A JANUS MOMENT…

Today, as the old year winds to a close and the new one readies itself in the wings, I sit at my study desk, among my books, sipping coffee and looking out the window at the late-afternoon yard wet with rain. A few birds and squirrels are busying themselves at the feeders and among the soggy leaves. Beyond, the river flows, smooth and unbroken, the color of green-gray slate.

Janus, the old Roman deity and keeper of gates and doorways, was usually depicted with two faces…one looking behind, the other ahead. I feel a little bit like that at this moment—remembering things which have happened these past twelve months, wondering what the upcoming twelve hold in store. My Grandaddy Williams might have said it was part of "taking stock." Only instead of checking the supply of firewood or coal, the number of hay bales in the loft, bushels of corn and oats in the bin, counting sacks of potatoes and apples, onions, carrots, parsnips, and heads of cabbage in the root cellar, or quart jars of home-canned tomatoes, green beans, peaches and pears, relish, pickles, jam and honey in the pantry, I'm taking stock in a more personal way, of me and my life—past, present, future; considering my hopes and plans and dreams, accomplishments, failures, gains, losses. Where have I been? Where am I going? Where am I at now?

All in all, 2009 was a good year—at times a very good year, with December and getting married, not to mention Christmas, being downright great. Of course my cough (all but gone, thank you) a lingering gift from November, which began as a nasty virus that rolled over me like a runaway bus, was definitely not so great. The rest of November, however, was good, as were the months which preceded.

The only real downer, back in March, was losing Frank—best friend, mentor, and beloved outdoor companion for more than thirty years. I still miss him every day…

And yet, any time you find yourself sitting at the cusp of a new year, how can you feel anything but grateful? After all, you made it one more round! There may have been rough spots—black holes, even—and you might have cried more often than you laughed; or hurt more frequently than those days when you felt comfortable and pain-free. I hope not, but the truth is, some of us suffer and struggle to survive, in all sorts of ways—mentally, physically, financially, spiritually. If you're not one, count yourself blessed.

I'm blessed, for sure. What I have far outweighs what I lack. The balance is tipped well into the positive. If my life ended today, I would have no reason to complain. God has been good to me. Life has been good.

What lies ahead? I don't know. The future is held in time's mystery. I have plans, hopes, dreams. Given time, some might come to fruition. Not all, though…never all, which is a good thing, because it leaves something for the year beyond, if there is one; and if not, well…no matter.

Looking out, I see the river is still slipping merrily along, luminescent water in endless journey that plays out regardless of whether we're here to watch or not—just like life.

I hope with all my heart that 2010 is a good year for you and those you love. I hope you find at least one or two of those dreams you hold in your heart. I hope that life is a joy, filled with wonder, rich with blessings.

HAPPY, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

BURRRRRRR!

Ever notice how easy it is for our feelings and actions to be influenced by others? Even when that "other" happens to be a male house finch?

I was just about to head outside and scatter a few scoops of cracked corn for the ground feeders when I looked up and saw the finch in the photo huddled like a fluffy tennis ball in the seed feeder near my workroom window. The little bird looked cold. Like a guy at a bus stop who wishes he'd put on that extra sweater before leaving the house, and is now doing everything he can with body configuration to keep from freezing. The finch had his feathers fluffed for maximum insulation, and his breast pointed at the wane winter sun. Gaining a few BTUs appeared more important than eating sunflower seeds.

In all honesty, as winter weather goes, we're still on the mild side. There is some snow on the ground. And when I went out not long after daybreak to toss corn to the ducks, the thermometer read 23˚F…nippy, but not bone-chilling cold. No doubt it was now several degrees warmer. Or so said reason. Not even mildly cold by Ohio standards. Cold is when the thermometer reads a double-digit south of zero and there's a 30-MPH wind whipping along like a cut-throat razor.

Influence called it differently. Seeing that hunched-up finch had its effect. The workroom felt suddenly colder. The snow on the ground beyond the window looked colder, too. My brain got the message, cast logic aside, and convinced my body that maintaining the clothing status quo made survival questionable, whereupon a shiver coursed up my spine like an escaped electrical charge…which I obeyed forthwith, without question, and did immediately exchange my jacket for a down-filled coat. All because a male finch did a puff-ball pose just outside the window.

