By the By

Walking today part way down the pasture along the blackberry hedge I glanced over to see if anyone was watching from the carefully crafted arch that leads to Mr. Beachy's house. I'd forgoten to tell you when discussing Mr. Beachy, that he had moved from Ohio to the Northwest around the same time I did! On one of my first walks along the blackberry hedge last year I ran into him. Well, I only saw him for a moment. When he saw me looking, he ducked inside. He's a little shy, you know.

There are several little tunnels that emerge from the blackberry hedge and the grass near these tunnels is carefully groomed, so you know a rabbit or critter of some kind lives in there. One of these tunnels is very well-kept, and that is where I learned that Mr. Beachy had moved with his lovely youngest daughter, Peaches. Yes, Peachy Beachy. On this occassion he was wearing a grey, boiled-wool jacket. As I said, he stepped inside when he saw me seeing him. He stepped just to his left so he could still watch me as I continued down the hill. He's quite elderly now, but still spry. His little daughter dotes on him, making sure his tea is just right and mending his clothes. She was born with a speach impediment and never utters a word. That is perhaps why she has stayed at home with her father all these years. Let me tell you, she is so beautiful; quite slender, and still wears the traditional dress of her homeland. She bows deeply in greeting and her shy smile melts your heart. I have yet to meet her, but have heard all this in just the same way you hear everything from nature. If you're not sure what I mean, you can read about it in The Singing Creek Where the Willows Grow: The Mystical Nature Diary of Opal Whiteley.

Advent's Almost Over

A beautiful sunny day today. It was chilly and rainy and full of morning mist, but the sun kept shining through it all. Even if one side of the sky had dark grey clouds, the sun shone on the fields and trees. Everything sparkled. Is it four days till Christmas Eve? How can that be. I still have gifts to wrap and cards to send and prayers to say! I heard and read something about Christmas that was a new angle for me. A Poor Clare from Spokane wrote in a Christmas letter, and heard on an NPR commentary: People often complain that Christmas is too commercialized and that stores put out their decorations earlier each year. But without the economic factor of Christmas, our religious celebrations would be rather incidental and the holiday not much more than a Lincoln's or Washington's birthday. Since Christmas has the big economic influence, we can have music and lights and occasions of public good will all throughout Advent and on into the Christmas Season. The trick is, to see the meaning of Christ's coming inside all the activity; be aware and conscious of the connection between the symbols all around us. For example, see the lights as symbols of the Light of Christ, hear the music that is uniquely heralding the coming of the Lord, join in the public demonstrations of generosity to the poor. Well, that makes Christmas preparations more fun for me!

Enquiring Minds Want to Know

Who is Mr. Beachy, you ask. I will try to tell you, but you must read between the lines and think in parallel thoughts about such questions as (1) how can someone say one thing and people hear another, (2) why does something resonate with some one and not with another, (3) if you carry a story with you long enough does it take on a life of its own, and (4) will Mr. Beachy and Miss Ingu ever have a romantic relationship? Several years ago a friend of mine told me the story of Mr. Beachy. The story may have morphed in my memory, but this is how I remember it: My friend had moved into a newly built house. He hired a gardener to help him with the landscaping. The gardener (in my imagination) was an elderly Asian man. Despite his strong Asian accent, the gardener and my friend kept up a conversation while they worked. "Where would I find a good auto mechanic?" my friend asked. "Mr. Beachy - Go to Mr. Beachy - He take care of you," the gardener replied. "Mr. Beachy, Rt.125, on corner, no miss." The next day my friend drove up and down Rt. 125 with no luck finding Mr. Beachy's. The next time he worked with the gardener, he asked again about the mechanic. The gardener spoke louder as he tried to explain how to get to Mr. Beachy's. "You no can miss. Mr. Beachy on corner. He take good care of you." Once more my friend followed the directions. Once more he seemed unable to find the repair shop. As he looked at the building on the corner, the building he was sure had to be the one the gardener sent him to, he glanced at the sign and read, "Mitsubishi". Jim R., if you're reading this, feel free to correct the story! I wonder, what if you don't even remember it!

