It was long weeks of hot and dry until today. I set myself to finish some tidying here and there and was surprised to find a turtle. Neither of us could remember the last time we spied one here.
Today was a dark day of waiting till the afternoon hours seemed to finally press open the clouds and the bursting drenched the area with close to 3 inches of rain. And as the hours grew dark everyone needed to be vigilant for high water and flash flooding.
Tag Archives: Comfort
August Rain
I remember learning how important August rain is for the formation of fruit bud wood for the following year. So, if August is dry, I begin to pray for rain for our region. Yesterday, I was delighted to wake to rain. We had intermittent showers throughout the entire day which at times were so intense as to prompt flash flood warnings. Last evening there were traffic reports of unusual and serious road flooding in the next county requiring rescue operations. Blessing and danger. And a caramel colored sky at sunset.
My growing up home sat at the top of our hilly street. I loved to sit on the porch during summer storms and watch the lightening etch the western sky. Swathed in a beach towel against any blowing rain and cushioned on our old chaise lounge, I had a wonderful seat for nighttime sky drama.
More August photo exploration, mostly in my own backyard.
Mid-August Adventures Outside
Our phone/internet was down for four days. A gift of quieting the house. I did, however, have adventuring to do. One event even got a sidetrack to the neighborhood where I grew up.
Everything changes, of course. I’m always interested in the revitalization of the old communities of the city. My parents moved the family to the home I remember about 1950. That street is about at the horizon point in this photo – 2 long blocks. Times beyond counting, I walked down this street, to school, to church, to shop, to catch the streetcar and then the bus. (New water lines and paving in process)
The tall hedge ends the block in a funny point and a Catalpa tree grows there – it always has. No doubt age and weather have taken their toll but the tree, while severely pruned, still flourishes. Those are countless seed pods hanging down among the heart shaped leaves.
We would cross the street and continue the walk down 4 more long blocks before crossing the main street and then uphill one short block to my favorite place. 
No, it doesn’t look like much today in its reconstruction, but then, it was a place of wonders. The Public Library. I read that this branch opened in 1920, a gift from Andrew Carnegie, and by 1950 was already too small for the community it served. But, for me, it opened doors to worlds. It was the place where I met so many new friends! The Five Chinese Brothers, Beany Malone, Cherry Ames and so many other characters and their communities of friends.
Oh what a joy when the new library was located just across the street from the Catalpa tree! Only two blocks away and an easy stop on the way home from most anywhere! Don’t let the ugly façade fool you, even more wonders were waiting inside!
In those long ago days, libraries were closed on Sundays and when nothing else was planned, and all the books were read, we could sometimes persuade Dad to take a Sunday afternoon drive. Frequently, it would be in the country side I now call home, but sometimes, it would be through Loch Raven, which you may recognize as one of my very special places.
The Drive is closed to motorists on weekends these days and there are not many places to stop. One can no longer walk out on the overlook at the edge of the dam and feed the carp who live in the lake, but, it still is my weekday peaceful adventuring place. I am grateful for the blessing of long connection.
I’m ever mindful of the privilege of living in the country and being able to reflect back on nature’s changes on this piece of land we call home as well as being able to roam the back roads of this beautiful state.
These reflect the last few days of adventuring near and farther:
Ordinary?
It was an ordinary trip to the store when a casual glance at a porch stirred the faintest of memories – play time on a porch under the peasant false sky of blue ceiling.
And so I’ve been thinking of blue, and sky.
Blue can be calm and comforting wrapped in old denim and chambray or soft baby blue blankets. But then, blue is authority in uniforms and robes of royalty. There’s blue in Antarctic ice and blue in flame; feeling blue sadness and the cheery blue sky of sunny days.
Blue touches earth in blossoms and takes flight in butterflies and birds that make my heart soar heavenward.
The vast sky is an ever changing palette of shade and hue. How many ways we try to describe it! Powder blue, azure, heavenly blue, sky blue, navy, celestial blue, indigo, cobalt, azure, periwinkle, sapphire… The shades are clear or hazy, murky, stormy, threatening, comforting, cold…
Blue wraps my world in beauty.
