Autumn Odes and Puzzles

We have been in a stretch of perfect autumnal weather:  chilly nights, clear days, before the time change so we still have plenty of time to enjoy this perfect October time.  As I drove down the Cumberland Highway on Saturday, I was struck by how many small towns had piled pumpkins around the "Welcome to ______ " signs.  Pumpkins and hay bales and perhaps a scarecrow that wouldn't scare a soul.

It's not the perfect leaf viewing season, however.  Yesterday I stood on the back deck and stared up at the trees, and I was startled to realize how thin the leaf canopy is.  Many trees dropped their leaves before attaining full autumnal glory--and many trees are still fairly green in leaf.

When we first moved to South Florida, I didn't realize how different the seasons would be.  I didn't miss winter much, and summers seemed similar to South Carolina, but every year I had a fierce yearning for fall.  One year we bought two puzzles, and I still remember the one with the autumnal picture.  It was a nineteenth century town with horses and wagons and a big dance happening in the center of the village.  The trees had the perfect assortment of autumnal leaves and pumpkins dotted the puzzle landscape.

We put that puzzle together in the fall of 2001, when the world felt so topsy-turvy.  It was soothing to put the puzzle together.  

 I was teaching the British literature survey class, and I had Keats' "Ode on a Grecian Urn" on my brain--those figures on the urn, forever frozen in whatever emotional moment they experienced right then.  I thought the puzzle offered a similar dynamic.

It's an interesting spiritual question that Keats poses:  is it better to be forever poised to kiss the beloved?  Is it better to live in the moment of anticipation, rather than having to deal with all the messy humanness that comes after the kiss, once we truly know our beloved?

And there are larger questions posed by both the urn and the poem:  how do we stay in the here and now?  How do we not get distracted by our sorrows?  How do we maintain our faith, in the face of enormous woes?  For me, during that autumn of 2001 that broke our hearts in so many ways, the answer came in the jigsaw puzzle.

I've never thought of jigsaw puzzles as spiritual practice or meditation aid.  Perhaps I should. 

As these thoughts swirled in my brain, a poem began to emerge.  It's now 25 years old, so the imagery of disaster might feel dated, not something I considered when I composed it.  Despite the dated reference to September 11, I think it holds up relatively well.

Ode on an American Puzzle


These people do not puzzle over how the pieces
of their lives fit together. They know their purpose,
always at the center of the picture.
They will never return home to unfinished
craft projects and unwashed dishes. They will celebrate
continuously at this harvest dance, the deepest
darks of night and winter always at arm’s
length, the leaves always brightly colored,
mounds of pumpkins waiting for transformation,
every woman and man matched, the children tended.

Perhaps that is why I like puzzles.
As buildings melt and planes explode, and even smaller tragedies
rip apart the pieces of a life, I find
a measured calm that even poetry cannot provide.
I sit at this table, free from existential mystery.
I know what picture will emerge as I piece
this project into one. I know that all the parts
have been provided. I know that they will connect.
What other aspect of my life can hope
to offer the same consolation?

An Easy Travel Day

Yesterday was a fairly easy travel day, a pleasant surprise.  I decided to go the way my phone directed me, which took me across I 40, the 2 lane part that's under construction.  It's much easier early in the morning going from east to west.  But I focused on breathing and staying focused on the patch of pavement ahead of me, not the drop off to my right.  I was glad I was in my small Prius.

I stopped along the way at an Artisan's Center in Berea, KY.  I had stopped on my way up, but I was trying to stay ahead of hurricane remnants, so I didn't linger.  Yesterday, there was an art festival on the back grounds, but the weather was cold and blustery, so once again, I didn't linger.

Last night we brought our plants inside because, we, too, are under a freeze warning.  I'll be interested to see if the basil bounces back; something (bugs? squirrels?) has been attacking them outside.  Of course, I'm not sure I want all 3 plants to bounce back because I don't use all the basil.  Usually I'm happy to just enjoy the sight of the plants, but less so when they're bedraggled, the way they have been recently.

I will spend some time today trying to get back into regular rhythms.  I haven't done much exercising in the past week.  I need to scale back my eating and go back to alcohol free days.  I also have some writing to do for these classes I just took.

But first, church!  Back across a different set of mountains, on a much chillier morning than last week.

The Long Drive Home from a TEEM Week

Soon I will put the last of my stuff in the car.  Sunrise comes later this much further north (at 7:57), so I'm not going to leave until 6:30 or 7.  Gone are the days when I would leave at 4 a.m.; driving that many hours in the dark is just too tiring.  Is this a sign of getting older or just a sign of being more cautious?  Part of it is wanting to linger in a lovely hotel room a bit longer, which is always balanced by knowing how much driving lies ahead and wanting to get that over with.

I've been in Indianapolis, taking the last required classes, another task done on the path to ordination in the Lutheran church (ELCA, the more progressive expression of the of Lutheranism in North America).  

