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.
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 . . .?
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.
“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?
A fledgling, now a child, then a woman, my beautiful Chloe Marin.
For her and those of her generation, I sing:
“On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”
After I had staggered down our driveway to retrieve the newspaper and to take pictures of the daffodils and our house and was heading back to the stairs inside the garage, I looked east and saw this magnificent view. I was freezing as the temperature was in the 20s, but it was so beautiful . . .stark. . . that stretch of branch . . .
The emphasis of form seen in the snow is amazing.
Windows in the front of our house give us spectacular views of trees and houses which lie on the other side of Lake Gregory. I never tire of seeing these incredible mountain views, and have snapped scores of pictures. After a heavy snow, the vista is riveting.
Shots from another year here on my flickr account.
A few months ago, Jerry and I went to his 90th birthday party. His name is Bill Huckle. He is our next door neighbor and it is hard to imagine a better one. Kind, gracious, intelligent–he’s wonderful.
A couple of weeks ago, he contracted the flu which developed into pneumonia, and he spent a few days in the hospital.
Today, through my kitchen window, I watched him shovel snow. He’s amazing. Tough. Mountain people!
His wife died before we became neighbors, and one afternoon I had been working in our gardens and had paused to talk over the fence with Bill when he said to me, “I used to have a Shirley, too, but she left me.”
Choose with care. The road we take will determine our destination.