Good Night, Dear Ones

So sorry that Miss Ingu has been unable to blog this week. It seems she was crushed in the pre-Christmas glitter. Very pretty, but materialistic and not very Advent-ish. Hapapapa was out of town and the kaleidoscope girl was tending the sick children, so that meant SIE and Miss I spent a good amount of time playing. It seems SIE is into putting a lot of little things into a basket or bin and then dumping them all over the floor. And it seems Miss I is way too OCD to go to sleep without picking up the toys. That leaves one tired Miss I. Tomorrow, SIE and Miss I and perhaps three dogs will drive to the country and spend a little while at the farm while his parents get the house ready for THE GREAT CHINESE CHRISTMAS EXCHANGE PARTY. It is the most fun Christmas party Miss I has ever attended. There is so much laughter that tears run down faces and everyone's sides hurt. Miss I will be taking one of her newly made Mouse Houses as her gift to exchange. She must write about the Mouse Houses later. Right now she's too, too tired. Good night, dear ones.

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

Last night Mr. Beachy had a dream. He dreamt he was writing a letter to St. Nicholas and this is what he wrote:

Dear Saint Nicholas, You don't need to worry about coming this year. There are no poor children left. There are no children being sold into prostitution anymore. You don't have to worry. Everyone has plenty to share. The governments have opened up their boundaries and welcome all who come. Schools are free to young and old alike. The churches have open doors and the bishops dress like shepherds now. They teach us all to pray. Everyone has a piece of land. Children have room to run and time to play. Yes, there's room for everyone. There's fresh water pumped to every house and everyone shares from their gardens. And no one is sick too long because the doctors are free. Yes, FREE! If you were to come today, St. Nick, you would be surprised. Sincerely, Mr. Beachy

Mr. Beachy was very pensive when he woke up today. And then he checked his shoes.

The Lord's Laundromat

Today is the first no-rain day in this part of the Northwest since last Tuesday! That's six days of pouring rain, with the only interruptions when it turned to snow for a few hours. It felt like the washer cycle got stuck on rinse! It was unusual even by Portland standards. It says somewhere in the Bible, even before it was said by Chairman Mao,"After the rain comes the sun" And we are grateful. Some places are still flooded with farms and towns evacuated. They say on tv that some places will have power outages for a few more days. It's interesting how they seem to be making the weather reports especially for the people without power needed to run their tv sets!

Oregon's prized Sitka Spruce blew down. It was 220' tall and 700 years old - the biggest Sitka Spruce in the Nation. There's still 75' of trunk standing. That's a Big Tree! I'm glad I got to see and hug it once on a trip out to the Coast.

The road into La Center from the highway crosses a small bridge with fields on each side that are set aside as a nature habitat. The fields are now basins of water that stretch out like a huge lake. Do not worry. Miss Ingu, Mr. Beachy, and friends are safe and sound. The birds are rejoicing: the trumpeter swans, cackling geese, sandhill cranes, and hawks were making a loud noise unto the Lord today. It was so loud it would have drowned out St. Boniface's organ!

In Which Miss Ingu Settles In for Winter

Last day of November. It's been frosty up here on the farm. Part of my job here on the farm is to keep the well and the green house pumps from freezing. This is just a matter of checking the heat lamps in two of the greenhouses - usually switching them on in the evening and off in the morning. Also to check that the bulbs in the well and in the well house haven't burnt out. Blue likes the ritual trek out to the greenhouses. They are empty except for weeds that have grown around the edges, but there's often interesting things to be found - slugs, garter snakes, praying mantis, mice and birds that are smart enough to realize it's warmer inside than out.

This morning we walked out, still in pajamas to unplug the lights. The temp gage said 38 degrees, so we thought we were safe. But an hour later it started to snow. So back we hurried to plug them in again. No snow falling at the moment, but I think we'll leave them on for today. The forecast says snow is coming this way.