We spent the first two days of the week studying Lutheran Liturgy, then a Wednesday workshop on Lutheran Polity, and we finished the week on Thursday and Friday studying Hebrew prophets, those prophets from the B.C.E. time period, the ones at the end of the Old Testament part of the Christian Bible.

I've studied those prophets before during an Old Testament class during my first year at Wesley Theological Seminary.  That class was asynchronous, and the material was not nearly as compelling as the last 2 days have been.  The history of the centuries before the Greek and Roman empires is much more clear to me now, and especially how we get from the time of David and Solomon to the Assyrian  and Babylonian exiles.

I came back to my hotel room on Thursday and made this Facebook post, which was just as true at the end of the day on Friday:  "Today and tomorrow, our TEEM group is doing a deep, scholarly dive into (B.C.E.) Hebrew prophets, a topic which seems very timely in ways I both did and did not expect."

I was impressed with various teaching techniques throughout the week.  During our Lutheran Liturgy class, Bishop Strickland had breaks where we sung, along with information about how we might use the songs in worship. Dr. Parker, our OT Prophets class instructor, had a variety of artifacts to show us or techniques (like using an imprinting device in clay) to show us how people wrote.  We worked in small groups for a break in lecturing, and that small group work will lead to papers we need to write.  For some of the prophets, we read the work out loud in a variety of ways, which made it more interesting to hear and understand.

I always learn a lot in classes that I take, both in subject matter and how to present the subject matter.  I go home with ideas for how to improve my own classrooms.

I've been with this group of classmates twice now, and my time with them is over, at least this time as a TEEM cohort.  It was a strange goodbye yesterday.  Any time of parting makes me think of all the other times of leaving, makes me melancholy and missing all the people who have passed through my life.

So maybe it's good to have a transition time of driving in the car, before hurling myself back into the rest of my life.  I do feel happy that I'm returning to regular life that is life giving, unlike pre-pandemic years when I would be returning to a toxic workplace and a boss bellowing about how I shouldn't leave ever again.  I know how lucky I am.

The Second Half of TEEM Week

Last night over dinner, my TEEM cohort exchanged notes over how tired we are.  This onground intensive is, indeed, intense.   We eat breakfast at the hotel, head over to the Synod office meeting space, and we're meeting from 8 until 4 or 5, depending on how long we took for lunch. Lunch is brought in, and we try to be back on task by 1 so that we can be done closer to 4:00.

Monday and Tuesday, we learned about Lutheran Liturgy, the way worship is structured. Yesterday was a 1 day workshop to teach us about Lutheran Polity, how the larger church operates--after a morning studying governing structure, we took a deep dive into church constitutions. We finish the week with Old Testament prophets.

I feel like I had more energy back in June, but let me remember that I only did the workshop and the last half of the week.  Plus, I wasn't in the middle of an onground teaching semester.

I've gotten good ideas for my sermon that I'll preach on Sunday, which happened in June too.  We've also had good worship this week, which has been nourishing.

I've been thinking about my past experiences with the onground intensive model, which has only been for the spiritual director certificate program.  I do wonder how the spiritual experiences compare with low residency MFA programs.

I love the idea of an intensive that blasts requirements out of the way in one week--but having said that, it's not my favorite way to learn.  I'm grateful to have had so many different kinds of educational opportunities throughout my life.  I also realize that my preferred way of learning:  onground, over 12-16 weeks, once or twice a week--it's not a way that can work for most people who are employed full-time, especially not older folks.

I'm also grateful that my current work life doesn't involve sitting at a desk all day, the way we've been doing this week or the way I did as an administrator.  Yes, we do try to move during breaks, but my step count at the end of 8 hour desk days is much lower than my regular teaching days.

I am grateful for so much as we head into the end of this week.  I am most grateful for all my jobs that allow me to be away so that I can be part of this educational experience and for my spouse, who is self-sufficient and holding down our 2 home fronts.

Relaxing Day, Intensive Day

Yesterday was the first day of the onground intensive for the TEEM program.  We'll spend the first two days of the week learning about Lutheran Liturgy, then a Wednesday workshop on Lutheran polity, and we'll finish with a class on Old Testament prophets.  We begin each day with worship/devotion time at 8, and we go until 4 or 5, depending on how much time we take to eat lunch that is brought in for us.

It's an intensive, not a relaxive, and the contrast with Sunday is huge.  Sunday was a restorative day.  I did a lot of sewing and a lot of reading, both for intensive week and for pleasure.  I had a video call with my old Florida quilting group and a phone call with my spouse.

I didn't do any church livestreaming, so it was somewhat strange yesterday to hear people refer to the Bible readings we would have been hearing on Sunday--not the readings, but the recognition that almost everyone else had gone to church before traveling.  It reminded me of how far I travel, and how rare it is to travel 8 hours by car these days.  Or maybe it's only rare in the circles in which I move.

