Tuesday 20 March 2012

The Birdies in the Treetops and the Starry Morning Sky

Yes, I actually wrote today's post today...

Today is the first day of spring.  Normally, out west, this day would be likely to yield inches of snow, possibly multiple feet would be accumulated during the month of March.  Temperatures would rise above zero, only long and high enough to tease…then drop below and send us shivering back into the house.  Cabin fever reigned in those springs.  That maddening desire to get outside weeks before the weather was conducive to such activity.

But not this year.  This year I live in a land of seasons.  And as if to welcome me here we are experiencing record-blasting temperatures this week, bringing spring in with temperatures those in my former town would consider summer heat.  I am enjoying every minute of this wonderful warmth, while wondering how cold the normal spring temperatures – still a far cry warmer than was normal in Alberta – will feel when they return this weekend.

However, I will not think about that.  I will simply enjoy every day as it comes.  This morning that meant that, seeing that the temperature at 6 am had already reached a tolerable 6 degrees, I took my coffee onto the deck.  It seemed incongruous to me to be warm enough to be outside yet to have stars still twinkling above.  I tried to resist the urge to name every star I saw, did have to get out my “Pocket Astronomer” and figure out a few locations, but managed to put it away after a short time and simply stare in wonder at the beauty above.  I really do like to know what I’m looking at (and am currently still getting used to where things are in relation to my new home), but sometimes I need to just enjoy the beauty.  (The photo is of Venus & Jupiter taken in the evening about a week ago.)

I spent almost an hour on the deck this morning.  It was too damp to sit, and I was too lazy to get a towel to dry anything off, so I stood at the end of the deck, gazing across the lawn up at the stars and over at the trees.  Saturn was out this morning, not far below Arcturus, shining brightly among its twinkling friends.  I did not want to take the time this morning to get out the telescope, but will make a note to have it ready tomorrow.  Turning off the kitchen light will give me zero light pollution.  Just one more benefit to living in the country!

Another benefit is the birds.  As I gazed at the beautiful, starry sky, I was treated to the most delightful sound.  The birds were waking up.  At first there were only two or three distinct calls, but within a half an hour there were more than I could count!  The many layers of sound intrigue me and whenever I’m outside listening to the birds I find my ears listening to see how many I can distinguish as unique calls.  I decided to find some good bird call websites and see how many calls I can learn to identify.  I find it frustrating that I can hear them but can’t see who they are.  I can recognize the distinctive calls of the chickadees and mourning doves so far, but there are so many more!  Learning their song should help me to know who is treating me to such glorious music each day.  (The robin in this photo, taken through my binoculars, reminds me of the song at the end of this post.)

I was reminded, as I often am on days like this, of a song I learned at camp many years ago.  It goes like this:

What a beautiful day, a beautiful time to say, Thank You, Jesus.
What a beautiful day, a beautiful time to say, Thank You, Jesus.
The sun is so bright, the sky is so blue
All the birds are singing praise to You.
What a beautiful day, a beautiful time to say, Thank You, Jesus.

The birds sing His praise all around me, and I can’t help but join in their song.  Before coming in I took a deep breath of the fresh morning air.  I could stand on my deck for the rest of my life and be perfectly happy.  I could stay outside, never leaving this land, and be as content as one of the birds who sang to me this morning.  On second thought, I probably wouldn’t stay on the deck, but would have to wander over the lawns and through the trees, across the creek and into the pasture.  But I could stay here and never leave…  but there is more to life than the enjoyment of one’s blessings.  It is good to count them and sing praise to the One who blesses, but there is work to be done, so I returned to the indoors where my work waits for the attention it needs today.

And this is the reason I have not posted in awhile.  I will be giving a workshop at the Kitchener/Waterloo Home Education Conference on March 31.  Writing my workshop had taken some time, and yesterday I discovered that the work I did last week had been lost through the wonders of technology.  I have a little over a week to re-write what I lost and to complete it as well, so that will be my focus for the next while.  My other somewhat large project for the spring is the Annual Ceremonial Review for our cadet squadron, which I have been put in charge of.  I’ve done this two years before, but this is my first year with this squadron and I’m still getting to know how they do things out here.  That will be another focus over the next several months.

And for the next few days I, along with the rest of my family, will be focused on the chicks!  Two new laying hens will have to be introduced to our veterans in the barn.  And six baby chicks will be requiring our care over the next few days.  They may not need as much care as we give them, but being the greenhorns that we are we will be giving them care anyway!  The girls are very excited and have cleaned up their room to make space for the brooder.  Having chicks in a bedroom, I am sure we will discover quickly, is not ideal, however we need them in a room that can be closed to keep the cat out when we are not around to supervise.  So that is where they’ll start. 

So for now I must get to work.  But I will be back tomorrow to post pictures of the girls and their chicks!  Until then, breathe deep of the blessings God has poured into your life today!

