A Timbered Choir | Fourth Sunday.

Finally will it not be enough,
after much living, after
much love, after much dying
of those you have loved,
to sit on the porch near sundown
with your eyes simply open,
watching the wind shape the clouds
into the shapes of clouds?

Even then you will remember
this history of love, shaped
in the shapes of flesh, everchanging
as the clouds that pass, the blessed
yearning of body for body,
unending light.
You will remember, watching
the clouds, the future of love.
- 1994, II (p. 177)

(This Sunday series is inspired by Wendell Berry's A Timbered Choir.)

A Timbered Choir | Third Sunday.

Another Sunday morning comes

And I resume the standing Sabbath

Of the woods, where the finest blooms

Of time return, and where no path

Is worn but wears its makers out

At last, and disappears in leaves

Of fallen seasons. The tracked rut

Fills and levels; here nothing grieves

In the risen season. Past life

Lives in the living. Resurrection

Is in the way each maple leaf

Commemorates its kind, by connection

Outreaching understanding. What rises

Rises into comprehension

And beyond. Even falling raises

In praise of light. What is begun

Is unfinished. And so the mind 

That comes to rest among the bluebells

Comes to rest in motion, refined

By alteration. The bud swells, 

Opens, makes seed, falls, is well,

Being becoming what it is:

Miracle and parable

Exceeding thought, because it is

Immeasurable; the understander

Encloses understanding, thus

Darkens the light. We can stand under

No ray that is not dimmed by us.

The mind that comes to rest is tended

In ways that it cannot intend:

Is borne, preserved, and comprehended

By what it cannot comprehend.

Your Sabbath, Lord, thus keeps us by

Your will, not ours. And it is fit

Our only choice should be to die

Into that rest, or out of it.

- 1979, II (p. 6)

(This Sunday series is inspired by Wendell Berry's A Timbered Choir.)

A Timbered Choir | Second Sunday.

Slowly, slowly, they return
To the small woodland let alone:
Great trees, outspreading and upright,
Apostles of the living light.

Patient as stars, they build in air
Tier after tier a timbered choir,
Stout beams upholding weightless grace
Of song, a blessing on their place.

They stand in waiting all around,
Uprisings of their native ground,
Downcomings of the distant light;
They are the advent they await.

Receiving sun and giving shade,
Their life's a benefaction made,
And is a benediction said
Over the living and the dead.

In fall their brightened leaves, released,
Fly down the wind, and we are pleased
To walk on radiance, amazed.
O light come down to earth, be praised!
- 1986, I (p. 83)

(This Sunday series is inspired by Wendell Berry's A Timbered Choir.)

A Timbered Choir | First Sunday.

A Timbered Choir is one of the two books of poetry I purchased while reading the last chapter of Barbara Brown Taylor's wonderful An Altar in the World.

It's subtitled "The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997". Most Sundays, my poetry is more likely to come from the Psalms, and I liked the idea of reading something contemporary. Even better if it's focused on the outdoors and the peace and tranquility a quiet walk in the woods might provide.

In his preface, Berry writes

"These poems were written in silence, in solitude, mainly out of doors. A reader will like them best, I think, who reads them in similar circumstances - at least in a quiet room. They would be most favorably heard if read aloud into a kind of quietness that is not afforded by any public place. I hope that some readers will read them as there were written: slowly, and with more patience than effort."

and

"...the poems printed here should be thought of as a series, not as a sequence. The poems are about moments when the the heart and mind are open and aware. Such moments, in my experience, are not sequent or consequent in the usual sense. Such a moment is not necessarily the cause or result of another such moment."

My intent, over these next four Sundays, is to take this book with me to my favorite bench at the park, to read poetry...and then share a little of that experience with you.

For this first Sunday, it seems appropriate to share the poem that Taylor included in her book. It's the one that drew me to A Timbered Choir in the first place and I think it's a wonderful place to begin.

What do the tall trees say
To the late havocs in the sky?
They sigh.
The air moves, and they sway.
When the breeze on the hill
Is still, then they stand still.
They wait.
They have no fear. Their fate
Is faith. Birdsong
Is all they've wanted, all along.
~ 1991, VIII (p. 134)

Poetry Sunday | What Gorgeous Thing.

from this morning's walk

What Gorgeous Thing

I do not know what gorgeous thing

the bluebird keeps saying,

his voice easing out of his throat,

beak, body into the pink air

of the early morning. I like it

whatever it is. Sometimes

it seems the only thing in the world

that is without dark thoughts.

