Thunder Moon and Lunar Links

IMG_1567.JPGThe Thunder Moon doesn’t technically occur until July, but if ever such a name was appropriate for a full moon, it was this one.  It seemed to rest and roll along the tops of this magnificent soaring June thunderhead at sunset, like some whimsical bright ball up there bouncing down cloud stairways.  As I watched from the porch steps, the billowing cloud rumbled faintly and the liquid gulping of a bittern echoed along the lake shore as dusk slowly fell—and I thought about David’s words:

“I will give thanks to you, O Lord, among the peoples; I will sing praises to you among the nations.  For you steadfast love is great to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds.  Be exalted, O God, above the heavens!  Let your glory be over all the earth!” (Psalm 57:9-11)

IMG_1569.JPGAnd, while we’re on the topic of the moon, just for the fun of it, I thought I’d share a few interesting lunar-themed links I’ve happened across recently.  Hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

Here’s an interesting article on how each month’s full moon got it’s name.

Read this book by Astronaut James Irwin for a first-hand, uniquely Christian perspective on the first landing on the moon—it’s full of pictures and fascinating!

Actual video clips and audio from that first landing, with some unexpected lightheartedness.  “Hippity hop and over a hill…”

Sometimes I feel like this, too when waiting for the moon to rise.

Moon phases explained, with Oreos.

Once in a blue moon, you should eat a blue moon torte.  But ever wondered where that phrase “once in a blue moon” came from?  Click on the torte photo or here to find out.

If you could read French, this would be a spectacular lunar treat to create.

If you’re as fond of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’, and Horatio Spoffard’s ‘It Is Well With My Soul’ as I am, you should listen to this.

And just in case you missed it, a previous post of mine about the Harvest Moon, and another about the Wolf Moon.

 

 

 

Perfumed Palace

IMG_1019A little farmhouse on a lake is a very nice place to live, but there are a couple times every year when something happens to make it feel pretty much like a palace.  Like when the big old lilac bush out front blooms.  We’re rich in lilacs over here, folks.

Bonus if you have a friendly chipmunk who lives deep inside this marvelous perfumed bush and scurries out to seek handouts at al fresco luncheons.IMG_0827I wonder if he feels as rich as I do when his home is in bloom?

“Praise the LORD!  How blessed is the man who fears the LORD, who greatly delights in His commandments… Wealth and riches are in his house, and his righteousness endures forever.” (Psalm 112:1, 3)

All These Things

IMG_1042IMG_1043This is the story of a search for morel mushrooms.IMG_1055 Twice I went looking…IMG_0883Twice I returned empty-handed.IMG_1052But, in process of closely examining large stretches of forest floor in vain, I did make a lot of other wonderful discoveries.IMG_0880 Once, I sat quietly staring into a stand of fiddleheads so long, a grouse thought I’d left and started drumming his log within ten feet of me.  For just a minute, I thought my heart was palpitating—until I realized that he was really just that close.  Then he exploded suddenly off into the woods when I tried to shift to a spot with a better view, which is, incidentally, when my heart rate did increase.IMG_0891I nearly stepped on the elaborate den of some creature (I’d like to imagine it a fox den, but it more likely belongs to far less charming skunks), and happened upon a wolf track, perfectly dried and preserved in last week’s mud.IMG_0886-01 IMG_1039  I chanced upon a place where jack-in-the-pulpits preached in a woodland meadow to spears of blue flag leaves…IMG_1048…and another where the wild plums were wreathed in clouds of frilly white.IMG_0978I didn’t find what I was looking for—but I did find so much more.

The search for the elusive edible delicacies of the forest will continue.  One day, I’ll find what I’m actually looking for—and we’ll fry them up in butter and eat them—but even after that it will continue, because then they’ll be gone and we’ll want more. It’s one of those kind of searches, never ending, always new, always exciting.  The desire is insatiable.  If you don’t like morel mushrooms, I’m sorry that you won’t be able to identify with this, but if you do, you know what I mean.

And along the way, the search is always guaranteed to be fruitful.

Because, see, regardless of whether I came home with mushrooms or not, I did come home with my head and camera full of spring’s splendor flung glorious across the forest.  (Such riches!)  And I did find information to help me with future searches.  (Now I know where they’re not, sigh.)

It reminded me, in a happy, unexpected sort of way, of another ongoing search I’ve been challenged to, one in which I continually search for one thing of great value and end up with so much more along the way.

“But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” (Matthew 6:33)

 

 

 

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Twins

IMG_1076It was almost as good as Yellowstone National Park when a bear is sighted along the road.

The cars were lining up.  The phone cameras were clicking.  People were leaning out their windows, smiling big.  Nobody was out of their vehicles snapping closeups while foolishly ignoring the unpredictability of wildlife (aka a protective mama doe), but I won’t deny that I considered it.  (But did you see the look in her eyes up there?  That was pretty much enough to keep my hand off the car door handle and be satisfied with just rolling the window down.)

