Aaron Helt rides the merry go round with his son Emerson.
Dee rides an earlier merry go round with Erin and Lee.
(Yes, seen before in the SRN.)
^,^
Wabash Cannonball
^,^
CONTINUING CORRESPONDENCE
from Shay 9-28-16
Shay, daughters and grandchild
Good morning Davidad.....
Here's my address:
(xx) 49 Ivy Ln
(x), Illinois xxxxx
Ph: (x)
I love the 2 poems in this last Saturday's SRN. Both of them pierce the
heart of the matter ..... Instantaneous empathy. Absolutely pure emotion.
I've been forwarding the SRN to my daughter Alicia. She said how much she
can feel your heart in it..... That's my Girl!!
So here's her email so you can add her to your mailing list of
devotees!
These are troubling times....so twilight zone-ish.....no need to elaborate
on what i mean by that because i know you and Dee feel it too.....Trump is
horrifying in an esoteric way....anti-christ blooming....like a reverse
emergence, a chrysallis shredding monster..... And the true believers, sheep
over the cliff.
You sent me an email a while ago.....May maybe.... after I'd sent pics of
my 70th. I didn't find your email until several months later cuz for some
reason it landed in my iPhone alternative mailbox instead of my Gmail inbox.
You asked if you could share something in the SRN....i don't recall what though!
But yes, whatever it was, you can share it!
I so wish to see you and Dee..... Since moving to Illinois, time and
distance interfere with my wishes. Mom and Don are still in Sun Prairie ...in
assisted living. Both are 92. I go to see them every month.... More if
possible. Make the trip in one day..... Not much time or energy left over to
catch some time with my dearest friends....you included.
Know that i love you and treasure memories ..... Always savor my Saturday
gold in the SRN.
SHAY
On Tuesday, September 27, 2016, David Dix <
ddix1@wi.rr.com> wrote:
Roger
Wilco
Also do I
have
Your address,
still
In Sun
Prairie?
Plz send where
you are now
Want to send
you something
~~~~~~~~~~~
HY 138
by Shay Harris
There is a particular country road that I love to travel, especially in the spring. The views are spectacular in all seasons, but in the spring, I meet Persephone there and feel the surety that growth and fertility will prevail after the tedious long days of winter. Highway 138 is quirky: from one day to the next it doesn’t seem like the same road, because the surrounding land continually transforms. The rolling road and ever-changing horizon keep me riveted, aware that I should be watchful for change in every aspect of my life. The faces of the fields, pastures, and farmlands teach fluidity and responsiveness to the elements and the progression of the seasons. Rigidity is softened in the presence of earthy simplicity. The metaphor is plain to me and I delight in Nature's persistent coaching, which reliably instills hope and strength.
Every time I travel that way, I witness simple wonders that sometimes bring me to tears: the uncountable shades of green; the eyes’ pleasure center responding to certain greens in the spring fields; the morning horizon, with a robin’s egg blue sky and new sunlight saturating every particle of life, including me.
Early in June, translucent green tips of new corn erupt in elaborate rows that submit to the earth's curves. Precise whorls, zigzags, and labyrinthine patterns on beautiful Black women’s heads are miniatures of the vast fields of corn rows along this particular road. Persephone adorns herself in the most elaborate ways. Aphrodite and Oshun have begun their seductions. The beauty takes my breath away and calls libido and inspiration to action.
Late in July when the fields have gathered height, the energy of Corn Beings rolls along with my car as I pass through their territory. Sometimes the corn presence puts me into a sort of time warp and I have a hard time driving. Cornfields — not only plants — have consciousness and a sense of purpose. Corn recognizes kindred spirits and calls to us like a siren to a seafarer. Be careful. Corn knows nothing about steering tons of steel at 50 mph on a hill-bound curve. Corn only knows sprouting, growth, life, and transformation. If I give in to the windswept whispers of the Corn Beings, well, let's just say that my destiny will be altered. I want to be able to pull over and just watch and breathe, but my purpose on this highway is driven by my work schedule, and people will be upset if I dawdle and arrive late.
The road is hilly, curvy, and elevated so that lush verdant farmlands lie across the earth looking like a colorful quilt that's been tossed across a grand bed. I do not really think of this part of Wisconsin as having so many elevations, but on these rises, I can see 35 miles in each direction. Near the crest of a hill, the road seems to end in midair — like the steep hills in San Francisco or Seattle. I keep driving forward knowing the road will reappear and keep me moving on. The road is a lot like life with a big L. Sometimes it's impossible to see what's ahead. Sometimes what looks like a dead end is an illusion. You just have to keep moving forward because the next bend in the road could produce spectacular life events.
