“Woodland Stream in a Winter Landscape” by John Henry Twachtman
I cannot tell you how the light comes. What I know is that it is more ancient than imagining. That it travels across an astounding expanse to reach us. That it loves searching out what is hidden what is lost what is forgotten or in peril or in pain. That it has a fondness for the body for finding its way toward flesh for tracing the edges of form for shining forth through the eye, the hand, the heart. I cannot tell you how the light comes, but that it does. That it will. That it works its way into the deepest dark that enfolds you, though it may seem long ages in coming or arrive in a shape you did not foresee. And so may we this day turn ourselves toward it. May we lift our faces to let it find us. May we bend our bodies to follow the arc it makes. May we open and open more and open still to the blessed light that comes. ~ Jan Richardson (How the Light Comes)
“Self-portrait. Between The Clock & The Bed” by Edvard Munch
The Clock strikes One That just struck Two — Some Schism in the Sum — A Sorcerer from Genesis Has wrecked the Pendulum — ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1598)
I have done nothing all summer but wait for myself to be myself again. ~ Georgia O’Keeffe (Letter to Russell Vernon Hunter, October 21, 1933)
It’s been a curious summer. Very little went as planned. As many of my readers know, I’ve long been trying to go through all the family history items we inherited after our grandparents’ houses on Cape Cod were sold. Before we moved to North Carolina I went through and discarded many of the things from their attics and closets, but still wound up transporting 14 boxes of stuff down here. My goal for this summer was to take advantage of being stuck inside to go through the boxes and organize all of it by family lines into my special acid-free notebooks.
Well, I only got through 4 boxes and am in the middle of the 5th! Each box is 12″x14″x18″ and is crammed full of pictures and paperwork! I’m still throwing a lot of things away, but I’m going through every piece of paper with a fine-tooth comb and in doing so have found many treasures. Reading every letter, every deed, every will, every newspaper clipping, every vital record and naturalization certificate. My notebooks are filling up fast. I’ve added a few more of them to the shelves. The pictures are being set aside to be sorted out after the paperwork is done.
I feel like a curator, managing this huge collection. I feel like I’m ‘being myself again’ after all. These summer days have been so enjoyable and a labor of love. I’m looking forward to sharing more of the stories about our ancestors that I’ve discovered, but am determined for now not to stop until finished. So this will be a year-round project going forward. There’s no way I’m willing to wait until next summer to start in again!
some of the 14 boxes waiting in the corner
The pictures are going to be more difficult to deal with because, sadly, so many of them are unidentified. But the paperwork is fun to read. The above letter was written by a lawyer (?) to Tim’s 2nd-great-grandfather, advising him about a search for a will in England. It was written in 1869.
The oldest piece of paper found so far was a hand-written ‘article of agreement’ between Tim’s 4th-great-grandfather and two of his sons, signed by him in 1837! It’s quite something to be holding a document that was in his ancestor’s hands 187 years ago.
I’m also in the process of taking my ancestor blog posts and turning them into stationary web pages. The growing list of pages can be found near the left bottom of my blog’s sidebar.
Counting one’s blessings has a particular poignancy at this festival because, as we mark the longest day, we are reminded that from this point the year will begin to wane and the days will gradually shorten. Transience is a reality for all of us and so we learn that our capacity for joy and happiness — like an inner sun — must radiate from within. It’s worth taking a moment to ponder the mystery that at the height of summer winter plants its own seed. ~ Maria Ede-Weaving (The Essential Book of Druidry: Connect with the Spirit of Nature)
5.14.24 ~ Via Calimala, Florence, Italy photo by Tim
Now we need a new definition of the self: I am not what I know but what I am willing to learn. Mystery waits in the mirror. Curiosity and learning begin before breakfast. Growing, we move through worlds of difference, the cycles and circles of a life, fulfilled by overlapping with the lives of others. ~ Mary Catherine Bateson (Full Circles, Overlapping Lives: Culture & Generation in Transition)
Beltane is the joyous time of leafing and blossoming. This festival celebrates sex and the transformation that comes when we open ourselves to another at the deepest level. This alchemy can also happen when we allow ourselves to be profoundly touched by nature. When we open to and merge with our environment, we can discover sacred union with the world itself. ~ Maria Ede-Weaving (The Essential Book of Druidry: Connect with the Spirit of Nature)
My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word — The Stars that stated come to Town Esteemed Me never rude Although to their Celestial Call I failed to make reply — My constant — reverential Face Sufficient Courtesy ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #1062)
Experience is the Angled Road Preferred against the Mind By — Paradox — the Mind itself — Presuming to it lead
Quite Opposite — How complicate The Discipline of Man — Compelling Him to choose Himself His Preappointed Pain —
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #899)
I’m not quite sure what Emily is getting at with this poem but it did get me thinking. Many folks say that experience is the best teacher, but personally experiencing all that life has to offer would take forever and, in my mind, often amounts to wasting time and learning things the hard way. But is it any better to submit to the discipline given by other people, obeying potentially immoral rules from authorities that might oppress or harm ourselves or others? Perhaps experience and discipline are opposite sides of the same coin. Perhaps we are as likely as our teachers to make painful mistakes in judgment as we learn ways to make sense of the world.
Resuming our walks! When we arrived at Moore Woodlands the birds were singing and it sounded like spring. It was 44°F/7°C and cloudy on this warm-for-January day. As we started walking around the meadow a song sparrow came down to the bushes and started singing for us. This made my whole day!
standing out in the meadow
lone tree in the meadow
beech marcescence
It is not enough to weep for our lost landscapes; we have to put our hands in the earth to make ourselves whole again. Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift. ~ Robin Wall Kimmerer (Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge & The Teachings of Plants)
wondering what those rusty maroon blobs are growing with the reindeer moss ~ amber jelly roll mushrooms ~ (thanks to Eliza for the identification)
In the woods we found a great many eastern red cedar trees that must have come down in a storm. Where they fell across the trail they had been cut and moved off to the side. It was interesting seeing the redness of the freshly cut wood.
We also saw a lot of English ivy growing on the ground and climbing some of the trees. I did some research when I got home and learned that the ivy is invasive and greatly weakens the trees they climb, making them more likely to fall during strong winds. It looks like the Avalonia Land Conservancy has been working to remove the ivy from this patch of woodland. We also saw quite a few eastern white pine saplings.
It also looks like the land conservancy is starting to identify the trees with little tags! I’d like to get more familiar with our local trees and welcome this new aid. This was a lovely first walk for the new year. 🙂
