Suddenly it is summer in New England, and I have 'gone to the woods' to listen to the singing there: the birds, the wind, the pond, the frogs and bees. The amazing effect of these beautiful sounds is sweet stillness.

common cinquefoil

Bullfrog, photo by my son Seth

Then the LORD said: Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD; the LORD will pass by. There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD—but the LORD was not in the wind; after the wind, an earthquake—but the LORD was not in the earthquake; after the earthquake, fire--but the LORD was not in the fire; after the fire, a light silent sound. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle ~1 Kings 19:11-13a

In the woods there is golden sunlight and dark shadow. There are mothers and fathers leading and protecting. There are children following and learning.

"To romanticize the world is to make us aware of the magic, mystery and wonder of the world; it is to educate the senses to see the ordinary as extraordinary, the familiar as strange, the mundane as sacred, the finite as infinite ". ~Novalis

Luke holding a spider, photo by Seth

 

Mallard couple - photo by Seth

If I were a woodland creature, I could imagine myself as a chipmunk. I rather resemble one, I think, with my round face and nut brown coloring, Like them, I can be shy and friendly at turns. Plus, I am attracted to their cozy, underground homes. What woodland creature would you be? Emmeline said that she would be a unicorn. 

Once, while walking in the woods, I glimpsed a magical, white creature prancing merrily through the trees. The creature's delicate grace arrested me, and I gazed at it in wonder, fully expecting to see a single horn upon its head when it turned to face me. What on earth was it, you ask? A lovely white poodle!

For a glorious week, the air was perfumed by the heavenly fragrance of black locust blossoms. These trees are native to the southeast but have become invasive here in the north and are on Massachusetts' prohibited plants list.

 

On one evening, we discovered that a barred owl had made its nest in the hollow of a big oak tree right next to the trail. Inside the hollow were two large, fuzzy owlets.

Perched in a nearby tree across the trail, we found the mother owl watching us with her great dark eyes. Barred owls are large birds, about eighteen inches tall. According to Peterson's Guide, they are one of only two species of owls in eastern North America that do not have yellow eyes. The other species are barn owls. From The Owls Trust: "Owls with yellow eyes hunt mainly during the day, owls with dark eyes hunt during the night, owls with orange eyes hunt at dusk or dawn."

As I gazed up at Mother Owl, and she gazed back at me, the rest of the world ceased to exist; there was just She and Me and the Mystery between us.

The experience reminded me of a painting by Meinrad Craighead that my friend Kortney Garrison posted on her blog back in 2011 (how has so much time passed, Kort??)

Holy Wisdom by Meinrad Craighead:

"those owls, her familiars.  she holds the labyrinth’s string, the red cord. our connection" ~Kortney's beautiful words, to which I would add, "and the ever-changing constancy of the moon."

The next evening, my sons went back to the tree, after fishing in the pond, and saw the mother owl fly into the nest. 

Mother Owl, photo by Seth

Two days later, the owlets had fledged.  We were fortunate to see one of them perched high in a tree across the trail from the big oak. Mother Owl was in another tree on the hill about 200 feet away. We have not seen them since. But, they are so silent and so well camouflaged that I wonder how often they are there in the evening shadows, watching, without us knowing.

Moon Over Horn Pond, photo by Seth

Perhaps the facts most astounding and most real are never communicated by man to man. The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribable as the tints of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched. ~ Henry David Thoreau

It is just so, isn't it?

Love and roses,
Sue

Today I went into the woods for the first time in a month. My, how it has changed! The wild roses have already bloomed and dropped their petals. I missed that. Do you see the robin there on the ground to the left of the big tree? You can see its red breast and its yellow beak lit up by sunshine. The woods are full of small lovely things scampering through leaves and fluttering through trees busy, busy gathering and gleaning. 

Thank you for your kind comments on my last post. It took me awhile, but I have replied to each one of them. Your prayers and good thoughts have lifted my spirits. Amy is feeling so much better. She was able to start her new job this week. I am relieved and grateful and happy. I believe that: 

The eyes of the Lord are on those who love him;
He is their mighty shield and strong support,
A shelter from the heat, a shade from the noonday sun, 
A guard against stumbling, a help against falling. 
                                      Sirach 34:16

 

And I believe that prayer is love. When asked how she was able to love people whom others considered to be rejects of humanity, Blessed Teresa of Calcutta said, "My secret is very simple: I pray. Through prayer I become one in love with Christ."

In the woods life is simple, interconnected and prolific from microscopic organisms to the mightiest oak tree. Life sustains life. Life gives purpose to life.

This afternoon, my son showed me this list: 

It made me wonder about a lot of things. The media warns us constantly about the problems of gun violence and narcotic addiction. To be sure, these are important issues. But, where is the cry of alarm about alcohol abuse--which kills 9 times as many people as guns? Or the failure of sex education and contraceptives to prevent pregnancy (which we have been told is The Answer by science and big pharmaceutical companies)?  Why are so many more lives lost through abortion in the United States than by any other cause?