A friend once told me that to spend time and energy considering all the bad things that could happen, I must commit the same amount of time and energy considering all the wonderful things that want to happen. Traveling 138 is true to that exhortation. Just when the road seems about to end, it always offers another breathtaking scene. For as long as I have traveled this particular road, I've never memorized it — and I've never had to turn around or stop. I guess the secret is that the road is less important than the territory it bifurcates.
There is comfort in knowing that when I am traveling Highway 138, the fields — the very soil, the tree lines and habitats, the red tail hawks and cumulus clouds, all of it — feel like a part of me. And I savor the sensory language that makes me a part of it, too. Early in the mornings, sunrise on my left, haze still clinging earthwards, I am energized and prepared by the numinous land for a day of uncertain ends. On my way home, sunset on my left, my mind and my body are eased by the flow of green and deep earth browns, the fecund smells, and the softening light, and I know the soybeans and wheat and corn have grown since my last transit. A holy sense of appreciation for life with a big L rises through my body — just like the holy sense of growth and fecundity that remains constant in the terrain surrounding this particular road.
...........................
Complete link to HY 138 above
^,^
Autumn reverie
O God of Creation, you have blessed us with the changing of the
seasons.
As we welcome these autumn months,
May the brilliant colors of the trees reveal the creativity of the
Divine Artist.
When we see the steam of our breath in cool air, help us remember that
it is you who gives us the breath of life.
May the falling leaves reveal the strength of the branches, as the wind
sings your promise of changes yet to come.
May the harvest remind us of your abundance, and inspire us to share our
bounty with others.
As the delights of summer slip away, we rejoice in your promise that
death is temporary and life is eternal.
God of all seasons, as you transform the earth, transform us by your
Spirit.
Amen.
Prayer by Liz Schickles from Rev. John Helt
Dixes and Helts, an earlier fall.
^,^
Super-califragilstic-expiali-docious
trumps
"brag-ga-docious"
^,^
PLANTS THAT GREW OR ARE
GROWING
A. GREW
Reprinted from the downtown blog TAKIN IT TO THE STREETS:
MUTANT BIRDS FOR SALE
AT THE WAUKESHA FARMERS MARKET
Pictured below is an item that you can get lots of at this time of year.
When you first come upon these gourds at a sales stall at the farmers market
you will see strange forms that are, we're told, mutations, cross breeds.
This one came as it was. We had only to paint in the bill and eyes. Nature
had taken care of the rest. The skin had some great mould growing on it.
You can watch the mould as it gradually grows, and then when it reaches
an acceptable point to you, stop the growth with a clear sealant like varnish.
Or maybe it will be just fine as it is.
The late Wis Guthrie, art professor at Carroll for many years, taught
that you cannot improve on nature or random selection.
Their affects will always be the best!
- gourd winged creature 9-29-16 .jpg (71.32 KiB) Viewed 36 times
- David Zep Dix
- Posts: 281
- Joined: Mon Jul 01, 2013 8:03 am
B. Growing
In 2013 we bought this cactus from a vendor at the farmers market
who was liquidating the cactus collection of a friend.
She wasn't sure of the species names.
The one above has after 3 years of dormancy here at the Odd Fellows
suddenly begun adding to its height.
Not ideal light for a cactus, NW windows.
It has so far gained 1-1/4 inches of bright green in one month.
This one came from the same lady at the market.
Don't know what it's called either.
It is needle-less but occasionally, very infrequently,
it will throw out some tiny leaves a the end of the branches.
Now there is a shoot coming out of the trunk
of this completely needle-less mostly leafless mini-tree.
This one we've had for many years.
It sends our greenleaves when it's happy.
Name unknown.
This is an Aloe, that we know. It sits on a chest under
a skylight on the landing to this loft.When we got it as a housewarming
gift from Judith Williams 6 years ago, it had three leaves. Thriving it is.
Now is has sent up another 'cactus-let'
from the stem under the soil. Note that is stands beside
a croaking original leaf.
Now surging cactus pictured top above is delivered by
the vendor who specializes in pesto, as some readers
and market goers will know.
Very accomodating lady.
These flourishing life partners are seemingly satisfied
with the Odd fellows hall, as are we.
