This awesome and rugged wilderness stretches as far as the eye can see as I descend to Alaska…
…home to two once rugged individuals with dreams of setting up housekeeping in this wilderness. I know them as Mom & Dad, still as tenacious as ever to live out their dream, but not quite so rugged…
The Alaskan wilderness is wool-gathering in anticipation of winter…
The sun, though bright, is lower in the sky now, the days shortening…
Wilderness lies at the end of any given road here. One must know the way and be prepared…
I have not been this way before…Will we be lost? Unfamiliar trails these, on the edge of vast expanses…
How glad I am that the Lord is my shepherd. He knows the way we take…and goes the way before.
And He leads the way when the cry of the heart is: “I just wanna’ go home…” Sometimes that’s the only road one needs to know…
The one who said, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life” leads us each along this road of life—and we are indeed homeward bound.
Thanks for your prayers as I tread in new territory, both literally and figuratively!
Even the chickadee trusts in God’s Providence. Though worth but a penny, not one shall fall apart from His notice. (Mt.10:29) We’re in good hands!
‘You ask me what I did today.
I could pretend and say,
“I don’t remember.”
But, no, I’ll tell you what I did today —
I stored September.
Sat in the sun and let the sun sink in,
Let all the warmth of it caress my skin.
When winter comes, my skin will still remember
The day I stored September.
And there was cricket song to fill my ears!
And the taste of grapes
And the deep purple of them!
And asters, like small clumps of sky…
You know how much I love them.
That’s what I did today
And I know why.
Just simply for the love of it,
I stored September.”*
Sometimes a poem captures just what you would like to have penned yourself. This one’s like that. I have spent some sweet days this month ‘storing September’ for safe-keeping. Good thing, because finally, after a beautiful extension of summer the rains have returned. A delight to gather our little harvest in and see what has grown this year. Our little apple, pear and plum trees are at last yielding a little harvest! The flower above is a new-comer to my garden, just now in bloom. If you know its name, please let me know. I love it!
Summer has gone out with a splendid spurt of genuinely hot weather—well, not exactly Arizona hot but… we did try to swim every day we could, despite the shiver of ocean and lake this year. The grand finale for me was a fine day with friends over on Texada, an island easily reached from Powell River by a 35 min. ferry. Our prayer walk was commenced and terminated with swims. First in the prime swimming hole…
NO, not this one. Sc…sc…scary! An abandoned quarry…(don’t jump!)
Ahh… that’s better…easy in, easy out and wonderful swimming in between. Being before noon, we had the place to ourselves for a leisurely swim…
…followed by a prayerful meander through ‘town’, committing this island and its occupants to God as best we knew how.
Our day concluded with a gourmet luncheon prepared by a local summer resident (Thanks Naomi!!!) and a brave plunge in the ocean just to say we’d done it. BRRR and shiver!
That was on the weekend. This morning I woke to the sound of gentle rain, the swish of a car on the wet road, the silver-gray of fall begun…
By afternoon the sky had brightened and I made an exercise ‘run’ (not) up Scout.
Making it up the face in 15 panting minutes, breathless, and ready for a picture-taking break!
(See the big blue house by the one with the red roof? That’s us, with fresh blue paint)
The rains are definitely coming…
The silver cloud cover seems to mute all sound. A damp cool silence has replaced summer’s buzz…As I descend, a lone raven calls across the treetops. Another echoes back with an uncanny voice only a raven could muster… Bear droppings further down the mountain are filled with Blackberry seeds. It’s been a bumper crop year!
It’s no longer silent. I’ve roused a squirrel in passing and his high-strung chitter of warning refuses to be silenced.
Summer’s passing is a bittersweet thing. For the plant kingdom fall is their crowning event. They’ve fulfilled the season’s mission—to grow and bloom and multiply themselves.
In flippant disarray the scotch broom celebrates it’s mission’s fruition.
May we be so carefree—glad of a season’s fruitfulness.
Full of the memories,