The James River south-side naturalist crew. Howard and I are holding the needles, maybe that explains our serious countenance. I am the youngest. The others seem more at ease, arrayed behind a line of pine cones. Kimmy, Betsy, Wren and Gray. I want to go on a vacation in April and walk with Robin in a forest, hang out with amazing trees. Hear Gray in the windsong. Please advise..
Monday of this week 3000+ pages of this website went missing. Since that time, Humpty Dumpty has been reassembled with help from friends and unknown tech support in Arizona. I was distraught. Better now. Robin above, has a new series of prints on her website
My sister was a faithful reader of this page. So last time I had a wheelbarrow picture it
was titled “Our Father’s Wheelbarrow”.
Our father was not mechanical. He couldn’t fix a broken lawn mower. But he was Saint Francis
when it came to plants, he’d touch them and they’d grow. The wheelbarrow feels full of his energy.
Imagination? Dementia? Fond wishes? A combination of the three.
Planted a q.stellata, q. macrocarpa, q.falcata and a taxodium distichum…
EG’s tribe gathered, from Rhode Island, Pennsylvania, Washington State, Florida, Mexico, Massachusetts, Kentucky, Illinois,
from Fredericksburg, Charlottesville, Richmond, Warrenton, Marshall, Brooklyn, from the other side. Very sweet couple of days.
Train whistles, crows, a bluff over the James River, special grave dirt, wonderful clergy,
cellist from the Richmond Symphony.
Emma read a poem. Gary and Sam spoke to EG’s character, Ned, Weezie and Scott read from the Bible.
A MOTHER TO HER DAUGHTER
What will you take from me
For your wayfaring?
What shall I have to give
You would be sharing?
When you are lonely,
Travelling long,
When your feet falter
You will need song.
Music to march by,
Silver and gold,
Fire for warming you
If it be cold;
These things will comfort you,
Carry you far
On the road you are going.
But if a star
Tempt you to follow,
Wings will be needed,
Wings for your flying,
Strong, unimpeded.
These I have fashioned
From pinions of light,
Caught as they fell
From a swift bird in flight.
I give you for courage
A light heart that sings,
And I who have never flown,
Give you my wings.–Emma Gray Trigg
We seem to give them back to you, O God, who gave them to us.
Yet as you did not lose them in giving, so we do not lose them by their return.
Not as the world gives do you give, O Lover of souls.
What you give you take not away, for what is yours is ours also if we are yours.
And life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only an horizon,
and an horizon is nothing, save the limit of our sight.
Lift us up, strong Son of God, that we may see further;
cleanse our eyes that we may see more clearly;
draw us closer to yourself that we may know ourselves to be nearer our
loved ones who are with you.
And while you do prepare a place for us, prepare us also for that happy place,
that where you are, we may be also for evermore.–Fr Bede Jarrett O.P. (order of preachers)
It Is Well (With My Soul)
It Is Well (With My Soul) performed and used here courtesy of my friend David Ezell.
Resting in Peace, Emma Gray Emory, born June 18, 1922. Died February 8, 2014.
This photo taken by her grand-daughter, Emma, February 3, 2014.
Sophia is thirteen today. Celebration consisted of a road trip, pack time and howling with the Prowlers at NKT.
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