Morning Rain
Pull a seat to the window, see
just beyond the glass, there, let me
open the curtain just so, and look.
No dullness to these hours, rain is my hook.
The morning rain is a gentle shower,
I sit in this spot for at least an hour,
listening to the 'pitter' 'patter' 'plop'
of every soothing, refreshing rain drop.
The cardinal chirp will quip from the orchid tree.
I will watch from my tree house window with glee.
A sudden burst of red feather between dripping leaves
and the continued drip of falling water from the eaves.
When rain falls in a gentle, soothing steep,
It is a lull of comfort, a quiet I keep.
My morning ritual of writing in my journal with a cup of coffee at hand is so essential to my day. It centres me in the best way, after reading some scripture as part of my earlier morning. Here is where my thoughts can expand out the windows and into the morning dawn, circle around, and come back to me. Waking up slowly, my mind can dwell in light places, sometimes with effort, sometimes with ease.
Sometimes I focus quickly and scribble away, filling pages before I know it. Other times I stare out the window listening to the birds sing and words do not come easily. Each day is different. Each feeling is going to pass. Moments of calm allows me to let that reveal itself, and for me, to sort it out on the page. A blank place to let words linger or fly.
Then, I turn to my reading for courage, comfort, and cheer.
The Two Towers, J.R.R. Tolkien
Reading through The Lord of the Rings again, I am now on the second book, The Two Towers. This entire grand story over arches so many themes that could be a whole study spanning many months. Suffice it to say, these books make me long for the wildness of the world to seek out goodness and help my friends. Courage fuses into each character at the right moments to do good, and destroy evil. This second book opens with the death of one of the fellowship, and the sadness and decision that lingers with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. They must decide which path to follow, and they choose to pursue the evil orcs who have captured two of their friends, Merry and Pippin.
They follow with little hope, and trace the tramping footsteps of those nasty orcs who care nothing for the land or green things, and yet, along the way there is beauty to be noticed as the season shifts and the world shows the weary travelers some hope. That gentle reminder that the world is not wholly bad. There is goodness to be found and enjoyed, even in a split moment of noticing the scent in the air:
Here the air was softer and warmer, and faintly scented, as if spring was already stirring and the sap was flowing again in herb and leaf. Legolas took a deep breath, like one that drinks a great draught after a long thirst in barren places.
'Ah! The green smell!', he said. 'It is better than much sleep. Let us run!'
The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, Dorothy L. Sayers
With the opening chapter I am drawn into Lord Peter Wimsey's world. His wit and brilliance will provide hours of enjoyable mystery and intelligence. An old gentleman's death is never a clear cut case if Lord Peter is around. He happened to be there when the old man was discovered, sitting in an armchair at the Bellona Club. Upon inspection, there are some unanswered questions with the corpse, and yet Lord Peter does not get involved until the solicitor asks him to figure out what is going on with the way and the timing the death occurred, as there is a mysterious will of the sister of the deceased, who also died at the same time as her brother. Who died first? That matters, according to the will, and there's a huge sum of money at stake.
The more Lord Peter investigates, the more secretive and elusive the situation seems and adventures ensue. If I had just one ounce of Lord Peter's cheerfulness and wit, I would be a very jolly person. These stories are just a joy to read. The greatest of cosy comfort mystery reads, which deals with some heavy things, whilst sprinkling in plenty of fun.
Mornings have always been my favourite time of day. Sometimes I simply wish to sit and enjoy the splendors of the morning, before all the problems wake up. When given the time and space, we all find ways to grumble, yet, in the morning, the air is fresh and the feeling is lighter. A new day is dawning. The light is softer, and it brushes our cheek as we open a curtain.
Often, the sense of thankfulness rises that we even woke up to experience another day. Sleep cuts us off from all awareness of things, except our subconscious. We are vulnerable and not conscious or aware. The sun could fizzle out and we would not know, if we were sleeping.
(Don't worry, the sun will not fizzle out for at least another several billion years or more. And at that point, it will grow into a red giant, expanding and reaching outward with its energy.)
I like the simple things - the leaves rustling and awakening the branches outside my windows. The owl hooting in a morning call but hidden somewhere in the trees. The bird's cheerful chirp - I wish I knew the name of that bird.
