I don’t think I’ve ever laughed and cried at 6:45am and certainly not with NH’s Mt Washington in the background. We don’t like Florida either for the same reasons you don’t but last night in the restaurant at the Omni hotel l think we saw way to many people our age having their last fling in the north before heading south. We won’t be joining them, but will rejoice in being able to walk in the Maine woods at home and kiss the cats each morning knowing that the only reason they love us is because we feed them. I’ll take it!
This 18 year resident of Maine (Orono) also shares your opinion of Florida (although I'm concerned for my cousins near Orlando). No cats, but I try to walk a half hour a day in the woods (I live in a pine grove in town) as long as the weather holds.
“Earth’s crammed with heaven and every common bush afire with God. But only he who sees takes off his shoes. The rest sit around and pluck blackberries.”
Elizabeth Barrette Browning
My pastor did a sermon about Moses this past Sunday (poor guy, Moses, not my pastor) and he used this quote to preface his sermon about the meaning of the burning bush.
I have loved that quote since the first time I read it in college and often recite it in my head like a prayer. The leaves are changing now here in New England. Sure, I’d like to visit someplace tropical where the water is turquoise and transparent, but never this time of year.
It’s always critical to pay attention to our natural surroundings. My father taught me to appreciate but never disturb it.
At this time of year, for a relatively short time, the trees really are afire with God. And it’s a blazing blessing.
Thanks Garrison, it is always a pleasure to read your words and hear your voice in my head. I still miss Saturday nights hanging with you and Guy Noir. But as everything, including the stars, impermanence is the only solid thing, reconfiguring the dust of the stars into the dust on our eyeglasses, into our eyeglasses and into us. That brings Awe to me (especially with the Hebrew Days Of Awe upon us. Many bows
I'm learning to live side by side with pain and beauty… my beautiful, creative, joy filled grandson and soul mate just took his life. Your post more than touched my soul…
oh, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine losing such a precious soul mate, and I grieve for you. I hope yu have lots of pictures, and that he comes to you in your dreams and, especially, that you have someone to hold your hand. xxx's
What a great space to spend my waking moments, where the comments are as enjoyable as the post. Thank you to all on this cool September morning in Colorado, where the golden aspens are quaking.
Lucky enough to be in Colorado this time of year and driving up into the Front Range from Ft. Collins, the entire east slopes golden. My wife quilted a large wall hanging that I call "digital aspens", composed of over a thousand small squares of various colors. I think of Ocr. in CO every time I walk into the room.
I am very sorry about your grandson death. It must be very painful for you. Having grandchildren myself I can understand how the whole idea of loss of your grandson would be incomprehensible. My prayers are with you.
Hoo Dang, Garrison! This one is a true humdinger: I sit in awe. It's like you discovered a new kind of rabbit or developed a cherry tree that produces twice a summer. I THOUGHT that I was a writer but now I revel in hilarity of that concept. Thank you for sharing your splendid insight. You've put the magnificence of a starry night sky into words "and nobody does it better..."
You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering. -Henri Frederic Amiel, philosopher and writer (27 Sep 1821-1881
In the twilight state between waking and sleep, Joni Mitchell's lyric comes passing through. "We are stardust. We are golden."
If we are stardust, I think, we are no less starlight. The corpus of the stars that we see ceased to exist millions, maybe billions of years ago, and yet their light remains as real and as eternal and as visible as the universe is vast.
When someone says a light has gone out, I decline to think of a flame's being extinguished. Rather I consider that the light has gone out-- exited, as from a shelter or a prison. From birth, as from the birth of every star, our light begins to go out and continues forever to go out.
My sympathies both for his death and the outrageous insensitivity of the commenter.
How long Old Scout is this "cane thing" going to persist for you? I predict that it may not be needed three weeks from now.
I went without it today, but I think it's still useful.
Well, it is a good prop and I don't mean that literally either.
Thank you for the lovely words, that remind me , what is really wonderful about Fall, about having these times and enjoying them.