The birdies in the treetops sing their song
The angels chant their chorus all day long
The flowers in the garden lend their hue
So why shouldn’t I, why shouldn’t you, praise Him too!

Friday 2 March 2012

Whose Woods These Are

And, as promised at the end of my last post, here is the rest of the story...

From January 6, 2012 

As I thought, I turned eastward toward the forest.  This is one of my favourite places, partly due to a very old and interesting tree that seems to have been the site of a tree house long ago, and because it stands on the edge of the forest.  I walked toward the edge of our property and stood gazing into the woods, listening to the sound of the stillness.  Often I have stood on this spot, the woods calling me to enter and explore, but I have turned away either without the time or the proper clothing, longing for warm summer days in which to take long walks through these woods and discover their paths.  But on this day I could not turn away.  I stood listening to the birds, drawn to enter the woods, yet loathing the sound of my own footsteps.  The last thing I wanted to do was to disturb the stillness which was beginning to surround me and draw me into itself.

The draw was greater than I could resist and so I entered, the snow crunching under my feet.  Yet the birds seemed not to care.  Perhaps the sound I made was no more than that of a young deer wandering through the woods looking for nourishment in the undergrowth.  Perhaps they were simply too occupied with their own quest for food to notice my slow movement below.  Whatever the case, I moved slowly through the trees, away from the woods’ edge, stopping to listen to the activity overhead.

There was a woodpecker, I was sure.  I peered through the branches above but could not see the busy bird.  But I could hear him, though whether he was digging a hole in which to nest or simply looking for bugs in the tree’s bark I could not tell. 

I stood amid the trees, an audience of one, listening to the orchestra playing above me.  Chiming in with the woodpecker was the distinct call of the chickadees.  As if on cue, the music of other sections of the aviary orchestra rose and fell and rose again.  Soft tweet-tweets, raspy caw-caws, and the percussive notes of the unseen woodpecker, together sang of the beauty over which they flew.  Never have I heard a more peaceful, beautiful symphony.

I watched, hoping to catch a glimpse of the feathered musicians, and occasionally was rewarded with the sight of a bird flying to a new perch, as the fluttering of his wings joined the chorus.  Often I saw a branch sway with its changing load as birds came and went from the perch it offered.

I moved deeper into the woods, feeling as if I were sneaking backstage, listening in on a private performance not meant for human ears.  Yet this heavenly music is there, falling on the ears of all willing to stop and listen.

Stop.  Listen.  This is the sound of stillness, a stillness so full that even my blood resisted flowing through my veins so as not to disturb it, or possibly to become part of it. 

“Be still, and know that I am God,” we are encouraged by the psalmist.  But what does it mean to be still?  Here was the answer before me.  To be still, truly still, is complete contentment.  Nothing else matters.  All is peaceful.  All is right.  All is beautiful.  Can this be found amid the trials of life?  Only in the presence of God, as the stillness of these woods can be experienced amid the craziness of the world, but only when we take the time to stop and feel it.  I could hear traffic, far off traffic, traffic that did not drown out the sound of the silence.  I was most definitely still in the world, but I felt not part of it in those moments.

Gradually the cold began to invade my solitude in the form of pain in my earlobes and discomfort in my legs.  Still I hesitated to leave.  The stillness I had found was greater than even the pain of the cold.  Yet the cold served to remind me that I could not stay in the woods forever.  I had to return to the house, to life, and a good life it is.

I turned and reluctantly left the wintery woods, the symphony playing on behind me.  One last check in the barn to make sure doors were secure and the animals were content, and I headed back across the pasture towards the house, knowing now where peace resides.

Some Poetry...

My time in the woods, especially in winter, often brings to mind one of my favourite poems, "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost.  As I thought about this well-loved poem, another thought occured to me and when I returned to the house I decided to re-write it.  I hope Mr. Frost would be flattered by the attempt and not insulted that I would change his original poem.  Loving the poem as I do, I then had to look up the full original, and did another re-write keeping much closer to the original.  Both are below, along with Robert Frost's original poem.

Whose Woods These Are

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the heavens, though.
He feeds the birds in treetops tall
He knows each one and if they fall.
The winter stillness, midst the snow,
Falling on all we below,
Fills my heart with peaceful bliss
As snowflakes to the branches kiss.
I wander through these woods so deep,
Wishing all the while to keep
The peace and stillness in my heart
E’en when these woods and I must part.
I long to stay here ‘neath the trees
Drinking in the pine-fed breeze,
But I’ve got promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
                           January 7, 2012

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost 1874–1963 Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
And my version...
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the Heavens, though;
He always sees me stopping here
To rest my weary heart and soul.
And though the world may think it queer
To stop and then incline my ear
To hear the One whose comfort makes
Bearable the darkest time of year.
He holds me close although I shake
Because of guilt o’er some mistake
His promise clear that He will keep
Me ever in His warm embrace.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have strength from Him to keep
Me going on until I sleep,
To live for Him until I sleep.
                               January 16, 2012