I looked up abortion and learned that more than half of all abortion patients in the United States are 20-30 year old women. Shockingly, 59% of abortions in 2014 were obtained by women who had at least one previous birth. I was surprised that only 12% of abortions were performed on teenagers. I was under the impression (by the media? by my own delusions?) that teen pregnancy was responsible for the high abortion rate. It was especially interesting to me that 51% of abortion patients said they used contraceptives in the month they became pregnant. Clearly, there must be another Answer beyond the ones given by science/corporate medicine. 

We tend not to use the word heresy much these days as if it were a thing of the past, but Anthony Esolen believes a new heresy--a fatal error--is corrupting the integrity of Christianity and modern society. He has written an excellent, short piece about it for Touchstone magazine that every Christian should read.  

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Prayer and a morning cuddle with the piggies. : )  They're getting bigger! Each day they eat a big bundle of timothy hay and two dishes of fruit and vegetables. We've discovered that Blossom (on the right) really likes kale, violets (flowers, leaves, and stems),  and seeds. Honey adores tomatoes, strawberries and blueberries. They also eat cucumber, green beans, romaine, and spinach. Blossom is bold and energetic, while Honey is shy and placid. They love each other dearly, and call loudly to one another when they are separated, but when they are happy they make an adorable cooing sound.

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I just finished a really good novel by a new author. Letters to the Lost, by Iona Grey.  I saw the book on the new fiction table at my local bookshop and picked it up. I'm so glad I did. It is a beautifully told, masterfully crafted story with wonderful characters that shifts seamlessly between the present day and World War II England. I highly recommend this one.

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A short while ago I learned about St. Dymphna and the very special town of Geel in Belgium. Have you heard of it? For over seven hundred years the people of Geel have taken the mentally ill into their homes, cared for them and made them a part of their families. In the late 1930s there were about 4,000 boarders living among a native population of 16,000 people.

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"Remember when manual labor used to be considered good, honest work? That was before the neo-libs sold us on the scam of higher education and then raised the tuition rates." --a quote from my twenty-three  year old son, whose friend was recently shamed by another young man for being a "college dropout and working at UPS".

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"I never discuss anything except politics and religion. There is nothing else to discuss. Nothing of importance can be separated entirely from its social effect, which is politics, or from its ultimate value, which is religion." --a quote by G. K. Chesterton.

And, in that spirit, here is an interesting post on Garvan Hill that includes an interview with Camille Paglia. She speaks fast and doesn't have the most fluent speech pattern which makes her difficult to follow, but her message is worth a ponder. Especially in light of the rising suicide rate in the United States.

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Wishing you a lovely weekend. : )

On Sunday morning, my boys went to the flea market. It was too cold for me to go, so I pottered around at home and went to Mass. The day was quite breezy, and Zach found an old piece of paper flying around the parking lot. It must have blown off one of the vendor's tables, but as there was no way of locating its rightful owner, Zach brought it home to me.

The paper is thin and deckle-edged, and it appears to be the second sheet of an old  letter written on both sides. I am captivated and intrigued by the letter and its writer--this is a real glimpse into someone's personal experience during WWII, I believe. I will transcribe it for you here as best I can:

        I do hate wasting time in bed. I've decided I won't go into politics as I once thought perhaps I would. I've thought it over and decided I'm too honest to hold down anything if I got it. However - I would like to do something besides come out next year. I'd like to work awfully hard at something. Hard enough to get tired. It might also be rather a nice idea to make some money. That reminds me - thanks for the check. I'm going to cash it in register/(?) in Austria when I go there next weekend.
        There are very few people here who are either English or American. I'm quite glad. The University doesn't open till sometime in November + then quite a few come. Think what I'll miss by going to Paris. We're staying in Paris only two weeks now - then we're going to London to visit Lady Hamilton + the Reids for a couple of weeks. By that time Evelyn will start home + I'll come back to Munich. I rather expect we'll be here until about January - when we go to Spain. A couple of other girls have thought of joining us but I doubt very much if they do. I hope not anyway. I've wanted to write a little on this trip but I just haven't had a chance to be alone for one minute. Now + then I do nip off to the Englischer Garten but I don't dare sit for a minute - these German boys - even the nicest - are so persistent. We have a Victrola in our room. Belongs to Desmond but he's very generous. I just can't wait to get back to Salzburg - and without old God. It will be perfectly wonderful. - - I haven't sent you any
    (second page):
postcards of Munich because I can't afford to buy them. It's a lousy city anyway + I can't understand what everyone liked so much about it. The only good things are the clubs + bars + they're just like others I've seen. I know the whole history of Bavaria and yesterday I went + followed up some of the points - Awfully interesting but not extraordinary. Wish I had more time. And more clothes. Tell (?) I'm simply crazy I have so few. Pretty soon I won't be able to go out. It costs a heck of a lot to get things cleaned. And nothing fits me because I'm at least 18 inches thinner. I still think I've changed; + my hair is quite different. That's another expense. It's absolutely impossible to wash your own hair so I must have it done every 8 days - Just another part of the (?) we (?).
    The war is quite uninteresting. I was sorry to have the Austrians side more or less with Italy but it's absolutely necessary to them to keep up what little trading they do together. Austria is very broke. I feel sorry for it - poor thing. I've discovered that "Mr. Jones" has done quite a lot of worthwhile things in Germany + almost everyone has something to say for him. (?) (?) is very very strict and militaristic but that's just like their rolls for breakfast - taken for granted. I don't mind just rolls for (breakfast) now - It's been a life saver. They're lousy too so I can't eat too many. This is an awful letter! Most everything is confidential - I'm really quite all right - I hoped by now you've sent me permission for Paris, etc. - And tell ma not to write Miss God - but if she must tell her to use plenty of discretion.
Write me a long letter about everything - the mill, etc.

