Then Sings My Soul

This is exactly how I feel when I am outside in my yard and/or garden. Then sings my soul to Thee, O God, in praise for the works of Thine hands.

I have been outside off and on for the past three weeks, and it has felt so good. This bed has now popped up, and will be a mix of daffodils first, tulips second, and muscari (wild grape hyacinth) last. I can't wait! 

One thing we can do over here is grow large crocus, and they are in full bloom now and thank goodness for the colors, as the rest of Central Oregon is pretty well brown. But just working in the dirt, and cleaning away debris is fulfilling.

I have chosen a word this year to work on in my life. The word is 'authentic'. I want to be truly known, and truly know others. I want to be who God created me to be. It has helped me so much just to relax, and not worry what anyone else thinks or if they like me or not. My whole perspective is lighter and happier. I am an authentic flower gardener. It took me years of growing various vegetables to find this out, because everyone else thought vegetable gardening was 'serious' gardening. But now I have found my true delight, in growing beautiful flowers, and basically flowers only. It is hard here. People in the Willamette Valley or Treasure Valley would just laugh at what I call 'my garden'. But I don't care. Not anymore. It's what makes me happy and healthy and brings a little patch of beauty to our Central Oregon landscape. There are various ways of great beauty here: tall old growth cedars and ponderosa pines against a majestic blue sky, wildflowers along the Metolius River in June and a wide sky as far as the eye can see. But not so many flowers. And so I garden and go to sleep at night happy.

Lovely Celtic Cross

Beautiful Celtic Cross

Today I was blessed to find this cross. JoAnn has taken to walking in a local cemetery and enjoying the peace and tranquility. She asked me to join her there on her walk, and she took me over to a grassy knoll where this cross has stood since 1934. Two Friars are buried on the knoll, and their friends erected this cross in their memory. Beautiful work on the cement cross, and the circle in the middle includes a 'Christogram' (ihs) which stands for the name of Jesus Christ in Greek. 

Such a beautiful November day, and a beautiful spot and memorial.

Season of Contentment at Home

GRATITUDE

unlocks the fullness of life.

It turns what we have into enough,

and more.....

It can turn a meal into a 

feast, a house into a home,

a stranger into a friend.

Gratitude makes sense

of our past, brings peace for today,

and creates a vision for tomorrow.

All Things December

 Fun with Piano Students

After school one day in December, we had an impromptu 'tea' only with hot chocolate and molasses sugar cookies. This is Abby and Emily, and their Mom Carol and I are sipping out of sight of the camera, and keeping warm in front on the fire. Brrr- it's been cold for a couple of weeks now.

Here is another group of students, and the one with the guitar is Shayli, then Brinnay and Ella in the green Christmas t-shirt, along with Mom Kindi. I have known Kindi since she was Ella's age, so it is so much fun to teach her girls. The home school in the kitchen while each has a piano lesson.

JoAnn has been busy baking up a storm, and made some very beautiful sugar cookies that were a work of art!

JoAnn and I had a fun time too, decorating the tree this year. We had purchased a few new trims and I sat and got the ornaments ready for her then she put them on the tree. What a great idea! I was happy to be sitting, and she was happy having control of the placement. Christmas music was playing and a plate of cookies was nearby for the hungry (that's us)!

Well, we have done some fun things in December this year. Tonight we are going out to dinner with 3 dear friends and have a special Christmas dinner together. Then on Saturday is our Church Ladies Christmas Brunch and I am going with a friend and looking forward to it. 

Then of course I am fitting it the baking and Christmas cards as time allows. So nice to spend these days preparing my heart and home for the coming of the Savior!

Sculpture Along the River Bank

 There is a wonderful sculpture in a park here by the Deschutes River. It is fascinating and so well done. Worth a mention here in my blog.

It is depicting our logging days here in Bend, with a draft horse...

pulling two logs behind it. Of course you can see it is made from metal, but what you can't see is that it is all made from old reclaimed metals items from the past.

