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October, Enter Stage Right
The hummingbirds are gone for the year, I think. We saw a couple yesterday, and heard them as they were droning around in the trees, but that was earlier in the day. By early evening, they were not to be seen. This morning, no hum nor squeak greeted me when I opened the back door. We watched all morning for them but no hummingbirds. I took down all the feeders and replaced the nectar except in one, which was mostly being used by wasps, anyway. All the day long while we were outside, we strained our ears and eyes, but never heard nor saw any of the beautiful little paint…
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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…
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Soft Days
We finally saw our first hummingbird last evening and were so happy to see him. We were relaxing on the back porch and the whirr of his wings made us both look up in delight. He didn’t stay long, but here was there, so we were content. Bluebelle did her part….I had her on hummingbird sentry duty all day and had ordered her to sing a song to coax them in. Mrs. Orr got our taxes done, and I am reminded again of how gifted she is in so many ways, and how she takes so many burdens from my shoulders. A latent benefit of her doing the taxes instead…
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The Thoughts, They Are Provoked
While reading Thomas Merton this morning, a passage took hold of me: Every one of us is shadowed by an illusory person: a false self. This is the man that I want myself to be but who cannot exist, because God does not know anything about him. … My false and private self is the one who wants to exist outside the reach of God’s will and God’s love — outside of reality and outside of life. And such a life cannot help but be an illusion. … The secret of my identity is hidden in the love and mercy of God. … Therefore I cannot hope to find myself…
- Bluebelle, Books, Church Life, Daily Life, Dixee, Holy Days, I Never Thought I'd Be In This Situation, Jinx, Movies, Mrs. Orr, Photographs, Reflections
Approaching The Realm of the Ides
Today, the sun is pouring out of the sky onto the greening grass and the resurrecting branches of the trees. The weeping willow out front looks as lush as it usually does in high summer, and the peach trees are decked with lovely pink blossoms. This being early March, I know that a killing frost or two will arrive and dull down the lively colors, but for now, it is an enjoyable sight. The breeze is somewhat stiff, which keeps a chill in the air if I’m not in direct sunlight, but this is nothing compared to what we had a few days ago. On Thursday, a strong windstorm system…
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The Cold Rolling Towards Me
I began this post in longhand, sitting at my desk this morning, allegedly working, watching tufts of cool mist hanging in the air outside the glass door. This is the time of year when the nearest neighbor is separating his cows from the calves, in preparation for market. The worried mamas have been bawling all day, as they have been for the two days before. The air over the farm is anxious, fretful, which is a shame, because we’ve just gotten our first dose of fall-like weather, about 50F at night and in the mid-70s today, air as clear as an infant’s eyes, same deep blue, same lack of omens…
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The Slow Yearly
The almanac tells me that today was National Dog Day. Our trio did seem to have an extra degree of strut in their collective gait, come to think of it. Bluebelle smiled at us this evening, her front teeth in a perfect circle. We had just called her off of Jinx, whose throat she was biting with unsettling gusto. And Jinx was pleased though nonplussed when I sang to him at the end of day. I sing a tune to him called The Jinx Song, lyrics improvised each time, to the tune of the old Oscar Mayer baloney jingle. The spotted feller’s pleasure probably sprang from the fact that this…
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The Eleventh Sunday After Pentecost
Yesterday was our day to run errands, including mailing a birthday gift to my sister and shopping for a birthday gift for one of the grandchildren. Since the post office was closed on Saturday and since I had procrastinated in wrapping the gifts and packaging them, we had to resort to one of those UPS stores to get the thing shipped. I spent the morning wrapping each individual gift — small items that represent a variety of my sister’s interests — and then packing everything into a well-used cardboard box. I wrapped the box in plain brown paper and taped it thoroughly and added a hand-lettered shipping label. When we…
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Bears All Her Sons Away
I stepped outside with the dogs into a morning blanket of warm mist and fog, a sultry Woden’s Day in the mountains, and I breathed deep. The fog muffled the cow-calls and the birdsong, and the dogs disappeared into the gray air as they went to do their business. One of the female hummingbirds zoomed out of the gloom, right up to my face, cocking her head with a curious gesture that drew a laugh from me. She retreated to the feeder and breakfasted while I stood and absorbed the last quiet I would probably know on this particular day. I felt a tinge of sadness, and wondered why. And…
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Free Stu Scheller!
When Jinx and I stepped outside Sunday morning into the mist, I saw a funnel spider’s web in the grass. It was one of the larger ones I’ve seen in a while, big as a plate and perfectly situated. I knelt down as best I could in the grass and examined the structure. How many hours did it take to build? How successful was it in trapping food for its builder? All those little struts and girders and beams and buttresses and studs and strips and joists…all from the body of the one who erected it and then retreated back into the funnel to await that trembling signal of live…