Archive for the ‘Backyard Pond’ category

SILENCE OF THE MIND

May 14, 2017

Sorry I’ve been away for a while again.

House upo High

I’ve found a hideaway again,  or pretty close.   It’s been very silent and quiet around here for about a week.   No TV.  Not much radio.  Not much YouTube.    I’m not sure why —   I’ve just “retreated.”

I guess people do that once in a while.

Actually,  my back yard makes a perfect Retreat in the Spring.

BACK YARD I prefer

I just want to sit on my deck and gaze at this.     It makes it hard not to withdraw from the world when I want to even when maybe I shouldn’t,  not so much.

Tree in Bloom cr

It’s just so pretty out there.

I think I’ve been looking normal.    I’ve had two repairmen come to my house this week.   That’s normal.   Now I have TV,  if I want to.   And I have clean water again.    Things  . .  .  break down from time to time.   Normal.

I’ve had an epic Drapery-Fail.    Got free curtain material with a comforter I had bought awhile  ago.    Time for me to get those drapes put up . .  .

Sewing is nice silent work.   Normal,  but silent.

Sewing

I hit snag after snag after snag  (no pun intended)  but it looked like I was solving the problems.  Son even moved the drapery hardware for me on the walls near the windows.    But then –  I had misgivings.

I sewed for many hours this week, but I will now have to  redesign the whole project.  And the hardware will have to be re-done.    —  Well, it’s Mother’s Day tomorrow.   Can Son refuse. . . ?

Had a normal scheduled recorder session this week.    I hope I was a “good conversationalist,”  though I was struggling with paying attention sometimes.

And I’ve been going to class off and on,  I mean whenever classes are scheduled.   Nobody would know that in between activities I retreat into deep solitude and don’t want to talk.      It’s like a Funk  without feeling anything.

But I think I’ve been normal.

Books

Been studying.  As usual.   Normal for me.   Got another problem I’m working on:      How did the assumptions of  univocal metaphysics arise out of  equivocal  categories   . . . ?   It’s the old Aquinas vs. Scotus thing.   But it’s not made any easier with Avicenna’s use of the word “being”  which tripped everyone up.   You can’t make good Latin from Greek via Arabic!

Owls

But I’m working on it.    I don’t always agree with this author,  so maybe he’s the one with the problem.

(How could I have been so busy these last few days when all I wanted was Silence around me?)

Opened up   a new laptop and got it  going . . .   Easy.  No brainer.  No thinking.    Then  I really didn’t want to   go   anywhere on the Internet.

But I did go somewhere a couple days ago.  I went to a good site, and there was a review of a book that presents exactly what I’ve been doing this week –  and what we’re all going through,  and it’s consequences, perhaps a remedy or two.

It’s a new book written by Cardinal Sarah-   one of the Good Guys   – a minority in Catholic thinking today.   Here’s a bit from that review:

We are in an age of increasing social madness. Cardinal Robert Sarah, in his new book, The Power of Silence, reveals this to be symptomatic of a widespread spiritual illness in modern Western culture. This illness, according to him, is largely caused by an absence of crucially needed, God and truth-revealing periods of silence of the ears, of the eyes and of the heart in the life of modern men and women.

“Silence of the ears, of the eyes and of the heart.”   *

He also talks about the    “tyranny of destructive external and internal noise.”

All that noise,  All that information.   All those words demanding that you pay attention and make some sort of decision.     It becomes a tyranny.    That’s what I’ve been shutting out, I think.

Because of all the noise experienced by our eyes, ears and hearts, modern man no longer hears, experiences and knows God. He is unable to comprehend the purpose and even the value of his life and the lives of others . . . Our world no longer hears God because it is constantly speaking, at a devastating speed and volume, in order to say nothing. Modern civilization does not know how to be quiet.

Quiet.   Silence.

Everything that enters the mind and heart through the senses, emotions and memories can create howling internal “noise” and greatly disturb our internal equilibrium, sense of being and relationship to our Creator.

Howling.   No TV howling.  No radio howling.  No music howling.  No Internet howling . . . Not much talking in the Spruce Tunnel either.   And sorry about that,  because today was an important anniversary for the whole world.    I’ll get to that in the next post —

—   but meanwhile,  one more glance backwards here.  I wonder if my craving for silence is coming from the Blood of my Forefathers.

sami sign

I’ll go visit them there, in Samiland, ,  once again,  before I move out into the “howling”  world where there is that “tyranny of noise”  and everyone is expected to comment on everything.

No.

SONY DSC

Solitude.

sami mountains

Nature, being quiet.

sami reindeer

Oh.    I guess it’s usually winter there.

How about a quiet cabin,  all alone . . .

sami in snow

______________________________________________________

.*  If you want to read the article about Cardinal Sarah’s new book,  it can be found here by removing all the spaces when you use this URL:

http:// angelqueen .org/ 2017/05/13/cardinal-sarah-reveals-surprising-cause-and-remedy-for-the-fears-and-anxieties-of-our-time/

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RADIATION AND PERTURBATIONS – I

April 9, 2017

 

Sorry I couldn’t get back here right away after the storm.  I’ve been “perturbed.”

But we’re still here:

2nd Tree and moon

That tall tree that twisted and turned so menacingly in our big storm is still standing.  The sky the next day was gloriously blue.  Innocently blue:  “What?  What storm?”   The pond level remains high but the raging torrent has returned to a normally high spring-level creek no longer uprooting trees and gouging out the creek bank.

Nature is calmer,  but this week becomes one of “perturbations”  and turmoil in the spiritual world,  during which Christians try to enter into the experience of Holy Week,  Jesus’ last week of life on this earth.   Try to enter into;  try to figure it out;  spend time  uniting in the experience, the story, the details.

The time approaches.

2nd Tree and Fist

 

Next to the photo of the top of the tree is a moon becoming full.  Not just any full moon;  the Paschal Moon,  for it is always full on Passover, and therefore on the Thursday of this particular week.    I put up my fist to measure the height of the moon.   One fist = 10 degrees.  The moon was about 50 degrees high in the sky.   As Thursday evening comes, it will be about that high,   but it will be just about at its highest point later in Gethsemane,  where Jesus had his  unspeakable agony,   sorrow beyond our understanding.

“Perturbations” 

2nd Waves

So, the storm that Mother Nature gave our area is past, but the wind still blows little waves and ripples across the pond to accompany our unsettled feelings during our Holy Week meditations.

And now there is the storm our politicians are giving us in international affairs.    “Russia threatens war,”  the new headlines say.     Well,  yes.   We attacked a sovereign nation.   One which Russia was working with to defeat ISIS.   They would be “perturbed.”

