It Was The Kind Of Day . . .

~ It was the kind of day when every dog on my running route barked, not with the joy of being a dog, but AT me.

~ It was the kind of day when I had a technological success that I can never repeat because I have no idea how I did it.

~ It was the kind of day when the crepemyrtles were one scant day past their perfection.

~ It was the kind of day to buy Adirondack chairs at the new Walmart and then place them in a neighborly, Joanna-Beatty-Taft way in the front yard, recline, sip tea, and glimpse through the hemlocks the back of the new Walmart.

~ It was the kind of day when a friend told Andrew to send something to her phone and he responded that he didn’t have a Smartphone because he is a luddite, and she said yes she knew what a luddite was because she looked it up on her Smartphone.

~ It was the kind of day to regret never mastering algebra and calculus because I have to teach kids in a few weeks how to score high on a test that includes both, but also a day to pull myself up by my bootstraps and resolve that any woman with a grain of sense can ‘simplify a cubed root with variables’!  It isn’t rocket science.  It’s a recipe for cooking down an herbed rutabaga stew.

eq0008P

~ It was the kind of day to visit the girls – and allied children I claim as mine – and marvel at who they are.

DSCN4723

13324291_10210086900633585_2046221335_o

DSCN4754

DSCN4748        DSCN4749          DSCN4864


13702396_1106462936094388_954237630_oAdrienne, Eliot, Mad-Dog, Abby, Eliza, Justin, Callie, Will, Sarah

~ It was the kind of day when a dollar bought a squeeze bottle for soap at the kitchen sink, because pretty matters.

~ It was the kind of day to discover that if I lay on the left side of the bed, I can see the mountain as I read the Bible – “Then sings my soul, my Savior, God, to Thee. How great Thou art!”

It was that kind of day.

~

Out The Window Of The Montreat Church

Stained glass windows – milky –
Open on old-timey hinges,
Mingling hallowed and hillside air;
Still, this air is sacred,
Sanctified by the day and the Word preached on it.

How many elbows have touched on this smooth pew’s armrest?
How many worshippers sitting still and thoughtful,
Up against the mica-rock wall,
One ear to the messenger, and one to baby voices;
A sailor dress and smocked yellow ducks in the church yard?

How many Sabbath eyes looking inward
Have also looked out that lovely rectangle
At mountain?
At rock stack, at stem, at glint and sloped green glory,
And found messenger and mountain fellow choristers?

How many work-clad bodies come to the mountain
And to this stone sanctuary
From hot valleys,
Seeking water,
And finding it, like all who came before.

God is on mountains.
I have known this.

~

          07072016132934-2 (dragged)                07072016132934-2 (dragged) 1
Adrienne and Eliza, Montreat, NC, Summer 1996