Now, you can begin to see some of the things inside the horse...

and here even more. If you click on the image to expand it you can see even better. There are over 100 items in this horse, most I could recognize and some I still can not. There is a listing on a sign close by that lists the items, and it is really fun to stand here and try to find everything. It is like a puzzle. There is a lot of old farming equipment, saws and wood working tools, but some domestic items too like an old sewing machine and vacuum. The logs behind have the same, their insides filled with other items. There is an old chain saw in there. 

What a fascinating sculpture it is, and what a wonderful idea by the artist, Greg Congleton.

The Colors and Textures of War

I have been reading a book about pharmacists and pharmacy tents in W W II, watching a bit of the documentary on Viet Nam on PBS, watching a movie about the sinking of the Indianapolis in W W II, and then the finding of the ship Indianapolis on PBS. My thoughts have turned to war, a hard topic. So I am going to write down a bit of my rambling thoughts today.

Colors of War

• The GRAY of rain dripping off the rim of a helmet, rain blocking out the forms of hills, mountains and valleys, rain pouring onto tanks, guns, ship decks and tents, muffling everything and everyone.
• The BROWN of mud squelching up over boots of marching soldiers, the sand and rocks of beaches under bombardment and of foot lockers, locked.
• The khaki GREEN of uniforms, clean or dirty, the rusted metal of gun turrets, hand grenades whistling silently through the air, gas masks, and sloppy food.
• The deep RED of bloody wounds, tongues hanging out of screaming faces, dripping blood, the Red Cross crosses on white tents, and sunsets through the smoke.
• The SILVER of heroic medals, of officers stripes, of bullets piercing, of bombs dropping from silver enemy planes, and ocean swells topped with navy cruisers.
• The YELLOW of another sunrise, a nurses curls, flashes of lightening, or a stray flower in the dirt and grimy mud.
• The BLUE of dress uniforms, ink on endless paperwork, the wink of a blue eye, or the calm in the storm.

Textures of War

• The SHARPNESS of shrapnel, the corners of mess trays, of Sargent's barking orders, the edges of torn off limbs, bugle notes piercing the darkness of morning, barbed wire topped walls, and the taste of fear.
• The ROUGHNESS of rocks being scaled, of a thin wool blanket, of choppy seas and heaving stomachs, of crawling on bellies in the dirt and flying blind through thunderstorms. 
• The WETNESS of tears, of a puddle in the bottom of a foxhole, the rain drumming on tent tops, wading ashore, and never having dry feet.
• The SOFTNESS of a hand clasp or a salute, free moments to write home, sucking mud in the the bottom of trenches, wet clothes, marching through snow and canned green peas.
• The CROSS HATCH of confusion, exhaustion, moral turmoils, disrespect, fear, blind orders, singing, comradeship, buddies dying, loyalty, principals and duty.
• The SMOOTHNESS of a flag lifting in a breeze, a swallow of brandy, a team effort, a bomb being released or the arc of a shell in the sky. Smooth decisions handed down from politicians and officers, and smooth words from home to soften hardened hearts.

Thanks for listening to me release some of my pent up thoughts. Is there any answer to war? Many people much wiser than I have never reached a conclusion. May God have mercy on us.

Happy Pretend First Day of Autumn!

"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns."

George Eliot

I am pretending that today is the first day of autumn, instead of tomorrow. It was so beautiful this morning. Crisp and chilly, bright blue skies and sunshine, and a hint of wood smoke in the air. A few bushes and trees have a touch of turning color. 

I put on some beautiful music, and proceeded to decorate the house with my autumn things. It was wonderful and I even had a second cup of coffee to celebrate. I enjoy the cooler weather, and we do have beautiful fall days in Central Oregon.

In the afternoon I got a cup of tea (with a scone of course) and got out my Brambly Hedge book for Autumn and re-read it. Such lovely stories, drawings and books. I also put out my Brambly Hedge Autumn plate, tumbler and teacup and saucer. A great thing to do on the first day of autumn, don't you agree?

 Crab apple limbs in front of the pine trees.

A little pinkish red, which I can see from my front window.

And gorgeous plum colored crab apples, that the birds haven't got hungry enough to to find. 