And   “Perturbations in Egypt.”     Palm Sunday today, and 43 Christians were killed in their churches by Islamic bombs.    “Innocent children and women  should not be killed in that manner”   . .  .  to use the words of the American president commenting on events in Syria.    I hope he is not so perturbed that he takes advice to retaliate against Egypt.   And if not,  why not?

(Maybe an unnamed “chemical gas”  is supposed to perturb us more than a more familiar bomb-attack.)

“Perturbations” as Islam advances apace in the Western world.

This week, after a few months of listening to a lecturer from Yale present Late Ancient and Medieval history,   he suddenly began giving lectures falsifying  (and sanitizing)  the history of Islam —  I could have thrown fifty books at him that tell a very different  history,   and consistently different throughout the centuries of experience with Islam,  some of these books written long before this man was born.   I suppose he has to agree to say these things or else lose his tenure.

But, gee — if you can’t trust a history professor from Yale,  who can you trust?   (That’s a joke, my friends.)

But again, “Islam advances apace.”     Look up that word “apace.”

DANGER FOR ME AND THE LILACS

April 6, 2017

 

(Property jeopardy) —

Well, as far as yesterday’s post, “sailors take warning”  – it’s come true.   Rain, hail, snow,   and wind today;  but it’s an odd wind.   The wind is strong and jerky,  gusty,  blustery.    Trees aren’t just swaying,  they’re twisting.   I’m sitting here listening to things fall on my roof.

And trees and tree limbs crashing down . . .  and getting swept away:

I shouldn’t have a rapids in my creek!

A Rapids 400

You can walk across it in the summer and not get your ankles wet.   It gets high in the Spring,  but not this high.

The wind is blowing the trees around, and while I sat in my rocking chair this afternoon, right up next to a window, a 25-foot tree came crashing down into the creek.  Within a minute it had been washed downstream, without a trace.

I saw my lilac trees along the creek bank get washed away too –  too quick to grab my camera.

Jeopardy!

I’m losing my property fast today!    The soil between the pond and the creek is getting washed away,  but the biggest danger is  from this giant:

A Root 400

Starting from the roots which have lost much of their support from the soil around them,  on up and up and up –

A middle tree 345

I don’t know,  maybe 150 feet?     Maybe 200 feet?

A top tree 400

Same tree, farther up.   The top part of the tree is twisting in a partial circle when the gusts come, and I get the image of the whole tree just drilling itself loose from the ground.

That tree will crash into my house if it falls!!

(I know.     A tree that tall has a gigantic unseen root structure that spreads out widely and helps to anchor the tree . . . but they do fall.)

I was outside during the snow and rain this morning to rescue some objects from the rising creek and to check to see how much “land” I had left between the creek and the pond.

A Waters Meet 380

The pond is overflowing into the creek, and where the rivulets run, the snow has melted or been carried away.

A Waters mingle 380

The water rose rapidly and began to mingle.    From the looks of it now,  several hours later,   I’ve got even  less muck to walk on between that creek and pond.

I caught a glimpse of our father Duck  in the creek,  but he zipped by too fast downstream so I couldn’t get a  picture of him.

But here’s that  “little” tree getting carried away:

A 25 foot tree washing away 380

When I was out there this morning,  I was able to get a lot of  branches out of the pond.  The higher water level in the pond made it easier for the branches to float to the edge where I could  fish them out.

As I worked back there,  I heard something walking through the woods,  probably a deer.  It had to be something heavy because sometimes a very big branch would snap, like being stepped on.  I could even hear footsteps every once in a while,  then a branch or a twig would snap and then . . .  nothing.   For a while.     Then more footsteps.

Great fun when you have a good imagination!  I imagined myself being stalked.   Maybe by a rogue deer,  the dangerous kind, because a rogue has no pregnant doe or harem to protect,  but he still has the urge to stalk around and search for enemies!   (My classes, take note:   a rogue deer is like the young “unattached”  young men hired by  Jephthah and by Abimelech, unpredictable  lone wolves,  needing a leader. )

A Stalk 1 370

I looked for a long time into the woods,  but could only see shadows that didn’t move.

A Stalk 2 370

Nothing.   But the occasional   twigs breaking and footsteps  were still there.

That was fun;   waiting for a tree to crash into my house is not fun.    It wouldn’t be the first time.      I still remember the sound,  the feeling,  the shock of a large tree crashing into the back of our house – and that happened when professionals were taking down a tree on purpose.   (They had underestimated its height.)

I’m not sleeping on that side of the house tonight.

 

________________________________________

 

Dear Johnny Cash,   I know what you mean:
We can make it to the road in a homemade boat
That’s the only thing we got left that’ll float
It’s already over all the wheat and oats,
Two feet high and risin’

How high’s the water, mama?
Three feet high and risin’
How high’s the water, papa?
She said it’s three feet high and risin’

Well, the hives are gone,
I lost my bees
The chickens are sleepin’
In the willow trees
Cow’s in water up past her knees,
Three feet high and risin’

How high’s the water, mama?
Four feet high and risin’
How high’s the water, papa?
She said it’s four feet high and risin’

Hey, come look through the window pane,
The bus is coin’, gonna take us to the train
Looks like we’ll be blessed with a little more rain,
Four feet high and risin’

How high’s the water, mama?
Five feet high and risin’
How high’s the water, papa?
She said it’s five feet high and risin’

Well the rails are washed out north of town
We gotta head for higher ground
We can’t come back till the water goes down,
Five feet high and risin’

SAILORS TAKE WARNING (again)

April 5, 2017

 

(1),    (2) ,   (3)   points.

_____________________________

(1)   It happened again :

Sunrise 2 cr best

A red sky this morning.     (Sailors take warning.)     This time the colors were even deeper and richer than before.    I ran from window to window this morning trying to get into my camera that  shade of deep reddish-salmon-orange that I was seeing in the sky.

I couldn’t.        Fifteen pictures later, I was still frustrated.

Sunrise 3 cr new

And as the sun was rising,  I was losing the color.

Sunrise 1 cr

I had two choices:  either run out and grab my friend from out of his wife’s bed  because he knows a lot about photography and promised to teach me sometime;  or instantly learn how to use oil paints,  because only a pallet  of oranges, pinks, reds, and yellows could duplicate the color I was seeing.

Two choices which were no choices;    so I just  watched the Nature Show of salmon,  orange,   pink, and yellow,  then finally pale blue.   As I watched, I settled down and my mind began reprising the pathways it had taken during the night.

(“Sailors take warning . . .”)

(2)    The night before,  just before I had  called it a day, I’d been reading up  on Pope Gregory XVI,  perhaps a rather obscure pope today,  but he aroused some controversy in his day,  not too long ago,  in the 19th century, and gives us something to think about today.

greg xvi

He wrote some interesting and valuable documents, among them an encyclical putting forth in clear terms  the Church’s opposition  against slavery,  a  teaching which had long been proclaimed by the Church,   but needed reinforcement.