This morning I also performed the Biennial Birkenstock Ritual. This is done at the beginning of winter and part way into the summer. The straps have to be loosened to accomadate thicker socks; tightened to make bare feet fit. Slipping on two pairs of socks this morning, I realized it was time for the switch.

Right now I have some pin head oatmeal in the slow cooker and it smells about ready to eat. Yum! Settle back and think of Ireland.

Birds of a Feather

Now that winter is near I think most of the summer birds have left for warmer climates. I've noticed only a faithful few at the bird feeders. There's a group of chickadees that you can always count on to be here. It's an integrated group: black-capped and chestnut-backed chickadees and an occassional mountain chickadee (like the Eastern ones but with a white eyebrow). I don't say flock of chickadees, because I think these are just the same seven or eight birds that come to the feeder. There is one male red-breasted nuthatch that hangs out with the chickadees. They're called red-breasted, but they're really a buffy yellow color. This one has gotten darker chest feathers as winter has approached. They all look like a Christmas card!

There's also a pair of Stellar Jays. These are about twice as big as the Blue Jays in Ohio. They are dark, dark blue with black blue heads and the blue jay crest. They are wicked birds - very territorial and sound like high-pitched crows when they call. Still, I like to watch them. They let me know when a strange bird is around.

And because the Jays were off busy chasing hawks the other day, I got to see my very first ever red-breasted sapsucker. It is a robin sized woodpecker with a totally red head and chest. This one had black wings with just a thin white streak down his side, and his beak was yellow (not black like in the books). He was out on one of the back apple trees that I can see from my window. I've looked for woodpeckers back there often because this tree and one other are covered in little holes that look like someone took a paper puncher and punched a zillion evenly spaced, uniformly sized holes all up and down the trunk. I've been told these trees are over 100 years old. It's really strange to look at this tree up close. And the bird was such a beautiful red. I miss cardinals! Nothing like them out here!

In Which Miss Ingu Studies a Hibernating Hamster

The most recent member of our extended family is a black and white teddy bear hamster first named "Freemont Lake", then "Hop Scotch". He's more often called "Hammy". SEI loves this little critter and, unbelievably, the critter seems to love him, too. I say unbelievably only because the hamster plays with him like a real pet and will hold still on command, perched on a stool or in a plastic tea pot, etc. Yes, maybe the little guy is frozen in terror, but he doesn't let on.

Hammy travels back and forth between SEI's house and mine. At his house Hammy lives in a fancy, colorful, plastic hamster home. Here he lives in an old bird cage that's been specially adapted for him. Now that the weather is getting cold I worry about him staying warm. In spite of the paper towels, shredded papers, and soft cloths that we find for hamster bedding use, he seems to prefer balling up without a cover. I think this is unnatural. I've read that if hamsters get cold enough, they go into a state of semi-hibernation and are often taken for dead. I've taken to watching him until he breathes deeply enough to move and/or blowing on him until he looks up. I hope we can find a hamster veterinarian in case we ever need one!

Full Moon Rising

Driving into La Center yesterday around 3:00 in the afternoon, I came to a spot about 8 miles from the farm when the full moon appeared, huge and white, rising over Mt. St. Helen's. Mt. St. Helen's is white now, too, with gray creases veining down its sides. I wished I could rush home and grab my camera, but knew that by the time I returned to this spot the moon would have climbed beyond this moment.

In the middle of the night I woke up for a minute and looked outside to see if any deer were around. It was so bright. Almost like a new fallen snow. With hat on and coat over my pajamas, Blue and I went out for a walk. The moon was high and the sky was a pale blue with whisps of cloud that made me wonder if they were the northern lights. And there were stars, bright and clear despite the light. Orion stretched out right over the pasture. The moon light cast shadows and the air was soft and quiet. The ground was frozen, but not icy. Frozen just enough to feel like the ground was firm under your feet. Good thing because my head was enveloped in an alien breath. I hoped there would be deer down in the pasture but not a creature was stirring. My bed was still warm when we returned. We'd never even turned on a light.