Happiness is Jane Kenyon

The last line of a beloved poem just came to me as I was experimenting with a new flickr buddy icon (trying to crop a little portion of a not-yet-weary wine glass). Read more about Jane Kenyon here.

HAPPINESS

There's just no accounting for happiness,
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.

And how can you not forgive?
You make a feast in honor of what
was lost, and take from its place the finest
garment, which you saved for an occasion
you could not imagine, and you weep night and day
to know that you were not abandoned,
that happiness saved its most extreme form
for you alone.

No, happiness is the uncle you never knew about,
who flies a single-engine plane
onto the grassy landing strip, hitchhikes
into town, and inquires at every door
until he finds you asleep midafternoon
as you so often are during the unmerciful
hours of your despair.

It comes to the monk in his cell.
It comes to the woman sweeping the street
with a birch broom, to the child
whose mother has passed out from drink.
It comes to the lover, to the dog chewing
a sock, to the pusher, to the basket maker,
and to the clerk stacking cans of carrots
in the night.
It even comes to the boulder
in the perpetual shade of pine barrens,
to rain falling on the open sea,
to the wineglass, weary of holding wine.

Jane Kenyon

back yard rose on dresser

Inspired by Pleasant View Schoolhouse, I took this photo today of a rose, the windows, my grandma Pearl's sewing box. Pleasant View's son takes photos of the family's everyday life.

some of the steps to homemade ice cream

The Ewy method involves making a delicious, sweet custard,

this time with Borntrager Dairy milk and Miller eggs,

in Doug and Leeala's sauce pan

a white dress and shoes for memorial day

I thrifted this glorious, obnoxious dress soon after I miscarried last August. It was the end of summer, I was grief-stricken, and I needed something cheerful and non-pregnant to wear. I wore it with white shoes to a friend's house on Labor Day where, because I asked and wanted to know what "the rules" really say, I was told the last time to wear white shoes is before Labor Day--not on the day itself.
Here's the middle of the dress
and, now that the white-shoe season is officially here, here's the bottom, with white shoes and clean feet. The dress hem falls at the knee and the skirt is kind of flared.

Here's the spinach a gathering of dear women planted for me in a springtime ritual marking my second miscarriage (in February of this year). See the pretty tea roses Vanessa gave me last August? They're coming up full force!

It has been a happy day-before-Memorial-Day. I spent an hour (at least) in my garden zones this evening, pulling up bermuda grass from newly-forming beds. The roots come out so readily now that the soil is loose and fertile. I don't know how it happened exactly, but now I have no weeds on either side of the chain link fence where our main garden is. Wow.

Henry was sick (but cheerful) yesterday and today. High fever, not much energy (yesterday) to play. Now one of the cousins we visited yesterday is sick, so we spent the day together again, this time at our house. Here was the invitation to come over.White dress and shoes or no, I wish my friends, family and visitors a vibrant summer, and I leave you with these words that came to me from Melody Beattie via Gratefulness.org.Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more.

walk in the world for me

When I am gone, walk in the world for me. This sentence arrested my attention as I listened to Cheryl preach a sermon at the memorial service Henry and I attended this evening. We have been doing a lot of walking and biking and, now that spring is really, really here, our feet have been getting dirty. This afternoon there were three foot baths in our driveway, as those who were wading in the filthy creek needed cleaner feet to enter the house.

Walk in the world for me. We watched Star Wars (episode IV) with Henry tonight, because his dear friend just saw it and there's a sibling effect in play: the younger gets to see it before the older (chronologically) because, otherwise, Joel and I will never hear the end of it (and we were excited to watch it with him). It was wonderful to see the movie again. So violent (not wonderful), so laden with memories... how many times have I seen it and not caught many of the details that Henry so readily picked up on? The talk about "the force" always moves me, as do Obi Wan's words of wisdom to Luke. Obi Wan goes away, but he commissions Luke (in effect) to walk in the world for him. Dear Ida is gone from this world but, in her funeral, she told her friends to walk in it for her.

I am glad to be walking in the world for so many people, including walking for Jesus in my better moments.

oh, can it be true?

Here is what I have been waiting for for a long time. So thankful am I for the joys of bartering and sharing services, goods, foods...On these bikes Henry and I had a dreamy Monday riding to the dentist for a cleaning, riding here for a few things, including more asparagus, and riding to the library for a pile of books that fit so nicely in the basket. Thank you, Joel, for the work you do for us, and thank you, customers, for needing computer work!
Here are all my favorite photos of me, my new bicycle, and my favorite tag-along rider. We both wear helmets, but I decided I wanted to be photographed as-is. Here we are in our getting-ready-to-go pose.And here is the sight I got to look out the door at: the combo in all its blue glory. Beautiful month of May, I am loving you.

Home at rest

While I was out having fun in the compost Henry needed a particular toy. So I went to his room to get it and these are the tranquil scenes I saw. The house was having a nap.

Cuckoo clock in Henry's room

Bright colors and shadows in the kitchen