Perseid Meteor Shower

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Once again, the Perseids have proven themselves to be harbingers of inclement weather. Even during drought conditions of former years they succeeded in drawing an overcastting of diaphanous clouds—except for the year that the date coincided with a near-full moon. That year the wash-out was from light, not water. (FYI - This year's moon is a waning gibbous one.)

Perseids (sometimes Perseides) is a patronymic of Perseus, used to designate his descendants. And Perseus was the Greek champion of mythology, son of Zeus and Danaë. Not with the happiest of childhoods, young Perseus was thrown into a sea chest with his mother and drifted to the island of Seriphos where they were rescued by a fisherman—or maybe not. The old stories do not always agree. As an adult, he was the hero who bagged the head of Medusa. Killing, danger, and high adventure ensued, but eventually he saved and married Andromeda and fathered Perses. Today, the ancient heroes are remembered in the stars, when you can see them.
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For more ~ http://www.qsl.net/w8wn/hscw/prop/perseids.html

Forum Musings

At one of the online communities I sometimes visit, the question arose, "Why aren't parents protected, or at least given the benefit of the doubt when they believe they are acting in their child's best interests?" It was rhetorical, but what do I care? I have a ready answer.

Parents are not protected because our nation, as a corporate body, has lost her knowledge of God—because many people of the past two generations never obtained such knowledge to begin with.

I have heard social workers, educated people who would be highly offended if you suggested that they were not 'good Christians,' say that the Bible is wrong, that it was written for a primitive tribal culture, and that there are things more important than parental love.

If you believe the scriptures, God is calling them fools. It's all there in Proverbs 1:22, "Scoffers delight themselves in scoffing and fools hate knowledge." The New Testament covers it again in Romans 1:21-32. They just do not see fit to acknowledge God any longer, (except when it builds them up, of course.)

Parents are not respected because parenthood is one of the most God-like roles a human can fulfill. People who have not grown up with knowledge of God do not trust Him. They feel safer trusting public schools and government and the courts.

I am not posting to turn this into a parental rights diatribe, (though admittedly, the previous paragraphs could be framed into a good introduction for one.) Quite the opposite; while reading about societal disrespect for parenthood, I had another revelation. After parenthood, being a judge is another God-like role a human can fulfill. If the Church ever gets her act together and starts preaching sound doctrine on the Judgment of God, then judges won't be respected anymore than parents are. There may be a silver lining to that, but it will be a filmy one.

Sawdust

My memories of sawdust are linked with summertime. My dad would borrow his brother's farm truck and pick up a load of sawdust at the local mill. Soon it mulched the roots of the sugar maple Swing Tree in our back yard.

The Swing Tree was home to two homemade swings. The Little Swing hung from a low branch as was no more exciting than the swings at the park. But the Big Swing was quite another matter. It could soar. From the big swing you could see over the tops of the corn stalks and a quarter-mile down the road to the next neighbor. It could swing high enough to inspire fearless dreams and make any fantasy seem possible.

New sawdust smelled wonderful and gave the sense of a cushiony landing should the rope break. Fortunately, I don’t remember ever having to test that second attribute. What I do remember are the ants. Big, black, wood-chomping ants. They thought sawdust made a wonderful homestead. I disagreed.

Last Sunday's warm and breezy afternoon was the setting for our church picnic, held in an open air pavilion at a local park. The ground was clay, packed with remnants of gravel. It was the dearth of cushiony flooring that led to the unlikely topic: sawdust.

One woman commented that what the place needed was a good layer of sawdust. Another, agreeing, told of how she associated sawdust with old-time summer tent revivals. It occurred to me that I haven't seen sawdust used as a ground cover in years! I think it must all be glued into particleboard or pressed into fake logs now days.

When I began writing, I had a brilliant point in mind, but the sawdust has gone the way of scarecrow brains now and I don't remember what it was.

Blueberry Mornings

I like cool summer mornings. I like the clarity of the light. I like the optimism of the birdsongs. I like the settled freedom of calm air. So, other than an encounter with the occasional dew-strung spider web, what is not to like about picking blueberries?

And that is how I've been able to spend my early mornings of late, picking a cup of breakfast. Today's repast had been pre-washed by midnight thunderstorms, the berries mostly at shoulder-height, just ripe for the plucking.

The gardening of Eden must have been this easy. No sweat. No thorns. No curse.

Amid all these enjoyments, it occurred to me that blueberries are not blue; not really. The smallest ones were acid green, later adding flecks of vermillion. The maturing berries grew in successively deepening wines until they reached an indigo darkness. Then they lightened again in full ripeness. At best, a blueberry is bluish.

There ought to be a word!
And as it turns out, there is. A couple of them.

Caesious – being the color of lavender; with a slight blush of gray. This word also has the distinction of using all the vowels in order!

Glaucous – this botanical term refers to the waxy grayish-bluish-whitish coating. Grapes, plums, and blueberries are all glaucous.

Happy Birthday USA

I have been reading about our nation's founders this week. The more I read, the more I uncover the abysmal ignorance of Sheryl C., a social worker who once snottily asserted that our country was founded on violence. To the contrary, our forefathers exemplified patience and probity far beyond that which is natural to man. They also understood true peace with a depth of spirit that cannot be taught in a classroom.

The patriots of the 1770s knew that slaves under the yoke are not at peace, they are only compliant. They had seen King George III repeatedly increase the yoke.

In a different time and place, Paul wrote to the Galatians, "It was for freedom that Christ set us free; therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery." 5:1

Only a fool could believe our nation was founded on violence. It was founded on standing firm. Our founders were indeed Supermen who believed in Truth, in Justice, and in the American Way being tethered to such principles.

The Importance of Remembering the Past

Memorial Day, more than any other holiday, has an aura of poetry. A day of mourning, a day to remember; like good poetry, we can derive wisdom from it.

The educator part of me is always looking for a new & improved teaching strategy. But in this no-nonsense holiday at the ending of Spring, I am finding the importance of the ancient & proven.

Memorials quite literally date back to the ending of time immemorial. For once a record, a tradition, or a monument came to be, so did a continuity of memory. Fathers could pass memories and purpose on to the next generation. Purposeful remembrance shows care and oversight; it defines value.

Memorials give us a 'bigger picture' viewpoint. It is often easier to see God in a sweep of history than it is to feel Him in the urgency of the moment.

Tuesday Afternoon in the Shire

Ready for some Moody Blues?

Tuesday, afternoon,
I'm just beginning to see, now I'm on my way.
It doesn't matter to me, chasing the clouds away.
Something, calls to me,
The trees are drawing me near, I've got to find out why?
Those gentle voices I hear, explain it all with a sigh.

I'm looking at myself reflections of my mind,
It's just the kind of day to leave myself behind.
So gently swaying through the fairyland of love,
If you'll just come with me you'll see the beauty of

Tuesday afternoon, Tuesday afternoon.

Visa check card has been showing a Tuesday afternoon at the aquarium ad for a couple months now; I think it is finally starting to sink in and become an effective ad campaign because the Moody Blues background music has been flowing through the quiet moments of thought most of the afternoon—which happens to be Tuesday's.

I think the adorable little girl in the commercial must be part hobbit. Yes, there is a familial kind of resemblance to Elijah Wood, but more than that her expressions capture the delight of being in awe. I think that is the worldview Tolkien wanted to give his hobbits: a pleasure in the weekday wonders.