May's Day

Arabian Days · 365 Project

2012-02-20T21:37:00.000-07:00

Arabian Days by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I went to the Arabian Horse Show in Scottsdale this afternoon...late enough so that admission was free...early enough to see several classes display their expertise.

The first class featured young ladies and their horses in full Arabian costume.

Then I watched the Ladies English Side Saddle (I'm sure I'm not remembering the exact category, but you get the drift). I have no idea how they stayed on their horses when they were asked to go faster. One girl almost got bucked off. There's really no way to get a grip on your horse if that happens!

Next I watched at a couple of practice rings.

Then I saw the judging at an outdoor ring for two or three classes.

One was half Arabians in Western costume. This guy won in his class.

I walked by the places where the big stables were housed (as opposed to individuals who stayed in campers or huge motor homes). And I wandered through the shops, too, which cost be a few pennies. In all, a very pleasant afternoon!

California Sunset · 365 Project

2012-02-18T10:10:00.000-07:00

California Sunset by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

California sunsets are vastly different from what I'm used to in Arizona. I don't know if it's a combination of smog and sun, but they are differently beautiful I think. I made the 5 hour trek from Phoenix to Loma Linda this afternoon to spend the weekend with my nice, nephew, sister, and brother-in-law. The latter three are coming out from Boston, so we'll have a nice little reunion for a few days.

The trip was uneventful. Usually I snatch photos (usually through a dirty window) of the scenery as I whiz by, but this time I focused on some of the funny signs I saw along the way. I didn't get them all (my favorite was "Sore Finger Road"), but I got several pretty good ones.

The pictures are shown backwards here, from Redlands, CA to Phoenix, AZ. The first two show the sunset when it finally became comfortable to drive. There were long moments when the road was aiming directly at that setting sun and the road was literally a river of orange and gold. Beautiful, but extremely difficult to drive in. What had been 70 mph traffic slowed down to 60 mph (thankfully for me!) until the road curved away for awhile. Then it would pick up again until the next time we were in the direct path of that brilliant, but potentially dangerous, sunset.

The windmill picture is taken as I was driving through the "Palm" cities: 29 Palms, Palm Desert, and Palm Springs. I don't remember now which one this is. Doesn't matter. Along the highway, they all have these windmills whirring at various speeds.

Depending on which part of which state you're in, you are either crossing "ditches" or "washes." Many of them have funny names, like this one: "Rubble" ditch. Some are more descriptive than others, often recording disappointments or victories relating (I suspect) to gold mining. The one that made me laugh out loud? "Mud Ditch." Nothing like stating the obvious.

I couldn't capture them while driving (and through my very dirty side windows), but in certain areas, you are bound to see dozens of little dust whirls. I don't know what they are really called, but this sign warns you to be careful of the dust and wind. I've not experienced any driving trouble from anything I've seen in the half dozen or so trips I've taken on this route (#10), but the little swirls of dust that zip over the desert are kind of amusing to see...and kind of cool, too, as you're actually seeing how the wind works--the invisible becomes visible through the dust!

I always stop in the little town (too small to be a city from my perspective) of Quartzsite. It's about 25 miles from the AZ/CA border. There's not much to it except it seems to be very big on RV vehicles and equipment. There are several businesses competing with each other on both sides of the highway. And then there are several campgrounds along either side as well. Personally, these places do not fit my definite of campsite AT ALL. One is right in the town, with RVs jammed one on top of the other. I can't imagine who would give up their home space for that! And then there are the others, where there is miles (not quite, but a lot) of space in between campsites...but the RV or tents are just sitting in the middle of nothing, with nothing to look at, nothing to give you privacy, nothing to do... Boggles my mind... Perhaps there is something I don't know, can't see from my limited perspective on the highway.

The picture above and the next two pictures here are from the town itself. They sell a lot of flags...not the state or US flag, but flags that advertise stuff. And I don't know the appeal of salt-free water, or the need for it...never thought of water as having salt in the first place, but it seems like a big deal here. Interested me...

Then there's the jerky. For miles before I came to the town, there were signs advertising "Really Good" beef jerky. Being vegetarian, I don't understand its popularity, but this town seems to have the answer to anyone's jerky cravings!

The first place I stopped is about an hour into my trip. Yesterday, I stopped because I was so sleepy I thought I was going to need a nap. Instead I got out and walked around and was surprised to see signs for poisonous snakes and insects! I didn't see any that day. Guess I'm glad, although it would have been cool to have pictures of such things in the wild instead of in captivity the way I've always seen them before.

I want to say the place is called "Burnt Mill" but that might just be my imagination or faulty memory. It's a nice rest stop, though, with interesting information about the desert flora and fauna as well as maps and such.

The last picture in line comes out of Phoenix advertising a Tattoo Exposition. I can only imagine what that might mean!!! Alas, I will not be quenching my curious thirst for knowledge at this Exposition! I may find myself at the Home and Garden Show in a couple of weeks, though. Much more to my taste!

Teacher Valentines · 365 Project

2012-02-14T21:57:00.000-07:00

Teacher Valentines by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I was showered with valentine sweets today from the start of the day through its end. Candles, candies, cupcakes, cookies, chocolate covered strawberries, sweet thank you notes in journals, good conversations, cooperative and engaged classes. It was a good day. Most days I love what I do. This was one of them =)

This is just part of what wound up on my desk throughout the day. I especially I love the "Teachers R All-write!" How appropriate for an English teacher!

Another beautiful sunset · 365 Project

2012-02-12T19:52:00.001-07:00

Another beautiful sunset by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I keep thinking I've seen the most beautiful sunset ever. And then another one comes along. It's not always easy to take a picture that does the real thing justice, but this one comes pretty close. I don't know why I'm so obsessed with sunsets. I must have hundreds of pictures of them by now from Arizona and Maine, primarily--oh, and Massachusetts. My drive to work usually takes place during the sunrise and my drive back home takes place during the sunset often..so...I see a lot of beauty. But you have to be in the right time and place to get a good shot. Tonight, I actually stopped to get this one...

And speaking of sunsets, this time figuratively, another of my life's inspirational suns set last night--the husband of my friend Virginia, who passed away in August. Harvey was a kind a gentle man. I never heard him say a cross word or make a complaint. He was the consumate supportive husband, a true Christian gentleman. He went as peacefully as he lived, with loved ones at his bedside. He will sleep in Jesus... "One short sleep pasts, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die." I look forward to that day when we all wake eternally...

Molten Gold · 365 Project

2012-02-10T23:18:00.000-07:00

Molten Gold by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

There's a house a couple of blocks from school that has an amazing yard in the spring (I say spring because that what it looks and feel like to me right now, even if it is still technically winter). What is otherwise a yard full of small stone, for several weeks in February and March it is filled with flowers. First, it's just green, but now, it's all yellow and orange...giving it the look of gold almost! It's quite pretty (an understatement).

Down the street from this house is another house with the same flowers, but not as many. And down another street there are a few flowers, obviously brought there randomly by the wind. Definitely a pleasurable sight!

A Prayer in Spring by Robert Frost

OH, give us pleasure in the flowers today;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orcahrd white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,
To which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends he will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.

Carded · 365 Project

2012-02-08T22:22:00.000-07:00

Carded by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I was grading journals this morning when this card fell outof one! It was from one of my senior boys who is an avid reader. He'd beentalking about a book he really wanted to read and I found it and bought it forhim. He was so pleased...and responded with this nice thank you card. It'samazing how little things can make a difference to some...

Full Snow Moon · 365 Project

2012-02-06T22:35:00.000-07:00

Full Snow Moon by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

February's Full Moon is called the "Snow Moon" or "Hunger Moon." Native American tribes from the north and east. Clearly not from the desert southwest!

I'm thinking tonight of the famous "Blizzard of '78" that occurred in Massachusetts on this date 34 years ago. I remember when it was first starting to snow that afternoon. I was skipping across campus with my boyfriend (literally) when we noticed we were in a kind of snowy fog. By the time I got home later that afternoon, we knew this was not going to be the usual snowstorm. Hours later it was still snowing. The snow piled up so high that my sisters and I jumped out our second story bedroom window the next day, just because we could without fear of injury! Our collie dog got lost in the snow when we let him out. He actually disappeared from sight!

Schools were closed for days. My college closed for the first and only time in its entire history. So did Harvard University. When it was finally clear and safe to drive again, we found ourselves driving along streets piled so high with snow that you could not see over the walls of snow. Snow mobile owners were kept busy delivering doctors and other essential personnel to hospitals all over the Boston area. It was crazy. Exciting. Fun. Memorable. A once-in-a-lifetime snowstorm I'm thinking...

Not to Be · 365 Project

2012-02-05T22:53:00.003-07:00

Not to Be by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I was hoping to post a victory picture or two, but it was not to be.

Giants 21, Patriots 17.
Disappointing.

Desert Sunset · 365 Project

2012-02-04T23:16:00.000-07:00

Desert Sunset by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

Tonight I took a drive up to Frank Lloyd Wright's Taliesin West to watch the sun set. It was amazingly beautiful and I got some good shots except for the power lines streaking through most of them. I was reminded of what I heard on the tour a year ago...how upset he was about the power lines as he was building his home overlooking the valley...so upset that he actually turned his house plans around so that he would have a view of the mountains instead of the power lines. I get it now =) Still, it was a beautiful sunset...

Through all the Sky · 365 Project

2012-02-02T22:30:00.000-07:00

Through all the Sky by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

Day is dying in the west;

Heav'n is touching earth with rest;

Wait and worship while the night

Sets the evening lamps alight

Through all the sky.

Chorus:

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts!

Heav'n and earth are full of Thee,

Heav'n and earth are praising Thee,

O Lord most high!

Lord of life, beneath the dome

Of the universe, Thy home,

Gather us who seek Thy face

To the fold of Thy embrace,

For Thou art nigh.