I'm glad I had Sunday to recover from my travels on Saturday, but I'm not sure that yesterday's transition would have been any harder if I had gone with my original plan to drive from North Carolina to Indiana.  I'd have just gone from one kind of intensive to another.

I continue to be happy to have joined this program; I'm impressed with the talents of my cohort.  I feel a bit sad about how far away I live from all of them.  This is my last intensive week, and it's hard to imagine how our paths might cross in the future.

Of course, the past decade has taught me that much can change, so I'm keeping doors and options open.  Maybe we'll have yearly reunions.  Maybe we'll travel.  At the very least, I'm hoping we can continue to pray for each other.

Columbus Day, Oktoberfest, and a Poem

 Today is the 226th anniversary of Oktoberfest, a holiday which began as a city-wide celebration of the marriage of a royal couple. Raise a glass! I wish I liked beer more.

In an interesting juxtaposition of holidays, today is also the real Columbus Day and also the federal holiday. Oktoberfest and Christopher Columbus . . . surely a poem lurks there. Old world, new world, hmmmmm.

On this day in 1492, the 10 week Atlantic journey of Columbus and his crew ended when a sailor saw land.

Unfortunately, Columbus was looking for a shorter trade route, and since he didn't have a sense of how huge the planet was, he had set off on a voyage destined for failure, at least failure as he set the parameters. He had stumbled on a wealth of natural resources: tomatoes, corn, beans, not to mention lumber, vast continents of space which could absorb people fleeing from overcrowded Europe, minerals, astonishing soil . . . but Columbus never did find that trade route.

I have written many a blog post about these ideas:  my favorite one on spiritual implications is here, and for thoughts on Columbus and the creative life, go here.

I always wondered if Columbus felt a sense of failure, so years ago, I wrote this poem. The title refers to a poem by John Donne, "Good Friday, Riding Westward, 1613," which I was teaching at the time.  And yes, the title does suggest that I wrote the poem in 2001.  Columbus is not one of my touchstone historical figures, for all sorts of reasons, so I don't have a wealth of poems about him.

Columbus Day, 2001, Riding Westward


Christopher Columbus set sail in search of a swifter
trade route, an easier way to bring spice
back from the Far East. At what point
did he realize that he’d gone astray, that a whole
continent stood in his way?

Did he ever realize the value of his discovery?
I picture him grumbling. “These natives
are weaklings. I’ve never seen such a sickly
bunch.” I’m sure he never saw himself as the source
of the infection. Did he mourn the lack
of gold and spice? He had no idea that he’d found
an agricultural mother lode: beans, corn, and tomatoes.

How often do I sail upon these same waters?
Always yearning for the voyage I had planned,
not enjoying the trip I’m on. Always questing
for traditional treasures, never envisioning
the wealth before me, so simple is its disguise.

Safe in Indiana

I am sitting at a desk in the Drury Hotel in Carmel, Indiana, on the northern edge of Indianapolis.  I'm here for an onground intensive for the TEEM program, my current route to ordination.  If you've been following along all week, you know that I'm here a day early.

It's a long trip, which I make by car.  I like being able to arrive with all my stuff, and I really like not dealing with the hassles of airline travel.  For this trip, I was really happy to be able to change my travel plans with minimum hassle.

I'm glad I left early.  I got in my car yesterday at 6:40 a.m., and it was already raining.  The illuminated signs on the interstate that give information about road conditions told drivers of high wind warnings and advised us to be alert for debris on the roads.  As I made my way north and west, the rain continued, and there was already standing water on the road.

Happily, the rain wasn't heavy, and there wasn't much traffic on the roads with me.  I was able to check into the hotel with no problem, and there were plenty of luggage carts available.  I got unpacked and organized and headed down to dinner.

Before the TEEM program intensive in June, I had never heard of this hotel chain.  I am happy to return here again.  I love that they offer both breakfast and dinner.  The dinner menu changes, although I imagine there are standards.  When I was here in June, the taco/burrito bar was offered twice, which was fine with me.

Last night we had pulled pork, which was great because I had been craving barbecue.  It wasn't the burnt ends kind of experience I wanted, but it was good enough.  I got my third glass of wine, added the former pour to it, and headed back to my room with a very full glass.

Another plus to staying at this hotel is the 3 free drinks every evening.  It's not just wine, but also several kinds of beer, along with all sorts of mixed drinks.  It's an interesting business decision, and last night I was happy to partake.

I spent time reading a non-academic book as I sipped my wine.  On Tuesday, when I realized I'd be at the hotel an extra day, I got some regular fiction from the library, so last night, I started Kevin Wilson's Perfect Little World.  Earlier this year, I read Now Is Not the Time to Panic, so when I saw it in the stacks, I decided on another book of his.  So far, it's compelling.  I also got Lionel Shriver's The Mandibles, which I've read twice before.  It's an interesting look at a near-future dystopia, and I'd like to revisit it.  We'll see if this week is the week.