However,  even though he  produced some valuable and helpful documents,    he was personally and deeply suspicious of the consequences of  what we now would call the technological and industrial revolution.   He opposed the growing socialist movement which reduces people to  “economic units,”   under the management (control) of a central state government.    He saw this as the depersonalization of the individual, individuals becoming “the masses”  which the revolutionary socialist movement is  there to provide for.    (Move over,  God.)

Technology,  this pope believed,   would only hasten this development, as  families are torn  from their land ownership and  migrate into industrial cities where the artificial societies were  generally harmful to the dignity and well-being of human beings.

Curiously (to our ears)  he pointed out that . . .

DESK and gas lamp

. . .   gas lamps  (indoor artificial lighting)  would be ultimately harmful to the health of people,  interrupting their daily rhythms, allowing industrialists to extract longer hours   from the “workers.”   He also spoke out against  locomotives, for the same reason:  disruption of human society,  harmful to health;   dirty, polluting  machines  that create an artificial sense of human travel and again,  tear apart families.

 

radio

(3)       Next,     (Sailors take warning . . . )     I woke up to  the big radio station out of  Detroit in which  the host was discussing with guests the current threats from North Korea.     It was a good, thoughtful discussion,  but the host then said that the biggest threat from North Korea’s isn’t that   one of their nuclear bombs would  go off – boom –  in the middle of our country,  but rather that they would (or someone else would)  explode a big one in the atmosphere,  near our coastline,  causing a destructive EMP which would wipe out all our modern technology,  putting  us right back into the 19th century,  perhaps like the days of Pope Gregory XVI.

Although that sometimes seems like a quaint,  charming,  more clean and pure society before all our technology,   the hard truth is that  no one today knows how to live as they did in the 19th century.   (Our government has projected that 90% of our population would die within the first year.)

And then I opened my eyes to that  beautiful  salmon-red sky.

And so  there is a  (4).

Duck creating a wak 1

Our springtime Drake has put his lady-wife somewhere, haven’t seen her for a week; she’s probably in a protected nest nearby.   He likes to sail down our creek at a high rate of speed and he likes to swim across our pond, leaving a definite wake behind.

I’m sure he saw the beautiful sunrise this morning, and I’m just as sure he was oblivious to the beauty.    But though he misses out on the ability of humans to appreciate such beauty,  if – and when –  the EMP or something takes us back into a pre-industrial age,  he would miss out on the resulting chaos – and death.

Duck Wake 2

After such a horrific event,  he may feel some “disturbance,”  but he would be off, as usual,  to visit the nest or find some food or check for any enemies or take a drink of water . . .  In other words,  life for him would go on as normal,   just as it did for human societies after  the Carrington Event.

carington

1859,  right?    Just after Pope Gregory XVI.    A few technological difficulties,  but life went on and few knew what the sun had just done to us.

Today?   We are,  unlike my springtime Drake,  we are “sitting ducks.”   Dependent upon ever newer and more fragile technology that is dangled before us like a snake charmer using his wiles.

(You do know what the “Watchers”  brought down to humanity according to the Book of Enoch?)

   —  Of course I’m a Luddite (at heart) !

 

 

 

 

 

OUT FETCHING

March 13, 2017

(Fetching:  going out to get something and bringing it in)

Been “disabled for a few days” – so no posting here.   It all began one “Dark and Stormy Night”  last week,  Tuesday,  about midnight.   The only light came from above my desk where  I had all my books and notebooks  spread out,  studying and writing,  when all of a sudden I heard a big   noise in the basement  (I thought).

Something – big – had shifted or collapsed  in the basement –  and I didn’t want to go down there to see what had collapsed,  or what critter had caused it!

But the next morning,  I glanced out the window and saw this:

PO 1 Tree in pond 390

I didn’t use the panorama mode in my camera,  so that’s only a portion of the approximately 60-foot tree that had fallen into my backyard pond.      It had been dead for a while,  and Son had picked it out as one he’d have to take down soon.

Our big wind storm here in the Far North took care of that!        And the ducks enjoyed the new feature in their pond,  trying out  various positions on the floating tree.

PO 2 ducks on 380

The wind continued, and after more 60 m.p.h. wind gusts,  the power line and telephone poles around here came down too.   Temperatures fell,  and “mister”  gently corralled his lady-wife into a sheltered little cove:

PO 3.5 Cuddle ducks 370

The lady fluffed up her feathers and slept for a couple hours,  with mister watching over her.     (I think we’ll be seeing some duck eggs soon.)

RECORDER   I went off to play recorderat my friend’s house while her lamps “browned out” once in a while.       And Son  texted me that the power had gone completely out at my house –  and to be careful driving home because things were flying all over on the roads.

pinned under

I arrived home to find a happy,  busy Son pulling the tree out of the water.  I helped – and although I’m usually not clumsy,  as I was pulling on my end of the tree,  my feet slipped in the muddy bank just as the tree pivoted over me and I got pinned under the top of the tree.  The narrow end,  only about two inches in diameter,  but I couldn’t extricate my legs by myself!    Kind of a creepy feeling.

We got  me and tree out onto the grass and son got busy with the chainsaw :

PO 7 Son w chainsaw 380

As the house cooled down,  I got my revenge on that tree –

PO 6 burning that tree

We burned those round logs that had pinned me down that day!

And there began a few days of “fetching.”

Fetching firewood periodically as the temperatures plunged to 12,  15,  17 degrees.

Fetching water from the creek for certain  “necessities”   in the bathroom.

Fetching gasoline for the generator which we kept running to protect the refrigerator and the freezer,  light one lamp for the evening,  although we had a beautiful source of light on the table for the nights:

PO 5 beautiful night lamp

Light was always necessary because we lived among cables connected to the generator for a few days:

PO 4 cords

We were “ugly,”  inconvenienced,   and unclean for those four days,  but eventually power came back on and it didn’t take long to  get all the mud off the floors (from all our “fetching trips, in and out  of the muddy backyard),  clean the grime,   and put things back in their proper places.

And the heat from the furnace  feels so good!   And a warm shower feels so good!   And bright lights at night is so good!

And freedom from all the hours spent  just fetching!!     So good!

See,  I did okay during this power outage –   I’d be a good Luddite.

But I’ve experienced “modern technology” –   and it can feel   so good!!

LDY pc

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THIN ICE BENEATH OUR FEET

March 5, 2017

I woke up one day this week to this:

thin-ice

Thin ice!   We had thick ice earlier this winter,  a little bit of ice skating was possible,  but then we had a thaw . . .  and  then a slight re-freezing.     A little later that day the cold continued and the ice had completely closed up over the water.

