What you can learn from a two year old.

1. Go paddling even if it's not the best of days... On Saturday
it was pretty foggy and cool but out we went on a moose hunt with little Esme saying, "Here Moosey, Moosey." Didn't see any moose but some otters playing on a memorable paddle.

Esme teaches me to go out expectantly, looking for life!

2. Dress up for rhubarb picking! Today somehow seemed to be a pink floofy dress day, so there we were wading through high grass, trying to find the over grown rhubarb patch...we were successful!

What an occasion, when you wear what you want to do some fairly outdoorsy things!

3. Take time to go and see and cuddle a puppy. Friends of ours have sled dog pups and we had to go see them and take time to cuddle and smell their puppy breath and pet their puppy tummies.

Esme is teaching me to live in now, to pay attention, to not rush from here to there.

I'm thankful for her two year old perspective!

What if I really believed in the love of God?

When we look deeply at our God images, we may begin to realize that they have been shaped at a very deep level--way deeper than we even are aware of--by the desire to manipulate of relgious or parental authority.

So it makes sense that we may struggle to believe that we are really loved--fully and unconditionally. It's much easier to scare someone who believes they're loved only if they are well behaved and sweet.

My book DOGSPELL: THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO DOG is an exploration of that idea.

But in May we will be holding a retreat here at WindCradle to invite people to take time to explore their God images and then to push beyond to some more helpful ones. There are literally dozens of God metaphors in scripture that are seldom if ever used. And then there are those, like "dog" that might give us whole new ways of knowing ourselves in relation to the sacred.

What would I be like, what would the world be like
if we knew ourselves to be beloved?

Around WindCradle, Lucy sure shows lots of love to us, not to mention the way she and the cat express their love for each other.

But Lucy is not only loving; she pushes me to go on adventures. Every day those eyes force me to say, "Okay, okay, I will take you for a w-a-l-k, if you insist. And I'm always glad I did.

Lucy is open to new adventures herself. Last September I decided she was ready to become a canoe dog, like her predecessor Cluny. She did very well, sitting when she was meant to. Her only mistake was when she lept to her feet when a beaver thumped its tail to warn us off at a distance of about five feet.

If you would like to consider your god images and find some new ways of thinking of and relating to God, we have a retreat coming up--Dogged--Renewing our God Images--May 14-16th at WindCradle. Four footed friends are welcome! Check out our website.....

First Paddle of the Season!!!!!

Sunday after church we went up the Gunflint Trail--that's not unusual--but this time, for the first time this season, we went up with a canoe on the car. It felt so good to have that canoe there, leading us into the adventures of the lakes and woods.

The weather was perfect, around 70 degrees, and of course there are no bugs yet because it's so early in the season.

The lakes were flat calm, and chilly. It would not have been a good idea to fall in!




We sat and had a picnic at a campsite on Gull lake and looked out over the water as Lucy ran down and threw herself in and chased squirrels.

Then we did a bit of hiking to wear her out. So that we could do what we most wanted to do: take the canoe off the car and put it into the water.

Lucy hopped into the boat and we headed out on Gull Lake. Sometimes I worry that this year I will have forgotten how to paddle...that it will be all gone, but as usual, it comes right back. The motion, the feeling of paddle in hand and water underneath, the almost unearthly silence......


Lucy (who only started canoeing late last season did very well) and we had a lovely time out on the water.

This first paddle of the season reminded me of how much I love being out on the water in these wild places. The reflection of sun from water onto trees and rocks, the soft motion of water.

I'm thankful that I get to go canoeing and introduce others to this great joy. Do check out WindCradle's website if you'd like to sign up for a canoe retreat this summer: I'm leading trips for families, for mother/daughter pairs, and for women.

A whole summer/fall worth of paddling beckons!

Away from WindCradle

I was fortunate to be away with some dear friends and their children for a week last week. North Carolina was looking good, flowers and trees out, etc.

Living in Grand Marais, I find being away from here odd: traffic, shoppping malls, passing people who I don't know--these are some things that surprise me.

But there are things I miss. Of course the big lake and light over the big lake is one.