Sometimes it seems the only thing

in the world that is without

questions that can't and probably 

never will be answered, the

only thing that is entirely content

with the pink, the clear white

morning and, gratefully, says so.

~ Mary Oliver (from Blue Horses)

sunday in the park.

entering the park from the "back gate", holly chooses which way we go; today, she chose clockwise

...it hit me hard as holly and I set off for the park this morning. this is one of our last walks there on a sunday (weather permitting, we have next week, and that will be it). it really caught me off guard. I'm going to miss many things about this home, and walking holly in hembree park, on a sunday, is for sure in the top 10.

looking back as we approach the big hill

I did a series of blog posts about our sunday walks last november and december. the colors, the seasons, the sounds or the quiet, the simple peace of walking that mile-long trail (despite holly's occasional barks at squirrels, or chipmunks, or birds). it anchors my week.

looking back (again)... a favorite spot to see the seasons change

the best part of the trail for shadows - sara and I have been here, too

so I was especially glad today's walk was one to remember. there was a slight chill in the air. the sky was bright blue. holly was full of energy (I only had to carry her a little bit). we had the place to ourselves. and enjoyed every minute of it.

one little word. june.

...it's mostly been a good thing that this is my second year doing ali's one little word class. I'm comfortable with the process and know that the end result will be more than worth the effort. but I wasn't looking forward to june. june is the "get creative and get messy prompt". the one I opted out of last year. I've actually been dreading it. but a few weeks ago, I saw julie balzer's watercolor cards and thought those might be very cool for illustrating my word shine. that simmered for a bit and I found myself starting to get excited about watercolor. and my word. and getting messy.

so this morning, I made time to watch the videos. the first ten minutes was a great introduction. ali closed with a parting thought to "take a creative risk and step outside [my] comfort zone". (well duh, anything that involves paint is outside my comfort zone!)

I finished the second video at 5:15 this evening - parting comment from my journal "I'm going to DO THIS NOW!"

...and I did. I chose yellow as my color, along with white, and cream and a very pretty pearl white (one of several happy surprises in the bins and boxes that comprise my "scrapbook stash").

I cut nine 2-1/2 by 3-1/2 inch squares.

and painted. and gesso'd. with stamps. just like ali showed. and about 30 minutes later I had nine little canvasses ready to dry.

while they dried, I practiced watercolor on the pages of my journal. and realized I had no idea how to make those cool drips. or really anything that remotely resembled those cool julie balzer cards. I embarked on plan B. do like ali.

I added ink. and white rub-ons. and words. and embellishments. all stuff I'd been hoarding (it was very fun to use it!).

and then I had a happy accident. I boo-boo'd one of the cards. what the heck, it was ruined already, so I scribbled on it with my watercolor marker. and then stepped over to the sink to spray it with water. oh my. I had drips. and lovely soft colors. I then scribbled with intent - as in layering colors.

using stampin up watercolor markers in the bold brights  - yellow, orange and hot pink

spray. drip. dry.

love how the texture from the paint shows through

the cards are still propped up to dry completely and I plan to stamp them tomorrow when they're dry. simple words to add another plane of dimension. grace, giving, peace, sharing.


...to my one little word. shine.

sunday in the park.

...I fumbled through my mittens to create my 2011 top ten christmas playlist on my iphone.

holly did get just a bit impatient. my fingers did get really really cold.

and when I got home I asked sara to download one more song. so now my 2011 holiday list has 11 songs.

I think it's perfect!

what music is on your playlist this holiday season?

sunday in the park.

...the crisp air and clear blue sky were energizing. the little pops of red made me happy.

but it was the sunshine that really made me smile.

sunday in the park.

...we walked two laps. holly chased and barked at squirrels while I noticed the grays and browns in the landscape (it took my mind off my very cold fingers).

and then she posed for a photo.


the perfect way to commemorate our one-year anniversary!

sunday in the park.

...holly treed a squirrel.

(actually, she treed about four, but it was no fun taking photos after than first one!)

sunday in the park.

...it was quiet enough to hear the water tumbling over the rocks. and reflect on my thoughts. as we walked two laps in the damp morning mist.

sunday in the park.

...I was again reminded how grateful I am to all who serve this country to ensure my freedom. I send my heartfelt gratitude to them and their loved ones for all they've sacrificed. thank you!

sunday in the park.

...I saw a few pretty bits of red still hanging on to their branches.