But it was still thin ice.    I looked at it often that day and thought about that “one last heartbeat”   between us being alive – and then we’re dead.   A very thin boundary it seems between us and our final destiny:   “up,”  as we say,  or “down.”

Some of us, the Bible says,  will have to “pass through the fire” ;   the things we have done here in this life will be tried and tested , and the worthless things burned up out of us,  before we can go “up.”   .*

It is with a kind of wry  humor that I’m reminded of this every time I go to Mass or to class,  because I have to pass through the smoke    . . .  of burning heat below my feet!

purg-0

The city steam  pipes below the sidewalk are vented right near the entrance to our church!

In our art work, down through the centuries,  painters have shown  that the location of Purgatory is right below us,  right below the altar during a Mass;  so how funny that the smoke of Purgatory seems to be vented right nearby!

purg-2

 

And someone in the city decided that this would be a good opportunity for the children to display some artwork   . . .

purg-3

 

Except I don’t think they called upon young painters who understand much about the Four Last Things:  Death. Judgment.  Heaven.  Hell.

purg-4

Yeah,  maybe bad language is one of those things that will need to be “tried by fire” –  the hay, straw, stubble of their lives.

I thought it was  ironically funny,   but someone must have complained,  because one day I walked by and the steampipe was rather plain:

purg-5-new

The “pipe of purgatory”  had been “purged.”

One can find humor anywhere, I think,  as long as we take care of the major things,  have it all settled between us and God,  all, all, all settled;  and then do the right things.  Then you’re so free to enjoy life as it comes to you — and to see the love and joy and humor all around.

It’s soon becoming Sunday here in the Far North,  so I’ll leave you with one last picture that shows how   this all  works together.

suffering-and-fruits-of-mass-260

God the Creator,  Our Father, started it all;  the Son sacrificed His life for us,  which is made present to us at every Mass;   and every Mass touches Eternity and all the angels and saints in  Eternity.

And the souls in Purgatory,  beneath the altar,  are being made ready.

suffering-hand-in-purgatory

 

__________________________________________

. *  Found in:  I Corinthians 3:11-15    –    (A life of  …  gold, silver, precious stones?  Or  wood, hay, stubble:)      [13] Every man’ s work shall be manifest; for the day of the Lord shall declare it, because it shall be revealed in fire; and the fire shall try every         man’ s work, of what sort it is. [14] If any man’ s work abide, which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. [15] If any man’ s work burn, he shall suffer loss; but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire. 

 

 

 

“Up” is unimaginable, indescribable good things that God has prepared for us;   and down is the pain of forever being “out.”    As I wrote  before,  intense pain,  like a physical pain, like a fire.

And it’s also one heartbeat below us,  waiting for us.

 

 

BACK TO FALL

November 14, 2016

We’ve had the election.  Things are “shaking out,”  and people are busy discussing the various issues with more or less effectiveness . .  .  They can do it;  I turn away.

It’s Fall here around the Spruce Tunnel.   I have a sweet little fountain in my pond (floating among the leaves) :

little-fountain

It’s bubbling away  in the sunlight because it’s a solar powered fountain.   It’s not often that the sunlight falls on it,  so it’s fun to watch it when it comes alive — in its small, gentle way.

And we have a “big”  fountain too,  (floating among the leaves)  which sprays up streams of water, 24/7,  powered by coal,  I suppose,  from our power company.

 

big-fountain

It’s especially nice in the dark of night because it has its own lights and that’s the only thing you can see out in my back yard.

fountain-by-night

So that’s my leaf-covered Fall.

Pardon me while I go rake my pond.

rake-my-pond

 

 

 

“THESE RUGGED TIMES”

August 8, 2016

(Oh, my;  has it been a week?   A very dismaying week;  fruitful for my mind,  but not for my writing. )

This photo doesn’t match “the Times.”

BACK YARD

So many dire and dismaying news stories this week, all wrapped in a packet of lies  within lies  within lies.   “News” stories are made up;    fabricated as an author would think up an interesting or controversial story-line, and then presented as though true;    and then argued about, debated about,  and tsk,tsk,tsk –  until  the controversy itself “proves” the lie.

It produces a Turmoil in the mind.     These days are difficult for us;   “rugged times,”  as John Jay wrote a couple hundred years ago.   He wrote about all the “sensations” that intrude into our minds.

He was born two hundred years before I was,  but yet he describes the process as we can perfectly  witness it  today:

“In such Rugged Times as these, other sensations are to be cherished.   Rural scenes, domestic bliss, and the charming group of pleasures found in the Train of Peace — all fly (away) at the approach of war; and are seldom to be found in fields stained with Blood, or in habitations polluted by outrage and desolation.”     (John Jay to Robert Livingston,  as war and revolution approached.)

What is he telling us?     That there are two opposing sets of “sensations”:      Rugged Times versus the Train of Peace.         “Train of Peace” may be an old-fashioned and poetic way of stating it,  but we’re not so stupid that we can’t understand – and deeply feel – what he means by that phrase.

Rural scenes, with all their charm and tranquility.   The photo above is looking out from my back window.

Such scenes provide a “charming group of pleasures . . .”

SAMSUNG

A morning sun ascends onto (the possibility of)  domestic bliss, promising a “Train of Peace.”

SAMSUNG

Morning Sun

John Jay and others eventually wrote that this country is to provide for the Pursuit of Happiness.    This is a state of affairs that allows men to pursue their dreams,  to see the fruit of their labor,   and to rest in a state of confidence and peace,  that if they work hard at a goal,  it may be attainable.

Opposing this is a tyrannical government that decides things for us.  Big Brother.  A  powerful State.   Laws, rules, regulations that put us into submission to the State.    We live by permits and licenses – and by “staying under the radar.”    We must believe their publications.  We agree to be entertained by their “entertainment-news media”   which is the source of the “pollution” that John Jay made reference to.   Facts polluted with  deception and lies.

And if we see behind the outright lies,   when we admit the many “outrages,”    and we witness the “desolation” of our country,   our peace “flies” away at the “approach of war” and our “pleasures” are fleeting indeed.

This “war” that approaches must be fought.   Don’t think of war as  physical altercation with physical weapons.

War is the deliberate opposition of one side to the other.    It means paying attention;  choosing a side;   standing up;  confronting the enemy (if it insists upon being an enemy);   choosing a method of opposition best suited to your abilities;    and getting busy to do the actual fighting.

I fear huffing and puffing and tsk-tsk-tsk-ing will get us nowhere.

Kronos on an urn

Kronos eats his children

 

Lies being told to conceal the identity of an enemy who has declared war against us and to lead us to believe that we somehow deserve the attacks are a kind of mental pollution,  not worthy to be taken seriously.