Happy Pretend First Day of Autumn!

Long Time Coming

My, oh my, has it been a long time since I posted here. Life has been hard for me to catch a tail and hang on. But now, in mid-summer, I think I may have a bit more focus back to the important things of life. I have a a quote that I love, that I will share today.

"With pomp, power & glory 

the world beckons vainly.

In chase of such vanities

why should I roam?

While peace and content bless

my little thatched cottage,

and warm my own hearth 

with the treasures of home."

My feeling exactly said by Beatrix Potter.

I'll come back soon, and post a longer post about what's been going on.

"Go Placidly Amid the Noise and Haste"

Somewhere lately I saw a copy of  Desiderata. As I re-read it, I was reminded of my college days, where I first read the poem. I looked up its history and found it was first titled "Go Placidly Amid The Noise And Haste." Both titles rather entrance me. Here is my favorite quote:

"Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth....whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul."
Desiderata by Max Ehrmann

And so, I thought maybe I would share a few of my favorite quotes today on the blog. I have been reading more since the Christmas rush is through, and jotting down items that strike my fancy....







"The air smells of frost. The house is making the soft breathing sounds very old houses make at night."
Gladys Tabor


"Grammy's house is the perfect combination of technology and old-fashioned taste." 
Samuel N. Jones


"Who loves the rain, and loves his home,
And looks on life with quiet eyes.
him will I follow through the storm,
and at his hearth-fire keep me warm;
Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul surprise
who loves the rain and loves his home,
and looks on life with quiet eyes."
Frances Shaw

"If you have been afraid that your love of beautiful flowers and the flickering flame of the candle is somehow less spiritual than living in starkness, remember that He who created you to be creative gave you the things with which to make beauty and the sensitivity to appreciate and respond to His creation."
Edith Schaeffer


"Traveling is all very well if you can get home at night. I would be willing to go around the world if I came back in time to light the candles and set the table for supper."
Gladys Taber


"Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home."
Edith Sitwell

"I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, til the summer comes again."
Lewis Carroll


"The wind was blowing, but not too hard, and everyone was so happy and gay for it was only twenty degrees below zero and the sun shone."
Laura Ingalls Wilder

Saying Good-bye To January

This has been the January of all Januaries...hasn't it? We broke a lot of records with the snow, with low temperatures, with ice and ice dams, with buildings caving in and damaged, with bad driving conditions, and with snow, snow, and MORE snow! But this post for me is about the January of my dreams. There were so many magical days of standing at a window, my nose pressed hard against the glass, watching thick fluffy snowflakes pouring down, or wind-driven small icy snowflakes slanting fast and thick to the ground. I watched the inches pile up and up, and the snow begin to engulf things like bushes, sidewalks, rocks, patio furniture and benches, and finally cars. I loved watching the insurance man jump out of bed of a morning, throwing on jeans, boots and a jacket, to rush outside to shovel snow yet again (he likes it), while I got to snuggle down deep, in my cozy bed, and watch snowflakes still falling.

Were you one of the many I've heard complaining about the snow? I get it, I really do, at least my practical self does. It's hard to get to work, hard to deal with no school yet again because of snow days, hard to get groceries and supplies, just plain hard to drive with all the other folks having a hard time of it too. Everyone dealing with the aftermath of of our many snow storms...like dirty snow, ginormous piles of snow and ice, very icy patches and many injuries as a result, and deep snow ruts in the streets.

But, if you are blessed as I am, you can pretend to be snowed in for days, while others go out to work, to school, and to the store, or to shovel once again. My schedule suddenly fell down to nothing booked for the day. I had one day to sit, read my current favorite book, snuggle by the fire and dream of snow drifts, snowmen, and long white unbroken patches of snow. On another day there was bustling, cleaning and cleaning out, sorting and bagging, all the while watching out the windows, enthralled with the birds and how they were surviving by cleaning up just like me, but cleaning up every leftover juniper berry or crab apple left on my trees. And yet another day found me mixing, baking, roasting and simmering, trying out some new recipes, steaming up the windows and making the whole house smell delicious. Everything I do, even the laundry, seems more fun while watching the mounds of snow growing outside. 

