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Crimson clover cover crop is blooming. I had doubted i'd see any except inside fenced areas, but with the change in weather came a change in what the deer (and rabbits) were eating, and now areas that were cropped close are developing lush stands of clover or rye or oats. The lacy phacelia hasn't been that impressive as a cover crop, but it's hard to judge based on the crazy weather.
The Star of Bethlehem is reaching a peak - i'm picking a small bouquet every day as i don't want seed set to spread. I've given up on otherwise digging up or eradicating in general, unless i find it too deep in the woods.
Yesterday i brought Mom a bouquet of star of Bethlehem (white starry relative of hyacinths), several crimson tassel-like blossoms from the crimson clover, and a bit of worm wood as a filler.
The Eastern camas lily is blooming in the rain garden, a delight. Perhaps i will buy more - Brent & Becky have some lovely blue selections of the western camas.
Saturday i went through a great deal of the seedlings that have been in the greenhouse since February and repotted many.
--== ∞ ==--
Executive dysfunction reigns. It's hard to reflect because it triggers the "gotta dos" and the spirals of chasing loose ends.
I am horrified by the federal government, thankful for the progressive strength in my divided county.
Tears come easily. Distraction frequently.
CONCERNS:
Mom and Dad. So glad my sister is going back over there now and walking with Mom (walking = a slow pace around the room holding on to the belt to assist her if she falls), and engaging in some of the cognitive exercises.
I developed a cough deep in my chest yesterday afternoon. I suspect it's pollen or my asthma, but it's not a welcome thing.
Financial:
It is hard to interpret my brother's "it's disastrous but not an apocalypse" when describing the pandemic's effect on his work. I don't know what a 20% pay cut will do to my sister's family. I don't really understand the impact the stock market crash has had on my parent's income.
What is the responsible way for me to spend or not spend money in this world? No hoarding, i believe, so spend some.
Maintenance:
My laptop doesn't reliably connect to power cords.
Carpenter bees are eating our siding.
I don't know when we will invest in replacing the front steps and whether we will manage a ramp.
--== ∞ ==--
My message for last Sunday. I spoke off the cuff at the beginning but was more careful about words towards the end. I don't know how well it came across. Thinking about and preparing this took much of the weekend, along with an hour practicing with Zoom with others from meeting. I was emotionally drained from delivering it.
I will not help with worship for the rest of the year. I had wanted to stay free from leading worship as i acted as clerk, but circumstances unfolded in this way.
In August 2018 total eclipse - overcast — mountain top like sunrise from all directions.
Came to mind as I thought of Easter morning service, of a Presbyterian worship I helped plan my senior year where we congregated in a darkened sanctuary, and the choir processed in, throwing open the curtains and letting the sunshine.
Waiting for a winter solstice sunrise in darkness in our third floor apartment in Philly, dawn slowly bringing into view the bare branches of a massive London plane tree, and the light growing opal and golden on that winter morning.
My heart thirsts for these moments, these visceral experiences that are translated into a spiritual message of the gift of transformation freely given. So it’s to the resurrection part of the Easter story that my thoughts tend to.
This Easter, though, my attention has been brought to the story of separation. There’s the vigil and the waiting.
The Easter story — the burial of Jesus, the waiting at the tomb... and for us — Cancel events with over one hundred people, close school for two weeks, close restaurants, close school and theaters and many other services until May 15, then Stay Home. Two week period where every few days the guidance and instruction from the state was changed.
I have been incredibly fortunate in this event, and I know how overwhelmed by adaptation I have been, by trying to sort out what actions are safe and support the community. We’ve ordered food delivered — is giving work to others helpful? Putting them at risK? Then when the pizza delivery kid seemed completely unclear on social distancing, putting us at risk? I’m beginning to look up from that.
One day, confronted again with the numbers of deaths, so hard for me to conceptualize, I realized a different meaning of those numbers — how each death was a person whose family and loved ones knew died without the comfort of touch, without the comfort of presence. Family and friends whose rituals of mourning are frozen — on hold for when we can gather? When will that be?
These people who have been traumatically separated from their loved ones — it is not so hard to see them as Jesus’ family and friends witnessing his death distanced from comforting him by the cross. In this time so many are going through the loss and such grief : what does the resolution of this grief look like? We humans are desperate to make sense of things, particularly our traumas. As the urgent needs for reducing the deaths from the disease and governments turn to addressing the global economic impact, I’m aware that there will be those who have experienced the traumatic loss of family members, or whose livelihoods and dreams will have been devastated. What does dawn look like for them? What will they see as the curtains of grief and urgency are pulled aside?
Can we listen for the whispers that the boy with the teacup listened for? After this great change, isolating us from the touch of friends and family, and causing such heartbreak to families around the world, can the promise of transformation be to a transformation informed by a thirst for justice and equity? A nation, a state, a community is not just defined by how the community comes together in the moment of urgency, but how we learn from the losses, and whether we build an infrastructure that doesn’t merely protect the vulnerable but empowers and supports all so that the vulnerabilities are diminished.
I will dare to hope against my fears for a world that shares resources to where they are needed. -- not hoarding stockpiles, not tying up the abundance of the planet and human ingenuity in warehouses against national distress, but by sharing and directing to where needs must be met. With the imbalanced economic cycle of growth, exploitation, consumption, and waste stalled , I hope the cycle we restored is a balanced and sustainable cycle that lifts up all life on earth. We are being offered a new beginning, as loss rips through our hearts and habits. There will be a transformation. We will create it with our choices and our voices. May we choose to create the transformed world with awareness, with the intention of each of us being part of a new Easter miracle.