Lies that are being told to protect the one political candidate and to attack the other political candidate are not really worthy subjects for our entertainment  while we experience the “approach of war.”  (John Jay) .    Lies waste our time.

And the one thing that Time does is . . .  pass.

And we may still have time for these Rugged Times to produce great minds,  great men of truth and of valor.    These Rugged Times may be our awakening  that America is a real concept and that the United States is worth saving .     We may yet learn and understand the wisdom of our Founding Fathers.       We may yet find the strength to do our part with determination.

“These Rugged Times”    are our times too.

 

 

LIVING IN “ANGRY BIRDS”

June 15, 2016

Robin angry birds

I like playing the game.  No big deal,  but it’s a fun way to pass some time – if you’ve got some time you want to have passed away from you.

But it’s NOT fun living inside an Angry Birds screen.     The birds around here are crazy –  and think they own the place, it would seem.

Two evenings ago, I decided to take my evening reading out to the deck and enjoy a cool summer evening overlooking my backyard pond, as the low sun shone on it.

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I opened the door and walked out — to a flurry of heavy wings and angry quacks.   I had disturbed the ducks who were also enjoying the evening along the banks of the pond.  They were not happy with me.

I’ve already given up my front porch this summer – to Mother Robin.

Robin angry bird

Last year it was Mother Cardinal,  this year it’s a robin who packed my porch light tight full with stuff.     It’s a  G R E A T  disturbance whenever I walk out the front door.  I do feel a bit guilty.    I’ve been pregnant.   I know what it’s like to  be disturbed once you’ve found a comfortable seat to relax in.

robin angry watching

Mother flies off in a “huff”  or what sounds like a bird huff, and sits on the grass nearby,  “barking”  at me in robin-speak.  It could be kind of cute, but the longer I stay outside  (like planting flowers, doing a little weeding. . . )  the more it gets annoying.

Which is, I suppose, her intention.

I leave.   She goes back to my porch light.

It’s always been like this –  Birds First.        I remember one time I went out on my back deck to just . . .  well, to actually pray for a brief moment out there.  My eyes were closed, when suddenly I felt a Presence – at my cheekbone.    And I heard an intermittent, loud buzzing.   When I slowly opened my eyes,  I saw a blurring motion right at the tip of my nose.  It was a curious hummingbird, looking for a landing, I think.  Or maybe I had just had some orange juice.

But too close for comfort!     My nose is close to my eyeballs!   I wrote about it in a post called Fawn Fun, here….

Back door.  Front door.  It’s enough to make one stay indoors for the Duration.

And to make one remember from whom the birds descended:

bird dino

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THE BIG SISSIES

June 7, 2016

This must be Sissy Weather –

Sissy Pond

See any goldfish in there?     Nope.

I have more than three dozen so far this year, and they’ve all disappeared because it got a little chilly out there.   The big sissies.   They’ve been gone all day.

For my part,  I’ve been enjoying the cool winds all day.   I kept the windows open today, in 62 degree temperatures, so now my house is . . .  about 62 degrees inside.   It’s going to get down to the low 50s tonight – and I’m NOT turning on my furnace.    Quilts,   hot tea, and a stack of books are what cold houses are for!

We’ll see.

Sisssy herbs

The Weather Channel has not announced our three or four spells of “unseasonably:  cold weather this Spring  –  temperatures   “way below average.”    (They do, however,  enthusiastically announce wherever the temperatures are warmer than average.  Must be that that “climate change” is going in only one direction.)

I’ve been much more active in this cool weather.

I’m just getting started on my herb garden,  and I promised myself I’d take a year or two off of tomato growing.  Maybe the Great Midwestern Tomato Blight will be done by then.    I live around enough Amish farmers to make a trip to the Farmer’s Market a  better alternative.

 

All of my neighbors are busy trying to keep up with late Spring yard chores, so that the summer’s growth doesn’t become overwhelming.    Like these pretty flowers surrounding St. Joseph –

sissy invasion

I didn’t plant those flowers.    Every day they seem to get bigger and thicker.   Turns out they are an “invasive species”  and they are efficiently invading my space.   So rather than “growing” things  this year,  my summer will be busy “ungrowing”  things.

Sometimes we need to  stop growing things,  to “ungrow,”  to cut back, to weed out — oh, I think I’m talking other things:  my books,  my extra possessions that are “extra”  for no particular purpose,   all my photos,   and all the photos on my computer desktop waiting to be used . . .

I’ve just taken a kind of interlude from more serious issues.    I need the courage and prudence to say things in just the right way,  because our civilization is at stake.   It’s so easy to let it go,   to make no remarks,   for “good people to do nothing,”  —  to be a big Sissy.

Sissy white pond

Well.      That’s not our gray sky through the trees.   That’s still looking down at the pond, at the empty pond;  still nobody there.

The big sissies.

AN OUTDOOR INTERLUDE – CARIBBEAN BLUE

April 21, 2016

Springtime in the Far North – finally –  and with it comes some annual chores:

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Kind of a messy overview of my annual spring task,  which is to add some kind of blue dye to the water to prevent an overgrowth of algae —  which uses up the oxygen that the fish need.   The dye prevents some of the  sunlight from penetrating the water, thus preventing the overgrowth growth of plants that shouldn’t be there.

I always worry about putting the dye into the home of the goldfish.   I know it mixes in after a while, and dilutes itself,   but I didn’t want to dump the dye onto the goldfish.       Little critters saw me at the edge of the pond and kept following me,  though.

It takes a while for the dye to spread out into the pond.    That’s not “sky,”  that’s just the reflection of the trees in the different colors.

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But then the pond becomes a beautiful blue in the sunlight:

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Blotchy blue at first,  then a nice Caribbean blue:

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Blue  +  gold = green?    Every year I fear I’m going to change the color of the goldfish.   But it never happens.   They just swim around looking like exotic tropical fish in their  newly “decorated”  habitat:

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They’re doing fine.

Deo gratias.

And thanks also for  this backyard pond which produces a sense of natural serenity for us here.

I’m the caretaker; the pond can be a lot of work,  but I don’t mind.

PALE SUN – PALE WORLD

April 10, 2016

Here it is,  here is what I woke up to a day or two ago:

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You can just about make out the small disk of the sun.      The early morning pale far-northern early spring sun, reflecting in the pond.

My pond.   For which I am so grateful and full of thanksgiving that God worked my life out this way,  and that there is such beauty to see.

I’m going to miss this world.

bar dissolve er

That “pale sun” haunted me all day.   I moved my books and my studying to the window that overlooks the pond,  but I was very distracted from my work.

So, my work paled too.   All the important things I thought I had to accomplish.

They say the beauty of Heaven is so overwhelmingly and satisfyingly beautiful that we will not miss the beauty of this earth.

