VALENTINE To greet the new-born blooming year, What varied flowery sweets appear, The little birds begin to sing, And nature smiles to welcome spring. Yet these, my love, soon decay; The songsters on the leafy spray Will silent sit, nor heed the year, Nor sweetly varied flowers appear. In constant these - but I will prove Example of unchanging love; Entwine my faithful heart with thine, And ever be thy Valentine. —Anon. 1805
November
by Elizabeth Stoddard
(1823-1902)
Much have I spoken of the faded leaf;
Long have I listened to the wailing wind,
And watched it ploughing through the heavy clouds,
For autumn charms my melancholy mind.
When autumn comes, the poets sing a dirge:
The year must perish; all the flowers are dead;
The sheaves are gathered; and the mottled quail
Runs in the stubble, but the lark has fled!
Still, autumn ushers in the Christmas cheer,
The holly-berries and the ivy-tree:
They weave a chaplet for the Old Year's bier
These waiting mourners do not sing for me!
I find sweet peace in depths of autumn woods,
Where grow the ragged ferns and roughened moss;
The naked, silent trees have taught me this,--
The loss of beauty is not always loss!
Dear G_:
While having dinner tonight, the sun was shining but it was raining at 1800 hours. (A meteorological paradox always amazes me.) I beheld a rainbow through the dining area window! Indeed, this was a very rare phenomenon for a rainbow to appear conveniently for my viewing.
I took some photos of the rainbow from the garage looking eastward. Later they were combined as a panorama. Here it is.
Apropos of the event, here is Spurgeon quote excerpted from his Faith’s Check Book:
“Faith always sees the bow of covenant promise whenever sense sees the cloud of affliction. God has a bow with which He might shoot out His arrows of destruction; but see! it is turned upward. It is a bow without an arrow or a string; it is a bow hung out for show, no longer used for war. It is a bow of many colors, expressing joy and delight, and not a bow blood-red with slaughter, or black with anger. Let us be of good courage. Never does God so darken our sky as to leave His covenant without a witness; and even if He did, we would trust Him, since He cannot change, or lie, or in any other way fail to keep His covenant of peace. Until the waters go over the earth again, we shall have no reason for doubting our God.”
In Christ, Paradise Is Regained.
L'
On wings of song my affections to you fly! Happy birthday!
The English poetess and writer, Christina Rossetti (1830-1894,) wrote a poem on her birthday. She was thankful for her special day underpinned by Providence’s care, “My heart is like a singing bird…/Because the birthday of my life/Is come, my love is come to me.”
When one was young, he hardly stopped to admire the “primrose by a river’s brim”. After all, it was “a yellow primrose was to him,/And it was nothing more.” So perceived Wordsworth. In the arrow of the time, similarly, Browning’s “Pippa’s Song” has become more endearing to those who are living in the last of the seven stages of man.
Notwithstanding these final August days of sultry noons and hot breaths, they do bring on the glories of soft evening hours and the tinkles of wind chimes. Would you mind then sauntering along with me to the sunset tree—sauntering slowly in the twilight breeze while listening to Handel’s “Where’er You Walk”? Perhaps the tenor voice of Richard Lewis would enthrall on your birthday this halcyon year.
Ever in His grace,
L'
I took this picture this morning; a few feet from the motion-sensor light unit where I set it across from the persimmon tree. Some wild thing was looking at the fruit last night. Notice on the left of the picture a deep scarring paw print; a less distinguished paw print on the right. I surmised it was a heavy animal. It could be the possums and or raccoons have returned for the summer season. See what comes tomorrow, I might put a ruler on the ground to measure the prints.
"Approprite and cleaver, Watson. You know your Bard. Now put on your Fedora. The game is afoot."
"Thank you, Holmes. If it is the same to you, I will wear my bowler. By the way, I liked your pun, too."