I don’t think I’ve ever laughed and cried at 6:45am and certainly not with NH’s Mt Washington in the background. We don’t like Florida either for the same reasons you don’t but last night in the restaurant at the Omni hotel l think we saw way to many people our age having their last fling in the north before heading south. We won’t be joining them, but will rejoice in being able to walk in the Maine woods at home and kiss the cats each morning knowing that the only reason they love us is because we feed them. I’ll take it!
Her south of the lakes region, I sleep little this time of year awaiting what happens next. Sleep later. Drink cocoa, and wave back to the waves.
This 18 year resident of Maine (Orono) also shares your opinion of Florida (although I'm concerned for my cousins near Orlando). No cats, but I try to walk a half hour a day in the woods (I live in a pine grove in town) as long as the weather holds.
“Earth’s crammed with heaven and every common bush afire with God. But only he who sees takes off his shoes. The rest sit around and pluck blackberries.”
Elizabeth Barrette Browning
My pastor did a sermon about Moses this past Sunday (poor guy, Moses, not my pastor) and he used this quote to preface his sermon about the meaning of the burning bush.
I have loved that quote since the first time I read it in college and often recite it in my head like a prayer. The leaves are changing now here in New England. Sure, I’d like to visit someplace tropical where the water is turquoise and transparent, but never this time of year.
It’s always critical to pay attention to our natural surroundings. My father taught me to appreciate but never disturb it.
At this time of year, for a relatively short time, the trees really are afire with God. And it’s a blazing blessing.
Here in Bangor/Orono ME, the swamp maples by the bog turned red 2 weeks ago and the maples started blushing and turning last weekend.
Thanks Garrison, it is always a pleasure to read your words and hear your voice in my head. I still miss Saturday nights hanging with you and Guy Noir. But as everything, including the stars, impermanence is the only solid thing, reconfiguring the dust of the stars into the dust on our eyeglasses, into our eyeglasses and into us. That brings Awe to me (especially with the Hebrew Days Of Awe upon us. Many bows
I'm learning to live side by side with pain and beauty… my beautiful, creative, joy filled grandson and soul mate just took his life. Your post more than touched my soul…
oh, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine losing such a precious soul mate, and I grieve for you. I hope yu have lots of pictures, and that he comes to you in your dreams and, especially, that you have someone to hold your hand. xxx's
I am sorry for your loss.
My heart goes out to you. I hope you can take your grief and put it in a box until you're ready to think through it.
What a great space to spend my waking moments, where the comments are as enjoyable as the post. Thank you to all on this cool September morning in Colorado, where the golden aspens are quaking.
Lucky enough to be in Colorado this time of year and driving up into the Front Range from Ft. Collins, the entire east slopes golden. My wife quilted a large wall hanging that I call "digital aspens", composed of over a thousand small squares of various colors. I think of Ocr. in CO every time I walk into the room.
Beautiful, so glad there's someone out there ahead of me reporting back filling me on what's really important.
I am very sorry about your grandson death. It must be very painful for you. Having grandchildren myself I can understand how the whole idea of loss of your grandson would be incomprehensible. My prayers are with you.
This article is perfect!!! ❤️❤️❤️
Hoo Dang, Garrison! This one is a true humdinger: I sit in awe. It's like you discovered a new kind of rabbit or developed a cherry tree that produces twice a summer. I THOUGHT that I was a writer but now I revel in hilarity of that concept. Thank you for sharing your splendid insight. You've put the magnificence of a starry night sky into words "and nobody does it better..."
You desire to know the art of living, my friend? It is contained in one phrase: make use of suffering. -Henri Frederic Amiel, philosopher and writer (27 Sep 1821-1881
Dear Mr. Keillor,
In the twilight state between waking and sleep, Joni Mitchell's lyric comes passing through. "We are stardust. We are golden."
If we are stardust, I think, we are no less starlight. The corpus of the stars that we see ceased to exist millions, maybe billions of years ago, and yet their light remains as real and as eternal and as visible as the universe is vast.
When someone says a light has gone out, I decline to think of a flame's being extinguished. Rather I consider that the light has gone out-- exited, as from a shelter or a prison. From birth, as from the birth of every star, our light begins to go out and continues forever to go out.
My candle burns at both ends.
Love,
Dawn
Tears to my eyes, excitement near my solar plexus, cellular and mental yesses.
THANK YOU THANK YOU