Being 'snowed in' is going to be one of my greatest pleasures of 2017, I just know it. And now it's time to say good-bye to the January of my dreams and wishes. Time to say good-bye to deepest winter with all the joy it has brought me. For today, we say hello to February, and just a tiny crack of hope for spring. But wait, January is not yet ready to let go....it snowed again last night, and it's still snowing outside my windows. So it's spilling into February...and I will just continue secretly smiling while others are complaining!

Wrapped in Snow

 It's hard to quit writing about snow. Snow is what we have, what we see every morning, every day. We are all but engulfed in it here in Central Oregon. 

I love snow, and it does look like a ski resort around here. 

My chair is almost full, but not quite. It's fluffy one minute, icy the next and foggy and icy the next. It's hard to drive in, but if you get to stay home like I do, it's wonderful to watch.Beautiful, enchanting and amazing. Since we only have this kind of winter once every 20 or more years apart, it's fun to take photos and document the winter of 2016-2017. No one here can remember a more severe January. One day 'they' will be saying remember the winter of?... Possibly a century storm.

 The geese struck me as funny going for a walk to the gas station one morning.

But don't worry about me, I'm snug as a bug.

A Winter to Remember

This is a random photo of Bronwyn about two years ago. Isn't it a beautiful picture? I love the repose it suggests, and our weather looks much like this outside. We have so much more snow than in my last post...it is amazing. A winter to remember and a time for solitude and reflection, just like Bronwyn.

Bed or No Bed?

What a warm inviting cozy Christmas bed to climb into each night in December!
But I can't help but also think each night of the many in our community that don't have a warm cozy bed in our very cold temperatures. Our shelters are doing what they can to bring the homeless into town from their many camps, but it's never enough. I can't do much. I can help fill their stomachs with hot food. And I can whisper a prayer each night to the One who can do it all. 

Busy Schedules

When I was a working gal, I always pictured retirement like this in my mind's eye. Unfortunately, this comes all too infrequently in my mornings now. But when it does, it's a sweet thing. I have learned that 'busy' is a word in all our lives today, working or retired. I have to work at finding space in my schedule, finding peace in my everyday life, just like most of us women. I am hoping that November will be a quiet peaceful month this year, with time abounding for reading God's Word.

Autumn has been a lovely season this year, with gorgeous colors and mild temps. So much to savor and enjoy!

May November be a blessed month at your house too!

A Little Enforced Resting

I haven't put a post on this blog in the longest time, but finally feel up to writing again.

On December 18th, I fell on our interior stairs and broke my right ankle. Fortunately, JoAnn was home to help and we got right into an urgent care facility, saw the Doc and had surgery that afternoon. It all happened smoothly that day, for which I am grateful, and I had wonderful care. Another blessing was the fact that there never was much pain. Not even after surgery. One day of pain pills was all it took, and all I ever wanted!

I didn't want to keep the x-rays of the metal that was put in, but the insurance man thought I might want to keep a record of it, so home it came and now it's kind of interesting. I can have the metal out later, but that would be more surgery, and it doesn't seem to be bothering me any. So, a bit more metal...what does it really matter?

I was down for the count, so this is a photo of me at Christmas, at least all dressed and in my right mind, I think. I had a loose splint put on the ankle for 4 weeks, and got around on the knee cart pictured below. Those are really a great little tool, and sure helped navigate the bottom floor of our house.  We lived down there, including sleeping on a bed John brought down and put in the living room. You do what ya gotta do. I also spent a lot of time sleeping in the recliner. Sleep is so restorative.

After that, we put on a pretty blue cast, but still no weight bearing. I resumed my piano teaching with some complications, and the students had fun decorating the cast, and I enjoyed their original artwork.

What an interesting, but to be honest, difficult time it has been. The cast was only on about 2 and 1/2 weeks, and I was so ready for freedom. Then it was supposed to be 2 weeks in a boot with pressure wraps, but the boot made it on my foot less that 1 week, as it really hurt both the ankle and my back to try to walk in it. So, the transition to shoes went fairly smoothly, and now I am up and walking in shoes with the help of a 'trekking pole' still taking it easy, so the swelling doesn't get out of hand.