And we big ol' macho outdoor guys think we have free will…

SNOW, NO SNOW…

Pouring snow earlier this morning.

As I write, the sky is an unbroken gray and snow is falling rather briskly here along the river. Of course, the up-to-the-minute latest forecast from the National Weather Service says we'll have mostly sunny skies all day; the possibility of snow is not mentioned.

Uh-huh. There are times when I think God simply does this to the weather folks to keep them from being too impertinent and forgetting who is really in charge of such matters.

We also had snow a couple of days ago—not that it amounted to all that much. For all its blowing and swirling, in the end, I'd guess my home stretch of riverbank received a bit over an inch. One of those snows which winds up somewhat short of covering the ground in a thick, fluffy, unbroken mantle of white, but is instead thin enough that bits of leaves and sticks show through. Worse are the grass tips. They might not be so visible if I'd given the yard one more mowing last fall instead of succumbing to the distraction of autumn's colorful leaves. Distracted to the point where I allowed certain yard chores to fall by the wayside. Now, those same neglected green tips stick up above the white like quills on a porcupine. Or perhaps tiny emerald Excaliburs, each being raised and held above the snow's surface by the arm of the Lady of the Lake. Either way, they're doing their best to nag at my conscience, stirring guilt by providing one more reminder of myblasé work ethic.

In case you're wondering, we had rain for Christmas. This happens fairly often here in the southwest corner of the state. We sing about a white Christmas, long for a white Christmas, and picture the day against a backdrop of white in our imagination…but reality is apt to arrive rainy, muddy, and in the low-40s˚F, or at least brown and dry and bitterly cold or windy rather than storybook white.

I don't think it has anything to do with global warming, though it may very well reflect a warmer trend of a long-term weather cycle which the region—if not the entire hemisphere—seems to go though every hundred years or so. When I was a kid—up to about about age ten—December hereabouts was a month filled with snow. In fact, you could generally count on some pretty fair snows beginning in November—first flurries, then coverings that lasted a day or two. A white Thanksgiving was nothing unusual.

December continued the trend—more morning flurries and light, blowing snows; snows which might measure a half-inch or six inches, but disappeared after a day or two. Then, about the third week in, things typically began to change. The snow started to stick; each successive snow simply adding its load to the one before. By Christmastime we generally had a foot or so of accumulation on the ground. I could sled the block from my grandparents's house down the slight hill to our front gate. When I was five years old a reporter from the local paper came out and did a short photo piece on an igloo my dad had built for me in the back yard. That year, a really severe storm had left drifts level with the front porch and covering the fence—at least five feet deep.

Moreover, December's latter, after-Christmas snows were buried under those of January…and those by the snows which arrived in February. Once that "staying snow" came (which is how I've heard oldtimers refer to that December snow which formed the base for subsequent snows) over the next two months, you weren't apt to see anything but a white ground cover until March. Two-and-a-half or three months of white.

If you talk to many of the real seniors who remember how it was locally just after the turn of the Twentieth Century—oldsters now in their 90s—they'll tell you about going to school and church via horse-drawn sled. Roads were impassible unless you used runners instead of wheels. In the 1900s, the few automobiles around—a lot of them Model T Fords—were thereby shunted to the barn where they were drained of fluids, usually placed on blocks with their wheels removed to prevent damaging stiff rubber tires, covered with a tarp to protect their shiny black paint from pigeon droppings. And there they'd sit, these delicate newfangled vehicles powered by their "infernal combustion engines," ignominiously resigned to some dark corner, under a dusty shroud, awaiting springtime resurrection in March or maybe April, depending on the severity of "mud season."

Nowadays, winter isn't one continuous season of white. Snows fall, lay around awhile, melt. I don't know what the old boys would have done…would they have used wagons or sleds? Runners or wheels? I expect mud would have been a more serious problem, since the ground didn't freeze and stay that way until spring, but periodically thawed into a messy quagmire. However, that flivver in the barn would have been as incapacitated as ever, unlike the 4-wheel drive hill-climbing, mud-hogging, snow-bucking machines of today.