While the deepening shadows fall,

Heart of love enfolding all,

Through the glory and the grace

Of the stars that veil Thy face,

Our hearts ascend.

When forever from our sight

Pass the stars, the day, the night.

Lord of angels, on our eyes

Let eternal morning rise

And shadows end.

At Last! · 365 Project

2012-01-31T23:32:00.001-07:00

At Last! by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

My paper whites have finally bloomed. I think they were slowed down a bit because I had them outside. I brought them in today...to my classroom so my students could enjoy them. Quite a few commented on they. They are pretty...if only they didn't smell so funky!

Tiny grains of Earth · 365 Project

2012-01-30T22:34:00.003-07:00

Tiny grains of Earth by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

A mountain iscomposed of tiny grains of earth. The ocean is made up of tiny drops of water.Even so, life is but an endless series of little details, actions, speeches,and thoughts. And the consequences whether good or bad of even the least ofthem are far-reaching.

~ Sivananda

Tonight's view ofthe mountain at dusk...

Twelve Angry Doves · 365 Project

2012-01-29T21:16:00.002-07:00

Twelve angry doves by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

We've had a wonderfully warm weekend--80s yesterday and high 70s today. This afternoon I decided to sit outside on my patio for awhile, but upset a host of birds who were happily feeding at their feeders at the time. I planted some petunias and pansies and then sat in the sun, soaking up its warmth with great content...until I noticed a dozen doves sitting on the wall across the way from "their" patio. It was so funny the way they were lined up, watching...and waiting for me to vacate the patio so they could get back to their feeding frenzy.

The finches and sparrows were waiting, too, but not quite so obviously. I could hear them chattering to each other in the trees, no doubt commenting on the uselessness of someone just sitting there with their eyes closed ;)

Seconds after I went inside...and I do mean seconds...they were back at the feeders, indulging in my generosity contentedly...

(The last photo is that same wall at sunset)

Patio purple · 365 Project

2012-01-28T23:21:00.002-07:00

Patio purple by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I've been enjoying having flowers in my little gardens year-round. Gets me a little mixed up, though, about what season we're in when there is no true winter here in Arizona. My nasturtiums are growing, the paper whites are ready to bloom. And then there are these lovelies.

How the Sun Set · 365 Project

2012-01-26T18:42:00.000-07:00

How the Sun Set by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I'll tell you how the sun rose,--

A ribbon at a time.

The steeples swam in amethyst,

The news like squirrels ran.

The hills untied their bonnets,

The bobolinks begun.

Then I said to myself softly,

"That must have been the sun!"

But how he set I know not

There seemed a purple stile

Which little yellow boys and girls

Were climbing all the while

Til when they reached the other side,

A dominie in gray

Put gently up the evening bars

And led the flock away

~Emily Dickinson

House and Home · 365 Project

2012-01-24T22:14:00.001-07:00

House and Home by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

My birds are eating me out of house and home! Not literally, of course, but they sure do have enormous appetites! They start coming to the feeders around sunup and gorge themselves until about 5 or so. I'm having to refill the feeders every two days or so. I should just feed them on the weekends when I can watch them, but that's hardly fair to them...

Paper Whites · 365 Project

2012-01-23T22:25:00.003-07:00

Paper Whites by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

My mother shared a picture of the Paper Whites blooming from bulbs she received at Christmas time. I received some then, too, and planted them nicely when I got back to sunny Arizona. I thought I'd give them a chance to grow in peace by putting them outside in my protected front patio. And I had been pleased with their progress...until I saw these pictures. Mine are just a couple of inches tall...nubs, really...while hers are full-blown blossoms! I might have to bring them inside to get some warmth so they can grow faster, but they haven't frozen and are growing, so maybe I should let them grow where they are. The nasturtiums I planted at the same time from seeds are a few inches high, too. So...maybe...maybe... We'll see!

AFC Champs · 365 Project

2012-01-22T22:00:00.000-07:00

AFC Champs by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I've not had the opportunity to watch much of my favorite football team since I moved to Arizona. For some reason programmers think that people in the west are more interested in western teams than eastern ones. So...it was especially fun today to watch more than the highlights of the Patriots' AFC Championship win. Football is not my favorite sport, but I do enjoy the Patriots, especially since Tom Brady became quarterback in 2001...and since he's helped bring about 4 Super Bowl wins....

Photos: Brady before the game and afterwards. Score: Ravens 20, Patriots 23

Dust of Snow · 365 Project

2012-01-20T20:53:00.001-07:00

Snow! by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

My mother sent me pictures of the snow that blanketed her house and yard this morning. Made me homesick for winter! I haven't seen snow since last Christmas (there was no snow when I was there this time), and I have to admit to missing it. Not driving in it, but certainly watching it fall and pile up on the trees.

Here's one of my favorite poems about snow:

Dust of Snow

Roberto Frost (1923)

The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

New Obsession · 365 Project

2012-01-19T22:41:00.000-07:00

New Obsession by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

When I was younger, oh so much younger, I used to devour such magazines as Seventeen. If I came across a picture of something I liked, I tore it out, carefully trimmed the edges and filed it in any one of a number of manilla folders I kept in a box. When I was a teenager, we moved to a house where I had my own room, a room big enough to have a fireplace in it, a table/study area, and a wall for a large bulletin board. I was in heaven there! I remember filling that bulletin board with the pictures I had collected, changing them out periodically, but keeping my favorites up, anchored permanently by staples or a pin (push pins had not yet been invented!).

I have to admit to still doing this, well not the bulletin board part, but certainly the folders of pictures and stories ripped from a myriad of magazines and newspapers that I once subscribed to. Unfortunately, the magazines began to pile up far faster than I could read and harvest them. And one by one, I stopped subscribing to my once beloved magazines until by the time I moved from MA to AZ, I had virtually no subscriptions to transfer from East to West. I am somewhat chagrined to also admit that There were a few boxes containing magazines I couldn't part with, as I'd not yet read them. And they still sit in those boxes, waiting for me to get to them.

I have steadfastly avoided the magazine rack in grocery stores and the rows and rows of tempting magazines in book stores. But then. Along comes an invitation from a blogging friend to try Pinterest. I had heard of it a month or two earlier when my niece showed me her pages (mostly filled with wedding ideas), but hadn't really given it much thought until that invitation. I succumbed. And am hooked.

Now in the evening intstead of playing Words with Friends for 1/2 hour or so before going to bed, I find myself scrolling through pages of photos of beautiful places, clothes, food, and quotes. And I find myself once again culling ideas and organizing them into folders and boards. Never in my wildest youthful imaginings did I imagine something like this! I'm not sure which I like best. One thing for sure, Pinterest certainly is greener!

Like a Red, Red Rose · 365 Project

2012-01-18T22:41:00.000-07:00

Like a Red, Red Rose by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

Since my school is a boarding school, we had to "have" school on Monday, Martin Luther King Day. We honored King's memory by doing various service projects throughout Scottsdale and Phoenix. Some groups went to elementary schools and cleaned up the playgrounds or worked in classrooms with teachers. Other groups cleaned up nearby streets and parks, and three groups stayed at school. My group worked in the neglected rose garden and three other flower beds on campus. It was hard but satisfying work. I rescued several of the roses we had to clip for my classroom. They are beautiful and smell heavenly!

One of my students took the photos of the roses before their trimming. You'll notice in the one where the boy is clipping how neglected the beds really were. They look infinitely better now!

Start of a new day · 365 Project

2012-01-16T23:16:00.000-07:00

Start of a new day by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I'm going to kill two birds with one stone tonight and post a 365 Project picture about beginning of my day for my NaBloPoMo entry. I've found that one harder to keep up with than the daily photo project...but on the whole, I think I've done pretty well writing on most days so far.

Today's photos were taken on my way to work this morning. It had rained much of the night and clouds of fog were rolling around the mountain tops, which intrigued me, so I tried to capture it--yes, while driving. I was careful, though, don't worry. Of course it was much prettier in reality than I could capture through the windshield, but I like it all the same. I don't do it on purpose--it just happens coincidentally--but usually I find myself driving to work into the sunrise and driving home into the sunset. Given the stunning beauty of most sunrises and sunsets here in AZ, I consider the beginning and ending to my work days rather glorious!

Beginning Again * NaBloPoMo

2012-01-14T19:09:00.001-07:00

One of my students gave his testimony at church today. The theme for the morning was "Enjoy the Journey" and he talked about the beginning of a new journey he is taking with God--one that started when he got word from his surgeon that he will probably never enjoy an active life on his feet again. He was injured twice in two successive basketball games just before Christmas and had surgery days after. He had torn both his ACL and his meniscus; only the ACL could be repaired.

He's been active all his life, so you can imagine his disappointment when the doctor told him he'll most likely never be able to play sports again, or possibly even run with any kind of comfort again. He admitted his disappointment and frustration and how he had cried out to God "Why?" God's answer to him was to help him realize that even though he couldn't run, he could walk. He could slow down enough to walk with others and share his love for Jesus and encourage them on their own spiritual journey through life.

This boy is one of my workers and we talk often throughout each day as he's going through the tasks I have for him. He has been an inspiration to me several times, including today, as he works his way through what could be a devastating injury to him. I'm sure he has his moments of despair, but he seems to be getting a handle on it, through his confidence in God's plan for him. This new year, though, has definitely been a case of beginning again...

Yellow and Gray · 365 Project

2012-01-14T18:38:00.000-07:00

Yellow and Gray by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I went for a walk in the late afternoon, knowing that I would see some interesting things. I always do. This time I saw more than I could capture with my camera, but I got enough to share all the same. This mockingbird was my first find. He was perched atop a lemon tree, standing out, the gray against the yellow.

