days of darkness

illustration by Lennart Helje (1885-1922) Swedish Illustrator
illustration by Lennart Helje

Our governor has asked all the churches in our state to ring their bells twenty-six times this coming Friday morning, in memory of twenty innocent children and six brave women who were gunned down in their elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut four days ago, last Friday.

As the chilling details of this horrific story have been unfolding we have been thinking of little else. We are numb, still stunned, deeply saddened. Our hearts ache for the first responders and for the parents, families and friends who lost a precious loved one so suddenly and so inexplicably.

As the light begins to return on the winter solstice, as the bells are ringing, as prayers, sympathy and blessings continue to be offered, may the light of comfort and healing shine a little brighter and a little longer in the days to follow.

It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work and that when we no longer know which way to go we have begun our real journey.
~ Wendell Berry
(Standing by Words: Essays)

merry and bright

Dima & Lara ~ San Francisco, California

Time for me to express a little joy, the sort of elation parents often simply cannot contain when something wonderful is happening with one of their offspring.  In September we received the welcome news that Larisa & Dima got engaged, and in October we had the pleasure of meeting Dima’s parents, Svetlana & Vladimir, when the kids brought them here for lunch and a delightful afternoon of getting to know one another.

Dima’s family emigrated from Russia to settle in the United States when he was seven years old.  Turns out he was a towhead when he was small, same as I was.  It’s funny the things I make note of and file away in my memory.  Dima is short for Dimitri.  Larisa is a Slavic name, too, and when she was little we tried calling her Lara, and even Lara-Kate, using her middle name Katherine, but it never stuck.  It occurred to me how symmetrical the names Dima & Lara would be together.  Kind of like Tim’s brother and his wife, Dan & Fran.

Earlier, as we were preparing for the visit, I was standing on a stool to get some serving platters off the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet.  Apparently I was fumbling due to nervousness because next thing I knew the platters were out of my hands and had crashed onto all the wine glasses I had just washed. Broken glass was all over the countertop and the floor and in the kitchen sink, too.  Somehow we managed to clean up the disaster, run out to Home Goods, buy new wine glasses, and make it back home before our daughter’s future in-laws arrived.  Phew!

Dima & Larisa

Larisa loves the above picture – from one of her many escapades with Dima.  We often wonder from where the thrill-seeking genetic material originated.  (They’ve been skydiving, bungee jumping and scuba diving, too…)  But we’re happy that the kids have found such a good match with each other in their adventuresome spirits.  I’ve had some more mellow fun, co-creating a wedding web page with them – they’ve added all the content and provided me with pictures to play with.  (So of course I borrowed my favorites to share here!)

We did put those new wine glasses to good use.  Svetlana & Vladimir brought gifts of wine imported from Russia and Ukraine, as Larisa had told them beforehand about our Ukrainian ancestry.  Apparently there is a Russian saying that only problem drinkers don’t toast before drinking.  Well, offering toasts is a custom Tim & I were not acquainted with but soon we were learning a bit about the etiquette involved and were imbibing and well-wishing for the days forthcoming, right along with our new extended family.  🙂

Earworm:  “May your days be merry and bright…”  The line from that song has been stuck in my head for days now!  We picked out our tree and brought it home on Saturday and I’ve now finished decorating it.  Our cozy little nest is ready for the winter solstice.  So here’s to Merry & Bright in the days and years to come!  Cheers!

Dimitri & Larisa

story-telling

“Mrs. Cassatt Reading to Her Grandchildren” by Mary Cassatt

If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.
~ Rudyard Kipling
(Rudyard Kipling, A Life)

I beg of you, you good people who want to hear stories told: look at this page and recognize the wisdom of my grandmother and of all old story-telling women!
~ Isak Dinesen
(Last Tales)

The universe is made of stories, not of atoms.
~ Muriel Rukeyser
(Out of Silence: Selected Poems)

responsible forever

"Foxes" by Bruno Liljefors
“Foxes” by Bruno Liljefors

“People have forgotten this truth,” the fox said. “But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.”
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
(The Little Prince)

Welcome Autumn!

summer nights

"The Mystery of a Summer Night" by Edvard Munch
“The Mystery of a Summer Night” by Edvard Munch

Whichever road I follow, I walk in the land of many gods, and they love and eat one another. Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.
~ Linda Hogan
(Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World)

A friend posted part of the above quote on Facebook this morning and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I put the book it comes from on my “to-read” list. Perhaps I will have more time for reading this winter.

My ancestors have been calling to me strongly since May and most of my time since then has been spent doing online research, and planning a research trip in the fall. It’s actually one of Tim’s ancestors who is calling the loudest and most persistently – I have discovered a clue that might lead me to her parents, who I have been looking for, off and on, for thirty-seven years!