So,  I’m working on understanding that.

bar dissolve er

Sludge –  I’m held down by sludge.    Prepare for a “data dump”  this week.   I’m getting rid of all the intangible thoughts that are weighing me down,  all the things that caught my attention,  all the photos that illustrate what had held my attention, for a while;  it just feels like something I have to do.      To free up my thinking.

Here’s the Lesson.   You can’t think “Up”  when you have so many distractions keeping you “down.”     What is it that I really care about?

Remember the old Annette Funicello  Walt Disney series called “Follow Your Heart“?  (The Horsemasters.)  annette side

Annette played a kind of city girl who loved to ride horses,  but when she went to an equestrian camp and took lessons with a friend,  she found that she didn’t have the courage to jump over the fences.

Try as she might,  she could only gallop up to the fence, and then to our great disappointment,  she just couldn’t complete the jump.    We were all cheering her on.    It was a Walt Disney production.  Surely she will overcome her fears in  the end!

Well,  her best friend finally thought of something.

She said, “You know you love to ride,  you know you’d love to jump over that fence.   Next time, as you approach that fence,  just throw your heart over that fence first, and follow your heart.”

And of course, it worked.

Where is my heart?

What you love you will treasure.    And Jesus told us “Where your treasure is,  there will your heart be also.”

With your treasure in front of you,  everything else on the side,  everything else behind you,  will seem very pale.   Even a sun.   Even the whole world.

A passing, pale world is not worth the price of one human heart and soul.     That’s what my pond with the pale sun taught me.

HOCKEY, WOLVES, AND HELP FROM ABOVE

January 26, 2016

Well, the last posting about “a walk in the park” was very nice —  well,  a reversal —  But — a private matter.  Private,  I guess, until God reveals all things on Judgment Day   —  but  perhaps things will “fixed”  by then. . . .

But let’s stay with the cold outdoors here in the Far North.   Another outdoors story.

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January 26th, last night or early this morning,  was the full moon,  the one that is called the Wolf Moon.   The  wolves are heard, ever closer to human habitation as they search for food that is getting scarcer in the deep winter.

If you’ve ever been outside, out in the open,  in the dark,  and have heard wolves howling,  you will have experienced some kind of primeval sense of fear and mortal danger.  Even if you know their cries can be heard from miles away,  you still have that sense of vulnerability.

On this planet,  humans are not so high up on the food chain.   There are far more skillful and efficient predators out there, looking for dinner.

My goodness.  What can I write next?   Where do I go from here?

This weekend, after I came home from that walk in the Spruce Tunnel,  feeling pretty happy, I  did my work,  did my duties,   then came to the family room in the evening to relax.

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This was the almost-full moon I saw out my window.   Not quite “wolfy,” I guess.   Just rather lovely.

20 degrees for five days:

Well, that’s the rule for forming strong ice.   I was heading for the fireplace,  but outside in my backyard —  the “klieg” lights came on!

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Time for a little hockey!

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Bang!   Slam!   S l i  i  i  d e !   Crack !!!       Ahhhh, the sounds of civilization!

You might notice that blue blur near one of the players feet.

Here it is again:

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That’s the new high-tech LED hockey puck – made for playing in the dark!   Hard to track with a camera, though.

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This was a multi-sensory experience.  Not only were there the loud sharp sudden sounds of a normal hockey game,  and the clean, crisp, cold air of the night,  there was the colorful blur going back and forth across the ice rink.

I love seeing my pond in use.   I love having my neighbor pop in with news and updates.  I love seeing that there is a good world out there, outside my window.

Because.    Wolves are real.   (I’m still unsettled from this weekend.)    Usually  it’s Bear that is my metaphor for the sudden unexpected attack of evil things in  life.   Once it really happened to me in the woods;  and from then on — it   c o u l d happen again;  maybe not with real bear,  but with something just as bad.

It can come all of a sudden, right while you’re feeling safe and okay.

We’re only humans.   We’re vulnerable.   We’re very weak.   We can’t make it alone without Supernatural help from above.

God is stronger.   If we are humble,  He’ll get us through.

Deo gratias.

 

 

Push Back: N-N-OOOOOO-OH!

April 14, 2015

 

They’re pretty:

pod lily

But that big fat  No!  up there in the title was Hubbie’s response to my plea for adding “just a few”  lily pads to our pond.     That kind of  “no”  was a total push back to the idea of lily pads in our pond,   pretty flowers or not.

I didn’t want to start this week’s Spruce Tunnel’s musings about push back, so I took some early morning photos of the pond today,  just to delay . . .

SAMSUNGSome of those “algae pads”  look like lily pads,  and there were some reddish brown leaves that had landed here and there, almost looking like flowers on the pads.

SAMSUNGClosing in on one area, I was delighted to see the first big goldfish of the season.    It was actually quite reddish, a sign of good health,  good nutrition…. or, in other words lots of algae and junk to eat —  which reminded me of a big problem.   The pond takes a lot of work to keep clean and debris free.  Too much algae is not a good sign.

And although that “No!”  resounds down through the years,  Hubbie was right.   Lily pads multiply like crazy and it would have been a constant chore – another pond chore — to keep them in the one tiny little corner that I had envisioned.

The fish were having a great time swimming fast from one “algae pad” to another.

SAMSUNGSo,  I’m glad now there was that big “push-back”  to my plans for turning “just a tiny part”  of our pond into a lily pad field.    It’s saved me a lot of   hard work, undoing a bad decision.

Even though I had planned to delay starting this week’s hard writing about some necessary push backs.   I guess my pond photos are leading me right into it.   Some push backs are necessary.

pod lily no

There are NO lily pads like these within 50 miles from my pond!     (probably)

 

A CLOD IS WASHING AWAY

January 20, 2015

 

Here is a beautiful sight which greeted me yesterday morning –

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Just like those beautiful night visions I photographed (a few blog posts ago),  this one held me there for a while, until I remembered my camera, so I could get myself unstuck from the window.   This is my backyard pond, and it looked like a shining lake that winter morning, reflecting the sunrise colors.

The funny thing is,  I had just taken a photo of that pond in the previous afternoon:

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It was looking well-used, and it made me happy to see all those ice skate tracks on the surface.  My neighbor said afterwards,  yeah, it’s getting time to zamboni it again.  Not exactly his words, but I’m so glad that he and his sons can make good use of my pond in the winter.

It’s a connection.  A neighborly connection.

creek overflow    Some day the pond may not look like that.  Things will change  because every spring, if there is a lot of sudden snowmelt, part of the creek bank and even the side of the pond washes away.    Great clumps of dirt are removed, by Mother Nature,   ( great clods of dirt)  .    Things change, but I’m sure that connection with my neighbor will always be there.