Today I plan to read more of Perfect Little World, along with academic reading for the coming week.  I brought my quilting project with me, so I also plan to do some sewing--my hope is that there will be something interesting on the cable stations on the big TV, but if not, there's plenty on my computer.

I'm sure Indianapolis offers many diversions, but I'm going to stay put and enjoy having time to focus on joys that I usually have to tuck in the margins of my other responsibilities.

Hurricane Remnants and Travel

Last June, when I left Indiana after the first TEEM onground intensive that I attended, I thought ahead to our next gathering in October, where I anticipated autumnal shifts with still-warm days.

I did not anticipate a hurricane affecting the weather that far inland.  But here we are.  I've changed travel plans, and instead of leaving on Sunday, I'm leaving in a few hours.  There's already a bit of rain here, but nothing like what is expected later this morning.

We are supposed to have record breaking warmth in the 80's in the early part of the week, and cooler temps by week's end.  I have packed a variety of clothes--lots of layers for my upper body, some with sleeves and some not, and shorts for my lower body which is odd-shaped and hard to fit for long pants in this time of my life.

This hurricane has turned out to be a normal-ish hurricane, not a monster that zoomed up several categories just before landfall--how refreshing!  It moved ashore as a category 2, very survivable for most structures--not a fun way to spend an evening, but likely not life threatening for many.

I am still glad I changed my travel plans.  I should be able to stay ahead of the storm remnants today, and it will be good to head into the week being better rested.

Hurricane Watching and Other Notes from This Week

I am hurricane watching, and you might ask why.  I will always keep a wary eye on any Gulf or Atlantic hurricanes--even before Hurricane Helene came to my neighborhood, I was this way.  This week-end, I'm headed to Indianapolis, and Hurricane Isaias is too.  I was going to drive on Sunday, but since the hotel could add Saturday night to my stay, I've decided to pack the car later today and leave tomorrow instead of Sunday.  

I will avoid much of the heavy weather (I hope), but there's no way to know what that weather would be on Sunday.  Maybe the remnants will park themselves over Kentucky and just produce random rain showers.  Maybe it will be a huge amount of water falling from the sky for all the midwest.  Maybe the system will scoot on out of the picture on Saturday.  Regardless of what happens, I hope to be in my hotel room, safe and secure.  I'm glad I thought to call the hotel on Tuesday and extend my reservation, just in case.  If the hurricane had fizzled, I could have canceled that day and kept my Sunday travel plans.  But I'm predicting no fizzle, so off I go tomorrow morning.

I'm taking sewing and books as if I'm staying for an extra month, not an extra day.  I'll have my laptop, and I'm hopeful I can do all sorts of writing throughout the week.

When I look back, I know I'm likely to remember this time of hurricane watching.  Let me also record some other events from early October that I want to remember:

--It's the time of year when it's time to do the HR training for not just one school, but both schools where I teach.  This year, it's been surreal to be doing the anti-sexual harassment and Title IX training against the backdrop of the frat house rape case at Cornell.

--I have continued to have such good teaching experiences.  At some point, I want to write a post about my increased use of small groups this semester.  Or maybe it's enough to note that I'm doing more, and I'm amazed at how well it's working.  A case in point:  for yesterday's Creative Writing class, I put the seven students into 2 groups.  I asked them what makes a good spooky/scary/Gothic story.  They had good conversations.  I had them each make a list of the top 5 elements.  Then I had them do the Build Your Own Spooky/Scary Story worksheet.  It went so well that I'm going to have my English 101 class do the same thing.

--I have also done a lot with setting up the classroom tables in stations.  In my Wednesday Nonfiction class, I wanted the students to see how smaller pieces of writing could be included in larger pieces of writing:  blog posts into books, Facebook lists into books, Twitter tweets into a book, teaching handouts into a book, recipes and restaurant reviews into memoir.  

Students moved from station to station, making notes, and then filling out a worksheet about insights they had.  I was impressed by how serious they were as they studied the artifacts.

When Jesus Plans Your Family Reunion

On Sunday, I went through my old files looking for a St. Francis poem that I thought I had written--but I was thinking of an Ash Wednesday poem.  While searching, I found an old manuscript of Jesus in the world poems, many of which I had forgotten writing.  

Because my time is short this morning, I'll post one of them here.  Let me make sure to mention that the people in this poem are not based on real friends and relations.  It is published for the first time here.

Reunion



We let Jesus plan our family reunion,
and we won’t be doing that again.

He searched through the stunted
branches of the family tree and invited
them all: Weird PopPop Walter, who went to war
and was never the same, Cousin Buddy
who married that poor little black girl,
Aunt Leona, who we never forgave
for stealing all of Mamaw’s silver.