And these two tiny fawns, so new they were still wobbly, stood at the edge of the highway bracing their ungainly long legs and staring at their audience in wonder.  I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the first time they had ever seen cars or humans, let alone been on an outing.

Awww!

IMG_1074Mama hovered nervously in the woods nearby, snorting, stamping worriedly.  They bleated back like tiny lambs as if to say, “Whatchya so worried about, Mom?  See?  These people like us.”

And it was true.  Cause, well, you know, for all the tulips I’ve ever suffered the loss of to other members of their species (it happened again this year, ahem!), how can you not be utterly charmed by a newborn baby fawn—especially when there are two of them staring at you with their big, innocent dark eyes at the same time?

Who cares about tulips, anyway.

“Do you observe the calving of the deer?  Can you count the months they fulfill, or do you know the time they give birth?  They kneel down, they bring forth their young, they get rid of their labor pains.  Their offspring become strong, they grow up in the open field; they leave and do not return to them.” (Job 39:1-4)

 

Wind Concert in the Pines

IMG_0770It wasn’t a strong or stormy wind.  It was a soft, pleasant spring breeze, just stiff enough to ruffle the tops of the big pines we were walking through and cause them to whisper mysteriously together.  It rose and fell with drama up above us, compelling enough to get our attention, but not enough to so much as sway the massive trunks rising around us.  Sometimes, in the moments between the squeals of little girls discovering spring blossoms along the forest floor and the chattering of squirrels indignant at our intrusion on their private retreat, we’d stop to just listen to it.

IMG_0781IMG_0783There was a kind of music to it, the kind that made me want to lay right down on that thick, soft carpet of pine needles and soak it in while I stared up the towering pillars of tree trunks to the bits of blue sky like a mosaic of stained glass above.  Then, as we neared a swamp hollow, the fluted tones of spring peepers harmonized as only nature can, and I had flashbacks to a beautiful wind concert I attended once, performed by talented musicians under the soaring ceilings of a grand lobby.  But, I thought to myself, could a wind concert be performed in any grander a place than this remote and silent cathedral of a forest, by the actual wind itself?IMG_0777At that moment, it was hard to believe not.  And if you listened closely enough, you could almost hear the words…

“Sing, O heavens, for the LORD has done it; shout, O depths of the earth; break forth into singing, O mountains, O forest, and every tree in it! For the LORD has redeemed Jacob, and will be glorified in Israel.” (Isaiah 44:23)

Emerging

IMG_3594It’s the best part of spring, that brief period of time when life begins to reemerge from the bare branches and brown earth.  The world is exploding almost visibly with life, and I hardly dare blink lest I miss something.  Everywhere I look there are buds bursting open, leaves unfolding, new scenes unfolding and an unending number of discoveries to make.

Across the lake, that first cloudy mist of soft green is enveloping the poplars, contrasted stunningly against the deep evergreen of the pines.

There are the gardens to examine, where I eagerly check to see if my plants survived yet one more winter, greeting the ones who do like long-lost friends.  The ones who were just planted last year and have just passed the big test of surviving their very first Minnesota winter create the most excitement.  Sometimes, I’m disappointed (never mind, foxgloves, we’ll try again); other times I’m pleasantly surprised (hello, strawberries!).IMG_0518Then, there are the woodsy pilgrimages to make, traditions dating to my childhood, like going in search of the dainty lavender and white hepaticas that are so absolutely quintessential of a Minnesota spring.IMG_0743IMG_0741And, if I’m paying attention and watching my step as I go, there is almost always something new to discover.  Something unexpected, like the strange forms of emerging horsetail at the edge of a gravel country road.  Or a pair of sandhill cranes, flapping their half-graceful, half-ungainly way out of the maze of last year’s cornstalks.  Or a fisher bounding across a lonely, narrow, backwoods road, stopping just long enough to glance back at us curiously.IMG_0494Beauty in the expected and familiar; beauty in the unexpected and unfamiliar.  Truly,

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11)

But I must say that I think this may be especially true in the spring.

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Crocuses in the Snow

IMG_0723.JPGIt really wouldn’t have been a proper Minnesota April (or May?) without a good snowstorm, now would it have been?  Besides, I needed proof that crocuses really do bloom under such circumstances.  They seem no worse for the wear for it—and I don’t suppose any of the rest of us are either.  But just in case you were struggling with the idea of snow and cold after so long a stretch of warm weather—or even struggling with some other frustration or trial that has nothing to do with snow—consider this admonition of how to live that these brave little flowers model well:

“Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation…” (Romans 12:12)

Or this one:

“In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16)

Just a friendly reminder that “everything” really does mean every thing, and “tribulation” applies to the little things just as well as the big things.  Be patient, be grateful—and enjoy the quirks of the season!

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