Next, I saw a flock of Abert's Towhees, but couldn't get them to sit still long enough for a good close photo. They were very talkative, though. I could hear them long after I had gone past them (they were flitting around the pool area of this condo complex on the golf course).

Further along, I saw the cutest winter wren hopping around atop a boulder.

On the ground, just past the wren's boulder, a ground squirrel froze long enough for me to shoot him. He's right outside his hole and when I moved, he popped down into safety.

Across the walkway on the golf course, a large flock of doves gorged themselves on something tasty in this patch of dirt.

And finally, back home again, a mockingbird enjoyed the suet on my back patio in the shadow of the bougainvilea. It was a good walk =)

Low-fat Groceries! · 365 Project

2012-01-13T21:53:00.000-07:00

Low-fat Groceries! by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I went to the store today to get a gallon of milk and some kitty litter. Not terribly interesting or exciting. Unfortunately (for my pocketbook), my grocery store is a beautiful full-service store, complete with a garden section as well as a florest, on opposites sides of the store. I went through both sections and came out with a colorful array of geraniums, petunias, and pansies, along with a hyacinth, a mini-daffodil, and a gerber daisy.

Whoever designed this store knew what they were doing! This was definitely a low-fat visit to the grocers, but high-octane in color and smell =)

Photos are of the flowers I bought today (top) and the Floral Departement at "The Beautiful Store" (as I call it a few weeks ago.

Sky Light · 365 Project

2012-01-12T22:29:00.002-07:00

Sky Light by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

On my way home from school this afternoon, I noticed several rainbow chunks in the sky. I couldn't see that it had been raining, but there they were. The color was only in/on the clouds. There was nothing in the sky part of what I was seeing. One rainbow showed red-orange-yellow from left to right. Another showed green-yellow-orange-red from left to right. The colors looked prettier through my sun glasses, but were still visible without them on.

I was so fascinated with the sight that I finally had to stop to take pictures. I only had my cell phone, so they are not the sharpest, but you still get the idea. It was strangely beautiful!

Venus · 365 Project

2012-01-11T22:17:00.003-07:00

Venus by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I was on the 5:30-7:30 shift for supervision on campus this evening. Usually that means having supper in the caf and then an hour and a quarter of wandering around campus, checking doors, talking with the few kids who brave the cold, and counting the minutes until you are "free" to go home, finally. Tonight, as I left the caf, I ran into the boys' dean's wife as she was walking home from work. We stopped and talked for awhile--about books, about how quickly the school year is going, and the beautiful night sky. Looking directly overhead, we could see a bright star. In the sky to our left, we could see Orion. On the opposite side of campus, there was a brilliant, fixed light--obviously a planet. We weren't sure, but I later looked it up: Venus. In this picture (taken with my cell phone), Venus is that bright dot in the center of the photo!

One of my favorite tone poems is Gustav Holst's "The Planets." Here is "Venus" from the suite: http://youtu.be/K1f8HjIkU3M

Full Moon at Sunrise · 365 Project

2012-01-10T19:42:00.000-07:00

Full Moon at Sunrise by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

Normally I'm not a big fan of full moons because they usually mean trouble in the classroom. And, now that I think of it, kids were particularly squirrelly yesterday, and one boy today was unbelievably squirrelly. So that doesn't especially thrill me. Aside from that, though, I love seeing a full moon. And today, I got a lovely eye-full of the moon as it was setting through the sunrise.

I see the moon,
The moon sees me
God bless the moon,
And God bless me.

-A nursery rhyme

Gnarled · 365 Project

2012-01-09T21:55:00.000-07:00

Gnarled by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

This gnarly tree is on a side of campus I don't often go. I noticed it the other day as I was making me supervision rounds. A lone girl was climbing it, lost in her own world. I was reminded of the "helicopter" tree my sisters and I had when we were kids--it was a sycamore tree the grew along side a creek across a field that was next to our yard. We used to love to climb it and pretend we were in a helicopter (not sure why that...) spying on the rest of the world around us. It was big, beautiful, sturdy. We felt safe up in it, in spite of the heights we climbed to. Puts me in mind of another tree-activity we used to love: swinging. And singing Robert Louis Stevenson's poem about "The Swing." Maybe that was it: just being up in the air and seeing all that we could see:

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,

Til I can see so wide,

Rivers and trees and cattle and all

Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,

Down on the roof so brown--

Up in the air I go flying again,

Up in the air and down!

Magnetic Force · 365 Project

2012-01-08T21:24:00.000-07:00

Magnetic Force by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

These are magnets (except for the picture in the middle) I've collected during my travels throughout the US, Europe, Asia, South America and Canada. They reside on my freezer door in my kitchen and serve to remind me of some of my travels.

I have not always collected magnets. I guess I started within the past 10 years. They are more efficient in size and cost than other souvenirs, and they serve as a conversation piece when I have company as well.

Some of quotes on them are by the author whose home I may have visited, others are of paintings I loved in an art museum. Some are of very specific places, others represent a country or state more generally. For example: The left hand side has art from The Louvre and The Boston Museum of Fine Arts. The right hand side has state magnets. The column to the left of that has author and composer magnets. At the top are places in the US (except for the Norway flag) and at the bottom left are Europe, Asia, and South America. The quotes are all from Concord writers, primarily Louisa May Alcott.

I wish I'd thought of doing this during my earlier travels...but then I'd have no space for them all as I've been to some 35 countries. I'd have to buy another freezer. Ha!

Between the dark and the daylight · 365 Project

2012-01-07T18:10:00.000-07:00

Between the dark and the daylight by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Come a pause in the day's occupation,
That is known as the children's hour.

Those are the opening lines of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's poem "The Children's Hour." The poem goes on to talk about his children and the games he plays with them. It's a sweet recounting of a father's love for his children, one I grew up hearing and loving--for its rhythm and rhyme as much as anything else.

In a way, it was true for me tonight. I took these pictures of the end of the sunset, at the time between the dark and the daylight, just before I had to go off to my school to watch my students play games. This month's installment of "Class Games" featured basketball and saw my scrappy sophomores (I'm their sponsor) nearly beat the burley juniors. They were ahead most of the game, but lost it in the waning moments. They were disappointed, but I was proud of them. They've come a long way since last year when they were mostly frustrating freshmen!

The pictures are of the view from my back patio. I especially love my bougainvillea (beat up a bit as it is) against the beautiful dusky purple sky.

Making a List . NaBloPoMo

2012-01-06T12:34:00.000-07:00

I didn't post yesterday. And I feel guilty about it! I had high hopes for posting every day for at least a month, but it's not been a month yet and I've already blown it. Well, I'll do two one of these days to make up for it, right? Right!

Today's thought about Beginnings is that I am beginning to make a list of the 15 books that have made the most impact on my life. A former student, now pastor and published author, put the challenge out on his blog this afternoon and I immediately knew I would have to do it. I love making lists. I love reading. I love reading books that make a difference. So...what's not to love about this challenge?! Only trouble is that this kind of thing takes time. Sifting time. Sifting through the many books I've read in my life that have made an impact. So today, for now, I'm beginning the list:

1. I Love the Word Impossible by Ann Kiemel. I read this book in my early years of teaching after having heard Ann speak at a Festival of Faith weekend. There is nothing complicated about what she shares. Just an open and loving exploration of the God who loves us beyond all measure. Simple, yet oh so profound.
2. Christy by Catherine Marshall. This book and Robert Specht's Tisha are two true stories of young women at the beginning of their teaching careers, facing incredible challenges--Catherine in the Appalachians and Tisha in Alaska. Gave me inspiration for my first job in the nowhere land of Michigan. I could relate to much of what they experienced and wanted to make a difference to my kids the way these two did to theirs.
3. Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom. I read this book in one sitting and cried throughout the entire thing. Made me want to cherish every moment of my life...and reminded me of the power of my influence as a teacher.
4. 36 Children by Herbert Kohl. The true story of Kohl's heart-wrenching experience teaching in an inner-city school. Inspired me even before I had taught a single day. Helped me understand the inner-city kids in my first couple of teaching jobs.
5. The Message Bible. This Bible made the Word seem fresh and new to me as an adult the way the Living Bible did for me when I was a young teenager. It made me want to sit down and read it through, beginning to end.
6. Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis. A powerful treatment on what it means to be a Christian. My favorite chapter is "The Shocking Alternative" which gives an incredible discussion on free will and how logical Christianity is. It just makes sense when you read Lewis!

That's it for now. I will add to this list...perhaps over the weekend. I'd be interested to know from any of you what books made the biggest impact on your lives.

Time-traveling visitor · 365 Project

2012-01-05T21:47:00.000-07:00

Time-traveling visitor by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

We had a time-traveling visitor in my AP English class today. "Jonathan Edwards" came to give us a piece of his Puritan mind and preached portions of his famous (or infamous) sermon "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." I always find it oddly exhilarating to teach this sermon. Most of the time, I preach it, but we have a pastor here who is very good with this kind of thing and he had a good time getting into character. He had the kids close their eyes and imagine they were in the setting in Enfield, CT on July 8, 1741. Amazingly, none of them fell asleep while they listened with their eyes closed for a good 15 minutes while he railed at them and told them they were going to hell!

Of course I never leave it there, and neither did he. We had an interesting discussion afterwards about why the Puritans believed the way they did, and how his understanding is vastly different. After he left, the students read Anne Sexton's lovely poem "Small Wire" that has similar language, but an entirely different application. They had some interesting reactions while comparing the two pieces. Some days, it's such fun in the classroom!

End of the Beginning . NaBloPoMo

2012-01-04T22:11:00.000-07:00

I probably ought to save this post for the end of the month when it will be the end of posts about beginnings, but I don't want to forget about it, so it comes at the beginning of beginnings instead of a the end =) Coincidentally (or perhaps not?) a friend of mine posted this song on their Facebook page this morning and I've been thinking about it ever since. The lyrics are powerful, and compliment what I posted yesterday. This version, with David Phelps singing, has subtitles so you can really consider the words as well as the music.