Another is the sense of space, of vast tracts of forest and of lake that are empty, that simply ARE, without needing someone to look at them, check on them, monitor their progress.

I noticed that the night sky seemed strange--though it was clear there was so much ambient light that I could hardly see stars. I lost as I sometimes do, my sense of the phase of the moon.

The easy access to wild rivers is another thing. We went to a fine state park, but I realize I've gotten used to wild parks with roaring rivers.

What an amazing thing to be able to get to these places
in just a few minutes: I'm reminded that I want to keep up those daily hikes!

Finally, the slow process of watching spring emerge. To fly to another climate plunked me into spring/summer, which was a treat. But what deep joy in watching that emergence day by day, as familiar mosses, ferns, flowers begin to show up.

In many ways I think these differences in some way epitomize what it is to live in the great north--the slow process of spring, the paying attention to sky and plant, the joy of space, light, water.

It feels as if the deep silence of the north has sunk into my soul and lives there, bringing me peace and perspective as well as gratitude.

I guess that means I am at home.

The ice disappearing from the big lake

The lake has been so lovely the last few weeks,

with a layer of ice forming at night and then breaking up and drifting in. The ice sounds like a trillion tiny wind chimes as the water ripples through it and around it.

For the last week it hasn't frozen at night, so now the ice is gone. We walk the beach daily, picking up rocks and enjoying the warmth of the sun.

Lucy the dog thinks it's swim season and in she goes for one swim after another.

So much water and light; from pink in the morning to blue and back to pink at night.

Some ravens are nesting behind the house. We are watching them bring materials to the nest. We have the binocs in the bathroom so we can look out the window and see them at work. Their babies are very noisy, so we should be in for some fun.

I feel so thankful to live somewhere where we see so much beauty.

The glory of God: spotted in the woods and over the lake

We were staying in our guest house this last weekend because some folks were retreating in the main house. When we stay there, in that smaller space, it feels like a retreat for us too....since there's a limit to the number of chores we can do.

So instead we did lots of hiking in the afternoons. We went to one of our favorite Boundary Waters Lakes--Clearwater, and hiked across it, looking down at the beautiful palisades.

Then we hiked along the path to Caribou Rock, and looked east and west as the sun was sinking

low in the sky. The birds are just beginning to sing some springier songs, as if they are thinking that mating days are not far off. Afterwards we stopped at The Trail Center for supper and met some friends and had great conversation about the unepected joys in our lives.

On Saturday we went to another favorite area--Grand Portage. We hiked up Mt. Josephine which is quite a hike, up, up and up. The view is out over the big lake and you can see Isle Royale and the Suzy Islands in the glittering distance.

The Last Sunday of Epihpany the readings were about Christ's Transfiguration, I asked people where they had seen the glory of God. Some talked about the birth of a baby, others about times of experiencing the divine. Many of us talked about being out in nature.

So many wonderful opportunities to see and give thanks for the glory of God.

The Colors of Winter

I used to think that winter was long because there was so little color in it. I realize now that it might have been because I was living in a city, where winter can be wearying because it seems to be characterized by slumping snow, dirty black or brown from sand, gravel, traffic. Little brown clumps of dog poop on sidewalks. Pavement where the snow has been cleared--all seems to be gray and brown on dirty white.

It's different living in the north. The sunrises and sunsets are often spectacular....here's one from an early morning this weekend, looking out over the big lake.

But when you start to pay attention, there is color everywhere--it's just subtle. These rocks are part of a cliff from a hike up Kimball Creek--about a mile away from us. I love how they echo the colors of the sky over Superior.

And then when I collect twigs for my crafting of frames and baskets, the colors are lovely--red osier dogwood, willow of various colors, birch.

Why didn't I see the colors of winter before?

It helps to be able to see so much sky, and to be able to hike through river canyons, to have twig shrubs growing everywhere.

I guess I must have been blind to these colors before--I find myself wondering whether I perhaps was so busy looking at the piles of dirty snow that I couldn't see the colors around me.

No longer! I'm loving all the colors of winter, though they are often softer than the colors of

summer. And I'm bringing them in--for frames and here for a room divider we've been needing.

All the colors of the rainbow...blessings in the winter months.