And just to keep the record straight…it's been a couple of hours since I began writing this post. Naturally, I got distracted, watched birds at the feeders, looked at the river, ate an oatmeal cookie—okay, three—talked on the phone, futzed around around with my new i-Pod, uploaded a bunch of shots from the camera to the computer. The snow stopped. The clouds moved off. Now, it is bright and sunny outside. The weather-guessers are suddenly right, like a stopped clock that displays the correct time every twelve hours.

Snow, no snow…

ADVENT COUNTDOWN 1

For unto you is born this day

in the city of David

a Saviour,

which is Christ the Lord.

Glory to God in the highest,

and on earth peace,

good will toward men.

ADVENT COUNTDOWN

Stars rise and set, that star shines on:

Songs fail, but still that music beats

Through all the ages come and gone,

In lane and field and city streets.

And we who catch the Christmas gleam,

Watching with children on the hill,

We know, we know it is no dream -

He stands among us still!

—Nancy Byrd Turner, "The Christmas Star "

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[The word "Advent" comes from the Latin adventus, which means "coming." In the Christian church Advent is that period of expectant waiting leading up to the Nativity of Jesus. Some prefer to think of it as a "Countdown to Christmas." If you've ever had an Advent calendar, you know that each day prior to Christmas has it own window, usually hidden behind a little flap or door, behind which is a scene or verse from the Scriptures. I thought it would be fun to take that idea and post a daily photo with a bit of text below—a stanza or two from a Christmas poem or a few lines of prose from a favorite Christmas story. The photos aren't intended to be tied with the text. Some are just ones I meant to run with a post this past year, but for whatever reason, didn't. To set these posts apart from my regular—or irregular!—ones, I've given them a different typeface and look.]

ADVENT COUNTDOWN 3

Hark the glad sound! the Saviour comes,

the Saviour promised long;

let every heart prepare a throne

and every voice a song.

He comes the broken heart to bind,

the bleeding soul to cure,

and with the treasures of his grace

to enrich the humble poor.

Our glad hosannas, Prince of Peace,

your welcome shall proclaim,

and heaven’s exalted arches

ring with your beloved name.

—Philip Doddridge, “The Prince of Peace.”

———————

[The word "Advent" comes from the Latin adventus, which means "coming." In the Christian church Advent is that period of expectant waiting leading up to the Nativity of Jesus. Some prefer to think of it as a "Countdown to Christmas." If you've ever had an Advent calendar, you know that each day prior to Christmas has it own window, usually hidden behind a little flap or door, behind which is a scene or verse from the Scriptures. I thought it would be fun to take that idea and post a daily photo with a bit of text below—a stanza or two from a Christmaspoem or a few lines of prose from a favorite Christmas story. The photos aren't intended to be tied with the text. Some are just ones I meant to run with a post this past year, but for whatever reason, didn't. To set these posts apart from my regular—or irregular!—ones, I've given them a different typeface and look.]

ADVENT COUNTDOWN 4

In the beauty of its breaking,

in the music of its dawn,

Like an angel chorus 'waking

when the Heavenly day is born,

Comes again the day of promise,

Comes again the Christmas morn.

Beam, bright Eastern sky in glory,

till our doubt clouds roll away;

Ring, sweet Christmas bells, the story,

ring forever and for aye,

Till our living be but loving

And our dying be but day.

—John Trotwood Moore, "Christmas Morn."

———————————

[The word "Advent" comes from the Latin adventus, which means "coming." In the Christian church Advent is that period of expectant waiting leading up to the Nativity of Jesus. Some prefer to think of it as a "Countdown to Christmas." If you've ever had an Advent calendar, you know that each day prior to Christmas has it own window, usually hidden behind a little flap or door, behind which is a scene or verse from the Scriptures. I thought it would be fun to take that idea and post a daily photo with a bit of text below—a stanza or two from a Christmaspoem or a few lines of prose from a favorite Christmas story. The photos aren't intended to be tied with the text. Some are just ones I meant to run with a post this past year, but for whatever reason, didn't. To set these posts apart from my regular—or irregular!—ones, I've given them a different typeface and look.]

IS THAT WINTER I SEE?

Today marks the winter solstice.

According to the almanac, winter will officially arrive hereabouts at 12:47 p.m. Not that there'll be much to see…not even from the vantage point of a high perch atop one of the big sycamore trees on the island across the river from the cottage. At least the redtail hawk I saw sitting in such a view-commanding seat didn't appear impressed.