And then Jesus went and invited strangers
to our feast. People we didn’t know
from Adam’s housecat. We’re lucky
they didn’t rob us blind.
Where Jesus thought all these people
would park, I don’t know.

We usually cater these events, we told
him that. But no, Jesus had to go and change
things. Price of admission, he informed us,
was that we had to bring our favorite food, enough to share.
How could I do that?
My favorite food was Mamaw’s sweet
potato pie, and no one’s made it since she died.
But one rainy day, with restless
children to entertain, I set
one to work peeling potatoes and taught
one the secrets of pie crust.
The smell of those pies baking made me weep
with missing her, which alarmed
the children. To distract them, I dug
out the old quilts she made, and we lost
the rest of the day to looking at photo albums.

Fired by insider information, the children pestered
everyone at the reunion, and we told each other stories
we hadn’t thought of in years. I hope my girl stopped
thinking of herself as fat and sees herself as sturdy
like her Great Aunt Lillian who did the plowing
herself after flu felled all the menfolks.

But the greatest miracle of all was the singing.
Descended from northern Europeans, we keep
our mouths shut to keep from freezing, but Jesus
got us to open up. Jesus built a big bonfire,
and we spent the night singing while the leftovers multiplied
to feed us again.

Jesus planned our family reunion,
and we might let him do it again.
Maybe in five years or so.

Purchases and Vaccinations: The Witch Hat Edition

Yesterday was an afternoon of purchases and vaccinations.  My witch hat (with a veil!) was the most fun:

My school will have a week of various Halloween activities in late October, and I had been thinking about a witch hat, the easiest costume.  I thought about making one--after all, I have a lot of fabric.  But after seeing the prices on Amazon, I ordered one for less than $10.00.

Our other afternoon purchase was much more expensive:  2 mattresses for our fixer-upper in Spartanburg.  We have bed frames arriving soon that won't need box springs, but we still needed mattresses.  So off we went to Mattress Firm, where we could test mattresses in Arden, buy them, and have them delivered in Spartanburg.

If you're thinking of mattresses of your youth that were much less expensive than today's mattresses, they still exist; the lowest end mattress was $295.  We bought more expensive mattresses, made by Sealy, firm, no memory foam.  They were still much cheaper than the high end mattresses at the front of the store.

Then we went to get our flu and Covid shots.  I often wait until later in October, but I've seen several articles that note that flu and Covid outbreaks are arriving earlier this year, so earlier shots are best, if possible.  October is a heavy travel month for me, and yesterday offered a good window--no evening plans and no Tuesday morning commitments, should the shots hit me harder than usual.

I'm happy to report that they did not hit me harder--just the usual soreness at the vaccination sites on my arms.

I spent the evening sewing strips of Halloween fabric together while watching the Ghostbusters movie with the females.  We think we had seen it before, but I had little memory of it.

This morning, I did more experiments with my witch hat and different lighting.  Here's one with less light:

And here's one with more light, which lets you see the veil, which is made of a cobwebby looking material:

I realize that future generations may see this witch hat as all that is wrong with our modern society of disposable things made half a planet away and sped on its way to me.  But I also know that I'll still be using it in spooky seasons 20-30 years from now, or for as long as I'm alive.

Week-end Update: Expected and Unexpected Joys

I have had a good week-end, good in ways both expected and unexpected.  

I began the week-end by driving down to Columbia, SC to meet up with my parents so we could go to the James R. Crumley Archive banquet together.  In past years, I had seen people post pictures of the banquet, and I always thought it sounded interesting, the kind of event I would be sure to attend if I lived nearby.

I've lived nearby for several years, but this was the first year I could go.  Past years had seminary classes, minister commitments, and of course, Hurricane Helene disruptions.  As I got ready to go, I realized that I wasn't really sure what to expect.  I wondered if there would be people I would know.  I was happily surprised to have such a good time, which I wrote about in this blog post. 

I knew that the week-end would have good family moments, and it did.  It was great to be with my parents.  We are all old enough that I feel the passage of time keenly, that each good time together might be the good last time together.

My maternal grandfather's family farm is in Lexington, SC, the county next to Columbia; a lot of relatives still live on the family farm and surrounding farms, although they no longer farm the way they once did.  On Saturday morning, we joined a group of them at Lizard's Thicket, a local restaurant, for late breakfast.  What a treat!  It was great to catch up with beloved second cousins, and great to meet folks who are newer to the area.  And I had an amazing breakfast with some of the best restaurant biscuits I've ever had.

We've talked about future reunions, and I hope that we can do it.  One of the unexpected sorrows of moving back to the Carolinas is that I don't get together with friends and family as often as I would like.  We're still somewhat spread out, and my work schedule makes it complicated in a way that it wouldn't be complicated if I was retired.

Yesterday we got back from church and settled in for our post-church sermon watching.  We made pizza.  I thought we were in for the night when my cousin called.  

