chores on which I’ve been procrastinating. The dog and I took a walk up in the cemetery this morning, a penetrating wind pushing us around the entire time. Mrs. Orr and I went down into town and ran a few errands, then returned home and took a brief nap (thank you, Jinx, for all your efforts to prevent us from sleeping too long!). While my wife worked on supper and baked what turned out to be an exquisite apple pie from scratch, I got the chainsaw and gave the crape myrtle tree out front a severe trimming, then…
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Full Wolf Moon
Jinx spent a lot of time up on the ridge last night, blending his voice with the keening yips of the coyotes on the next ridge. They were singing their ancient song to the moon, telling tales of her power and allure and treachery. When I was going about my morning ablutions today, I noticed in the mirror that I had a series of scratches along my back near where my arm attaches to my shoulder, red lines along my latissimus dorsi. Then I saw a series very thin and deep scratches on my chest and abdomen, the sort a sharp cat’s claw might make. I touched all of the…
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No Such Things
All across this country, animal shelters are full to bursting. In the region in which I live, I’ve noticed that the majority of dogs in shelters are some variety of the notorious pit bull. The dogs themselves do make warning lights go off in my head when I see them. I have been around a few pit bulls that seemed friendly enough, but their very appearance puts me in mind of monsters like the uruk-hai: creatures bred specifically for a malign purpose. Yes, yes, I know, I know. There are no such things as bad dogs…only bad owners. Every time I have expressed my unease with this breed of dog,…
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Cause And Effect And So Forth
While getting ready for work this morning, I thought of the bicyclist I used to see every morning on the side of the road near my office. It’s been months since I last saw him, and I spent some time speculating about where he is and what happened to him. Did he find another job? Move? Get injured? I put the bicyclist out of my mind and went about my morning routine. I left for work and spent the drive in the half-daydreaming, half-praying state so common to me. About a mile from my office, there he was, on the side of the road, pedaling steadily up the incline. I…