I felt like I had a turning point Monday, as I felt more like the old days, and did some dishes, rested, cleaned out the frig, rested, cleaned out the pantry (trust me it needed it!), made up some menus and a shopping list, and even went with the insurance man to shop that night. What an accomplishment. It felt so good! I had my first physical therapy yesterday, and that helped too. She told me I was holding my trekking pole in the wrong hand, and voila! I can now walk with no limp and my foot straight. It's straight and steady, but slow for now. One step at a time they say, but patience is always so hard to exercise. My goal is to reach April 29th, and granddaughter Kory's college graduation with a normal walking gait and hopefully pain free. Things are getting better, and I am greatly encouraged, even enough to even write a blog post this morning. Hooray....And a great thanks to the insurance man for his unceasing love and care.

Enjoying Moby Dick

For some time now I have reading Moby Dick. It has many short chapters, but as someone recently said they are short but DENSE. I am thoroughly enjoying it, but tend to put it down for a period of time when things get especially busy. I am in the mode right now of trying for a chapter a day. Herman Melville was a superb writer on this, which is why it is such a classic. This week I ran across a section that I wanted to share. I am going to try to set the stage first.

The whaling ship that holds Captain Ahab and his crew is named the Pequod. I am over half way through the book, and they have just killed their first whale, a large sperm whale. The 2nd mate named Stubb had the honor of the kill. After towing the dead whale to the Pequod and securing it to the ship for the night, they proceeded to cut whale steaks, arouse the cook 'Fleece' to cook their steaks, and in the light of burning whale oil dine on deck in the dead of night. Meanwhile, "thousands on thousands of sharks swarmed around the dead whale feasting on its fatness." The sharks were making so much noise that Stubb summoned Fleece from the kitchen, to stand before him waiting for his orders. By his own confession, Fleece was an old black man 'bout 90 years old just waked from his hammock. Stubb proceeds to order Fleece to preach to the whales to quiet them down so he can enjoy his steak. Fleece goes to the rail, leans out over as far as he can go, and begins his 'sermon'. After a few colorful sentences, Stubb stops him and tells him that he can't swear in his preaching. He tries again several times but each time is stopped and reprimanded for his swearing and commanded to speak to them 'gentlemanly' to convert them.  Once more the sermon proceeds:

    "Your voraciousness fellow-critters, I don't blame ye so much for; that is your nature and can't be helped; but to govern that wicked nature, that is de point. You is sharks, certain; but if you govern the shark in you, why then you will be an angel; for all an angel is, is nothing more than de shark well governed. Now, look here, brethren, just try one time to be civil, a helping yourselves from that whale. Don't be tearin' de blubber out of your neighbour's mouth, I say. Does not one shark have as good a right as another to dat whale? And, by golly, none of you has de right to that whale; that whale belong to some one else. I know some of you has very big mouths, bigger than others; but the big mouths sometimes has the small bellies; so that the bigness of de mouth is not to swaller with, but to bite off de blubber for the small fry of sharks, that can't get into the fight to help themselves.
    Well done, old Fleece! cried Stubb, that's Christianity! ....Give the benediction, Fleece, and I'll away to my supper.
    (Fleece raised his shrill voice and holding both hands out over the fishy mob, cried-)Cussed fellow-critters! Kick up the biggest row as ever you can; fill your bellies 'till they bust, then die!" (You'll never be converted)

I got such a kick out of this. What a great scene...who could have dreamed up preaching to thousands of attacking sharks? And Mr. Melville used it to illustrate a great truth. I just love the old authors, and they way they wrote and knew Christianity so much better than I ever could.

*By the way, the above quote is edited to a more modern interpretation, by me.

