I remember my tenth birthday quite well.  My baby brother was just one month old and my parents had decided to build a new bedroom above the garage to help expand the living space of our small home.  Up until then my two little sisters and I had all shared a very small bedroom at the back of the house, but when plans were announced for the addition my birthday gift was a set of bunk beds so that we could move into our parents' larger bedroom and have more space.  I was so excited to receive those beds and happily slept on the top bunk until I left for college.  I also received a charming little wind-up alarm clock, and from my Aunt Hallie, a book by Paul Gallico titled The Man Who Was Magic.  

As I sat in the small theater in Galena, watching a truly gifted entertainer work his own special "magic", I started thinking about the book I had loved as a young girl.  Sub-titled A Fable of Innocence, it tells the story of a true magician, Adam and his dog Mopsy, who arrive at Mageia, the hidden city of the master magicians of the world.  There the entertainers can safely practice their sleights of hand and even the young children have access to the secret books of tricks.  Everyone in Mageia knows there is no such thing as real magic.  Except, of course, Adam, who has come to learn from the best magicians in the world, only to discover that his gift of true magic is in a league of its own.  

Sometimes it feels like the world is a little too heavy - filled with pain, and suffering, and hatred for our fellow partners on this short but magical journey of life.  When I feel low, maybe I need to remember there is a world of real, and healing, magic right outside my own doorstep.  Yes, it's fun to attend a show and be mystified and delighted by a magician's tricks, but it is also wonderful to open my front door, step outside and be caught up in the mystery and magic of my own daily life.  Poet Mary Oliver poses the question "tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?",  and I answer back that I will seek to find the mystery in the mundane, and the magic in unexpected moments of joy. 

Emily Dickinson must have pondered the same question when she penned the following poem.  I hope you enjoy it, and I also hope that today a little bit of magic finds it way to your soul.

I think I was enchanted
When first a sombre Girl --
I read that Foreign Lady --
The Dark -- felt beautiful --

And whether it was noon at night --
Or only Heaven -- at Noon --
For very Lunacy of Light
I had not power to tell --

The Bees -- became as Butterflies --
The Butterflies -- as Swans --
Approached -- and spurned the narrow Grass --
And just the meanest Tunes

That Nature murmured to herself
To keep herself in Cheer --
I took for Giants -- practising
Titanic Opera --

The Days -- to Mighty Metres stept --
The Homeliest -- adorned
As if unto a Jubilee
'Twere suddenly confirmed --

I could not have defined the change --
Conversion of the Mind
Like Sanctifying in the Soul --
Is witnessed -- not explained --

'Twas a Divine Insanity --
The Danger to be Sane
Should I again experience --
'Tis Antidote to turn --

To Tomes of solid Witchcraft --
Magicians be asleep --
But Magic -- hath an Element
Like Deity -- to keep --

Today is a good day for a good day! 

the wondrous journeys still to be ours...

Good morning! Somehow Mondays are a little easier to face when you have had made all sorts of happy memories.  We spent the weekend in one of our favorite little towns, with weather that was rather mist-ical... 

while the decor was definitely moose-tical!

This guy kept a close watch on our comings and goings.  I couldn't quite decide if the moose head at our resort was quaint and charming in a "cabin-y" sort of way or just kind of creepy.

I could even venture to say part of our time was downright mystical...even magical!

Yes, it was our annual trip to Galena, Illinois, where you feel transported back in time to the  Civil War as you stroll down Main Street..  You can almost hear the swishing of ladies' hoop skirts as they shop in the same stores that line the streets today, and almost glimpse the men decked out in their finest suits and top hats, puffing their cigars as they stand outside the DeSoto Hotel to watch Lincoln and Douglas debate from the second floor balcony.

We love walking down Main Street, admiring the architecture and shopping in the eclectic shop offerings.  But I am always glancing upwards at the upper story windows that line the old brick shops...

because it's easy to sense that behind one of those  lace curtains someone from a different era may be watching me.  

