Brooklyn Bridge: Sort of different from Grand Marais

Last week I got to go visit my little granddaughter Esme in Phillie. We decided to take an overnight jaunt to New York City on the bus. We walked a lot: over to see Uncle Steve's office and have lunch with him, to Macy's for a look at the windows, and then down to NYU to meet up with Auntie Anna.

Then we decided since it was such a lovely evening, to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. We saw all kinds of wonderful views of the skyline. But my eyes were really for my little Esme, watching her watch all those things--pointing out boats that are not canoes, sparkly lights in the buildings on the skyline.

Here we are: Auntie Anna, Esme and I
on the bridge. I find myself feeling so grateful: Esme and Anna are new in my life and yet I love them so much.

Brooklyn Bridge and Grand Marais are similar inasmuch as both are filled with wonders for eyes that can see. Love is everywhere!

light intoxication

In these winter months on the North Shore, the sun never climbs very high in the sky. We watch it rise out of the big lake (later each day). In these pictures above, it has just risent. By the winter solstice in December, it rises just to the right of the big tree.

It moves across the sky, pouring into our windows, hitting the lake and bouncing in. We have to turn the heat off first thing in the morning because of the sheer solar energy.

This picture (right) shows the sun near noon. Notice how low it is since we are so far north.

The light seems so present, bouncing off the lake and pouring into the house, I found myself last week feeling "drunk" on the light--overwhelmed by all of it.

The first Christians were accused of being drunk on the Spirit. Maybe this is something of how they felt!

Twig Table!

Last weekend, I had some unexpected free time
and so I decided to take a class at the North House Folk School.
I'd been wanting to learn how to make Twig Furniture,
also called Rustic Furniture. This kind of furniture making
has a long history--since it uses materials that are
all around us, and prunes instead of cutting down trees.

First you make the twig base by hammering
wood pieces together.

Then you make the top, something like making a mosaic. On my top I used mainly different colored willows and some red osier dogwood. I also used some beach rocks that blended in to the colors.

Igot a real kick out of making this, watching the design emerge, using the subtle tones of nature. Since this first project I've made a picture frame as well.

The satisfaction of working with wood, with nails, with color--it's very meditative. I think of my father who often did woodworking for relaxation and creativity. I've decided to keep doing this kind of folk craft as part of my life--to connect with the tangible, to create from nature, and also to sell.

Superior goes wild

I awaken to a roar: like a freight train going by the window. And then I realize--Lake Superior is at it again! The beach that held us sitting on the edge, the quiet lapping of the little waves--taken over by fury!













On Friday, November 6th, there was no wind to speak of, and yet huge waves crashed onto the beach, over the breakwaters in town, over the second layer of breakwaters. We sat in the sun stuffing envelopes at the Folk School as the waves lept like geysers.

Someone told me there must be a storm somewhere else on Superior, and because

she has a smaller surface area than an ocean, those waves will be felt up here on the northern edge.

Just as the poet and essayist John Donne wrote that "no man is an island unto himself," Superior reminds us that a storm somewhere on this lake makes waves on other parts.

May that be true for us: may we be aware of the fact of our connectedness--in matters like health care reform, hunger, global climate change--so that the waves that crash are reminders of our oneness.

Seeing with new eyes

Some friends are making their second annual visit to WindCradle and the northshore. It's wonderful to see them and to have a good excuse to hike and paddle more than usual!

But they are artists....

As I hike or paddle with Lisa and Bernard, I see the world anew. I catch just a bit of what an artist sees. Their view of the beauty of surroundings makes me begin to see the familiar in new ways.

It seems remarkable to me that with the same eyes we can see the same things, and yet they notice light or lines in rocks or ferns in ways I've never seen them.

The gift: helping someone to see more fully, bringing added dimensions to the world. I wonder if that's something we can all do for others as we stand aside another and bring our perspective to them.

The Gift of joy and wonder

When we baptize in the Episcopal Church we ask God to give the one being baptized "the gift of joy and wonder in all your works." So it was with much joy that I (along with a bit of help from her parents) introduced my little granddaughter Esme to some of my favorite spots in the great north. She LOVED the Kadunce River, wading and preliminary sliding on some of the tiny waterfalls.


















And what could be better than sitting by the big lake throwing rocks into it. We are pleased to say that there are still a number of rocks left on our beach, even after her best efforts to throw them all in!

And of course she had to try out a little canoe ride.......we poked the nose of the canoe into the Boundary Waters, so we'd know she'd had her first BWCAW trip.....It'll be a few years before we get to the first overnight one I'm afraid.

And while I know she's unlikely to remember all of this...I'm glad to be a part of helping to instill "the gift of joy and wonder" in all God's works. And seeing someone else's joy deepens mine--what a gift.

nature--big, little and funky

The beauty of the great north takes many forms. The lakes reflect light onto the trees and the ancient rocks glow in the setting sun. Clearwater Lake is one that stretches into the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness and makes for great paddling.

And then there is the beauty of different plants and animals: ladyslippers hiding in the woods on a summer hike (this is the South Lake trail off the Gunflint Trail.)

We've seen so many beautiful birds here-orioles, rose-breasted gross beaks, indigo bunting, pelicans, eagles, osprey. Ravens seemed mainly annoying, until we started reading about them in a book called THE MIND OF THE RAVEN. We began to be fascinated by them: these are a few of our local friends, who like to look in the window or pick up bright stones.

Nature captures attention, intrigues in a number of ways: the prayer from the baptismal service, "give this child the gift of joy and wonder in all God's works" worked for me!