Whisperings and Explorings

 

 Indistinct; from which direction come the sounds? Standing on a creaking board I hesitate, trying to absorb it all. Though it's sunny outside, it's chill and dim here inside. The old living room wallpaper still shows the taste of a former rancher wife. Large pieces are peeling off the walls, but overall there is still a cheerfulness and hominess to the pattern. As I move into the kitchen I can see that the wooden kitchen cupboards are painted green, and adorned with old chrome handles. Some of the doors are hanging crookedly by just one hinge, and the old white porcelain sink is streaked with rust stains and dirt. Amazingly, the window glass is still here, but is too smeared and dirty for me to see through. I can imagine that the same rancher wife must have had a good view from her kitchen sink of the high desert sagebrush, the vast sky, and maybe even livestock grazing. The pack rats have been busy, making piles of debris across the old linoleum floor, and I move gingerly. Something catches my eye on one of the kitchen shelves and I reach up to find a very old pack of Rolaids that has been chewed on and then rejected.
Next I climb the narrow back stairs, watching for rotting wood, and gain the second floor. Walking through a succession of small rooms, presumably bedrooms, I scan for bits of lives left behind: an old metal curtain rod perhaps, or any furniture or broken items left behind, unheeded. The wind gently blows around the eaves up here, and I feel those whose lives were bound up in this place. Little skittering noises run around the floorboards, but all else is entombed in the whispering silence. How many children were tucked into bed up here? I know there were children as there are still broken swings in the yard. How many seasons of harvest did this family see? Was it a good life?
Back downstairs in the main room, I stand before the stone, cold fireplace, once the heart of the home. It looks to be made of rock possibly quarried from the surrounding dessert. There is a dusty, broken desk in a corner, and piles of leaves strewn about the wooden floor. Abandoned and lonely, the home whispers of its past, its glory days and its stories to any who will pause and listen in the silence. I can almost feel the people who once lived here, can almost touch their lives. This is the place where together they struggled, laughed, despaired, cried and loved. This is the house they called home and that sheltered them. They once came and I've gone back, so the two of us can almost, almost touch.
I shiver and head for the back door, back to sunlight and the company of my real-life husband. He is sitting on an old rusty abandoned tractor, lost in his own thoughts for a moment. Beside the back door a lone rose still blooms, on a bush struggling for life. As I bend to smell, it also whispers to me that here in this lonely place there is still life and beauty .

 

By Jennie

Autumn Chills

It Is In The Valley...

                  VALLEY OF VISION

"Lord, High and Holy, Meek and Lowly,

Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,
where I live in the depths but see Thee
in the heights; hemmed in by mountains of sin,
I behold Thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox:
that the way down is the way up,
that to be low is to be high,
that the broken heart is the healed heart,
that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,
that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,
that to have nothing is to possess all,
                                                        that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,
                                                       that to give is to receive,
                                                       that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells, and the deeper the wells the brighter Thy stars shine. Let me find Thy light in my darkness, Thy life in my death, Thy joy in my sorrow, Thy grace in my sin, Thy riches in my poverty, Thy glory in my valley."

Taken from 'The Valley of Vision' a collection of Puritan prayers and devotions.

Happy 16th Sam!

 Right from the beginning in Chicago, we knew we had something special...

Samuel Nils Jones.

 He started out liking balls of all sorts, but I have to admit that the sailboat was from Mom, and the stuffed rabbit from Grammie. It still made for one of my favorite photos.

 Samuel has always been a delight in our lives.

 I was hard put to find photos of Samuel that didn't include fishing.

 He always has a fishing pole at the ready...

 to catch a fish.

 

 As he grew, so did his patience, knowledge and expertise. I think he is now our unqualified family fisherman. You would think that fishing is all he does, but no, he is a man of varied talents. He likes to draw and paint, play the piano, hunt with bow and arrow, be outdoors building snow forts, hollowing out a tree for a canoe, hunting for bugs or toads or foxes, or babysitting a brother or sister. He is an avid Mountaineer fan and loves football. Sam has a tender heart for babies and you'll often find him minding one of the little ones.

 

 

He loves his extended family too, and here he is enjoying some time with Great Grandma and Grandpa.

 

Today we celebrate the young man he has become as he turns 16! Happy Birthday, and we are so proud of you!