Notes From a Hillside Farm

Thursday, October 09, 2014

Tuesday, October 07, 2014

Having given up, mostly, on signs and wonders, I read the lives of saints, I read theologians, I read Church Fathers, I look at people hoping that one will have that light, that connection with something that will suddenly make the world a larger and more wonderful place. Here is a poem by Milosz that says it better:

VENI CREATOR

Come, Holy Spirit,
bending or not bending the grasses,
appearing or not above our heads in a tongue of flame,
at hay harvest or when they plough in the orchards or when snow
covers crippled firs in the Sierra Nevada.
I am only a man: I need visible signs.
I tire easily, building the stairway of abstraction.
Many a time I asked, you know it well, that the statue in church
lift its hand, only once, just once, for me.
But I understand that signs must be human,
therefore call one man, anywhere on earth,
not me--after all I have some decency--
and allow me, when I look at him, to marvel at you.

Tuesday Morning

Friday, September 26, 2014

Friday Morning

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Wet Thursday Morning

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Wednesday Morning

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Tuesday Morning

Monday, September 22, 2014

Milosz Monday

Most every day I put up a photograph on Facebook of the family farm. I do this because I realized a while back that I had forgotten that I lived someplace wonderful and was letting days, weeks, months, years slide by without truly taking the time to notice that fact. I will bend fair use by quoting three lines from Czeslsaw Milosz that explain why I stand out on my deck holding a cell phone camera along with my morning coffee:

WINDOW

I looked out the window at dawn and saw a young apple tree translucent in brightness.

And when I looked out at dawn once again, an apple tree laden with fruit stood there.

Many years had probably gone by but I remember nothing of what happened in my sleep.

I will do my best to cross-post the pictures here as well.