It was a happy phone call.  He was passing through town after being in Utah at a conference, waiting for his family who was picking him up on their way to the beach.  I offered to come get him, and he said yes.  We were able to offer him pizza; I would have made a different meal if I had known he was coming, but he was happy.  We had a few hours to catch up, and he had time to take a walk around Lutheridge, which he was craving after a morning and afternoon traveling by plane.

I feel very lucky to be at this point in my life.  Many people don't make it this far, to their 60's.  And many people don't have as many loved ones, friends and family both, alive when they are in their 60's.  While I wish I had even more time with them, I'm grateful for the time we do have.

The Feast Day of Saint Francis for Creative Types--for All of Us

Today is the feast day of Saint Francis.  For those of you who want a more spiritual meditation, head to these posts on my theology blog, one without photos, and one with photos.  For those of you wondering why we should care about a medieval saint or for those of you wanting to celebrate his life with your creativity, read on.

Francis continues to speak to so many of us, and for so many reasons.  Let's look at the various reasons and how they might inspire us in our creative lives.

--Francis is most associated with love of animals, which may explain his enduring popularity.  Churches across the world will celebrate his feast day by having services where people are welcome to bring their pets for a blessing. 

In our art, how could you take something traditional, like a worship service, and subvert it?  I'm thinking of the short story told via PowerPoint slides in Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad.

Today is a good day to think about the role of pets in our lives and to think about how we feel about less cuddly animals.  The symbolic possibilities may seem obvious--how could we use animals in a less obvious way as symbols in our work?

--Francis has come to be associated with the environmental movement, in part because of his love of animals, in part because he liked to visit ruined parts of society.

Today is a good day to think about our planet, much of which is already ruined.  We might think about the fact that we're living in the Holocene Extinction, one of 5-7 times in our planet's history where we know we're losing species at a far faster, and perhaps catastrophic, rate.  How can our creative endeavors address the situation? 

--Francis came from a very wealthy family, a family he renounced in solidarity with society's poor and outcast.  He lived amongst the lepers, the lowest of the low, and ministered to their needs.

Who are society's lepers today?  Can our art help humanize them?

--Francis worked to help end the Crusades. 

How could our creative work help end wars?

--Francis created three religious orders, two of which exist today, centuries after he created them.

What kind of community could help us in our creative endeavors?  Does it exist already?  If not, could we create such a community?

Several times during his life, Francis had to write a rule book for how the communities would live together.  If you created such a rule book, what would you include?

--Francis created the first Nativity scene, what we might today call a living Nativity scene, complete with real animals.  His scenes were inspired by paintings of the Nativity scene (think Jesus in a manger, surrounded by those who loved him and some animals).  He wanted visitors to feel the full engagement of all their senses.  We might think of Francis as an early performance artist or maybe someone who created a piece of installation art.

If we've been working in a certain medium for many years, we may have gotten complacent about trying to have all the senses of our audience engaged.  What can we do to change that?

If you're not a performance artist or a person who creates installation art, what could you do to move into that area?  It's an exciting time for collaboration and for exploring technology.  And yes, it's a scary time too.

--The life of St. Francis shows us the transformations that can happen when we dare to dream.  Dare to dream today.

A Banquet and Archived History

Yesterday I drove down to Columbia, SC to meet my parents so that we could all go to the James R. Crumley Archives banquet.  In years past, I've seen pictures of the event, and I've always been curious.  This year, schedules aligned, and we could go.

Each year, as far as I can tell, the banquet is held at a different place.  So far, the Archive has not had a permanent home.  That's about to change:  Newberry College has donated land for a building and now the capital campaign begins.  We heard a bit about that new development last night.

(l-r Don Poole, Ina Berkey, Jane Mitcham,Tom Berkey)

But most of last night's banquet was to celebrate the accomplishments of the honorees:  an individual, a church, and a synod of the ELCA.  It was enough of a program to justify the banquet, but not so overwhelming/long that people started leaving early.

(l-r Honoree Dorothy Jeffcoat, Don Poole, Ina Berkey)

Before the event, we had been invited to be part of a program that told the story of African American Lutherans in the southeast.  That program turned out to be a documentary that's available to all (go here to watch), along with some segments about Atlanta from a forthcoming documentary in the same series.

It was a lovely evening with good food, good stories/speeches, and even better, the chance to reconnect with others from the region.  I was happy to be reminded of all my connections:  to individuals, to various churches, to synods from the southeastern United States, to Newberry College, and to church camps.  But more than that, I was happy to hear the stories of all the good happening in the world, in small ways and in big ways.

Celebrating the Arrival of October with Fabric

I spent much of yesterday attending to tasks that I often don't find time for during regular school days:  a dermatologist appointment, some grocery shopping, and a hair cut.  But I also did some fun activities.  Last year, I went to Asheville Cotton, one of our local fabric stores, on the first day of Fall Break.  This year, I continued the tradition.