End of the Beginning

Interestingly enough, I once overheard a conversation in an airport waiting area that was very similar to the one recorded in this song. It took place in Boston's Logan Airport between two college-aged guys. One was telling the other about this "great book" he'd been reading: the Bible. "It has everything you want in a good story," he said: murder, mayhem, mystery, love, lust...you know, all the good stuff!" The other guy didn't know how to respond to this. He kept saying "The Bible?" And the first guy would say "I know! I couldn't believe it either!" Truth is, of course, that all that stuff is in the Bible, but there is so much more. So. Much. More. And it is the more--the end of the beginning--that David Phelps sings about...and that makes all the difference in the world.

Back to Basics · 365 Project

2012-01-04T20:51:00.000-07:00

Back to Basics by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

It was the first day back to school after the Christmas break. There were a number of changes on campus during the two weeks--including the appearance of what looks like, to me, fall--with yellow leaves on the ground. What doesn't change, though, is the warmth and friendliness of the students. The first picture is a group of sophomores waiting for their first class of the day--and the new semester--to begin.

The second picture is taken from my classroom door looking towards the administration building. (This is the picture I posted for the 365 project).

The third picture is taken later in the morning from my classroom door again, only looking across the street towards the church. I like how the sun lights up the leaves on the lawn as well as on the trees.

This last picture is at yet another angle, taken of the church from my classroom door. Note the lantern-like light the shows up in the fork of the tree. It is, of course, on the other side of the tree, not in the tree.

At Christmas He Came . NaBloPoMo

2012-01-03T22:17:00.002-07:00

Thinking and writing about "Beginnings" for an entire month is going to be a challenge. And yet, I have found myself thinking about beginnings quite a bit in the past few days. This morning, I went to my file cabinet to see if there was anything there to share. I found several things which I will revise to share here as the days pass. Today's offering is a Christmas poem that I wrote several years ago (1998). I happened to be taking a refresher course in French at the time, which accounts for all the French phrases. Even though Christmas has passed, what better cause for beginnings than the plan of salvation revealed in Christ's birth?

[The photo at left is the stained glass window in the front of my former church in MA. I took this when I visited there during the break.]

AT CHRISTMAS HE CAME; THIS CHRISTMAS HE MUST COMEAGAIN

"Jedois aller."

Peopleare always having to go away from me,

from each other,

from home, from work, from school, from play.

Peopleare always having to go away from me (and I from them)

to other people and places.

"Jedois aller: I must go [theimperative].

I have other things claiming my life, my time.

You're not all there is to my life.

Important, yes. But not all.

Jedois aller."

There'snothing I can do to keep them from going;

They must.

Andif I want them still in my life,

I, too, must—must accept, must acquiesce, must notpout or complain.

Ilsdoivent aller. Et je doisaccepter.

"Jedois venir encore." There'sanother who must, too.

"Imust come again" He says.

There's a difference, though.

Thosewho must go, can go as they need.

But He who must come, must have an invitation; He cannot come just because He must.

Notonly must He come, but He must wait.

Wait for you, for me—for us—to be ready.

To be willing. To be open.

Andto invite Him to come.

"Jedois venir.

I need to come. It is necessary.

There is nothing else claiming My life, My time.

You're all there is to My life.

You're important, yes. And everything.

ButI can't come without an invitation.

Ican ask, but I can't just come.

And yet, I must. Je dois venir."

Christmas: celebrating the coming of Christ—thefirst time.

Butshould it not be something more?

Mustwe not also anticipate His Second Coming?

Mustwe not prepare for—and invite—Him to come back?

Thegoings in our life, we have no control over.

But the comings, those we do.

"Jedois venir encore," He says.

ThisChristmas, let it be "Tu dois venir--You must come."

Purchased and Paid For · 365 Project

2012-01-03T21:53:00.000-07:00

Purchased and Paid for by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I spent time working in my classroom this afternoon, gettingit ready for classes tomorrow. This extra credit project on a table in the roomcaught my eye and warmed my heart at the thought of how poetry (in this caseAnne Bradstreet's) can make an impact on a young person's heart and mind. Ilove my job!

Going Back · 365 Project

2012-01-02T22:06:00.000-07:00

Going Back by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

“The road was new to me, as roads always are, going back.” ~Sarah Orne Jewett

This is the Jewett home in South Berwick, Maine. Sarah lived here all her life,as she never married. She wrote her books and her short stories from the roomat the top left of the house. A wonderful local color writer, Jewett is an inspiration to me.

The home is about 20 minutes from my parents' and can be on the way south toBoston if we choose to avoid the Maine turnpike. In my case last Fridayafternoon, it was on my way back to my sister's just north of Boston, where Ispent the last two nights of Christmas break.

All Beginnings are Hard . NaBloPoMo

2012-01-02T08:20:00.002-07:00

You’ve heard it before, some of you:

"All beginnings are hard.

"I can remember hearing my mother murmur those words while I lay in bed with fever. “children are often sick, darling. That’s the way it is with children. All beginnings are hard. You’ll be all right soon.”

"I remember bursting into tears one evening because a passage of Bible commentary had proved too difficult for me to understand. I was about nine years old at the time. “You want to understand everything immediately?” my father said. “Just like that? You only began to study this commentary last week. All beginnings are hard. You have to work at the job of studying. Go over it again and again.”

"The man who later guided me in my studies would welcome me warmly into his apartment and, when we sat at his desk, say to me in his gentle voice, “Be patient, David. The midrash says, ‘All beginnings are hard.’ You cannot swallow all the world at one time.”

"I say it to myself today when I stand before a new class at the beginning of a school year or am about to start a new book or research paper: All beginnings are hard. Teaching the way I do is particularly hard, for I touch the raw nerves of faith, the beginnings of things. Often students are shaken. I say to them what was said to me: “Be patient. You are learning a new way of understanding the Bible. All beginnings are hard.” And sometimes I add what I have learned on my own: 'Especially a beginning that you make by yourself. That’s the hardest beginning of all.'"

Those are the opening few paragraphs from Chaim Potok’s book In the Beginning. I have read those words for myself at the beginning of every single school year for the past thirty-three years and have almost as often shared them with my students. I read them—and sometimes share them—because they acknowledge the feelings that most of us go through at the beginning of something important, and because they give me some sort of encouragement by telling me that I’m not alone, and that we survive our beginnings.

Beginnings. They are always difficult. Even for those of us who are now adults and have been “doing” beginnings for a long time. No matter how experienced we are in them. No matter how successful our track record is with them. No matter how dedicated and reliable and responsible and organized we are, there is always the potential of failure when we make a new beginning. And if we’re not careful, fear and pessimism and negativity can take over and destroy what could be a wonderful and rewarding experience.

Beginnings. A brand new start. A chance to wipe away the past and build a better future. Beginnings. An opportunity to take the best of what we were and add it to the best of what we are in order to become the best of what we can be. Beginnings. Even before I begin classes each year, I feel a little nervous. I’ve been through so much already just to get to that day. This year, for example, we had a LOT of changes in staff over the summer, including principal, vice principal and our entire way of operating. We had a lot of new students, which was exciting, but it would also mean a lot more work. We had a lot of physical changes to the campus as well. I was exhausted before we even began. Maybe even a little bit scared because we were stepping off the usual plan for doing things and trying something entirely different. I know for our students, there were many changes and even those who had been coming to school here for three years found themselves out of their comfort zone. For some it was tempting to give up, curl up, close up, shut up…maybe even fold up. Believe me. I know. I saw it in their eyes, read it in their journals. It was tough.

But there is one thing I know. Each beginning, above all others, has the potential to be the start of something great. I saw it at the beginning of this school year. And I feel it again at the beginning of this new year. We were at the beginning of something that can change the lives of each of us here on earth. I can’t pretend to know just where each of you is in your thinking about this year, but I know Someone who does know. Someone who knows more about difficult beginnings than any single one of us—or all us put together. Someone who can get us through this beginning. Someone who knows the truth of of Potok’s opening line: All beginnings are hard. Listen:

"When God began creating the heavens and the earth, the earth was a shapeless, chaotic mass. It took Him awhile to get that mass organized and beautified. But He did it. And He was pleased.

"Then He did something even harder. He made human beings and set them loose on the earth. I can imagine nothing harder than that, because He knew exactly what we were going to do. He knew that we were going to destroy His world, His animals, His people—His Son. He knew, yet He went ahead and made us anyway."

In the beginning, God—

Have you ever wondered why? I have. Countless times. Especially now that I am older. That beginning—creating this world—sometimes seems so senseless to me. Why would God do something He knew beforehand was destined for failure? It doesn’t seem to me that this God—my God—had been in control of that decision. When I was younger and thought about this, I didn’t find much comfort—and I worried, some, for my own future—until I discovered a text I’ve come to cherish in Jeremiah 29:11. It says there, in God’s voice, “For I know the plans I have for you…plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” And reading that, I realized that my future was in safe hands—as long as I put it there in the beginning and let God work out His plan for me.

All beginnings are hard. But the beauty of this beginning is that God not only made us, He stayed on with us. He did not set the world in motion, then step back and watch it self-destruct. And He did not put Edgewood and GBA together just to watch us fall apart. He was, and is, right there—right here—with us. Through all that we do—our hurts and our joys. Our beginnings, middles, and endings. He has a plan for us. For each of us. I truly believe that.

There’s a wonderful passage in M.L. Haskins’ book, The Desert, that I love. It goes like this: "And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.’ And he replied: ‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.’”