Fourth of July Ode James Russell Lowell 1892 I. Our fathers fought for Liberty, They struggled long and well, History of their deeds can tell— But did they leave us free? II. Are we free from vanity, Free from pride, and free from self, Free from love of power and pelf, From everything that's beggarly? III. Are we free from stubborn will, From low hate and malice small, From opinion's tyrant thrall? Are none of us our own slaves still? IV. Are we free to speak our thought, To be happy, and be poor, Free to enter Heaven's door, To live and labor as we ought? V. Are we then made free at last From the fear of what men say, Free to reverence To-day, Free from the slavery of the Past? VI. Our fathers fought for liberty, They struggled long and well, History of their deeds can tell— But ourselvesmust set us free.
"Then came hot July, boiling like to fire, That all his garments he had cast away; Upon a lion raging yet with ire He boldly rode, and made him to obey."
— Fanny Fern, 1854.
L's addendum from Jeremiah 31:26,
"At this I awoke and looked, and my sleep was pleasnt to me."
May you fathers have a restful and quite joy in this Father's Day!
Dear S_:
Did we ever meet and swan about at UC Berkeley?
While matriculated in the vicintiy of the west Science buildings (e.g., Biology, Operations Research, and Biochemistry), I was far away from the east Administration buildings and the UCB landmark Sather Tower (Campanile).
I remember hangin-out with some people. There was John, the astrophysics Ph.D candidate, David, the optometrist to be, and Patrick, the accounting or economics student. There were a few other guys in the group whose names I do not recall. After I earned my post-graduate degree from the People’s Republic of Berkeley, the people in the group scattered in these United States. It's par for the course; I’ve lost touch with them.
You are the only one left. The one and only UCB grad and the Lawrence Livermore person with which I am still in contact. Do you recall an email episode where you and I dwelled on the math (without using the WWII analog computer method) 'Angle on the Bow' of a submarine game? It was fun.
The Second Law of Thermodynamics is in effect daily and every moment with the living. It is still very undiscerning or unaware of to the populace. Entropy is most pronounced in spring. It is much more so after an abundant raining season; like the one we had this year.
Springtime is where entropy (chaos) is really visible in my gardens. I spent the last two weeks, cleaned the patio and bistros, examined the bubblers and their water hose, cleared the wild and massively scattered California poppies and weeds, trimmed three types of European lavender shrubs, manicured gardenia and roses bushes, and propagated the Echeveria and Crassula succulents; a total of 18 pots! Also, I had my annual ritual of 6-week springtime combat to contain (though hopelessly) the Hoplia beetles; the devouring insect of my pastel color roses.
And since there are no red ferns and coonhounds in our neck of the woods, the neighboring dogs just barks at the intruders so to earn their Kibbles. This past week I placed two motion-sensor LED lights with a slim hope of keeping the raccoons and the North America Opossums away from the house.
Energy of my was applied and will keep applying to keep my garden universe from descending into a chaotic mess (entropy).
Having quaffed several bottles of sports drink, enough was enough for spring garden maintenance. That leaves (pun) the gardener to trim the rest of the flora. e.g., the Bougainvilleas, the flowering vines, the Lilacs, the Clematis, the ornamental Pomegranate, and etc.
Of course, my preceding discussion on entropy is a microcosm of life.
The Bible already implied that life on earth (birth and growth) is invariably follow by death (dust to dust), the ultimate in entropy (Genesis 3:19). Humanity lost the privilege of entering God’s rest when mankind fallen from grace in Eden (Hebrews 4:3-5). All the generational evolving “better mouse traps” (i.e., updated version of whatever) are ways of making some form of entropy easier and better for life’s maintenance. Entropy resulting from sin does not ever go away. From the ‘A’ Train to Zarathustra it will always shadow humanity every moment until He comes again. Until then, God's love for His creation continues. What God creates, He also sustains. Therefore, Providence graces all humanity, evil and good, with sun and rain (Matthew 5:45). When God returns, He shall separate the redeemed (wheat) from the arrogant unbelieving humanists (chaffs). See Matthew 3:12.
Your last correspondence was much appreciated. It does not matter if Virgil’s Aeneid hoc opus, hic labor est applies. Your trip from California to visit the widow in Boise, ID, was much more than going the extra mile, literally. God "upholds the widow" (Psalm 146:9). Your gestures was an expression of Christian love par excellence.
May God’s countenance enwrap you and your loved ones.
L’
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