Catholic Family Vignettes

15 degrees and it feels like 9...a winter storm is on the way...

But--what a glorious sunrise!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Sunrise on the Hills

I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
And woods were brightened, and soft gales
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me; bathed in light,
They gathered mid-way round the wooded height,
And, in their fading glory, shone
Like hosts in battle overthrown.
As many a pinnacle, with shifting glance.
Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,
And rocking on the cliff was left
The dark pine blasted, bare, and cleft.
The veil of cloud was lifted, and below
Glowed the rich valley, and the river's flow
Was darkened by the forest's shade,
Or glistened in the white cascade;
Where upward, in the mellow blush of day,
The noisy bittern wheeled his spiral way.

I heard the distant waters dash,
I saw the current whirl and flash,
And richly, by the blue lake's silver beach,
The woods were bending with a silent reach.
Then o'er the vale, with gentle swell,
The music of the village bell
Came sweetly to the echo-giving hills;
And the wild horn, whose voice the woodland fills,
Was ringing to the merry shout,
That faint and far the glen sent out,
Where, answering to the sudden shot, thin smoke,
Through thick-leaved branches, from the dingle broke.

If thou art worn and hard beset
With sorrows, that thou wouldst forget,
If thou wouldst read a lesson, that will keep
Thy heart from fainting and thy soul from sleep,
Go to the woods and hills! No tears
Dim the sweet look that Nature wears. Read more!

Helen Hunt Jackson (1830-1885)

October's Bright Blue Weather

O SUNS and skies and clouds of June,
And flowers of June together,
Ye cannot rival for one hour
October's bright blue weather;

When loud the bumble-bee makes haste,
Belated, thriftless vagrant,
And Golden-Rod is dying fast,
And lanes with grapes are fragrant;

When Gentians roll their fringes tight
To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
Without a sound of warning;

When on the ground red apples lie
In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
Are leaves of woodbine twining;

When all the lovely wayside things
Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields, still green and fair,
Late aftermaths are growing;

When springs run low, and on the brooks,
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting;

When comrades seek sweet country haunts,
By twos and twos together,
And count like misers, hour by hour,
October's bright blue weather.

O suns and skies and flowers of June,
Count all your boasts together,
Love loveth best of all the year
October's bright blue weather. Read more!

A Boy Is...
Trust with dirt on its face,
Beauty with a cut on its finger,
Wisdom with bubble gum in its hair, and the
Hope of the future with
A frog in its pocket.

Happy Birthday Joseph!

Today our dear Joseph Thomas is 11 years old...11 on the 11th! How precious you are to us, my son. You are growing into a wonderful young man. Happy birthday, big guy! Read more!

And now you are 18. May God bless you, my precious girl, you who are so very precious to me. You also know that your mother is such a sap...so here goes the poetry...yes, you know the one:







She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron

And so, my girl, may your day be spent in goodness and joy. May you know the same joy that you have brought to those who love you. Happy birthday, sweetheart! Read more!

The Path to the Woods

Madison Cawein

Its friendship and its carelessness
Did lead me many a mile,
Through goat's-rue, with its dim caress,
And pink and pearl-white smile;
Through crowfoot, with its golden lure,
And promise of far things,
And sorrel with its glance demure
And wide-eyed wonderings.

It led me with its innocence,
As childhood leads the wise,
With elbows here of tattered fence,
And blue of wildflower eyes;
With whispers low of leafy speech,
And brook-sweet utterance;
With bird-like words of oak and beech,
And whisperings clear as Pan's.

It led me with its childlike charm,
As candor leads desire,
Now with a clasp of blossomy arm,
A butterfly kiss of fire;
Now with a toss of tousled gold,
A barefoot sound of green,
A breath of musk, of mossy mold,
With vague allurements keen.

It led me with remembered things
Into an old-time vale,
Peopled with faëry glimmerings,
And flower-like fancies pale;
Where fungous forms stood, gold and gray,
Each in its mushroom gown,
And, roofed with red, glimpsed far away,
A little toadstool town.

It led me with an idle ease,
A vagabond look and air,
A sense of ragged arms and knees
In weeds grown everywhere;
It led me, as a gypsy leads,
To dingles no one knows,
With beauty burred with thorny seeds,
And tangled wild with rose.