The Star of Bethlehem is reaching a peak - i'm picking a small bouquet every day as i don't want seed set to spread. I've given up on otherwise digging up or eradicating in general, unless i find it too deep in the woods.
Yesterday i brought Mom a bouquet of star of Bethlehem (white starry relative of hyacinths), several crimson tassel-like blossoms from the crimson clover, and a bit of worm wood as a filler.
The Eastern camas lily is blooming in the rain garden, a delight. Perhaps i will buy more - Brent & Becky have some lovely blue selections of the western camas.
Saturday i went through a great deal of the seedlings that have been in the greenhouse since February and repotted many.
--== ∞ ==--
Executive dysfunction reigns. It's hard to reflect because it triggers the "gotta dos" and the spirals of chasing loose ends.
I am horrified by the federal government, thankful for the progressive strength in my divided county.
Tears come easily. Distraction frequently.
CONCERNS:
Mom and Dad. So glad my sister is going back over there now and walking with Mom (walking = a slow pace around the room holding on to the belt to assist her if she falls), and engaging in some of the cognitive exercises.
I developed a cough deep in my chest yesterday afternoon. I suspect it's pollen or my asthma, but it's not a welcome thing.
Financial:
It is hard to interpret my brother's "it's disastrous but not an apocalypse" when describing the pandemic's effect on his work. I don't know what a 20% pay cut will do to my sister's family. I don't really understand the impact the stock market crash has had on my parent's income.
What is the responsible way for me to spend or not spend money in this world? No hoarding, i believe, so spend some.
Maintenance:
My laptop doesn't reliably connect to power cords.
Carpenter bees are eating our siding.
I don't know when we will invest in replacing the front steps and whether we will manage a ramp.
--== ∞ ==--
My message for last Sunday. I spoke off the cuff at the beginning but was more careful about words towards the end. I don't know how well it came across. Thinking about and preparing this took much of the weekend, along with an hour practicing with Zoom with others from meeting. I was emotionally drained from delivering it.
I will not help with worship for the rest of the year. I had wanted to stay free from leading worship as i acted as clerk, but circumstances unfolded in this way.
In August 2018 total eclipse - overcast — mountain top like sunrise from all directions.
Came to mind as I thought of Easter morning service, of a Presbyterian worship I helped plan my senior year where we congregated in a darkened sanctuary, and the choir processed in, throwing open the curtains and letting the sunshine.
Waiting for a winter solstice sunrise in darkness in our third floor apartment in Philly, dawn slowly bringing into view the bare branches of a massive London plane tree, and the light growing opal and golden on that winter morning.
My heart thirsts for these moments, these visceral experiences that are translated into a spiritual message of the gift of transformation freely given. So it’s to the resurrection part of the Easter story that my thoughts tend to.
This Easter, though, my attention has been brought to the story of separation. There’s the vigil and the waiting.
The Easter story — the burial of Jesus, the waiting at the tomb... and for us — Cancel events with over one hundred people, close school for two weeks, close restaurants, close school and theaters and many other services until May 15, then Stay Home. Two week period where every few days the guidance and instruction from the state was changed.
I have been incredibly fortunate in this event, and I know how overwhelmed by adaptation I have been, by trying to sort out what actions are safe and support the community. We’ve ordered food delivered — is giving work to others helpful? Putting them at risK? Then when the pizza delivery kid seemed completely unclear on social distancing, putting us at risk? I’m beginning to look up from that.
One day, confronted again with the numbers of deaths, so hard for me to conceptualize, I realized a different meaning of those numbers — how each death was a person whose family and loved ones knew died without the comfort of touch, without the comfort of presence. Family and friends whose rituals of mourning are frozen — on hold for when we can gather? When will that be?
These people who have been traumatically separated from their loved ones — it is not so hard to see them as Jesus’ family and friends witnessing his death distanced from comforting him by the cross. In this time so many are going through the loss and such grief : what does the resolution of this grief look like? We humans are desperate to make sense of things, particularly our traumas. As the urgent needs for reducing the deaths from the disease and governments turn to addressing the global economic impact, I’m aware that there will be those who have experienced the traumatic loss of family members, or whose livelihoods and dreams will have been devastated. What does dawn look like for them? What will they see as the curtains of grief and urgency are pulled aside?
Can we listen for the whispers that the boy with the teacup listened for? After this great change, isolating us from the touch of friends and family, and causing such heartbreak to families around the world, can the promise of transformation be to a transformation informed by a thirst for justice and equity? A nation, a state, a community is not just defined by how the community comes together in the moment of urgency, but how we learn from the losses, and whether we build an infrastructure that doesn’t merely protect the vulnerable but empowers and supports all so that the vulnerabilities are diminished.
I will dare to hope against my fears for a world that shares resources to where they are needed. -- not hoarding stockpiles, not tying up the abundance of the planet and human ingenuity in warehouses against national distress, but by sharing and directing to where needs must be met. With the imbalanced economic cycle of growth, exploitation, consumption, and waste stalled , I hope the cycle we restored is a balanced and sustainable cycle that lifts up all life on earth. We are being offered a new beginning, as loss rips through our hearts and habits. There will be a transformation. We will create it with our choices and our voices. May we choose to create the transformed world with awareness, with the intention of each of us being part of a new Easter miracle.
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