unplugged

Taking a summer sabbatical, a reprieve from the ardors and privileges of modern communication. No internet, no email, no house phone, no fax, no cable, no DVD, no XM. I am up for a quiet summer of listening, basking in the space of sacred idleness. Here goes...

MOUNTAINS

...mmmm, the luxury of stepping off the busy treadmill, the noise, the hype, the urgency.  This gift of 2 weeks to be spent recharging, rearranging, re-evaluating. Thoughts drift by, some land softly, others float beyond any need to engage them. Retreating into the quiet, into the stillness, into myself, a soft breeze to wrap gently around me, a cocoon of oneness with the air I breathe, long deep breaths all the way to my fingertips, euphoria. What refreshes more than a 60 degree cloudless blue sky?

Old Metal

                                                                                                  

I was surprised to realize that I like old metal. Old as in parts and pieces, trains, farm equipment, wire trays, spokes, lawn furniture, and the feel of tin and heavy iron especially. Grates, bolts, radiators, latches, hinges, chicken wire, hydrants, gas meters, manhole covers, one way signs. It's a tactile thing, it puts me in touch with my rarer masculine side. I also like shiny metal, bronze, silver, aluminum, and the platinum of my feminine side.  I harbor a couple of chipped aqua electric fans, wrought iron ornaments, and numerous topiary frames. Perhaps it is the aging and mottling that i appreciate, the strength of stuff well-made in a previous time of hard work and acceptance. Perhaps the item I fondle in a thrift sale calls to me of a simpler reason to exist, before modems and chips and monitors. Perhaps I just like giving new purpose to unusual pieces, no longer useful or in working order. Maybe the favor will be returned one day. 

WEDDING

...a perfectly lovely day in May, a day for a wedding amidst the ruins of Old Sheldon Church.

RESURRECTION SUNDAY

The custom of children gathering flowers from nature to flower the bare cross at Easter is a precious reflection of simple metaphor.  Death produces life, the seed falls in the ground and reproduces itself, out of despair comes living joy and hope. This photo is on the cover of an illustrated children's book by Brian Wildsmith about the legendary history of the Cross. The simplicity of the cover illustration bespeaks the childlike wonder needed to embrace faith. "Except you become as a little child..."