Of course, if this were a bright morning about 5,000 years ago, and you were hunkered deep in that Ireland passage tomb we now call Newgrange, you'd probably have been nearly beside yourself with excitement the moment that single beam of solstice sunlight suddenly illuminated the floor of the structure's innermost recesses. What's more, the person huddled beside you, loudly cheering, singing, praying, or simply mumbling might well have been one of my distant kin—especially if he happened to be a particularly fine and handsome example of a warrior-priest.

Today, here on the riverbank, there was no shaft of sunlight poking dramatically through the blanket of clouds…no wild cries of glee from the neighbors. And I can't say I hold out much hope for a dance around a bonfire later on. Solstice magic is in rather short supply.

But the implications of this invisible astronomical milestone remain as valid as ever: from this point onward, for the next six months, light will be on the increase rather than the decline; gain instead of loss. While the brunt of the cold weather waits ahead, and winter as a season has just begun—still, it's all carrying us toward light and warmth and spring. Winter's passing solstice begins setting the stage for April's lovely pastel wildflowers which will spatter the hillsides and greening glades, the singing birds who've returned all decked out in their bright attire, and the wily smallmouth bass who'll feed hungrily in the sparkling riffles of my beloved river.

There's indeed a promise in the passing solstice, a message of things to come.

The old ones knew this. It gave them the faith to face what lay ahead, the courage and strength to endure the winter cold and somehow manage their doubtless dwindling supply of food. You can often hang on if you know things will get better. When survival is at stake, hope is not enough; a sign of some sort is necessary…and the solstice was—and is—that sign.

ADVENT COUNTDOWN 5

At Christmas Season's glad return

We watch the candles brightly burn,

And you of friendly face and name

Gather around the merry flame.

O what added joy and glow

The thoughts of loving friends bestow!

To each about the circle wide

Be peace and cheer of Christmas tide;

And from these happy memories

May hopes arise and prophecies

Of wid'ning purposes of good,

And God's rich love be understood.

—McGee, Clyde. "A Christmas Wish."

———————————

[The word "Advent" comes from the Latin adventus, which means "coming." In the Christian church Advent is that period of expectant waiting leading up to the Nativity of Jesus. Some prefer to think of it as a "Countdown to Christmas." If you've ever had an Advent calendar, you know that each day prior to Christmas has it own window, usually hidden behind a little flap or door, behind which is a scene or verse from the Scriptures. I thought it would be fun to take that idea and post a daily photo with a bit of text below—a stanza or two from a Christmaspoem or a few lines of prose from a favorite Christmas story. The photos aren't intended to be tied with the text. Some are just ones I meant to run with a post this past year, but for whatever reason, didn't. To set these posts apart from my regular—or irregular!—ones, I've given them a different typeface and look.]

FIRST SNOWFALL

Not long after dawn yesterday morning, I opened the door and stepped onto the porch, whereupon I discovered my beloved ol' riverbank all decked out in a soft mantle of radiant white. The season's first snowfall had arrived during the night—a dazzling couple of inches of fluffy, sticky snow that had pasted itself to the sides of the trees and also lay in cottony clumps along the tops of even the smallest branches. Moreover, it was still snowing—a steady pouring of fine flakes I could just hear sifting down in a sweet, sibilant whisper.

The light was soft and flat, an indistinct luminescent coming from the blanketing white clouds. Trees and their limbs seemed etched against the merging of earth and sky. Only the river moved, a slow ribbon of pale icy-green water.

As snowfalls go, this initial go-around was like a first kiss—gentle, thrilling, but lacking in that depth of intensity needed to award it points for real full-spirited passion. Some things just need time to build, to work themselves out; there's a grace period of exploration and awakening, like the way good wine finds its life amid the darkness of a charred oak barrel. Maturity and strength are mysterious forces, a sort of natural alchemy, and they're seldom found early on. No doubt we'll see heavier, more vigorous snows later in the season. After all, yesterday was still two days short of being officially winter.

My coughing has lessened these past few days. With luck, I'll be well by Christmas. But everything has a time and season; plans made ought to be kept if at all possible—especially if they're important.