I’d like to recommend this morning that you reach out and put your hand in God’s. We’re on the verge of a beginning that may well be one of our hardest, if not the hardest. There are going to be times when we’ll feel lonely and frightened, disillusioned and helpless. But God—your God—who was there at every other beginning—will be there with us, with each of us, ready to help us up and out—and on. Let Him do what He knows best. Let Him be close to you at this beginning. Trust Him. He knows. Because In the beginning . . . God . . .

Happy New Year 2012! Part II · 365 Project

2012-01-01T18:40:00.000-07:00

Happy New Year 2012! by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

This is Boston about 8 seconds into the new year. A rather fuzzy pictures because it's taken of the TV screen. I wanted to preserve the memory and vision of one of my favorite places in the world and that was the berst I could do. It does the trick for me! Wishing you happy memories and many blessings in 2012!

Happy New Year 2012! · 365 Project

2011-12-31T16:52:00.001-07:00

Happy New Year 2012! by Rondi Aastrup · 365 Project

I've decided to try the 365 Project of posting one photo each day of the year 2012 that captures the essence of the day. My friend Christy succeeded in doing it every day of 2011 and she has inspired me to try. Not only will it keep my eyes open for the little details that make up my life, it will get me writing on a daily basis again. Both good things!

This photo was actually taken a couple of days ago when all but one of our family was together up at Second Wind (family cabin) in western Maine. This cabin is the site of many, many family gatherings as well as other groups, large and small. It's a place that brings peace just at the thought, and it's a place that brought us all together again after a year and a half of separation. Last year and this year we were missing one of the brother-in-laws for one reason or another. Last year, Martha photo-shopped the missing person in. She has not had the chance to do that yet, so I will change this picture when she does. Still, I thought it a fitting way to begin this project by reminding me of the thing most important to me: family. This time next year, we will have an additional face to add as there will be a wedding in the spring. So...the group expands...as does the love.

Happy New Year to each and all!

Christmas

2011-12-25T19:37:00.000-07:00

And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a child on earth for me?

And is it true? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
the sweet ad silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No caroling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare--
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.

These are the last three stanzas of John Betjeman's poem "Christmas." I love them. The rhetorical question, "And is it true?" is, of course, true. The Maker of the stars and sea did indeed become a Child on earth for your and me...and lives today...not just in Bread and Wine, but in the hearts of each and all who believe. Nothing that we know or understand can compare with that.

Some Children See Him

2011-12-17T08:53:00.003-07:00

I was listening to one of my James Taylor Christmas albums on my way home from work yesterday. It's a nice collection of songs an carols sung as only JT can sing them. One of the carols is particularly interesting to me...it's reminiscent of the old Sabbath School song: "Jesus loves the little children--all the children of the world: red and yellow, black, and white--all are precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world." The thing about this carol, though, is that it takes all the children of the world and talks about how they see Jesus, kind of reverse from the song:

Some children see Him lily white,
the baby Jesus born this night.
some children see Him lily white,
with tresses soft and fair.

Some children see Him bronzed and brown
The Lord of heav'n to earth come down.
Some children see Him bronzed and brown,
with dark and heavy hair.

Some children see Him almond-eyed,
this Savior whom we kneel beside.
Some children see Him almond-eyed,
with skin of yellow hue.

Some children see Him dark as they
sweet Mary's Son to whom we pray.
some children see him dark as they,
and, ah! they love Him, too!

The children in each different place
will see the baby Jesus' face
like theirs, but bright with heavenly grace,
and filled with holy light.

O lay aside each earthly thing
and with thy heart as offering,
come worship now the infant King.
'Tis love that's born tonight!

Coming from a school where we had more than 50 countries represented between the staff and students, I can understand why some might think that Jesus sees us as we see Him, with His traits the same as ours, whatever they might be. But truth is, He sees beyond our surface traits. In fact, He covers our traits with His, so that in the end, He sees our face like His, sees His righteousness instead of our sinfulness. 'Tis love beyond compare that was born that night. 'Tis the most amazing gift! I'm so glad that He sees us from His perspective instead of ours, aren't you?

I Will Go

2011-12-14T21:51:00.000-07:00

In our staff worship on Monday, our registrar shared a Steve Green song with us that had powerful meaning for her, but also for the rest of us gathered around the table. Every day the principal and I meet to talk and pray together about the day and for our students and staff. It's always nice when others come, but it's not often. This week, the registrar has joined us. The song she brought touched each of our hearts as each of us have left something or someone important to us to come where God has led us. The principal's wife still lives in Texas because she is taking care of her elderly father there. The registrar and her family left a stable situation in northern California and came to a very challenging situation here in Arizona. I left all of my family on the east coast and came here where I knew no one and nothing about what I was getting into. We all three believe God brought us here to Thunderbird, but it has not been easy. The words to the song gave us all hope and courage for the journey:

Give me ears to hear Your Spirit
Give me feet to follow through
Give me hands to touch the hurting
And the faith to follow You.

Give me grace to be a servant
Give me mercy for the lost
Give me passion for your glory
Give me passion for the cross.

And I will go where there are no easy roads
Leave the comforts that I know
I will go and let this journey be my home.
I will go.
I will go.

I'll let go of my ambition
cut the roost that run too deep
I will learn to give away
What I cannot really keep.

Help me see with eyes of faith
Give me strength to run this race.

I will go, Lord, where Your glory is unknown.
I will live for You alone.
I will go because my life is not my own.
I will go.
I will go.
I will go.

~ Steve Green

Pied Beauty

2011-11-24T19:20:00.001-07:00

Glory be to God for dappled things

For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;

For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;

Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;

Landscapesplotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;

And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;

He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

Praise Him.

A Thankful Heart

2011-11-24T12:46:00.001-07:00

Today is Thanksgiving Day. I'm supposed to be on my way to a friend's house for dinner. Well, in every other year of my life save one, I would be on my way to a family member's house for dinner. Instead, I am home with two cats and 3 dozen birds...counting my blessings all the same. I'm in Arizona instead of Massachusetts because I went home in September and October and am going again in December. I'm not a millionaire and you almost need to be if you are going to fly across the country once a month. So, I stayed put in the Valley of the Sun this year. I'm in my own home instead of a friend's because I succumbed at the beginning of the week to a barrage of germs that came forth from my hacking and sneezing students. I was hoping to escape this year, but now I'll have to hope it's just this one time...and that it is short-lived.

So, as I said, it's just me and the cats...and the 3 dozen birds swarming my bird feeders. Nothing exotic, just house finches and sparrows and juncos. Oh, and the doves. Three varieties of doves.... Still, there is much to be thankful for. I don't need any Facebook statuses, text messages, TV commercials, or days off from school to remind me that I have more than my share of things to be grateful for. Tuesday in my last class, one of my students asked me to share with the class one of the most exciting things I've done in my life. She was jut trying to make conversation, and thus avoid having class, but she caught me up short. I really didn't know what to tell her. I couldn't think of anything...not because there's nothing, but because there are so many things...literally. I ended up saying that I've been very lucky, that my life has been very exciting, at least by my definition. She just looked at me, thinking, I'm sure, that I was just trying to avoid her question...which I kind of was...my definition of exciting probably wouldn't match that of a 17 year old girl's.

Still...I come back to being grateful...grateful for all the things that have gone on in my life to make me who I am, imperfect as that being is. I have an amazing family that's full of beautiful, smart, funny, vibrant people spanning several generations and two continents. I have scores of lovely friends spanning decades in age and length of friendship. I have a job I love, I work with people I like and respect. I belong to a church that feeds my spirit and soul. I live in a place that, while not my beloved New England, is at least tolerable most of the time. I can't complain. I am, in fact, most grateful...

Curious Conincidence

2011-11-06T13:16:00.000-07:00

It was rather cool in my bedroom this morning when I woke up: 50 degrees on the "out" side of the window and 70 degrees on the "in" side of it. My cats' noses were literally cold to the touch! I actually had to get out a blanket to take the chill off while I watched CBS This Morning's tribute to Andy Rooney, who passed away Friday night.

As usual, I was multi-tasking while watching TV later and it occurred to me to check the weather where the rest of my family was this morning. What I discovered was rather surprising. Even though we are scattered to four corners of the continent, almost literally, we were mostly all within 9 degrees of each other, and all in the 50s! My parents in Maine were at 53.1; my nephew just outside of Boston was at 53.4; my sister, niece, and brother-in-law in Charlotte, NC were at 58; my other niece in Loma Linda, CA was the coldest at 50; and I was the warmest at 59.

My nephew in TN, however, broke the 50s barrier, coming in at 64. My other sister, along with her husband and in-laws, is in Florence, Italy today. And guess what? The temperature there was 59!!! I thought that was such a curious coincidence. I can't imagine that there will be too many times when we'll all be at roughly the same temperature at the same time.

An Autumn Evening

2011-11-05T21:04:00.003-07:00

Here's a lovely autumn poem by a favorite childhood author, Lucy Maud Montgomery, mostly known for her "Anne of Green Gables" series. I have read her books countless times, even know parts of them by heart. I recently discovered her poetry. Anne would be pleased. (The pictures are autumn in Phoenix, from my back patio this week.)

Dark Hills against a hollow crocus sky
Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below
The dome of sunset long, hushed valleys lie
Cradling the twilight, where the lone winds blow
And wake among the harps of leafless trees
Fantastic runes and mournful melodies.

The chilly purple air is threaded through
With silver from the rising moon afar,
And from a gulf of clear, unfathomed blue
In the southwest glimmers a great gold star
Above the darkening druid glens of fir
Where beckoning boughs and elfin voices stir.

And so I wander through the shadows still,
And look and listen with a rapt delight,
Pausing again and yet again at will
To drink the elusive beauty of the night,
Until my soul is filled, as some deep cup,
That with divine enchantment is brimmed up.

Red Sky at Morning

2011-11-04T21:32:00.001-07:00

"Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailor's warning."