Thank you sun for rising (or for the earth turning to be more exact). For keeping the steady flow of burning hydrogen into helium, which in turn allows our planet to be habitable. It is a wonder that never ceases to amaze me. The star that moves our planet and the other spheres.
The air is warm and clear - no other place we know of has the air we breathe. How astonishing it is that we have the elements we need here on this planet. We abuse this lovely place we have been given. So often, I just want to sit and enjoy it. Or walk some paths amidst its beauty. Or watch it be dramatic from a distance. It should be protected to be enjoyed. Our stance should be strong against destroying it. Our skewed concept of ownership is that we can abuse that which we choose.
I would rather protect and preserve, and spend time appreciating that gift we have been given. Best enjoyed morning, noon, and evening. Take your pick as to your favourite.
I am day dreaming about the woods in the mountains. My imagination keeps bringing me there, every time I have the chance to sit and think, or listen to the birds outside, or journal for more than a few minutes. Perhaps in these days of isolation and orders to stay home, I feel the extra need to commune with nature on cool days that rush with refreshment in the mountain woods. Even if only in my imagination or memory. It all provokes me to write rather long, rambling prose and sometimes poems, and here a poem emerged. So, until I can get there in person, I shall re-imagine the presence of the woods through poem.
Morning in the Woods
Dawn breaking through tall, slender trees
A soft awakening through woods, a breeze
Subtle and soothing. A quiet nature waking,
Light diffused through limbs and leaves shaking
As birds flit to and fro, a chirp and call
Announcing the waking of these woods to all.
Mossy, cool, and calm, amidst the bird's dash and spirit,
A groggy hedgehog may choose not to hear it
But the waterfall answers with a refreshing spray,
A wakefulness rises in the mist, a new day.
While the woods awaken, a low, soft song is lofty
Not just of birds, but of the wood elves stepping softly,
By ancient paths these woods have held song
Spanning myths and stories as the mist is long.
Lord Peter Views the Body
Dorothy L. Sayers
This is a collection of shorter stories, furthering the adventures of Lord Peter Wimsey and establishing him even more as a charming, aristocratic genius who seems to be able to solve mysteries in his sleep. The stories are witty and have the enjoyable air of always keeping me guessing what will happen. Sometimes I do guess correctly, but it's all about the fun in getting there. Lord Peter will always cheer up your day and make you smile, even as he solves a murder and gets into a few tight spots. It is truly the golden age of mystery writing, and you cannot beat it. All the mysteries by Dorothy L. Sayers are the perfect mix of Agatha Christie and P.G. Wodehouse (with an added dash of Arthur Conan Doyle and his Sherlock Homes). Absolute delight.
The World's Last Night and other essays
C.S. Lewis
I am leading my Sunday School class through this book of essays. C.S. Lewis wrote countless essays for magazines and
journals over the years. He had the urge to defend and debate, as it was how he was taught as a youngster, which grew his atheistic stronghold. So, when he became a Christian, he was blessed with the ability to write such thought-provoking and articulate defenses that were fully rational and always hit the nail on the head. He was a scholar, a teacher,
and a brilliant thinker. Many of his books and essays reply to or refer to some
other book or essay, or current trends in culture that concerned him. This collection is no exception. Going through these essays with intense study has rewarded me with a better understanding of Lewis's thoughts on cultural topics and issues. Lewis always challenges me to think, especially for myself, and that is, indeed, always his goal.
Pine
Francine Toon
This is a new release novel, set in a remote village in the Highlands of Scotland. It mixes a missing person case, murder mystery, and folklore into a modern tale. I was drawn to that premise, plus I love Scotland. The story mostly focuses on a ten year old girl, Lauren, and her father, Niall. Lauren's mum disappeared many years ago, but it was never known what happened. Some strange things happen in the tiny village that draws on folklore, such as a lady in a white dress showing up out of nowhere and disappearing just as mysteriously, stone circles, and memory drifting to and fro with people. All with the background of a deep pine woods that hold secrets from the past. I was hoping the woods would hold more mysteries and atmosphere. I wanted to love the characters more, to feel the drama and suspense deeply, but it was still an interesting read that combined elements with a modern spin.
