It's All Good...

Last week was marvelous, particularly when Daddy came home from his business trip on Friday, and our visit with friends on Saturday. School went very well, and I finished early enough most days to go on long walks admiring all of God's amazing creation among the fir, maple, oak and hazel trees that populate our area. On Friday, there was even a bit of sweet sunshine pouring down out of a clear blue sky, and my afternoon walk was warm! Everything seemed to sparkle with life and clarity after the days of rain and clouds. As we left home for church this morning, I saw a bright double rainbow, layered with a myriad of subtle colors, stretching across the sky in the west; and from the east a mellow golden sunrise-light was spreading across our hilltop and sliding down into the valley. All this light! It seems to promise goodness in this week too, and I pray that it does. Even if  the week isn't as nice as I wish for it to be, I hope that I still cherish the good things in each day: the half-hour of quiet prayer and reading that I enjoy before I begin my routine of school and exercise, the joy of learning new things and gaining little parcels of knowledge in the different subjects I study, the time with my family and friends, and getting excited while I wait for August, and my little brother or sister, to arrive in the summer. Each of these things, and many, many more, are wonderful parts of my life right now... things to be thankful for.
Now it is raining again, but I won't forget the five minutes of sunshine this morning, the rainbow, and the clear sky on Friday. I want to keep walking in the light that gratitude and happiness bring!

Moonlit Reflections

It is dark outside; not dark like midnight is dark, but the shady liquid blackness of a day just ended, and a world sighing as it nestles down into its blanket of cool sleep. There is a small star pulsating just above the tip of a fir tree that is there but invisible in the blackness, and an opalescent moon, slowly waning as the days wear on. Inside, the fire is sparking to life under the hand of the expert hearth-tender, Mama, and little red-gold sprites are dancing about inside the stove, their laughter popping and crackling among the seasoned logs. The light plays across Christmas paper garlands that are draped across the kitchen and family room windows, and the white snowflakes hanging from them are tossing shadow and glow to each other as the fire-sprites leap to and fro...

Another Week Begun

That was a very exciting weekend. My cousin is married! There was snow! No power! Time with family! A long drive there and back again! And then - CRASH! Suddenly it's all over, and I'm back to a normal school routine and an extremely quiet house. I'm tired (even though I slept a little bit late this morning) and getting school done was a stretch.  But I did it, and I know that tomorrow will be easier since I started the clock ticking today. I will probably be able to get myself up on time and feel a lot more awake during school. And guess what? As soon as tomorrow, the day after, the day after, and the day after that are over, I can sleep in again because it will be Saturday!
But doing school again isn't bad, now that I have pulled through the first day and have learned the rhythm of it once again. I think I'll enjoy tomorrow much more, and Awana on Wednesday will be fun too. I'm looking forward to the rest of the week!

Puddles... Ponds... Lakes

The valley, which has forever been a tapestry of farmland, woods, and faraway barns and houses, has become a series of puddles, or ponds, or maybe they're closer to lakes. For a while today, during a short-lived moment of sunshine, the lakes shimmered blindingly in the light, but now they  just gleam palely beneath that very dark sky. However, the world is still an extremely beautiful place. I rediscover that fact every time I decide to have a little ramble in the woods behind our house, or along the grassy path past a half-finished vineyard, or just on the wet black road stretching for a mile before it turns into gravel. Today I was a woodland explorer, and I had a great time meandering over little streams that have appeared magically throughout the past few days. I heard birds singing, chirping, or repeating funny little ditties consisting of only one or two notes. I found  a mossy bird nest cupped up in the branches of a hazel tree, listened to the groans of a very old-sounding tree, and admired an orange salamander that I probably scared to death. The salamander handled the "life and death" situation very well; it sat very still and watched me with a remotely interested expression in its solemn black eyes (I'm not really sure if it had an expression, but if I were a salamander I would feel remotely interested)!
These little events are my proof of the world's beauty, these and coming home to a warm, fire-lit house, snowflake wreaths decorating our windows, and a few hours of free afternoon to fill up. Oh yes, and the lakes in the valley:)

Mirror Water

A peerless, gleaming light

Painted on miles of water,

Stretched from field

To rain-drenched field

Under a mist-blown sky.

Trees linger in flickering

Reflections, suffused in

Tiny, scudding wavelets

That ripple like the air

Vibrating with a bird's cry.

Each rainbow drop,

Falling from tangled

Grey clouds up above,

Is a mirror of sunlight

As it slides down to the earth.

Word of the Forest

 Mystic allure in the faraway blue,

Hidden 'neath forests of mist,

Gold under snow in haunts of the dew:

Those chambers of mountain and sky.

The call of the woods under

Shadow of tree,

In winter with frost and in

Summer of bee,

It breathes a tale of truth to the world,

It sighs a word of

Grace to me.

The wind is a song in the reticent firs,

Dipping their boughs

In the light of the moon.

Tossing black needles o'er glittering stars,

Whisp'ring bright hopes through

That translucent old rune.