See what I mean?!

And of course, President Grant has the perfect setting to watch over his beloved city.  I wonder what he and Julia Dent Grant think of the automobiles that now line the streets instead of buggies, and the canoes and kayaks that drift down the Galena River instead of the mighty steamboats?  

We had such fun shopping, sightseeing, and enjoying the different cultures...dinner one night at a Irish pub, complete with shepherd's pie and Irish dancing, and dinner the following night at a wonderful Italian restaurant.  It was a family run business that has been there forever, and as we sat at our table with the glow of candlelight bathing our red tablecloth and the vintage pictures of Italy on the walls in a soft light you could easily lose track of what year it was. We also celebrated all things German at the Galena Oktoberfest, and I'll share a few pictures from the festival later this week.  

But I think my favorite thing to do in Galena is simply wander the streets and try to imagine all the stories and history that are contained within the shops, the churches and and the stately brick mansions of another era. Even though the weather wasn't "perfect" for Galena's Oktoberfest weekend, it certainly didn't put a damper on our fun.  Poet Mary Oliver can turn even the rain into a joyful occasion, as she reflects in her poem below:

    LAST NIGHT THE RAIN SPOKE TO ME

Last night
the rain
spoke to me
slowly, saying,
what joy
to come falling
out of the brisk cloud,
to be happy again
in a new way
on the earth!
That’s what it said
as it dropped,
smelling of iron,
and vanished
like a dream of the ocean
into the branches
and the grass below.
Then it was over.
The sky cleared.
I was standing
under a tree.
The tree was a tree
with happy leaves,
and I was myself,
and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves
at the moment
at which moment
my right hand
was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars
and the soft rain –
imagine! imagine!
the long and wondrous journeys
still to be ours. 

 I hope I have many more long and wondrous journeys with my husband in the years to come - we are looking ahead to new adventures, but today I'll carry Oliver's words in my heart, and be a tree with happy leaves, or like the rain drops, filled with joy to return to the earth from the clouds above. It's another way of saying that today is a good day for a good day!

Every so often you have one of those extra special summer days, where every minute is filled with fun and beautiful memories are stored up, to be brought back out and savored during the long winter. We had one of those days in August, when we visited Madison County, Iowa,  and its wonderful covered bridges.  Here are a few pictures from our exploration day, with a poem by Arthur Franklin Mapes, one of Indiana's poet laureates. 

“The Covered Bridge”

I came upon a covered bridge
Weather-beaten and old,
Where deep blue stream and wooded ridge
Were framed in twilight gold.

It was wonderful to see
A scene so old and quaint,
A rustic masterpiece
That only God could paint.

Could I, a humble poet,
Pass through the bridge of time;
And learn its treasured secrets,
Then put them into rhyme?

Could I, with words, portray
The sky, the stream, the ridge?
Would I, with words, betray
The secrets of the bridge?

The colors slowly faded
As the shadows crossed the stream;
Then, at last, the velvet darkness
Changed it all into a dream.

But God gave me a picture
To keep within my heart,
With all its rustic splendor,
A priceless work of art.

Yes, God gave me a picture
That can’t be bought or sold,
A picture of a covered bridge
Framed in twilight gold.

Don't you love how summer memories can be enjoyed all year round?
Let's make today a special day of memories, too, by taking a few moments to take in all the beauty around us and store it in our hearts.  And please remember...

Today is a good day for a good day!

the lingering petals of fragrance

I spent some time in my garden over the weekend, battling with the rampant honeysuckle that is confidently defeating all my efforts to contain its growth and transplant it to containers.  I love the lushness of this hardy vine and the fragrance of the small yellow blooms that waft through my bedroom window, but it has taken over the back of my garden with abandon.  Perhaps it is a metaphor - embrace where you are planted and live with exuberance? 