This was supposed to be a happy chirpy little posting,   but the day turned rather melancholy.  I received word that a man in one of my classes, a man who has been coming for several years now,  has become suddenly very ill — and now we know why he didn’t return to us this year after the holidays.   He is unable to answer emails and voicemails.  And he is somewhere out of state,  and we don’t know where.

Then, a friend came to visit with me today — 

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We hadn’t seen each other for a long time, but we’re still connected by our friendship,  so we had a lot of catching up to do.  For a time, she sobbed as she told me of the loss of a good friend, how it happened,  her role in it.   I understood.   I’ve lost four who were very close and dear to me in these past four years.

Like the clods of dirt on the side of my pond and creek,  parts  of us wash away as we live on this earth.   It matters.  It affects us.  Because we’re connected.    Because we’re human beings, capable of love and affection.   Because we were made by a God Who is Love, and He acts and creates out of His love.

This was not an easy thing for me to come to believe.  My childhood was filled with fears, tears, loneliness and emotional pain, to a degree that almost drove me mad.   It was startling to learn that, above it all,  we are   supposed to   feel connected and these connections are precious.  I didn’t believe it.

When we had to learn the Englishman John Donne’s “poem”  For Whom The Bell Tolls,  at 14 years old  I angrily wrote a rebuttal, in verse.   His poem starts out  “No man is an island…”  and my rebuttal began “Every man is an island.”   I believed I had stated my case well.

Now, at my age,  the emotional pressure is finally off of me…  and I can begin to believe that the connections we have with others is a very precious aspect of our natural lives.  And that’s why it’s painful to see the “clods” wash away, a little at a time,  which is also natural.

John Donne didn’t mean this to be a poem,  he meant it to be a meditation after he heard the town church toll out the bells for someone who had just died.

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.
 

Such beauty we can enjoy!  Like my pond in the soft morning sunrise.   But always, we must wonder, who will be the next clod to be washed away by the sea?      What connections will be “lost”?       (That is the meaning of the black bear on my tea table;  bear, never far from me;  symbol of the hidden dangers that suddenly rush out at us.)

Life here is not intended to be permanent.

A better life is intended for us.

Deo gratias.

AFRAID TO LOOK

June 24, 2014

This is another “random observation”  from near The Spruce Tunnel.

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I woke up one morning, looked out the window, and saw this little creature.

We have quite a few of these around here.   I guess there’s plenty to eat in our back yard, around the pond.

I know they’re supposed to fly around and land on cool …  weeds and things.   Cool and wet.  They’re not supposed to dry themselves out on hot sunny windows.

I kept coming back to him.  We had a lot of dragonflies that day.   Every time I got the camera ready,  they’d flit away.   But this one was still there.   He turned his head once,  but he stayed there in the dry heat, stuck to the window.

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I listened to the television news for a while.   The news was bad and was getting worse.  I thought, this news is giving me the same sense of discomfort as the poor stuck dragonfly.  I know things are getting bad, but I don’t know what to do about it.

Sometimes I’m almost afraid to look –

Garden Stripes for fawn

That’s a photo of a familiar corner of my garden.    The low but bright afternoon sun is casting “stripes” through the tree trunks.   I took the picture because of the contrast between light and dark,  but when I looked at the photo, I noticed something else.

Something else that didn’t happen.

See the dark shadows surrounding the garden?   Last week,  Son was mowing the lawn – with our push mower.   He walked around the right-hand side of that little garden area to throw some branches away, but he noticed a small animal in the bushes.  Not a squirrel, not a little dog,  but a very small fawn.  He said he’s never seen one that small.    We were glad he hadn’t used the noisy power mower.

You could study deer sociology, if you wanted to, back there.   Families,  mating behavior,  lone bucks, does, rogues, twins and triplet births, eating habits, playtime, etc.,   but you don’t think of a fawn that small, all alone.   I told Son that perhaps Mama was nearby, watching him, ready to defend.   Yeah, that’s what he thought too.

But that’s what we both hoped.    I tried to watch out my window more often for signs of Mama.   There was a big thunderstorm that night, followed by a few days of scorching heat.

The fact that I didn’t follow up (on the story),   that is, I never did see Mama,   doesn’t mean anything bad happened to the baby.

But, you know —   I just never looked.  I’ve not yet gone back around the little garden area…to look.

Just like with the dragonfly on my window all day,  I wouldn’t have known what to do.

 

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Just keeping a small watch on my character.

THE “GREAT DIVORCE” BETWEEN COLD AND WATER

March 2, 2014

An approach to the Tunnel:

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The Spruce Tunnel is a safe place for seemingly random but interconnected thoughts.   It’s a good place to think out loud and observe what comes up; to “see” what you already knew.

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I was looking at my frozen backyard pond which is now a well-used and well-appreciated neighborhood ice rink.

I was thinking about all the things that happen when water meets freezing cold temperatures,  and the results can be a little “complicated,” offering the possibility of fun or danger  but it all starts with ice, and you need the freezing temperature and you need the water.    Together.

If you begin a “great divorce” between cold and water,  you end up with slush which is no safe place to skate!

I wasn’t wearing my ice skates, so my mind drifted off into my main task this week:  serious study, on my part, to prepare for a new topic in my classes.   We begin the book of Genesis.  I’ve taught this book before, several times,  but I’ve learned so much from continuing studies  and just from life experiences that no new class about Genesis is quite like the one before.   The “teacher” is a little nicked and sliced up now, just like that surface of the ice rink.

But teaching the book of Genesis is more than knowing the material.  It’s also knowing the people in the class, knowing where they’re coming from,  knowing what they face in today’s blatantly anti-Christian culture; and although that culture is artificial,  unsubstantiated by reason, and temporary, it still sends out some pretty strong attacks.

There is an exaggerated point of view on one side which invites ridicule and mockery from the other side. The actual truth is caught in the middle. And so I took comfort in thinking about my frozen pond, because just as the ice is there, a combination of cold and water, there is Truth there in Genesis, and we arrive at that Truth by holding in our hands, in our minds, together,  our faith and our reason.

We humans have been gifted with all the faculties of our reasoning powers and we’ve been gifted with the grace of Faith.    One doesn’t shut off one to gain more of the other.   There is no “great divorce” here because they are not in conflict with each other – any more than we can say freezing cold and water conflict with each other.

What you get when you have both together is a solid foundation.

 

ZAMBONIED !!!

January 22, 2014

I’ve been zambonied!

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That’s my nice neighbor, out there on my pond with his personal zamboni machine.     He’s clearing the bumps off the ice and creating a very smooth surface.    He and his family will be playing hockey out there and I’ll be … oh, dear. …  trying to find my ice skating muscles.

The pond has been looking very inviting.

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It beckoned to me last night,  but late at night, with single digit temperatures,  it occurred to me that if I fell and cracked my head on the ice – all alone –  I probably wouldn’t be found until a day or two later. . . .