Seven Sisters

It is 7:30 P.M. Two letters, sealed, stamped and addressed, are waiting patiently on the family room table. They are not in a hurry to sit for long, cold hours in the big black mailbox at the top of the hill. But they are, however, excited to be picked up and settled in the pockets of a bright orange hoodie that is their temporary vehicle to the said  black mailbox.
It is only a half mile walk, but there are so many stars to look at and so much gossiping  for the letters to do that the time passes far too quickly. The letters delight in that few minutes. They alternately  watch the sky and whisper letter-like secrets to each other, finding  that their information, once shared, is depressingly similar: a bit of news, some poetry, and random musings and responses which will probably make sense to whoever receives each letter, but makes none whatsoever for the sheets of pencil-marked stationary. The stars, on the other hand... this is something that the letters know a bit about. Their kind has gone on so many moonlit walks and listened to so many human exclamations over the night sky that they could recognize at least a few constellations. Orion, for instance, looks fabulous tonight (his belt in particular seems to glitter with unusual intensity). Cassiopeia, the crown of the sky, is located at the end of a translucent thread, on the other side of which is the handle of the big dipper. The pendant for this invisible chain is the North Star, so small, but bright and twinkling against it's cushion of smooth blackness. But by unanimous agreement of all the letters that ever traveled between the house on the hill and the big black mailbox, the Seven Sisters is the general favorite.
"It's so illusive", they say in hushed voices from within the orange sweater pocket.
"All those pale, starry-eyed daughters of the sky... and yes, that was a pun," says one voice defensively inside it's envelope.
"You should make a poem on them; part of it could be the sentence you just used. But you didn't have to tell me about the pun, I would have known without an explanation." This last was said haughtily, but not enough so to annoy the first letter too much.
"Ahhh, here we are at the transportation box! I can't wait to see where I'm going," declared one of them.
"You mean to say that you can't feel her handwriting and decipher it's meaning? Why, I'm quite efficient at that particular art. But of course, you are sooo much younger than me that you can't be expected to have learned such things yet." The letter smiled condescendingly, gloating over those ten minutes of existence that the other letter hadn't partaken of. He heard a sniff of disdain from the other pocket and began to sulk; he had hoped for a more dramatic response.
Then the letters were placed in the mailbox, or "transportation box" as they would call it, and their voices faded away, still discussing the Seven Sisters and boasting about their various limited abilities. High above them, floating in a distant universe, the said "pale, starry-eyed daughters of the sky" laughed whimsically together over the foolish notions of the two earthling letters. That is, they laughed for the next several hours,  until they melted with the coming of dawn.

Home Again - School Again

Yesterday the family (all except for our soldier in AIT) came home from a great weekend at our favorite little cabin in the woods. It was cold, but we were well-equipped with slippers and blankets and mugs of hot chocolate, plus a log fire, to keep us toasty and happy. The traditional games that we always bring (Settlers of Catan, Carcassonne, and Dutch Blitz) were accidentally forgotten at the house, so we did not have quite as many activities to do, but there was a lot of walking, eating, talking, and tons of reading to make up for it. We enjoyed our time together, and we enjoyed the beautiful mountain scenery if not the mountain chill.
But I am still very happy to be back to my regular school routine after three weeks of break. It's nice to get up at a reasonable time every morning, to think and exercise, and to feel my days once more filling with things to learn and do and study. So far, though I've only gone through most of the first day, I've definitely been liking it. I'm pretty certain that the rest of the week will be great too!

A Month of Beginnings

The year 2011 was rounded off by the perfect visit with dear cousins doing all of our favorite things. The stroke of midnight found us standing around the kitchen counter, clinking together glasses of apple juice mixed with seltzer to create the tingle that we would otherwise have found in sparkling cider. During the next few minutes I slipped out to the front porch, where I watched stars fade in and out of view as clouds drifted across an ebony sky, and viewed the tiny splashes of color from firework displays down in the valley. And I thought over the past year, and dreamed for the coming one, and whispered out into the crisp, cold air of an early January morning the prayer that I pray every year at that moment: a prayer for a good year, and a growing heart, and a blessing on all of my family and friends. And if the first four days had a voice, I'm sure they would agree with me that, so far, this January has been a wonderful month of beginnings.

Logs

This tree, by April wreathed in flowers,

That sheened with leaves the summer hours,

In dappling shine and shade,

Now all that then was lovely lacks,

Is vanquished by the saw and axe,

And into firewood made.

How happy and gentle a daybreak song

Whispered its solemn boughs among,

At sigh of morning stirred;

It braved the dangerous lightning; rose

In splendor crowned with winter's snows;

And sheltered every bird

That perched with slender claw and wing

to preen, to rest, to roost, to sing,

Unseen, but not unheard.

But came the woodman with his axe

Into the sun-sweet glade;

And what was once all beauty and grace

Is into firewood made.

~Walter de la Mare