Clinging

I happened to look up and discover just in time, as today the whole structure is being sanded down for a fresh coat of paint.

The Possibilities Are Endless

How beautiful is youth! How bright it gleams,

With it's illusions, aspirations, dreams!

Book of Beginnings, Story without End,

Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend!

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Writhing Light

Lone Pine

We spent Memorial Day Weekend in Lone Pine, as per tradition. It was so nice to get away for a few days; even in the midst of the craziest time of my life thus far. I felt like I couldn't possibly leave, but it was so good. 

Here's the highlight reel.

Settling down in front of a campfire after a long drive and a long set-up.

Waking up from the heat and the light in my east-facing wing of the tent trailer.

Spying a the British Isles in the sky.

Tooling around Mammoth in the wet while my dad and brother mountain bike.

A glistening fruit tart from the bakkery.

High and low pressures in the valley make for stunning skies.

Being driven in-tent by wild winds. Apparently the air's energy was contagious... 

Matching :)

Living with the song of bubbling water always tickling your ears.

The sky blushes as it watches the pursuit of Sun by Moon.

Wild fires invite us all to gather 'round.

The scents of smoke and Pantene mingle in my hair.

Big, bright birds launch into the sky. They leap, we hold our breath, then the glide into solitude and space. Best not fly too near the sun.

Horseshoe Meadow: a piece of the Scottish highlands nestled in the austere Sierras. I think this is my happy place.

The dogs are in they're element. It's a joy to watch.

My sweet kitty welcoming me back home with purring and snuggling and one jagged scratch on my hand that I don't mind because I know she was just too excited to be careful. :)

Yeats and Thile

I just came across this evocative poem by Yeats:

Song of Wandering Aengus

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

- W.B. Yeats

As soon as I read it I realized it must have been the inspiration behind this, one of my favourites of Chris Thile's songs:

How to Grow a Woman from the Ground - Chris Thile and the How to Grow a Band*

And here be the lyrics:

I caught a string full of fish
down at the dam
and I'll drag them to the field
they should be dead by then
wipe the sweat from my neck
and tally ho the plow
I'm gonna grow a woman from the ground

the night was a chalkboard with a fingernail moon
if the fish ain't dead yet
they will be pretty soon
kind of like the feeling in an old folks home
even though you love them you cant wait for them to go

I'll call her Angelina she's a teacher I once had

a halo of honey wrapped around her head

and she always used to give me some when I was a kid

I told her that I loved her and then I went and hid

I'll take you into town and I will show you off
theres room on your dress for a corsage
and I'll open every door for you

I opened up my almanac and in my head I read

cut you wrist on the fins of the fish and drain all you can

so I rolled up my sleeves and then began to draw

lines just as deep as days are long

I sewed up my wrists and sowed the ground with my blood

stained up my clothes pretty good

turned that dirt to mud

could not help but close my eyes and lay my body down

'cause I heard it takes forever to grow a woman from the ground

I bleed for you and now I'm skinny as a rail
and I'll be so obliged to keep you nice and warm and safe
and won't you be so proud of me 

- Tom Anderson Brosseau

I was so thrilled to discover this. Oh I love little surprises such as these!

*Later known as the much beloved Punch Brothers :)

Windows

Lately I've been noticing how subtly different each of our faiths are as believers. Hearing from friends what is most important to them about their faith, what they love most about it, what is so beautiful in it, I've noticed the delicate inflections each of us cast on it. Some love the freedom we have in Christ, some love that everything is so fearfully and wonderfully made, some love how we are all called to love on others, I love how beautiful God's love is.

Think of it like this. The Truth of God's love is like light, and we are like windows.

Just as windows vary in shape, in colour, in depth, in finish, so do our perspectives.

The Light appears differently through every window.

But it is still the true light.

Just perhaps with a slightly different tone or feel.

Each window accentuates a different facet of the Light.

Each shows the radiant Truth from a unique perspective.

The trouble comes only when you start trying to shine the Light through a door, or a wall... 

I was thinking that maybe differences like these account for the existence of denominations within the Body. The Baptists all have a similar shape to them, as do the Presbyterians. But still, the Truth of God's Love is flowing uniquely through all of us. It's beautiful.

Punch

So I thought I'd share some delightful tunes from my favourite band, the Punch Brothers. These guys rock my socks. They invoke the magical mix of guitar, banjo, mandolin, violin and bass. Scoff not! Just give it a listen. Their lyrics and licks get tangled up in my mind for days. In fact, whenever I whistle (I'm terrible at it really...) I always start whistling this one song of theirs. I just love them. Also, you might recognise the mandolinist, Chris Thile, from the lovely and dearly missed Nickel Creek. That man is incredible, a virtuoso. I never tire of listening to their mystical melodies. Hope you enjoy. :)