Living in a hot dry state like I now do certainly brings its share of weather adventures. In the year plus that I've lived here, I've experienced a "freak" hail storm that literally poured down tennis ball-sized hail stones, national-news-making dust storms, rapid and dramatic temperature drops, and multiple rainbows in the midst of sun showers.

This morning, when I opened my blinds, the sky was red. So red I had to take a picture. Then I listened to the news and weather. Everything was about the powerful wind and dust storm that was going to take up much of the day--from 11 a.m. until 8 p.m.

Even now, they are talking about thunderstorms and rain. I've not seen or heard the rain/t-storms, but I did see the dust and felt the wind. This is so foreign to me! And interesting.

The pictures show this morning at about 6 a.m. and this evening at about 5:30 p.m. Big difference!

Because it is my Name!

2011-11-03T13:43:00.000-07:00

I'm between classes right now. Actually, I'm done with teaching for the day, but still have 3 more hours before I am finished with work for the day. It's the last day before I get my final class back and will be teaching fulltime again. I've had a student teacher this semester. She's an excellent young teacher and we've had a good experience together. I've kind of enjoyed the relative freedom that comes when you aren't teaching fulltime, but I've missed the students...and I've particularly missed teaching some of my favorite literature. She had complete charge over all my classes for much of the past several weeks and only just started handing them back to me, one each week. Next Monday, I will be back to full time teaching.

Still, it's been a good experience--for both of us I think. She handed over the juniors and seniors in the middle of Arthur Miller's The Crucible, a play I have always enjoyed teaching. We both read and watch the play, and as is always the case with something that's meant to be watched instead of "just" read, their response to the movie has been very positive. I finished with the seniors this morning and thrilled to hear for the second day in the row (the juniors finished yesterday) John Proctor refusing to compromise himself any further by signing his name to a confession that was a lie, just to save his life. You understand why he almost did it. The scene between him and his wife is so sweet, so beautiful really. And you want this couple to have a second chance, for them to experience a profound love they had only just realized. But you also know that they could never enjoy their life knowing it was based on a lie, and knowing that their friends had gone to their death without that lie.

John Proctor (Daniel Day-Lewis acting the part) crumbles up his confession and cries out that he can't do it "Because it is my name! Because I can't have any other on earth!" So powerful, that acknowlegement of what his name--his reputation--means! And even though this means he dies for something he didn't do, at least he's not living for something he didn't do. A fine line, but a clear one all the same. I love working through things like that with students. They always want the happy/easy ending at first. But on second thought, they always come around to what is right, to what has to happen if we are to learn the lesson that was intended.

And so it goes with our own lives. We want the easy way through things, but deep down we know that we need the lessons. We need the consequences. We need to work things through and out if our lives are to mean anything. If our names are to carry any weight--for our present and for our future.

Every, Every Minute

2011-10-18T20:56:00.003-07:00

"Do human beings realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?"
~ Thornton Wilder, Our Town

One of my favorite plays is Thornton Wilder's turn-of-the-century (20th) celebration of the little things of life. My student teacher just started teaching it to my AP English class this week and I am finding myself itching to be doing it myself! First of all, it's set in a place I love. Second of all, it has some profound truths about life in it, making it (in my humble opinion) a valuable piece to bring to the classroom. Since it's still her time to teach, I am having to content myself with enjoying her fine effort to impart wisdom and joy in my place.

Do we realize life while we live it? I dare say most of us don't. Wilder's Stage Manager says "No. Saints and poets. Maybe they do some." What does it take to realize it? Coming to the edge? Nearly falling over it? Why aren't the ordinary things of our life enough? Those are some of the things to ponder as she helps our students navigate this lovely portrait of New England life during the next several days...

Coincidentally, one of my Facebook friends posted this lovely photo of the real-life model for Wilder's fictional Grover's Corners. It's enough to make me appreciate life! And enough to make me miss living in New England in the fall...

The Kindness of Strangers

2011-09-16T21:40:00.001-07:00

Last weekend I was in Massachusetts for my friend's funeral. Everything about those three days was amazing and inspiring. I'll write about that in another post. Today, I want to reflect on the kindness of a stranger that I observed on the second leg of my journey home. In order to be able to afford the trip, I had to settle for a round about trip home with two plane changes and a 9 1/2 hour trip (as opposed to the 5 1/3 hour non-stop trip I usually try to get).

The Boston to Dulles flight went smoothly, but the Dulles to Houston leg was challenging because there was a young mother in front of me with two very young boys who cried and fussed the entire time. Finally a lady sitting behind me went up and asked the man sitting next to the mother to change places with her and she spent the last half of the flight entertaining the older of the two while the mother worked at calming the baby down. I'm sure his ears were bothering him and he had no idea what to do about it.

I thought that lady was an angel. She even helped the mother off the plane and at the baggage claim... Everyone else was blessing her, too, as the plane wasn't as noisy once she sat down and started her magic with the little boy. That was one of the most thoughtful gestures I've seen in a long time.

Relative humidity

2011-09-04T12:44:00.002-07:00

It's a strange place I live in when 95 degrees in the shade seems like "cool" weather, comfortable enough to do vigorous garden work! Of course it's all relative. Because the humidity is also incredibly low, I barely broke a sweat this morning as I scrubbed the algae off my little patio fountain--after chasing away the salamanders that like to hide underneath.

Months of 95+ weather here (in Phoenix), would be disastrous in New England. The 30+ days we've had of 110 degrees and as high as 117 degrees would be impossible to bear there. But here, we have soldiered on through the over-the-top heat. My gardens have suffered. I threw away several withered up plants today that succumbed. I will start over again in a few weeks when the temperatures are down to stay for awhile.

My Story, My Song

2011-09-03T19:42:00.001-07:00

This is my story, this is my song.
Praising my Savior all the day long.
This is my story, this is my song.
Praising my Savior all the day long.

If anyone ever embodied the meaning of this beloved hymn, literally, it was my friend Virginia-Gene Rittenhouse. I say "friend" because she truly was my friend, although many years older than I, and many times more gifted and talented and beloved than I could ever hope to be. We were not equals in sense of the word . . . except in purpose and mission. Her mission, her passion, was to bring God to the world through music. Classical music. It was there, through this medium of music, that we met. It sounded like heaven. It was there, through this ministry of music, that she and thousands met. And it is there, because of her ministry in music, that we will meet again someday. Founder and director of the New England Youth Ensemble, Virginia-Gene was a force to reckon with. A legend. An icon. A difference-maker. A mentor and friend.

Virginia-Gene Shankel Rittenhouse

Tuesday morning, a tsunami wave of enormous proportions swept over the musical world, leaving hundreds of musicians, young and old, bereft of their leader and mentor. As the word got out that Virginia-Gene had passed to her rest, we began to reach out to each other, through Facebook and other means, to comfort and to share. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands, of stories of how she brought kids together to play music and took them around the world to praise God. We could tell stories by the hundreds--stories of the crazy experiences...and yes, miracles...that occurred on tour. Tales of sleepless nights, bus breakdowns, lost passports, border crossings, sunstroke, buckets of granola, apple crisp, 5 concerts in a day, and lives touched. And then there were her stories! She was an amazing story-teller! You've not heard stories until you've heard her tell one...

The Ensemble in 1975.

I am struggling to find the words to express the difference she made. I don't think it's possible. You can read about her here, but unless you spent time with her, unless you saw her at her highest as well as her lowest, you can't begin to understand what it meant to have her in your life, however briefly. She made her mark the first time you met her. And if you were lucky enough to tour with her, even once, never mind over and over, your life was never the same. And you were part of the Ensemble family forever. That in itself is a gift. We are coming together again this week, through Facebook, and over the next several weeks at various Life Celebrations. We will be sharing our memories, sharing our loss and our appreciation for the gift she gave each of us. This world will not be the same without her, but we have the hope and promise of seeing her again in the world made new. That blessed assurance was hers. That, above all, was her story and her song. And it is ours in no small measure because of her.

Richly Blessed

2011-07-23T10:08:00.001-07:00

This time last year, I was unemployed and planning to spend the next year on Sabbatical from teaching. I thought I would be writing, traveling, and otherwise enjoying life. Independent. Answering to no one (at least not a boss) and nothing. I was looking forward to it. Who wouldn't? But an out-of-the-blue phone call from a principal at a boarding school in Arizona changed everything. A week later, I was on a plane bound for Phoenix. Less than 24 hours later, even before I had arrived back in Boston, the job was mine. If I wanted it. A week later, I was packed and on my way back to Arizona for what ended up being an extremely interesting and rewarding school year teaching English in what almost seemed like a foreign country to me, so different was it from anything else I'd known--both culturally and professionally.

Among the many things that could stand out about that story, two things rise above them all. The first is the way I felt when I was listening to the principal talk about the job during that first phone call. My heart leapt up, literally. It was shocking to me to realize that, to physically feel what it meant to even think about teaching again. I hadn't considered how much it meant to me because I had been so busy making it OK not to be teaching for awhile. The second is the way I felt retelling the above story this week to a new staff member. I could feel myself smiling all over. I was so happy, through and through, to be teaching! What a blessing to be doing something with your life and know it's the right thing, the thing you were meant to do!

This sumer, I've been reading a couple of historical novels set during the Civil War. This was not by design, but mere happenstance. Perhaps. The first was an amazing book about a young midwife who wanted to become a surgeon so much that she went to Washington to serve as a nurse in order to get experience working with doctors. this was during a time when women were not considered fit for medical school, never mind medical practice. Long story short, she reached her goal, but not before she experienced the horrors and terrors of a most brutal war. Robin 's My Name is Mary Sutton is a must-read. It was absolutely impossible to put the book down. The writing was so distinct and clear that I often felt that I was Marry Sutton. I lived and breathed her experiences. Powerful stuff!

