22 July 2014
21 July 2014
All living things would fade and die from too much light or too much dark, if twilight were not.”
-Howard Thurman, educator
-Howard Thurman, educator
20 July 2014
19 July 2014
“Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but here the earth was the floor of the sky.” - Willa Cather
The other night, I started a new book - well, new in my library check-out stack - at about 9:30, thinking to enjoy only thirty to forty minutes of front porch reading while the day cooled slightly towards dark.
I specifically did not choose the unread book by Elizabeth Camden, as her historical storytelling recently time warped me far beyond a sensible workweek bedtime. Instead, I delved into Pamela Carter Joern’s Nebraska summer saga of three generations in a wide-skied small town, The Floor of the Sky.
Before any jaw-stretching yawning ensued, I decided to turn in at a natural pause in the story. Tiptoeing into the house, and around the shadowed sofa and chairs without incident, I stifled an audible “Omigosh!" at the LED declaration on the microwave: 12:02! Sigh.
Well, there are far worse reasons for losing sleep than a captivating story.
May your summer make room for delightful reading - followed by sleeping in on Saturday morning.
18 July 2014
17 July 2014
Earlier this week we enjoyed the layered delight of a perfect summer evening: friends you count as family, a cooling breeze to temper the heat, laughing dogs and children, tri-tip barbecue-roasted by a master, and un-birthday cake. It doesn’t get any better, and for all these blessings, I am truly thankful.
After the cake-and-ice-cream course, we walked up the little hill meadow.
Waving atop thigh-high grass stems, these petite blooms glowed in the evening sunlight, each cluster no bigger than the end of my thumb.
Ahh, the grace notes of life, waiting to impart subtle sweetness, if we but notice.
16 July 2014
Best I could find in the Montana Field Guides, this is Canada Wild Rye, albeit growing in Central Montana, close to Fort Shaw.
The opposing curved forms remind me of how horses will stand close, each head to the others’ tail end; if they’re the same colour, the right angle gives view to a single Pushmi-Pullyu.
(Thank you, Hugh Lofting, for encouraging childhood flights of fancy and unbridled imagination.)
15 July 2014
“…They blend along small-town streets
Like a race of giants that have faded into mere mythology.
Our eyes, washed clean of belief,
Lift incredulous to their fearsome crowns of bolts, trusses,
struts, nuts, insulators, and such
Barnacles as compose
These weathered encrustations of electrical debris…”
From "Telephone Poles"
by John Updike
(Click on the author's name, above, to read an insightful article on Updike's mother, also a writer.)