Beyond Day SixMy sometimes-daily blog of a photograph or two with a few words, celebrating all the days of life that flow through creation into perspiration, inspiration, reflection, sabbath, and resurrection. Family FencesThere are 26 historic cemeteries on 19 wooded hillside acres just west of downtown Roslyn, Washington. The fences of all types separate portions of the acreage: ornamental iron, chain-link, and wooden picket fences of every pattern and size. They delineate sections of graves that are tended by various ethnic lodges or families. Care for these plots by the various groups appears to be a sacred responsibility. The brochure that describes the cemeteries notes that the fences keep out grazing animals. Some of them did not look substantial enough to carry out that intention. So, there are fences and fences and fences guarding the resting places of loved ones and lodge members. I found the intersection of these fences created interesting patterns, that represent a kind of security amidst old pickets, a sign of family care that has not stopped.
When the Dancing Begins AgainToday's scripture lessons include Psalm 30 with the concluding verses as paraphrased by Eugene Peterson: "You did it: you changed wild lament into whirling dance. You ripped off my black mourning band and decked me with wildflowers. I'm about to burst with song. I can't keep quiet about you." Sorrow and grief are real. Tragedy has invaded many homes. This family lost two precious baby children during one winter: one at the beginning of November and the other in late January. I can barely imagine the sorrow in that home all those cold nights and gray days. How does one move beyond death into life? I admit that to me the psalmist makes it sound easy and quick. That has rarely been my experience. I have observed that sorrow is eased with memories of better days, and the embrace of family and friends. And the spring that eventually comes after a winter like this one, even when it takes years. This image is from Roslyn, Washington, where there are 26 historic cemeteries. And a thousand stories of people remembered and families cared for, and promises kept until the dancing begins again.
Instead of a PedicureThe same afternoon that we arrived in Seattle, the trio of women that I was with decided that it was time for a pedicure. They didn't really ask me if I wanted one too, but dropped me off at the Seattle arboretum. I didn't really know where I was but began to explore the paths, The gardens were abundant with blossoms. And people out enjoying a wonderful spring day. And then a couple told me that some crows were harrassing an owl so I began walking in that direction. The noise of the birds made the grouping easy to locate. I took several photos although the locale didn't lend itself well to photography. This was the best of the bunch. My female friends were suspicious when I reported that I had photos of an owl in their park. But here it was. Iso: 6400, 300mm, f/8 at 1/100 second. Sony a7rii. Cropped from original to about 3/8 frame.
Tide StoryMy experience with ocean tides is limited to being at Florida beaches and having more sand or less sand on the beach. But it is a different event entirely where one can witness the vertical change of the tides. On our recent trip to Lasqueti Island, our friend Linda said that we need to arrive at her cabin at high tide because it can be quite a climb to her place at low tide. This is a picture at low tide of Judy sitting on a rock that we had noticed at high tide.
And here's a photo of the same rock, in different light and from a different point of view, at high tide. The depth of the tides in False Bay can be 14 feet. Yes, it was good to be at the cabin at high tide.
I Remember RadioOne of our fun visits recently was to the town of Roslyn, Washington, and for the fans of Northern Exposure this is the genuine radio set for the show. Folks may recall that John Corbett played Chris Stevens, a philosophical ex-convict who worked as the disc jockey at KBHR 570 AM. Between songs, Chris offered comments on events in Cicely and more intellectual subjects, and occasionally functioned as a non-denominational pastor at weddings. This scene also reminded me the number of times I did radio programs. The first was in Herrin, Illinois when I would go late night to have theological conversations with the DJ that I don't even remember. I was on TV in Lincoln, Nebraska, but no one would have recognized me as I wore a big fiberglass head as one of the McDonald's characters. The Effingham church services were recorded every week. And I would go to the Murphysboro and Benton radio stations to record weekly devotions. I don't think I always appreciated the opportunity. But I was surprised and pleased from time to time to get a letter from someone who had appreciated what I said. Almost forgot, I was interviewed on the radio in Monrovia, Liberia. Fun times. And I'm thankful for the memories.
There's Always OneI photographed this Blue-winged Teal Duck and her family on Lake Washington, in Seattle, last month. I walked along the shore and got numerous images as the ducklings followed their mother along the shore.
Most of the time, they were swimming along behind in a line. Occasionally, one little one took the lead. I don't know how old the ducklings are, but they can walk to water 12 hours after hatching and stay with their mother until 6-7 weeks old.
Tourist InfoLast April, we were on the North Carolina side of the Smokies with our friends Gerry and Christie. On one of our daily excursions, we began to search for tourist information. And there was a sign directing us to a small town, a very small town. In the old school was an art gallery, a restored theater, classrooms, and two helpful ladies. So if you ever find yourself near Stecoah, do stop in. The art gallery was amazing! And then there was the opportunity for this trio to become musical sensations. They are still waiting for their agent to call.
www Parked Too LongAnother fine automobile to admire in Cle Elum, Washington. Two trees are growing right through the center of the car. It has been parked too long. I suspect it actually was planned to catch one's attention. There was no interior and no engine and one tree grew right through the windshield. It wasn't going anywhere. Just something fun along the road.
Fire from HeavenThe Gospel Lesson for this Sunday is Luke 9:51-62. Jesus is headed to Jerusalem through Samaria. Some would consider it hostile territory for a Jew. Messengers went ahead to prepare the way but were rebuffed when they sought a place for the travelers to spend the night. How quick James and John were to take offense. I suspect they expected Jesus to be rejected and were eager to call for divine punishment. Their attitudes about Samaritans are stripped bare. The worst thing about mirrors is how much you see of your self. I can fool myself about a lot of things about who I am as long as I don't have to look in a mirror. The Bible is an unflinching mirror telling the truth about human relationships. It can make me squirm. So many of our problems could be fixed with "a little fire from heaven." I even have thought from time to time how handy a bazooka would be. But Jesus rebuked James and John. It says "Jesus rebuked them" in lots of places in the Bible. I always wonder what the rebuke of Jesus sounded like. I know the rebuke of my mother. I even know the rebuke of some parishioners. Sometimes the rebuke of Jesus cut to the core of one's being‑‑‑ swift, clean, surgical. At other times, the rebuke was tender and careful. I imagine that the rebuke of Jesus could even on occasion have been just a glance. Some ancient versions of this passage include the rebuke: "You do not know to what spirit you belong; for the Son of Man did not come to destroy lives but to save them." The rebuke is not included in every version of Luke because there is some question as to its authenticity. It sounds like the kind of warning Jesus might have given. Wish no person hell. We can imagine the suffering and the separation, the deprivation and the degradation of the condition we call hell. Some do not have to imagine. They have been abused by those who were supposed to love and protect them. They know the pain and terror of diseased bodies. They have experienced the scorn and humiliation of their community. They are swallowed by the hopelessness of increasing debt and disappearing jobs. The trap of addiction is all too familiar. They know it all too well, even the neglect of good church folk. Don't add to the burden.
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