The second was the latest in a favorite series of mine devoted to women quilters: The Union Quilters from Jennifer Chiaverini's Elm Creek Quilters series. I have loved her books from the first, so I was looking forward to reading this one, especially as I had just finished reading about one woman's role in the Civil War. I hate saying it, but coming off Robin's fabulous book, Jennifer's paled in comparison. At first. I struggled through the first few chapters, forcing myself to read on because I knew from past experience with this author that her stories were compelling and worth pursuing. Happily, my perseverance has been rewarded. I am about two thirds of the way done and am enjoying the read, as I had expected to do from the beginning.

Both books have presented a perspective that we don't often read about when studying the Civil War: that of the women. In the case of Mary Sutton, she put herself in the thick of things. I have read Louisa May Alcott's account of her time, however brief, as a nurse in Washington and it parallels what I read here. Conditions were deplorable for all, the medical staff as well as the patients. Medical practices were primitive. Conditions were anything but sterile. Amputations were myriad. Deaths were legion. It's a wonder anyone got out alive! And yet the doctors and nurses stayed on, doing ther best in untenable situations.

In the case of the Union quilters, they were relatively safe in the mountains of Pennsylvania. But their loved ones--fathers, brothers, husbands, lovers00were off fighting in those appalling conditions, and it was the women's "job" to find ways to send comfort, courage, and strength to their soldiers in whatever way they could. They raised money, made quilts, sent provisions, wrote letters, and lived holding their breaths in hopes that their soldiers would come back to them alive and in one piece.

These two books forced me to take a look at my own life--at the things that I want, the things that I think I need. Put next to those who just want their next breath, who need something as small as a whispered word of encouragement, I for nothing and have need of even less. Put next to what I thought I wanted a year ago, what I have now is infinitely more, quite unexpectedly so. As my mother told me so long ago, "When you put your destiny in God's hands, there are no regrets." I sometimes forget where I have placed myself: in His hands. I try to take charge of my own life, follow my own plans, often without thinking things all the way through. Thankfully, God doesn't forget. He has had me in His thoughts and plans the whole time. When those plans are finally revealed, I am chagrined to think I thought I had something better. . .

Prayer found on dead body of Confederate soldier:

"I asked God for strength that I might achieve. I was made weak that I might learn humbly to obey. I asked for health that I might do greater things. I was given infirmity that I might do better things. I asked for riches that I might be happy. I was given poverty that I might be wise. I asked for power that I might have the praise of men. I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God. I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. I was given life that I might enjoy all things. I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I hoped for. Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered. I am, among all men, most richly blessed."

Indeed, so am I.

Houses and Gardens II

2011-06-09T20:56:00.000-07:00

While I enjoyed visiting the two beautiful homes with their lovely gardens this week, I had the privilege of actually staying in two other beautiful homes with lovely gardens. One belongs to my sister in Massachusetts and the other to my mother in Maine. They don't have the resources the other two gardeners have, but I think their handiwork rivals any I saw in public.

I have long envied both my sister and mother their flowers, but until the past 10 months I never lived anywhere that I could have my own garden. Now that I do, I am trying to figure out how to bring the color of these two gardens to my small desert gardens in AZ. When I get back home later this summer, I will work on that...being inspired as I have been this past week.

Houses and Gardens

2011-06-08T05:33:00.000-07:00

I'm back in MA/ME for 5 weeks and am quite happy to be here. Today, my sister and I visited two public homes and gardens for the sheer enjoyment of the sight and smell. In the morning (fairly early), we went to the Glen Magna Farm in Danvers, MA to walk through the gardens. The place smelled amazing, and was so peaceful with the dew still on the flowers. There was just one small act of violation: a female snapping turtle was tearing up one side of the gardens presumably looking for a place to lay her eggs. We steered clear of her!

In the afternoon, we joined an open house/tour of the Willowdale Estate in the Bradley Palmer State Park in Topsfield, MA. Mr. Palmer founded the company that eventually became Gillette and was very well to do, to put it mildly. This estate was his "country cottage" that he left to the state of MA when he died. His instructions were that it was to be maintained for the enjoyment of all, free of charge. Built in 1901, it comes out of the "craft" era of design and is quite charming with its field stone facade and open-beamed ceilings. The gardens' designer took us through the gardens which consisted of mostly native, non-invasive butterfly-and-bee-attracting plants. Yet another sweet-smelling visual feast!

The Best We Can

2011-05-31T22:01:00.003-07:00

"We do the best we can. That's all there is." I've been getting through year-end projects and tests with a little help from Netflix. Working the rubrics and numbers while mostly listening (as opposed to watching) to Raising the Bar, a short-lived series about a group of friends who work either in the public defender's office or the D.A.'s office in New York City. I remember watching one or two episodes when it aired on TNT originally (2008), but I never got into the swing of it, mostly because I was too busy trying to juggle both administrative and teaching responsibilities. That's no life. I see that now in retrospect...

Anyway, the show got me through what can otherwise be very tedious work, entering numbers, checking them two and three times to make sure it all adds up (even though I use an electronic gradebook). Tonight's line that hit the mark sits at the top of this piece: We do the best we can. That's all there is. What hits home about this is the reality of working with people. You do the best you can. Sometimes that doesn't feel like enough, but if it's your best, it's all you can do. And if you're going to have any peace of mind, you have to find a way to live with that without beating yourself up about it.

The lawyers in this show struggle with that. They struggle with doing the right thing for justice' sake or mercy's sake. They struggle to feel good about themselves when they aren't always sure they're doing the right thing. They follow the law, they do their best. But is it right? That happens in teaching, too. You have young people's lives, their futures, in your hands. You do your best. But what if that's not enough? You weigh justice and mercy. You make a choice. You gamble on the future. Their future. Sometimes it pays off. Sometimes you pay. Or worse, they do.

If you do the best you can, that has to be enough. That is all there is. Right?

Be True! Be True! Be True!

2011-05-24T17:16:00.005-07:00

I've had Nathaniel Hawthorne on my mind the past 24 hours. Partly because I'm thinking about next school year (already) when I'll be teaching me all-time favorite course: American Literature. He is not only in my lesson plans (The Scarlet Letter, Dr. Heidegger's Experiment, The Birthmark, The Minister's Black Veil, & Rappaccini's Daughter) but also on my summer reading list (The House of the Seven Gables). I happen to think he has a lot to say to contemporary young Christians who are in the midst of their great search for identity and purpose, so we read a fair amount of his works (relatively speaking) whenever I teach American Literature. So I've been thinking about Hawthorne as I'm planning for next year.

But I've been

thinking about him and his stated moral of The Scarlet Letter for another, harder reason ever since Friday afternoon when I discovered my online gradebook had been tampered with. It's a long story that isn't necessary here except to say Hawthorne's "Be true! Be true! Be true!" kept flashing through my mind. I wished that the young people involved had been true, that they hadn't compromised their names and reputations. That they had proven trustworthy and honest. Instead, the consequences of their actions will be drastic, and far-reaching. It makes me sad..

Photos: Nathaniel Hawthorne (c/o Wikipedia) and The Wayside, Hawthorne's home in Concord, MA (from a visit last summer).

Happy Mother's Day!

2011-05-08T10:37:00.004-07:00

Sonnets are full of love
Christina Rossetti (1881)

Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome
Has many sonnets: so here now shall be
One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me
To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home,
To my first Love, my Mother, on whose knee
I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;
Whose service is my special dignity,
And she my loadstar while I go and come
And so because you love me, and because
I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath
Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:
In you not fourscore years can dim the flame
Of love, whose blessed glow transcends the laws
Of time and change and mortal life and death.

It's All Right

2011-05-01T11:39:00.005-07:00

"The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven—All's right with the world!"- Robert Browning, The Year's at the Spring

I've had two new birds at my feeders this past week (that I know of). It was April home leave--the last one of the year (amazing), so I was home during the day when I otherwise wouldn't be. two days in a row, then, there were new birds. They weren't exotic birds, just a brown-headed cowbird and a pair of white-winged doves. But they were new nonetheless, and have been regulars throughout the weekend. All too soon, though, I'll have to shut down my little backyard bird-feeding station while I return to New England for a chunk of the summer. I'm sure they'll manage without me, though =)

Yesterday, I went to a friend's house for lunch and ended up staying until late in the evening. She lives way out in the desert, so it was all new to me. The cactus are in full bloom right now, as are many of the trees, so the normally drab desert is rather colorful. We spent a good share of the afternoon out on the porch soaking up the beauty of the flowers and the birds that enjoy her backyard. She even had a cardinal, something I haven't seen for almost a year now!

Nothing Else Matters

2011-04-25T21:19:00.005-07:00

I heard a sermon this weekend that rocked my thoughts. Being Easter weekend, you might imagine the sermon had something to do with the plan of salvation, Christ's death and resurrection. Of course you'd be right. Among the many standout things Randy Roberts, the speaker, shared were some of his favorite quotes about the importance of this plan of salvation. One of them has stuck in my mind and rolled around consciously and subconsciously ever since. Grant it, it's not been that long, but long enough to make a fairly deep impact. It goes something like this:

If the plan of salvation isn't real, then nothing else matters. If it is real, then nothing else matters.

Thinking about this over the weekend, I have been overwhelmed by the amazing love and sacrifice of this gift of salvation. I went to a church I'd never gone to before because one of my students was being baptized. At the end of the service, which was a blessing all by itself, I had the privilege and joy of singing Gilbert Martin's arrangement of "When I Survey the Wondrous" cross. the choir director just called people out from the congregation to sing this beautiful hymn and I all but ran up to sing with them. It was the most glorious way to end the day.

When I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of Glory died;

My richest gain I count but loss,

And pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,

Save in the death of Christ, my God;

All the vain things that charm me most,

I sacrifice them to His blood.

See from His head, His hands, His feet,

Sorrow and love flow mingled down.