                                                           Always love to you,
                                                                         (?)
P.S. I think it would be swell to move - either place.

(And then along the left margin she has written):  Don't say anything to Goddard about Paris or London yet. I'll tell you when - I'll elope if you do. 

 

I cannot make out the name of the writer. It begins with either F or J, but the rest of the signature is illegible to me. I've been thinking about this letter for the last few days, and my imagination has run rather wild, I'm afraid. It seems to me that it is written in code, that secret information about the war is being communicated in it. I wish so much that I had the first sheet of the letter, but I am very happy I have this much.

I would love to know your thoughts. Does this letter intrigue you as much as it does me?

Blossom says that she is intrigued by blueberries. ♥

When I was a child Easter was bound up with the bright newness of spring, of crocuses and pussy willows in the backyard, of unseen things like fairies and angels, of magnolia trees and singing birds, bright sunshine and rain, of colored eggs and stained glass and chocolate bunnies, of a new dress, beribboned bonnet and white gloves. And, my heart understood it with childlike ease:

"Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert . . . I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins." (from Isaiah 43)

A lot has changed since then. Everything has become more complicated. I've grown up. I've read theology and learned about religion. I've lost my close proximity to the ground where ants and ladybugs climb over shiny pebbles and soft blades of grass. I've grown upward, yes, but the sky is still far, far above me, and I am stuck in an inbetween place where there is 'nothing new under the sun'. The older I get the harder it is to be truly amazed.

Yesterday,  Easter Sunday, I came across a blue-speckled field. "Oh, violets," I thought and pulled the car to the side of the road so the girls and I could pick some. Only they weren't violets. They were little, blue, six petaled flowers that I had never before seen. We picked a bunch and brought them home to press between the pages of an old book. And, I had fun looking them up and identifying them as: "Glories of the Snow".

Pretty wonderful. ♥

The fresh fruit tart that my girls made for Easter dessert was also pretty wonderful.

Watching a muscular, athletic, young dog be as gentle as a lamb with his favorite boy is wonderful.

And this cactus, that bloomed continuously from Thanksgiving to Easter, is most indeedly wonderful:

 I snapped this photo of the very last blossom just this morning.

What has filled you with the joy of wonder lately?  

Oh, March, you are a fickle month. Two weeks ago the temperature reached 78°F/25°C and crocuses and daffodils began to bloom in the sunshine. Today it is snowing.

On Saturday, the kids and I drove up the coast to Gloucester. We packed sandwiches and drinks and had a picnic in the car overlooking the harbor. Then, Seth went shopping at Mystery Train Records and the rest of us set out to explore some of our favorite haunts.

The girls and I were on the hunt for interesting postcards. Since it was St. Joseph's Day, we stopped in at Virgilio's Italian bakery and deli for some delicious zeppole and cannoli and cream-filled "lobster tails". Luke met up with some bears for tea and conversation outside of Toodeloos! toy shop.  You never know what wild creatures you might run into . . .

. . . a fierce lion guarding a red door,

. . . or a beautiful sea siren playing outside of the Cape Ann Museum. I would have liked to go inside the museum to see the quilt exhibit, but there wasn't time.

This old house captured my imagination and made me wonder about the people who have lived there over the last three hundred years and the people who live there still.  Do you remember Anna from my unfinished story, "The Schoolhouse in the Woods"? She was from Newburyport, another Cape Ann harbor town. I imagine that the house her aunt and mother lived in might have looked like this.

We admired the Victorian architecture of Gloucester's Town Hall, built in 1870.

But, my favorite stop was to Coveted Yarn, a huge, friendly shop with an amazing selection of fiber and tools for knitters and crocheters. I purchased some lovely, soft, milk-colored wool for an extra special secret knitting project. Back at home, I put on the tea kettle, settled in with my needles, and cast-on.

In the kitchen, Indiana Jones kept Amy company while she read a new book. 

This morning, the bright skies of spring we enjoyed so much over the weekend were gone. Cold, gray winter has returned, at least for a day. Lots of birds came to visit:  slate colored juncos, house sparrows and finches, black-capped chickadees, and cardinals.

Want to see the snowfall and here the sounds of my house (and my scratchy morning voice)? Here's a tiny video: