Faith, Folklore, and Friends

THERE was a high majestic fooling Day before yesterday in the yellow corn. And day after to-morrow in the yellow corn There will be high majestic fooling. The ears ripen in late summer And come on with a conquering laughter, Come on with a high and conquering laughter. The long-tailed blackbirds are hoarse. One of the smaller blackbirds chitters on a stalk And a spot of red is on its shoulder And I never heard its name in my life. Some of the ears are bursting. A white juice works inside. Cornsilk creeps in the end and dangles in the wind. Always—I never knew it any other way— The wind and the corn talk things over together. And the rain and the corn and the sun and the corn Talk things over together. Over the road is the farmhouse. The siding is white and a green blind is slung loose. It will not be fixed till the corn is husked. The farmer and his wife talk things over together. ~Carl Sandburg

On this day in 1970, we had a beautiful baby boy. Three years later, Daniel got a brother for his birthday. "She'll never raise them," they said. "She hadn't got a lick of sense," they said. We rocked and read and cried and grew together. "She spoils them boys too much," they said. "She's too strict on them boys," they said. "She even makes them read the Bible," they whispered. Their little boy faces and voices changed into those of young men. We read and traveled and struggled and grew. Apparently, we did something right. Today, they are strong men with gentle hearts. Both are Christian. Both have stable, loving families. Both have professional careers that provide well for their families. Both still read. Both still respect their parents. And they , still unable to comprehend that being different is not being wrong, just shake their heads and say, "You&#

Florence Lauderdale Public Library. It is one of my favorite places on Earth--a welcoming place that offers wisdom, adventure, travel, entertainment, and friendship. And it is all FREE!!! Sometimes, like a child, I get so excited that I get way more books than I could ever read in two weeks. Books are like a dessert bar...just too hard to decide which might be the most delicious. And it is always cool. I've traveled the world twice over, Met the famous; saints and sinners, Poets and artists, kings and queens, Old stars and hopeful beginners, I've been where no-one's been before, Learned secrets from writers and cooks All with one library ticket To the wonderful world of books. ....... Unknown

The possum grapes are ripe. Being a lifelong scavenger, I am constantly looking for wild and free food on my ramblings. Early this week, on my morning walk, I spied a vine of wild grapes, or possum grapes, as they are known around here. Wild grapes grow in almost every state in the county. Here in the south, they are abundant in woods and popular with the wildlife. Most are hard to get to; they are sun-loving and will climb to the tops of trees for the sunlight, making them out-of-reach. Fortunately, some vines get tangled over bushes and limbs, keeping the fruit low enough to be available to us. The grape itself is small and is mostly seed, not really that good to just munch on. Their real treasure is the juice, which has been made into syrup, wine, and jelly as long as we have been cooking. The juice is much more potent than tame grapes. Wild grape jelly is more tart and flavorful than what is usually available in the grocery store. Back in the day, when we were unable to

Isn’t this the fast I choose: releasing wicked restraints, untying the ropes of a yoke, setting free the mistreated, and breaking every yoke? Isn’t it sharing your bread with the hungry and bringing the homeless poor into your house, covering the naked when you see them, and not hiding from your own family? Then your light will break out like the dawn, and you will be healed quickly. Your own righteousness will walk before you, and the LORD’s glory will be your rear guard. Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and God will say, “ I’m here .” Isaiah 58:6-9 CEV

Sometimes, beauty doesn't come early. Beautyberry ( Callicarpa ) would not catch your eye in the springtime, like the bright jonquils or forsythia. It doesn't send out a fragrance like our beloved lilacs and roses. In fact, the blossoms are so unremarkable, you might pass right by it at the nursery. The tiny blossoms turn into clusters of tiny green berries that continue to go unnoticed. Ah, but in late summer! In late summer, when there is a hint of coolness in the morning air, the berries ripen to a beautiful purple that practically shouts out, 'Look at Me'! If the berries remain until frost kills the leaves, they are even more striking. The birds who visit me like them so well, the berries are usually gone before the leaves. Planting beautyberries is just one way of rewarding the birds that brighten our summer days. ....and the man in charge drank some of the water that had now turned into wine. He d