I don't really need fabric, but I wanted to buy a few small pieces to keep me feeling inspired, and I really wanted some fall or Halloween fabric.  

I saw this bag but didn't pick it up immediately--after all, I could choose my own fabric, couldn't I?  I could, but I found it a bit overwhelming.  And I didn't get a price break on the mystery bag. 

I went to the remnant section and was uninspired.  I picked up a piece or two and headed to the cash register.  At the last minute, I added the mystery bag to my purchase.

I am happy to say that I am delighted with the fabrics--some of them even glow in the dark!

It's strange to me that I got more delight from the mystery bag than I would have from taking the $40.00 and buying my own selection of bits and pieces.  I was happy for someone else to have made the decision for me.  And the surprise element was fun.

It reminded me of a time that's beginning to seem very long ago.  When I lived in Hollywood, Florida, I bought my fabric at Jo-Ann's, because it was easy and had what I needed.  Occasionally, my quilting friends and I would go to a huge store that specialized in specialty quilting fabrics; the prices were too high for my budget at the time, but I did splurge on backing fabric once.

The store sold plastic bags of scraps, many of them too small to be useful.  But occasionally, there would be one worth the $10 price.  I loved dumping out the bag and seeing what was actually there.  Even better was when one of my quilting friends bought one too, and we could trade.

Last night, I didn't work with any of the new fabric I bought.  I'm trying to get a quilt made by Thanksgiving, so I worked on that.  Plus, I like having the new fabric for a bit of time before cutting into it.  It's a way to stretch the joy, and who can argue with that?  

Rough Drafts and Fall Break

We are at midterm at Spartanburg Methodist College--which means it's Fall Break today and tomorrow.  My spouse and I will have a day of working on different projects:  he's putting polyurethane on the sanded hardwood floors in the fixer-upper house in S'burg, and I have various appointments today (dermatologist, hair, Zoom session with one of our onground intensive instructors).

Yesterday my spouse and I went to S'burg in different cars, so I had some time alone at the Arden house.  What did I do with my alone time?  Cooking and baking, of course.  I have a lot of apples which aren't getting fresher, so I made this apple cake; it's a strange recipe, with mashing the apples with a mixer to get the crumbly batter into something that is more like a cake batter.  The finished cake is very moist.  When I first took it out of the oven, it seemed more like a bread pudding.  It's delicious, both iced and un-iced.

I also made dinner with the ingredients I bought on Tuesday for this Smitten Kitchen recipe that uses frozen ravioli and fresh spinach. It's similar to another Smitten Kitchen recipe that includes tomatoes (I use a small can of petite diced), cooking on the top of the stove, with a last-minute broil.

You might think I would do more writing during a time in the house when I knew that the T.V. would stay quiet.  I did write a draft of the paper that is due Oct. 5.  And while my Nonfiction Writing students worked on their next assignment, I did write a rough draft of my Mary in a Time of Climate Change,  poem (see this post for the original inspiration).  It went in surprising directions, although I didn't have much of a vision, so the main surprise was having any direction at all.

It reminds me of a similar process a few weeks ago.  I had been trying to write about Nancy Drew taking up quilting.  I was leafing through A. E. Stallings' Afterlife, her wonderful collection of mostly published poems, and came across "Medea, Homesick."  I thought about Nancy Drew, homesick for her youth.  And a poem just tumbled out of me.

This morning I've been looking at rough drafts of poems that I've composed in the last 2 months.  My goal for Fall Break is to finish one or two.  I am delighted to realize that I've written more than I remembered, although some of them are just some lines that may or may not have potential.

Well, let me get ready to go on my walk.  I'm eating extra apple cake calories--plus, I want to enjoy autumnal weather before it turns rainy/wintry.

Pumpkin Sketches and Full Moon Walks

Yesterday, we made a quick grocery store stop on our way back from Spartanburg.  At one point, I heard an announcement over the loudspeaker, so I went to the in-store Starbucks.  I had heard correctly--they were giving out samples of Pumpkin Spice Latte--yum.

For me, though, this season is really Pumpkin Sketching season.  Here's my latest:

Those of you who know me best know that I am often sketching pumpkins.  But in autumn, it feels more legit--the way I am always drawn to autumn spices that some call pumpkin.

This past week has also been full moon walking week.  It feels less onerous to walk in the pre-dawn dark when a full moon awaits.

I had always wondered if there was ever a time when I could capture both the moon and the lighted cross at the Lutheridge lake.  I'm calling this one a success, even if my phone camera is less advanced.

I also like the one that has some lights from the lodge/boathouse.  It's not quite spooky season vibes, but close--summer shifting vibes perhaps.