He is Risen!
Glorious now behold Him arise; King and God and sacrifice:
Alleluia, Alleluia sounds through the earth and skies!
John H Hopkins, Jr. – We Three Kings
He is risen indeed!
Blessings to you and all those you hold dear this Easter!
February Snow globe
Swirling snow, glittering ice changing scenes inside my world like a snow globe upending daily.
Outside our home, brutal cold; while inside, a kind of hibernation seemed to take hold as both I and my computer had viruses. I am delighted to report we have both recovered ourselves.
This has been a winter not soon forgotten. We’re so very grateful for home and warmth and traveling safety these long days.
January: joy in quiet days
Deep nights of December
Days are short, nights are long and cold and quiet. I try to still my soul to wait and listen.
Hearing Glad Tidings of Great Joy.
A Simple Gift
The words of the old Shaker song go round in my head. Finding myself in “the place just right” seems hard some days – like the other day when I realized that the inkjet cartridge had leaked black all over lovely wood and then I picked up the wrong can of paint and though I thought it looked a bit dark – it was wet… I went on painting. And then I had to paint again. <sigh> I know, in the grand scheme of life, not so big a deal but it is the little things some days that seem to overflow the cup. What do you do with those days? When the wind blows hard and there are even waves in the birdbath.
In 1985, it was really big deal to have our beloved Nana diagnosed with dementia. We tried keeping her at home with helpers, but the disease took her away in giant steps. Too soon, for her safety and well being, it became a necessity to place her in a care facility. It was a time of busy grief.
Christmas was coming. I had so much on my mind that day I drove the beltway – from where and to where – I no longer remember. But on that drive, the thought came to me that we could give her an album quilt for Christmas. Only one problem. I had no idea what an album quilt really was but I thought of blocks, large ones, that would tell a story, the story of her life.
I went to a small quilt shop with my idea and the staff was so helpful with the project from beginning to end; even supplying fabric from personal stashes when I cut the border fabric wrong and there was not enough to finish.
I sent fabric and the plan out to family and everyone worked on squares that said something about her life. Everyone worked quickly, taking comfort in being able to do something, anything, to bring some comfort to her, and ourselves. Soon, all the blocks were back and it was time to make the quilt.
I had never made a quilt before…
Sewing the blocks and borders together was the easy part. Then came backing and batting and I recall taping it to my kitchen floor as the only place to stretch it out and layer it. Finally it was pined together and ready to quilt.
I had never made a quilt before…
I called my friend Lucy. She was a Southern girl with a country background. Did she know how to quilt? “Quilting should enhance your design, don’t do too much.” What did that mean?! I stitched some, and then some more. Then came the binding – and somehow – it was done – by Christmas.
The quilt became a great gift to us as we felt we could wrap her in our love. Nana used the quilt for 4 1/2 years. At first the staff thought it a nuisance, then it changed their view of this wonderful woman. It gave her an identity, a life; it became a conversation point. It reminded them that she was loved and cared about.
There is nothing fancy about the quilt but it is now a family treasure, faded, worn and soft.
And today? That gift to Nana, opened a space for me. For when the wind blows hard, the ink spills, the paint goes on wrong… there is a calm that comes with fingering fabrics, hearing the whirl of the machine.
We woke to snow today, rather like a celebration to remember Nana on her birthday, with love.
Loretta 1906 – 1990
Bedtime Writing
November 2, 2014
Reading Slowing Time Seeing the Sacred Outside Your Kitchen Door, sinking into the poetry of her thoughts and prayers. Tonight as I huddle under the comforter, it is quiet. The roaring, rushing winds of yesterday that lingered through the early hours of the day are whispering now.
As I linger in Barbara Mahany’s images, a little urge for something warm slips in. As I make my way to the kitchen, light is filtering through the glass block window. Light that only comes from the filling in of the moon. Finding a small quilt to wrap around me, I step blindly out into crunchy leaves so that my view of moon and stars will be clear.
Stunning seconds of beauty in the freezing cold. Right outside my kitchen door.