Things I've Been Seeing

Lake Gregory

Random Thoughts: Some Black, Some White

20150223-untitled (11 of 34)Chilly, finally, after the unusually warm weather we’ve been having. The earth was wet from rain in the night, temperature in the high 30s, so I had bundled up, and had pulled on gloves for the trek to the lake, even though it is hard to handle Winston and the camera while wearing gloves. Lake Gregory was spectacular, and as I often do, I thought I don’t come down here enough. Before the day was over, rain pelted our woods, and our yards, and soft, watery snow fell in its typical silent way.

20150223-untitled (15 of 34)How did God make all this? Did He sit down somewhere–a kind of creation studio–and consider the varieties of trees, flowers, leaf shapes, stone colors, animal faces, ocean volume, sand for the deserts, whiskers and noses . . .?

20150223-untitled (16 of 34)I saw that several large trees have been felled near the lodge. Why? Were they diseased, or just somehow in the way or . . .? I have friends who have recently danced about with death, some even at this moment are dodging and weaving, and I have a sense of its dreadfulness, and that the cutting down of life smacks of pain and decay, and we don’t like it.

20150223-untitled (17 of 34)Strange, isn’t it that even we who are Christians and believe in a hereafter do not want to die. Few exceptions.

“How many want to go to Heaven today?” Nathaniel’s little five-year-old voice boomed from the upstairs area as we sat around in the living room with guests. No one answered, so that little grandson of mine asked again, “How many want to go to Heaven today?” We adults–Christians, ministers–grinned, looked at each other, and decided none of us wanted to go today. Strange, huh? Or not?

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20150223-untitled (22 of 34)My heart breaks for some I know whose lives are upside down. Can’t get it straight. Can’t make it work. . .Good people. I cry.

20150223-untitled (25 of 34)Life Cycles. The bud. Summer warmth, then leaves crackle, dry up, and fall to the earth. And it is Winter.

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The Trek of Three Teenagers

In the car as we drove the few minutes from our house to the lake, they talked of cars; what kind they wanted, driving permits,  insurance and repair speculations, and jobs. Their words fell strange–though welcome–on my ears, for they have been coming to see Granny and Pappy in our home here in the San Bernardino Mountains since they were babies, often spending extended periods of time with us. Talk in days gone were of alphabet building blocks, tiny sleds and boots in the winter time, and tricycles in the summer.

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I would drop them off at the lake in an area they had chosen, and when they called in the late afternoon, I would pick them up, or they might even hike the couple of miles to the house.

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I watched as they turned from me and began their trek to a spot they had in mind.

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It was symbolic–their leaving. A picture, a draft of their young lives, of their adventures, and of their futures.

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I extended my lens to see them better.

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. . . for soon they will be lost from me.


Memories

The memory of the just is blessed… Proverbs 10:7

untitled (10 of 72) With no preparation, with no frantic busyness to get everything ready for the beach trip or the picnic or the vacation, we may delve into our memory cache and bring up pictures and sounds and scents of glorious days in our past.

untitled (25 of 72)At night, we lie on our beds and meditate on the glory of family and friends, of nature, of God. We have pictures. We have memories.


Lake Gregory View (Day 337/365)

Lake Gregory View by Shirley Buxton
Lake Gregory View, a photo by Shirley Buxton on Flickr.

A Pair of Birds on My Mountain (Day 301/365)

The parking lot of the Crestline Chamber of Commerce overlooks Lake Gregory. I exited my Jeep, camera in hand, noting no one else was there. Late afternoon light slanted through the trees, both the spiky trees and the other ones. You would recognize them as being the round kind that children draw on papers their teachers lay out on little desks.

It had been a while since I had been there, a while since I had sat on a bench and listened, and sucked in new air, and gifted my eyes.

I sat. And heard a persistent, rather loud tapping. It seemed to come from almost directly over me. I looked. And saw.

He/She seemed oblivious of me and my camera.

As I walked toward my car preparing to leave, small birds darted about, then one settled on a limb near me. Sweet mountain blue bird. Soft. Non-assuming. I wonder if in His hand God held such a bird way back there in Eden.

 


Storm Waterfall (Day 279/365)

The cold Alaskan storm dropped so much rain that waterfalls began forming over slopes here in Crestline.


Bald Eagle (Day 266/365)

At Lake Gregory, I watched this beautiful bird today. Full story here.