Advent, 2008

 I.

“Even so, Lord, quickly come…”[1]

Under the apple trees frost heavy as sin

whitens bleached grass, holds dawn.

Gray cloud backlit with peach color

spreads south and one black cat hunched

on the splintered railing,

vigilant for mouse, for fox,

ears twitching at crow call

waits for the sun. 

II.

“Hymn and chant and high thanksgiving,

And unwearied praises be…”[2]

On a dark day of no particular glory,

over the wet streets of Ellsworth --

where storekeepers have lit windows,

swagged lamp posts with balsam

as if this were any other year --

above the river in flood after storm

comes the matter-of-fact honk of geese

ready to settle.  A young man

pulling his fiancée along the path

from the stores to the library

stops and gently

turns her face to the sky. 

III.

“Born on earth to save us…”[3]

In the cold barn, I reach into a cardboard box

burrow in peat moss to find

carrots, firm, sweet as they were last September.

Rubbing them in my hands, brushing off the dirt

gently breaking the fragile roots with which they still

seek life, I carry them inside.

Alice Aldrich Hildebrand  

[1] Come, Ye Thankful People, Come: Alford 

[1] Of the Father’s Love Begotten: Aurelius Clemens Prudentius 

[1] On This Day Earth Shall Ring: Piae Cantiones

Dahlias

The morning after the first hard frost at my place, the dahlia leaves were dark and drooping telling me it was time to lift them. As the tubers came up from the soil I noted the very different forms of growth.  Some were small, tight pudgy bundles and others were open, stiff, fat fingers.  Labels were attached to them in various ways as they went through a hosing-off process in the hope that I would be able to keep track of their colors come next spring.   

Today I will sort through the clumps and cut them apart so that a smaller piece of the tuber has at least one eye on the neck that goes up to a stem. Then they will sit in my sunroom waiting to be taken to my daughter’s root cellar where they will be stored over winter.  

At times during this involved process, my low back starts whining.  I bend backward and stretch, take a tea break, or go off and do something that involves other muscles and a different posture.  Bit by bit the job gets done.  All during this process of dismantling the dahlia plantings, I’m enjoying in my mind’s eye next year’s dahlias blooming in full exuberance and the many bouquets that will be created from them. This entire process is just one of many that I enjoy with my garden. They all offer me a connection to the earth’s natural systems and the way I sense light in the darkness.  This coming winter will pass and spring will come. 

Daksha Bauman

Meditation

The moon’s arc rises higher in the sky each night until solstice.

It crosses Venus and Jupiter and recently hid in the Earth’s shadow longer than it

had in the past half century. In the season of lengthening darkness—Look up!

The celestial mysteries are far beyond us, yet they come into view each night.

Tom van Buren

Moon And Pines

Moon And Pines

Traveling back to where I was staying in Stonington after spending time photographing the sunset, I stopped to witness the full moon rising over the pine trees.  It was December, really cold and dark, and the comforting brilliance of the moon offered me a light in the darkness. 

Page Eastman