I enjoyed a brief walk-around along the riverbank while Moon the dog attended to her business and checked under the junipers for bivouacking sparrows. Then I filled the seed feeders, scattered cracked corn on the ground and on various rocks and stumps, tossed the ducks their breakfast scoops. Chores complete, I came back in and built a fire on the hearth, poured a second cup of coffee while the flames came to life, snapping and popping through the dry kindling and snow-wet large sticks and smaller splits. The day ahead held a long list of important and necessary things to do—a bit of housekeeping, a package or two wrap, a card to write…and a lovely, wonderful lady to get married to in the afternoon.

As if in joyous celebration, the season's first snowfall had set the scene in splendid pristine white!

ADVENT COUNTDOWN 6

The little birds praise you,

The wren and the sparrow,

The rabbits and squirrels

That run in the snow.

This house may be small

And this cradle be narrow.

You learned to be humble

A long time ago.

O little Lord Jesus,

Your moment is breaking.

The angels in heaven

Have polished your star.

Alone on their hill-sides

The shepherds are waking

The wise shall grow simple

And find where you are.

— Eleanor Slater,”Cradle Carol.”

———————

[The word "Advent" comes from the Latin adventus, which means "coming." In the Christian church Advent is that period of expectant waiting leading up to the Nativity of Jesus. Some prefer to think of it as a "Countdown to Christmas." If you've ever had an Advent calendar, you know that each day prior to Christmas has it own window, usually hidden behind a little flap or door, behind which is a scene or verse from the Scriptures. I thought it would be fun to take that idea and post a daily photo with a bit of text below—a stanza or two from a Christmaspoem or a few lines of prose from a favorite Christmas story. The photos aren't intended to be tied with the text. Some are just ones I meant to run with a post this past year, but for whatever reason, didn't. To set these posts apart from my regular—or irregular!—ones, I've given them a different typeface and look.]

ADVENT COUNTDOWN 7

The darkness breaks,

And Dawn awakes,

Her cheeks suffused with youthful blushes.

The rocks and stones

In holy tones

Are singing sweeter than the thrushes.

Then why should we

In silence be,

When Nature lends her voice to praises;

When heaven and earth

Proclaim the truth

Of Him for whom that lone star blazes?

No, be not still,

But with a will

Strike all your harps and set them ringing;

On hill and heath

Let every breath

Throw all its power into singing!

—Paul Laurence Dunbar, "Christmas Carol"

———————————

[The word "Advent" comes from the Latin adventus, which means "coming." In the Christian church Advent is that period of expectant waiting leading up to the Nativity of Jesus. Some prefer to think of it as a "Countdown to Christmas." If you've ever had an Advent calendar, you know that each day prior to Christmas has it own window, usually hidden behind a little flap or door, behind which is a scene or verse from the Scriptures. I thought it would be fun to take that idea and post a daily photo with a bit of text below—a stanza or two from a Christmaspoem or a few lines of prose from a favorite Christmas story. The photos aren't intended to be tied with the text. Some are just ones I meant to run with a post this past year, but for whatever reason, didn't. To set these posts apart from my regular—or irregular!—ones, I've given them a different typeface and look.]

ADVENT COUNTDOWN 8

The shepherds went their hasty way,

And found the lowly stable-shed

Where the Virgin-Mother lay:

And now they checked their eager tread,

For to the Babe, that at her bosom clung,

A Mother's song the Virgin-Mother sung.

They told her how a glorious light,

Streaming from a heavenly throng.

Around them shone, suspending night!

While sweeter than a mother's song,

Blest Angels heralded the Savior's birth,

Glory to God on high! and Peace on Earth.

—Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "A Christmas Carol."

———————

[The word "Advent" comes from the Latin adventus, which means "coming." In the Christian church Advent is that period of expectant waiting leading up to the Nativity of Jesus. Some prefer to think of it as a "Countdown to Christmas." If you've ever had an Advent calendar, you know that each day prior to Christmas has it own window, usually hidden behind a little flap or door, behind which is a scene or verse from the Scriptures. I thought it would be fun to take that idea and post a daily photo with a bit of text below—a stanza or two from a Christmaspoem or a few lines of prose from a favorite Christmas story. The photos aren't intended to be tied with the text. Some are just ones I meant to run with a post this past year, but for whatever reason, didn't. To set these posts apart from my regular—or irregular!—ones, I've given them a different typeface and look.]