I worked in the garden, which sounds much more refined than saying I wrestled weeds, even though that is far closer to the reality, right after a heavy rainstorm and the few remaining blossoms sparkled in the sunshine that followed the storm.  Another metaphor?  My garden seemed to burst forth yesterday with poetical meanings and suggestions, and of course I delighted in thinking about poems that might pair nicely with the remaining floral survivors. 

Not at all like me --

How with each passing day

while the autumn sun

wanes, the blossoms wax stronger

on the morning glories.

~~an uto, from the Japanese poet Shotetsu (1381-1459)

With the deck canopy extended, I was able to enjoy the rainstorm from the glider, glad to still be outside in nature.  Another poem in the uto form, this one from Sinkei (1406-1475) came to mind as I sat watching the rain drops splatter onto the deck and drench the yard and garden.  I guess the nature of man and the turmoil he creates never changes...

Rainclouds gather,

but with more calm than the storms 

raging in the world.

A couple hours of peace and contentment in amidst the last lingering summer blooms, who have yet to succumb to autumn's rich decay.  Thank you, flowers, for offering up one final farewell!

 

I knew right away I would want to share Mary Oliver's The Cricket and the Rose with you today - how lucky we are to have both flowers and poetry in this lovely and complicated world of ours!  The lingering petals of fragrance and the timeless body of prayer...

In fall
the cricket
beneath the rose bush
watches

as the roses fall
to the very ground
that is his kingdom also.

So they're neighbors,

one full of fragrance,
the other
the harper
of a single dry song.

We call this time of the year
the beginning of the end
of another circle,
a convenience

and nothing more.

For the cricket's song
is surely a prayer,
and a prayer, when it is given,

is given forever.

This is a truth
I'm sure of,
for I'm older than I used to be,

and therefore I understand things
nobody would think of
who's young and in a hurry.

The snow is very beautiful.

Under it are the lingering
petals of fragrance,
and the timeless body
of prayer.

 

 

My prayer for today is that we take time to discover the beauty in the simple moments of our day, the fragrance and the prayers that surround us all.

...all the wonderful things

How do I start a post after two solid months off?  Perhaps something along the lines of "How I Spent My Summer Vacation"?  I never intended to go so long without a blog post, but sometimes life just happens and all you can do is buckle up and go along for the ride. In early July I had been receiving strange auto-upgrade notifications on my computer about Windows 10.  I wasn't interested in the free upgrade, so continued to hit the "no thanks" button at the bottom of the screen.  And then one morning, out of the blue, I opened my computer and discovered that it had ON ITS OWN decided to make the upgrade anyway.  That slightly freaked me out - not sure I want my computer exercising independent thought - but that was quickly followed by irritation when I discovered that nothing, and I do mean nothing, was now working correctly.  In short, it fried my computer.  I am now the proud owner of a new laptop, because in the end it made more sense to upgrade than repair an older computer.  I'm now having to get used to the Windows 10 format, but so far everything is working splendidly and I am now ready to write some fall blogs.

But before I launch into fall reveries (I know I've mentioned once or twice that it is my favorite season) I should probably catch up on all the comings and goings of the summer.  How did I spend my summer "vacation"?  Doing all sorts of fun things on the weekends, sandwiched with a rather hectic time at work.  My assistant moved to a different position within our organization, and replacing her as taken far longer than I had hoped.  As a result I've been trying to handle two crazy-busy work loads for the last two months, so even if I had had a working computer I'm not sure how much creative energy I would have had in July and August anyway.

A few highlights:  watching our new granddaughter, Madison, grow and start revealing her personality to us.  Oh my, I know I say it often, but being a grandmother really is the best thing since sliced bread. 

I've loved spending time with both the girls this summer, watching Lily blossom into the sweetest two year old I've ever met.  

There is nothing sweeter than a having a grandchild curled up on your lap while you read Goodnight Moon to her...once, then twice, and then a third time.  And each time we count the bears...there's Grandpa Bear, there's Grandma Bear and there's Lily Bear. And, of course, we must eat from the bowl of mush that makes it way onto each and every page.  Yum, yum, yum!