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So I waited until today, in the daytime,  to lace myself up.

As a young girl growing up in the city,  as a  busy young wife and mother,  all throughout my adulthood — I never would have imagined that some day I’d have an ice rink just outside my back door.

And right down the stairs:

SAMSUNGI’m very, very thankful for this.

Even though I’m still very unsteady.

SAMSUNGThat ice just has to be shoveled.   There is not much snow, but it looks better if the surface is cleared – and the shovel provides a nice “support.”

SAMSUNGI worked on the perimeter, and then did one wide path across the middle.   It was an overcast day and the temperature had gotten up to double digits:   11 to be exact;  11 degrees.   Good enough.

I discovered interesting things about this ice:

SAMSUNGThis is one of those years that the ice is multileveled.    The cracks are on the surface, but that white spot is an “ice bubble”  about six inches deep beneath the surface.   Then you can just about make out some brown leaves there, frozen now but used to be floating on the water, maybe 10 or 12 inches down below the surface.

As I glided across the ice,  I could feel a slight “rise” in the ice, like a mini speed bump.   That happens in very cold weather as the ice is freezing more and more, but since it has already met the edges,  there is no more room to expand outwards.   If this continues, we might hear a big  booming “crack” as the surface will have expanded as far as it can go  and then the little “rise”  shatters into a long new crack.

Meanwhile,   I was beginning to feel like this is “good exercise” — but I still had a long way to go to shovel over to that “hockey goal”  over there –

SAMSUNGFresh air and exercise for another day.

This is a fun world.

Deo gratias.

TUESDAY’S TRIBUTE TO MIXED SIGNALS

November 12, 2013

(Mixed:  young people read the first part,  grown-ups consider the rest.   My day to vent, with you.)

We have snow today,  but here is one last Glory Picture of Autumn. SAMSUNG

I worked hard to get rid of the leaves . . .

SAMSUNG . . . but you see the black brace on my hand.    Little bones still slightly broken — and that makes it hard to get the job done — left hand, right wrist!

Summer-Fall-Winter

So here is our snowfall yesterday, all soft and blurry –

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You can (almost) see the row of green bushes along the creek.  Green!   All the other trees are brown or yellow, as expected,  but we have more green leaves on trees than ever before.   It’s like we have three seasons at once.

This morning showed the same thing,  a little covering of snow over a thick layer of leaves under  an apple tree with green leaves. SAMSUNG Mixed signals.

It’s Tuesday.  The day I pay “tribute”  to the Victors.   11-06-12 sealed the deal.   I know they feel victorious because they aren’t even hiding anymore….no more need for stealth or subterfuge.  No need to cover their deceit.   No need to answer our questions.    No need to cloak their hatred of the United States of America — or of us, the citizens, who are being treated as  “subjects.”

The green leaves, fallen leaves, and snow keep me thinking about the politics of it all.    So clever to keep us mixed and confused,  because then we can’t think it’s “really that bad.”

So, first, the letters S  and H and then D,  in reverse order.   It’s not a real  D “department” in our government because 40% of “department heads”  are not there.  Do not exist.  There is no one in managerial postions in this fake department.  So who is managing this whole scheme?   Let’s make it clearer.     And, as I’ve written before,  America is not and never was understood to be an H  “homeland.”   We are the country people left their homeland for.    This is not Das Vaterland.   Whose idea is being imposed on us?

And it’s not about the S.   It’s about Control.    And arming our local police departments with military tactics and training, heavy artillery, tanks, weapons of mass control. . .    Children,  these are not the friendly neighborhood Men in Blue who will help you find your way home if you’re lost.   There is no Security here, when. . .   well,  you have been reading about the dreadful traffic stops, haven’t you?

This phantom department was created with the help of the head of the East German STASI.  Anyone remember who that is?   Your papers please.

Mixed Signals.

The Health Control Bill.    It’s not about “health,” of course, because there will be much less health care delivery.    It’s not “affordable” – to anyone — but that’s all right because the idea was if YOU can’t afford it, the rest of us will be forced to help you pay for yours — even if you choose not to have it. This is a massive transfer of the money in our bank accounts, the money we each earn,  into the hands of Big Brother,  putting it nicely.     Socialism through ownership of the medical field.

It’s not a law, it’s not an “act of Congress,” it’s a bill – a “bill of goods”   imposed upon an unwilling population.   The half-billion dollar non-working Website  that we paid for is irrelevant.

And to repeat –  it’s not about “health” — it’s about Control.   There are provisions to manufacture a biometric RFID chip to be used on every US citizen.  Eminiently hackable, of course.

Mixed Signals.

Undocumented Immmgrants who are here illegally.  We are supposed to allow them into our country as though they had not broken any laws;   as though we can afford to take care of them, even though we are overspent and bankrupt;   as though we can afford to lose the jobs foreign citizens will take from us;   as though our own country matters less than the votes they bring to the Ruling Class.

But again – it’s not about these “poor people”   who are seeking our succor,  it’s – again – about control.   Tucked into the Immigration “reform”   bill, is a provision for a mandatory biometric I.D. for EVERY United States citizen.  I guess they’ll just have to “pass the bill so we can see what’s in it” — and see the full ugly effects of a country of “free” citizens having to show papers everywhere we go.

Mixed signals.

Television programming is meant to demoralize our nation,  degrade our morals, and corrupt our manners –  We become, then, paralyzed.     Orestes Bronson,   Alexander de Tocqueville, and many of our Founding Fathers stated, warned us,  that we will be a free people only as long as we are a good people.   Do you turn on your TV and internalize these “mixed signals”?

I began with a posting of one last glory photo of this autumn.   I end with …  Old Glory.

Flag Old Glory with Storm Old Glory in a cloudy sky.

FALL FALLING

November 7, 2013

Untouched photo –

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Before we leave early Autumn altogether, I’d better post the beauties of this season.     The colors were not really brilliant this year,  but they had a kind of glory of their own.

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These were taken as I drove along on my errands.      There was a lot to look at!

Today, at home,  as I was working at the table that overlooks my backyard,  I kept getting distracted by the view and by the downward motion of the leaves.

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See, the colors aren’t brilliant,  but the air had a kind of yellowish glow to it which lit up this overcast day.    The leaves fell like snowflakes when the wind blew.    It’s hard to see in that photo, but a close-up helps.    The white splotches are actually yellow leaves drifting down.    Constant motion.

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When I walked past another window, my eye caught on a little patch of red.

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That pretty little bush is about the only red I have this year.    But before I could admire it for too long, I saw the pond.   Much of that “constant motion”   has landed in the water.    I’m going to have to figure out a way to rake my pond!

Which reminded me of the work possibly waiting for me in the front yard…..

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Yep.    “Constant motion” out there too.