It led me as simplicity
Leads age and its demands,
With bee-beat of its ecstasy,
And berry-stained touch of hands;
With round revealments, puff-ball white,
Through rents of weedy brown,
And petaled movements of delight
In roseleaf limb and gown.

It led me on and on and on,
Beyond the Far Away,
Into a world long dead and gone, —
The world of Yesterday:
A faëry world of memory,
Old with its hills and streams,
Wherein the child I used to be
Still wanders with his dreams.

May God bless little boys...big ones, too! May they never lose their sense of wonder, curiosity and adventure.

I am daily reminded of the great privilege God has so graciously bestowed upon us, as we raise these wonderful children.

Picking flowers and vegetables, walking along the edge of the woods, playing badminton and horseshoes...a day of simple pleasures. Read more!

Teach me your mood,
O patient stars.
Who climb each night,
the ancient sky.
leaving on space no shade, no scars,
no trace of age, no fear to die.

- Emerson, The Poet

Arcturus. Cassiopeia. Corona Borealis. Vega. Polaris. What beautiful names, the name of the stars and constellations! Last evening, we attended an open air lecture on the planets, stars and constellations at Prairie Oaks Park, sponsored by the Otterbein College Astronomy Department. The evening was crisp and clear, according to our astronomer, very little particulate in the air, giving us a stunning view of the starry, summer sky.

Adults and children alike, clustered around the high powered telescopes which afforded us all the exquisite views of Jupiter and it's four moons, Venus in crescent, the highlands and craters of the moon and globular star clusters.

We saw several "shooting stars" or meteors, streak across the sky; one meteor was particularly bright and provided the same response from my son, Joseph, as the 4th of July fireworks display attended a few weeks ago.

My favorite constellations? Corona borealis, for sure. The Northern Crown, and that is exactly what it looks like in the night sky. Also, Cassiopeia, the "W"...as we tell the children, our "name" (Wasson) is written in the heavens! Sagittarius, which I will henceforth call the "teapot", thanks to the observation of our astronomer...it sounds lovelier, I think.

Tonight, we will lay a blanket in the grass and stare, once again, into the starry, summer sky. Looking for shooting stars. Finding our name in the heavens. Resting beneath the loving gaze of our Heavenly Father.

Canst thou bind the sweet influence of Pleiades or loose the bands of Orion?

- Old Testament, Job, XXXVIII, 32 Read more!

Overheard today at the thrift store:

(Older lady 60ish stocking a bookshelf): "May I help you sir?"

(Much older gentleman in his 80's, dapper and quite spry): "Have you, perchance, seen any hardcover books on the collected works of Rudyard Kipling?"

Lady: "Should I be familiar with him, sir?"

Gentleman: "Indeed, yes! I am a great fan of his poetry in particular..."(he proceeds with a lengthy and quite beautiful recitation of a piece I was unfamiliar with...may have been "Apologies", but I'm not sure)

Unknown to him, he had an audience: a couple of ladies looking at teapots and coffee makers and me.

He shared his knowledge of Kipling and the period of history in which he wrote. It was a fascinating and unexpected treat!

By the way...thrift stores are such a great place to find incredible books, collectible and otherwise. I have located no less than two Latin Missals and a variety of beautiful Catholic literature and devotional materials. Check them out! Read more!

The Path that leads to Nowhere
Corinne Roosevelt Robinson

There's a path that leads to Nowhere
In a meadow that I know,
Where an inland island rises
And the stream is still and slow;
There it wanders under willows
And beneath the silver green
Of the birches' silent shadows
Where the early violets lean.

Other pathways lead to Somewhere,
But the one I love so well
Had no end and no beginning —
Just the beauty of the dell,
Just the windflowers and the lilies
Yellow striped as adder's tongue,
Seem to satisfy my pathway
As it winds their sweets among.

There I go to meet the Springtime,
When the meadow is aglow,
Marigolds amid the marshes, —
And the stream is still and slow. —
There I find my fair oasis,
And with care-free feet I tread
For the pathway leads to Nowhere,
And the blue is overhead!

All the ways that lead to Somewhere
Echo with the hurrying feet
Of the Struggling and the Striving,
But the way I find so sweet
Bids me dream and bids me linger,
Joy and Beauty are its goal, —
On the path that leads to Nowhere
I have sometimes found my soul! Read more!