I have so many stories and pictures and new poets and poems that I can't wait to share with you, but before my eagerness runs away with itself (like the dish and the spoon in Good Night Moon?) perhaps I should first listen to Mary Oliver and learn a little more about patience...

Patience 

What is the good life now?  Why,

look here, consider

the moon's white crescent

rounding, slowly, over

the half month to still another

perfect circle ---

the shining eye

that lightens the hills,

that lays down the shadows

of the branches of the trees,

that summons the flowers

to open their sleepy faces and look up

into the heavens.

I used to hurry everywhere,

and leaped over the running creeks.

There wasn't 

time enough for all the wonderful things

I could think of to do 

in a single day.  Patience

comes to the bones

before it takes root in the heart

as another good idea.

I say this

as I stand in the woods

and study the patterns of the moon shadows,

or stroll down into the waters

that now, late summer, have also 

caught the fever, and hardly move

from one eternity to another.

Oliver asks us each of us -  what is the good life?  My answer today would be that it is having friends like you.  A heartfelt thank you to each reader who reached out and let me know my posts were missed!  I'm so happy to be "back in business" and I'm looking forward to sharing more adventures in this crazy ride we call life. 

Dear friends,

My computer has developed a strong dislike to the internet after moving from Windows 7 to Windows 10.  I have so much to share - so many photos and reflections from this summer, but I am temporarily without means to share my blog with all of you.  I hope to find a solution early next week, so please check back soon and hopefully I will be back up with new poems for your enjoyment.

In the meantime, please join me in prayers of comfort and grace for all the families who are grieving this morning - the families of the men shot by police in LA and TX as well as all the families of the slain Dallas police officers.  My heart is breaking over the senseless tragedy of so many wonderful lives snuffed out needlessly and heartlessly.

The greatest thing you'll ever learn 

Is just to love and be loved in return

~ Nat King Cole, lyrics from Nature Boy

I'm continuing the alphabet theme today, but I seem to be stuck on the letter B for a little bit longer!
In the past few weeks B has stood for Birthday girl (our sweet Miss Lily turned two), Blankie (finished in the nick of time for Miss Madison's arrival!) and of course Beautiful Baby (welcome to the world, Madison!!).  This time B has a starring role in another Birthday, this time my lovely daughter's birthday which we celebrated amidst the Beauty of northern Wisconsin...

We finished our lovely day in Door County with a Bonfire and star gazing, while telling mildly scary stories around the campfire...

I am always so excited to walk through the quiet campground late at night for some serious star gazing!  

But today B also stands for something a little off the camping topic...B represents BOLD.  

As in hello, really short hair! My husband can attest to the fact that I never seem to have the same style for long, always changing things up with my hair.  After my daughter's wedding two years ago I just kind of kept growing my hair, with wild fantasies of classy updo's...sleek french twists and the wildly popular messy buns dancing like visions of sugarplums in my head.  But the sad reality is that my hair is way too thick (I know, I shouldn't complain!!) to stay on the top of my head for more than five minutes - no matter what I or my hairstylist did it simply came undone and I ended up the ponytail girl...

 ponytail after ponytail...

after ponytail!!

The ponytail, while certainly an easy-peasy style to maintain, never conveyed the mildly sassy, pizzazzy way I feel inside.  And the addition of reading glasses at work didn't help...

It was time for a change, so operating on the Go BOLD or Go Home theory, I scheduled an appointment.  Here I am in my car before the appointment...

 and here I am after the appointment!!  What do you think?

And just so you know, this post today was way outside my comfort zone.  I am notoriously camera shy and much prefer to be the one behind the camera, not in front!  You will probably never again see so many photos of me at once, but if I'm talking about being BOLD I guess it has to start with me!  Mary Oliver knew a thing or two about boldness as well, and I hope you enjoy her poem, Cobb Creek.  Let's all have fun making a beautiful splash today!