Dawn is my favorite time. I sit on the porch and listen to traffic sounds on Cox Creek Parkway half a mile away, the distance muting them into something gentle. I number the sounds of birds starting their day. It is night cool, the intense rays of the sun still behind the horizon. The light is soft and pink and new. It never stays. Robert Frost says it best: Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay. Dawn, like everything else, is temporary . Our clothing, jewelry, cars, houses, and jobs will not last. No matter how good, bad, beautiful, disgusting, old or new something is, it is temporary. Given enough time, even the mountains will wind up at the sea, one grain at a time. This is the way the Designer of the universe meant for it to be, and we should not regret or question it. Every d

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines! Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. DISCOVER! ~Mark Twain ....and as you are sailing to new ports this weekend, my beloved, remember the Master of the wind....safe travels!

Itch, itch, scratch, scratch. Cry. Scratch again. Poison oak and poison ivy are horrendous, loathsome enemies of summer that disguise themselves as lovely green plants. I've known the two pests since I can remember anything, as familiar to my youth as green apples and swimming holes. We had pink splotches from calamine lotion that gave temporary relief, and washing with baking soda helped some. We used every cure we heard about and had access to, but time was the only one that really worked. Most of us got it, the rash scattered among the chigger bites. A very few escaped because of body chemistry or tough skin or whatever. My baby boy was in that group; a good thing because he has spent much of his life in the woods. My firstborn son, however, was ultra sensitive to it, and exposure required a trip to the doctor for a series of shots. Wise son that he is, if he suspects exposure now, he goes ahead with the shots while the rash and blisters are still immature enough to hand

Revive us Again was one of the first hymns I learned, possibly because we only went to church during revival meetings and it was always sung. It is still one of my favorites. William MacKay was born in 1839 in Scotland. He trained and worked as a doctor, but left that profession to become a minister. In 1863, he penned Revive us Again . We praise Thee, O God! For the Son of Thy love, For Jesus Who died, And is now gone above. Refrain Hallelujah! Thine the glory. Hallelujah! Amen. Hallelujah! Thine the glory. Revive us again. We praise Thee, O God! For Thy Spirit of light, Who hath shown us our Savior, And scattered our night. Refrain All glory and praise To the Lamb that was slain, Who hath borne all our sins, And hath cleansed every stain. Refrain All glory and praise To the God of all grace, Who hast brought us, and sought us, And guided our ways. Refrain Revive us again; Fill each heart with Thy love; May each soul be rekindled With fire fr

I love old hymns and have been collecting old hymn books for many years. Recently, I bought a box of old books, including some songbooks, at an auction. Later, when I was going through these treasures at home, I found an old Cokesbury Hymnal. Inside, there was a letter written in pencil on fragile and discolored paper. The letter is undated, unsigned, no address, or anything that would help me know who wrote it. I would love to return this to family members if I had a clue who they were. I'm attempting to copy it just as it was written. I know not when my life on this earth will end, but if we are still living near our Mt. Rainier Church I would ask our choir to sing. Saved by Grace. and also Beautiful Isle of Somewhere if any time soon I would like Rev. Banes assisted by Rev. Nevitt to preach my funeral Herbert You will find my blue dinner dress in the cabinet in the front room closet. you may have to have it pressed My greatest desire as I le

I used to blush because I was embarrassed from blushing so much. I hated it when someone said something that would make me turn a lovely shade of magenta, like "your legs are soooo skinny". (BTW, you should see me now.) Or, when one of my siblings announced that a certain boy moved his seat on the bus so he could be right behind me. Oh, and the worst one, when the teacher called on you in class and you didn't have a clue what the answer was. It didn't take much for my body temperature to rise and spread over my face and neck. We all loved our colorful Coca-Cola calendars, the scantily-clad cuties who were always so happy to be drinking their Cokes in glass bottles. One relative wanted one of those calendars, but couldn't bring herself to hang it in the living room where just anybody could see it, causing embarrassment and prompting questions from teenagers! What if the preacher came to visit? Her solution: she got crayons and made the young ladies lovely o