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Across The Silent Night Sky
The weekend was a mellow, mild, and very welcome time to be at home and with my wife. We didn’t launch into any major projects, but did a lot of what I call “piddling around,” and enjoyed being outside in the warm weather. I’ve learned not to overestimate my stamina anymore, so I don’t plan day-long series of projects. I do one, take a break, assess how I feel, then move on to another one IF I still have gas in my tank. We have had problems with squirrels getting into Mrs. Orr’s flowers in pots on the porches, so I cut circles from hardware fabric, cut a circle in…
- Bluebelle, Church Life, Daily Life, Dixee, Holy Days, Jinx, Movies, Mrs. Orr, Paintings, Photographs, Prayers, Reflections
Maundy Thursday
Tomorrow is already Good Friday, and what a wonder it is to be this far along in the year already. Our weather has been quite warm, and we had to actually break down and put on the air conditioning last night after the sun baked the house all day long. I am enjoying the lack of pain in the joints, but I will confess that both Mrs. Orr and I sleep better in the colder weather. We both tossed and turned a lot last night due to the closeness of the room, even though we did have the fan on. It’s supposed to be cooler the next three days, and…
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Febyooerry Beguines
Ah, February. When we are forced as a country to come to terms with how rayciss America is. Because why else would those politicians assign Black History Month to the shortest month? We were spared the ice sheet that fell down on Texas, Arkansas, and Missouri, and we were grateful. We’ve been down that road before, and it ain’t something we want to repeat. A couple of years after we bought this farm, we were hit with an ice storm. The fences around the chicken coop were bowed over to the ground, having become glittering drapery for the poor beleaguered girls inside the henhouse. Massive limbs from the old pine…
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Month Half Done
Yesterday was as fine as a day could be, and today was its equal. Saturday a shining, sunny snapshot of purest gold, with wind and leaves, the symbols of death and change in the living air. Sunday a cloudy, rainy room of adoration and reflection. We are aware of how rare such days are, and this awareness made them all the more precious to us as we passed through our weekend, holding hands, joking, laughing, choking up in emotional pauses, quiet conversations, silent hours of reading next to each other with snoring dogs all around us, barbecuing chicken, baking pecan pies, rehashing last night’s dreams, taking our naps, cleaning out…
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Like The Corners of My Mind
I planted the phlox last night, evenly spaced along the rock wall in the front garden. I think they will do well. I also planted a pot of English lavender, bought because I liked the soft frondy leaves and the thick, forest scent, and another purplish flower whose name I cannot recall. Right now, a curtain of rain is drawn across the farm, and everything, including the potatoes, is getting a good watering. The miniature azalea is in full bloom. It has a few dead spots inside, and will require some brave and judicious pruning. I want to take photos before I get at it with the shears. And now…
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Savoring The Weariness
The weekend is ebbing and I’m sitting here, freshly showered and dressed in clean cotton and winding down, waiting to get sleepy. It’s a marvel that I’m not already sleepy, because I am bone-tired. But not because of physical exertion. A little while ago, I went out and picked some okra, re-tied some of the heavy-laden tomato plants, and watered all the flowers and vegetables. The humidity is hanging in the air like gray tulle, and I sweated heavily merely standing still with a garden hose. I needed the shower, but I didn’t tax myself. No, I am weary because this has been a weekend spent thinking, spent deep within…
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My Own Private Assisi
My rescue of critters continues. Yesterday, I noticed that one of the hummingbird feeders was empty. When I brought it into the house to wash it out and replenish it with nectar, I saw that a honeybee had somehow worked her way down into the feeder. I dumped her into the sink when I emptied the glass feeder. She was saturated with sugar-water and barely moving, but she did not try to fight me, as the Irishman is reputed to have done when he fell into a vat of whiskey and his mates attempted to rescue him. I took her out to the deck and put her on the rail…