It’s a struggle for me to balance research, blogging, gardening, housework, preparing healthy meals, de-cluttering, visiting my dad, enjoying the summer… Summer days are so long and mostly hot and humid, although we have had a few wonderful days here and there to enjoy onshore breezes and open windows. I quickly grow weary of the drone from the necessary air-conditioning…

But summer evenings are the best! Going to plays (Shakespeare-in-the-Park) and concerts (Dave Matthews Band) outside, seeing sunsets and starlight and the moonrise – the stuff memories are made of…

This past Sunday evening we went to Summer Music Sundays at Mystic Seaport for the first time. We dined and had drinks under a huge maple tree outside of Schaefer’s Spouter Tavern (named for the tavern in Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick), with a view of tall ships moored to the dock on the Mystic River, and smaller boats sailing by while the sun set across the river. We thoroughly enjoyed the music, guitar-playing singer Bruce Foulke, who treated us to some covers of old favorites by James Taylor, Carole King, Van Morrison, Eric Clapton… It was a lovely, perfect evening!

What do you love best about summer?

noctilucent

"Partridge with Daisies" by Bruno Liljefors
“Partridge with Daisies” by Bruno Liljefors

They are not callow like the young of most birds, but more perfectly developed and precocious even than chickens. The remarkably adult yet innocent expression of their open and serene eyes is very memorable. All intelligence seems reflected in them. They suggest not merely the purity of infancy, but a wisdom clarified by experience. Such an eye was not born when the bird was, but is coeval with the sky it reflects. The woods do not yield another such a gem.
~ Henry David Thoreau
(Walden)

Welcome Summer!

glass jars with notes to the future

illustration by Ruth Mary Hallock
illustration by Ruth Mary Hallock

In April of 1966, the three third grade classes in my elementary school took part in the celebration of Arbor Day. Storrs Grammar School no longer exists, but the building is now called the Audrey P. Beck Municipal Building, serving as the town hall for Mansfield, Connecticut. On the corner of the property, near the junction of South Eagleville Rd. and Storrs Rd., stand three trees which were planted by me and my classmates. A solemn and serious child, this made a big impression on me. Each class had filled a glass jar with notes to the future from each child in the class, and each class planted its glass full of notes deep under the ground with the roots of its tree.

Every time I drive by these three trees, which is every time I go to visit my dad, I think of that day and wonder if those jars will ever be unearthed… Why are certain things remembered so vividly and others so soon forgotten?

Arbor Day as a holiday was created by a man named J. Sterling Morton and was first celebrated on April 10, 1872. It was estimated that a million trees were planted for the occasion, nationwide. I wonder if Earth Day, which got started in 1970, has eclipsed interest in this much older holiday. Certainly we can’t have too many reminders about honoring the lives of our dear friends, the trees.

The Arbor Day Foundation has an interesting history, click here. And suggestions for marking the day, click here.

And here is a wonderful tree post by my friend Kathy: Ditto what the Lorax said.

Happy Arbor Day!

true race of prophets

“Christ Before Pilate” by Mihály Munkácsy
“Christ Before Pilate” by Mihály Munkácsy

Jesus Christ belonged to the true race of prophets. He saw with one eye the mystery of the soul. Drawn by its severe harmony, ravished with its beauty, he lived in it, and had his being there. Alone in all history, he estimated the greatness of man. One man was true to what is in you and me. He saw that God incarnates himself in man, and evermore goes forth anew to take possession of his world. He said, in this jubilee of sublime emotion, ‘I am divine. Through me, God acts; through me, speaks. Would you see God, see me; or, see thee, when thou also thinkest as I now think.’ But what a distortion did his doctrine and memory suffer in the same, in the next, and the following ages!
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
(Divinity School Address, July 15, 1838)

brush fire

3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
Poquonnock River Walkway ~ 3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut

Last weekend we took a short walk on the Poquonnock River Walkway because we had heard on the news that there had been a brush fire. Fortunately the fire broke out behind the Poquonnock Bridge Firehouse, but it ignited several patches of brush along the walkway before the firemen got the flames under control. Everything is so wet there it is hard to imagine how the fire might have started.

3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut

There were many birds busy in the reeds and trees lining the walkway.

3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut

It’s disheartening to see all the illegally discarded garbage exposed by the fire. Wish I knew why some people cannot make the effort to dispose of their waste materials properly at the “transfer station.”  When I was little we called it a “dump” and we took to heart all the public service ads on TV encouraging us not to be litter bugs!

3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut

For my sister and me Saturday trips to the dump were fun! Perhaps once or twice a month Dad would load up the back of his pick-up truck with our family’s trash. Beverly and I would then climb into the cab and snuggle up to our papa as closely as we could. This was back before the days of seat belts. The reason we held on tight was that the passenger door would sometimes swing open when the truck turned a corner. (The problem was eventually repaired.) What a thrilling adventure! And the chance to feel the strong arms of our father holding us securely, the chance to feel like precious cargo!

3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut
3.4.12 ~ Groton, Connecticut

On the way home from the dump we got to ride in the back of the pick-up truck! We begged and pleaded and were sometimes rewarded with a side trip up and back down Route 320, a road with many wonderfully smooth bumps – riding over them would make us feel like we left our stomachs on the truck while our bodies were lifted into the air by some mysterious force for a fraction of a moment. These days I’m sure Dad would be arrested for endangering minors, but for me these were the spicy experiences of my young life!

The whispers of shared ecstasy are choral.
~ George Steiner
(Grammars of Creation)