Mary in a Time of Climate Change

I met the artist Jill Ross through an online journaling group offered by artist Vonda Drees.  That feels like a very different time and world, and in a way, it was, back in 2018.  We were journaling our way through  Joyce Rupp's Open the Door: A Journey to the True Self.  I first blogged about the experience in this post, but there were others.  Through the years, we did some additional journaling classes online together.

Beginning of a Mosaic by Jill Ross

A few days ago, Jill posted this picture on Facebook with this caption:  "Day One- New Adventure Series, Mary in the time of Climate Change," and I wrote to say it would make a great poem title.  Then I wrote to ask if she'd mind if I wrote the poem.

I haven't written the poem yet, but I wanted to make sure I captured the idea.  I've used Biblical and mythological characters, like Noah's wife and Cassandra, to talk about climate change in past poems, but never Mary.

Noah's wife seems like a much more obvious choice than Mary, but I'm guessing it's because I haven't really thought about it much.  I immediately thought of the refugee angle (the flight into Egypt in the Gospel of Matthew), but is that a result of climate change?  Hmmm.

Let me capture some possible lines and see if they lead to anything:

--I have watched the grapes retreat to cooler climates.

--I know what it's like to flee a dictator.

--I have lost my children too.

--Blue is my color, my color and my mood.

--You have feared the flood and the fire.

Sunday Wrap Up: Sundaes on Sunday and Helene Memories

Yesterday, we had worship in the picnic pavilion at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  It was a bit chilly, but we continued on with worship as planned.  For more on worship, I wrote this blog post, or you can go straight to the recording of the sermon.

We had a potluck lunch with ice cream sundaes (Sundaes on Sunday!) after worship.  I looked across the field behind the pavilion with rolled hay and not for the first time did I think, I have fallen into a Norman Rockwell painting--and I mean that in the best possible way.

On our way home, we stopped at the grocery store.  I wanted better cheddar cheese to go with the apples I bought, and I picked up a bottle of white wine too.  It was as perfect an autumnal supper as I thought it would be.

Melancholy nipped at the edges of the day.  It was the anniversary of the worst damage of Hurricane Helene, and I had that on the brain as we went across the part of I 26 that had to be rebuilt after the Nolichucky River flooded in Erwin, Tennessee.  There were homes and manufacturing plants and a hospital and a radio station that aren't there anymore.

I also felt a bit of sadness scrolling through everyone else's memories and also a post on a friend's birthday that her husband posted.  She died suddenly and unexpectedly in February, and he invited us to post memories on his post earlier this week.  It was wonderful to read and remember, but also deeply sad, because she wasn't even 60 yet.

I fell asleep early as I often do on Sundays, but it was a good sleep, unlike Friday's sleep because of relentless headache because of commuting stop/slow down.  

And now for the week ahead:  Thursday and Friday are Fall Break, with midterm grades due Wednesday, so it will be a different week.

Saturday Fragments: Weather, Walking, and Apples

It has been a good week overall, yet I still arrive at this Saturday feeling a bit fragmented.  Let me capture a few fragments:

--I am still trying to decide if my apple comparing review exercise in my Nonfiction Writing class was effective.  In some ways, it was:  we had a great conversation about the apples, but we're still in the process of translating that experience to the writing of reviews.

--I haven't done as much walking this week--we've had several very rainy mornings, and while I don't mind walking in the rain, I worry more about walking in rain in the dark, as I must do with my MWF schedule.

--While I haven't done much poetry revising, I've been revising a short story I found in my files.  It didn't need much revising, so I don't know how much I should be patting myself on the back.

--We've had the arrival of our first cool weather--finally!  I want to bake, but I'm also aware of how many calories my fall favorites contain and how much time some of them take to create.

--I decided to do some tasks out of order this morning.  I went on a full moon walk--lovely!

--Yesterday was a day that many folks were celebrating Dolly Parton.  My spouse found 2 possible movies for us to watch.  I wasn't really up for 9 to 5.  Instead, we watched Straight Talk (1992), where Dolly plays a woman who leaves a bad boyfriend and heads off to interesting adventures in Chicago, some of which involve James Woods, who plays a newspaper guy.  Lots of unbelievable plot twists, but I didn't really care.

--My spouse and I both agreed that this movie is Dolly at her most physically lovely.  Her personality, lovely as always, blazes through this movie, which made it particularly perfect.

--We are almost at the 2 year anniversary of Hurricane Helene.  Two years ago today, I went down the market to Spartanburg Methodist College, hoping to finish up student conferences.  On my way home, driving through rain that seemed normal, I got a weather alert on my phone, telling me about a flash flood warning, urging me to seek higher ground.  I had just driven across a mountain and assumed the alert was for someone else, since I was in a car on the Interstate (I 26).  A day later, that part of the Interstate would be under water.

--And now there are new houses and apartment buildings being built on that land that flooded.  Maybe it was a hundred year flood, and those structures will be safe.  I am doubtful.