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet

Or thorns compose so rich a crown.

Were the whole realm of nature mine

That were a present far too small;

Love so amazing, so divine,

Demands my soul, my life, my all.

Linger Awhile

2011-04-17T10:10:00.008-07:00

The birds at my back patio feeders are greedy and messy. And their messiness has brought a family of mice to reside there as well. The mice are growing as fat as the birds. Fortunately the seeds keep them content away from my house. Still, in spite of these side effects, I am enjoying the bird activity on the other side of the living room glass. I am starting to recognize specific birds, not just species. Goldfinch and other little yellow birds have appeared in the past two weeks. They chow down on the seed as if it were their last meal, singing in between dips into the seed.

The Mourning Doves are bullies, chasing each other and the smaller Inca Doves. The finches (both house and gold) are cheerful and agile. The Abert's Towhee is loud; so is the Gila woodpecker. The Mockingbirds are acrobats, often doing the splits between one feeder and the next. Other little birds come and go making for a hopping little bird's paradise. I've definitely enjoyed lingering awhile as I watch their comings and goings.

from I STOOD TIPTOE

by John Keats

Linger awhile upon some bending planks
That lean against a streamlet's rushy banks,
And watch intently Nature's gentle doings:
They will be found softer than ring-dove's cooings. (61-64)

Sometimes goldfinches one by one will drop
From low hung branches; little space they stop;
But sip, and twitter, and their feathers sleek;
Then off at once, as in a wanton freak:
Or perhaps, to show their black, and golden wings,
Pausing upon their yellow flutterings. (87-92)

Architectural Delight

2011-03-29T19:24:00.006-07:00

Twice during this month I've spent time exploring the grounds and residence at Frank Lloyd Wright's Taliesin West located about 10 minutes from my new home in Arizona. Until my first visit with my sister at the beginning of the month, I had no idea that one of the buildings connected with my work place was designed by the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, but it made sense once I learned that. Wright's "bring the outside in" designs that made him famous was so obvious I dont know why I didn't think of it sooner,what with the fish pond and water fall that is the focal point of the building's lobby.

My first visit, we just wandered the grounds enjoying the desert beauty that was so close to the heart of designer who lived here 6

months of the year during the latter part of his life. The house and design studio

seem to organically rise out of the desert floor like a ship that has run aground.

I took the 90 minute tour last week and was completely fascinated by the life of this man who was clearly a genius, but one of a somewhat dubious personal philosophy and practice. The tour guide was knowledgable and personable, one who wore no rose-colored glasses when it came to the personality he presented to us. I appreciated and enjoyed the tour immensely, enough to know I'm going to need to come back and explore further.

Meanwhile, I'm reading T.C. Boyle's The Women which chronicle's Wright's life from the perspective of the women in his life (4 wives and a couple of mistresses). The writing in this book is particularly beautiful making it a joy to read for that reason alone. The stories of these women are also compelling...and sad in the long run. Wright was charismatic enough to attract these (and others) women, but didn't seem to know how to take care of a relationship for any length of time. But the writing...it's as beautiful as F. Scott Fitzgerald or Alan Paton or Willa Cather. Just. Plain. Amazing.

A Prayer in Spring

2011-03-22T08:41:00.005-07:00

Robert Frost (1915)

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,

Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,

The which it is reserved for God above

To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.

Photos taken two weeks ago in the Desert Botanical Garden in Phoenix, AZ

Classroom Graffiti

2011-03-01T20:48:00.003-07:00

There's a strange phenomenon occurring in my classroom. Kids are writing on the desks. Now this fact isn't the strange part. Kids write on desks all the time. But they usually don't write the kind of thing I found on several desks last week. I was so surprised, I left it there for a few days! See if you don't find this graffiti as interesting as I did:

A Psalm of Life

2011-02-27T12:15:00.004-07:00

It's Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's birthday today. Perhaps best known for his story-poems about American history, Longfellow was once a household name, known as one of the Fireside Poets (people used to read his poems by the fireside) as well as one of the Schoolroom Poets (his picture was hung in every schoolroom and school children memorized his poetry). Oliver Wendell Holmes, James Russell Lowell, and John Greenleaf Whittier fall into those categories as well. I think I first read this poem in one of the Little House books when Carrie recited it for one of the famous School Exhibitions. I especially love the message of the last verse and have my American Lit. students memorize it each year.

Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, - act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sand of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solenm main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Twittering about Twitterers (the bird kind)

2011-01-22T16:31:00.011-07:00

4:15 p.m. I'm sitting out on my patio trying to be as still as possible, hoping the birds will think I'm just a bumpy part of the wall and come back so I can get better closeups of them. I've been taking pictures from the inside, through the sliding glass door, which is fine, but I want better, closer pictures. But do you think they will cooperate? Of course not! Why would they do that?! I am looking straight at a male broad-tailed hummingbird who is looking at me...from the tip top of a tree...at a safe distance. I can see and hear other birds who are even closer, all of whom are pointedly ignoring the inviting enclosure that is my patio. From experience, I know that they will swarm the deck, so to speak, the minute I give up and go to the other side of the glass. But I'm determined to wait them out. I have nowhere else to go right now. And nothing better to do.

4:20 p.m. The hummingbird has been resting in that tree for quite awhile. Long enough for two others to join him. Oops. Now he's moved to a closer tree. Now a closer branch. Now back tothe top of the second tree. Wonder what he's thinking? He looks right, then left. Then straight ahead as if checking to see if I'm moving. Nope. Not going anywhere.

4:25 p.m. My cats are moving from door to glass window, wanting their piece of the sunshine. It'd be all over if they were to come outside, so of course I ignore their pleadings.

4:30 p.m. Now he's back to the farther taller tree, this time with his back to me. Now he's looking over his shoulder...and I can see the red puffing out under his chin. Now he's turned around and is facing my direction again. Looking right, then left, now giving me his profile. Will he? Won't he? Which way is he going to turn next? Whose patio is he going to grace with his presence?

4:35 p.m. A couple walks by and spots him in the treetop. He flashes his red at them and then takes off...out of sight. Maybe for the feeder he's been eyeing in that direction. Well, he'll be back. Yup. There he is! Wow! That was quick!

4:40 p.m. Meanwhile, the other birds are still snoozing, almost motionless, in the trees. Oops! He's off again. This time back to the other tree to visit with two friends. They wake up long enough to give him a glance but then ignore him again. He sits, waits. Waits for what?

4:45 p.m. Dogs bark in the distance, birds continue to chatter nearby. The wind gently ruffles the leaves of my oleander and shakes the limb that wholes the nectar that is waiting for this little fellow.

4:50 p.m. Last week, when I did not have my feeder out yet, he kept buzzing my ear and hanging right in my face as if to say WHERE is my food? So I went and got the feeder I'd put away until cooler weather came (to discourage the bees). Barely had I brought it out than he was buzzing my head, eager for the food.

4:55 p.m. Hmm. Now I'm wondering if there aren't two. The one I've been watching just dove down and buzzed right through my patio...to my neighbor's feeder. No sooner had left, when there was another back in the tree. Now that one just flew through my patio to the neighbor...and flew right back to the tree! Maybe there's only one. I really can't tell. But I didn't see it fly back that first time. It was just in the tree again. Wonder why he keeps passing my feeder by for hers? Perhaps I should freshen the nectar.

5:00 p.m. In any event...I could watch this play out all day...but that would also mean that the birds stay away all day...Oh! Here's a chatty house finch and an inca dove. Maybe more will start to come back...

5:10 p.m. 10 minutes later (after shooting (with my camera) dozens of finches)...yes, there ARE two! I just saw them fly by together. Cool!

5:20 p.m. And now there is new nectar and a different feeder out, this time one with yellow on it to attract his attention. We'll see now what happens. Yes, there he is back up in the tree, surveying the lay of the land...come on little guy! Come on!

Too Short - Too Long - Long Enough

2011-01-17T20:36:00.006-07:00

I had the day off from school. Unusual in a boarding school setting. I was grateful for the day, but I am also grateful for the reason for the day. This holiday doesn't just celebrate the life of a powerful Civil Rights activists, it reminds us the importance of treating every human being with dignity and respect, and of supporting and protecting their rights as carefully and passionately as I do my own. Here's a poem about Martin Luther King, Jr. that I like to share with my students either the Friday before or the Tuesday after we have this day off:

Thirty-Nine Years - Too Short - Too Long - Long Enough
By Willa Perrier
from: A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul
(c) 1995 by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen

From 1929 to 1968 is only 39 short years.
Too short to gather the fruits of your labor
Too short to comfort your parents when your brother drowns
Too short to comfort your father when mother dies
Too short to see your children finish school
Too short to ever enjoy grandchildren
Too short to know retirement

Thirty-nine years is just too short.

From 1929 to 1968 is only 39 short years, yet it's
Too long to be crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination, it's
Too long to stand in the quicksand of racial injustices, it's
Too long to receive threatening phone calls, often at the rate of forty per day, it's
Too long to live under the sweltering heat of continuous pressure, it's Too long, 39 years is just too long.

From 1929 to 1968 is only 39 short years, yet it's
Long enough.
It's long enough to journey all the way to India to learn under a great teacher how to walk through angry crowds and keep cool.
It's long enough to be chased by police dogs and lashed by the rushing waters from the fireman's hoses because you are dramatizing the fact that justice has a way of eluding me and my brother.
It's long enough to spend many days in jail while protesting the plight of others.
It's long enough to have a bomb thrown into your home.
It's long enough to teach angry violent men to be still while you pray for the bombers.
It's long enough.
It's long enough to lead many men to Christianity.
It's long enough to know it's better to go to war for justice than to live in peace with injustices.
It's long enough to know that more appalling than bigotry
and hatred are those who sit still
and watch injustices each day in silence.
It's long enough to realize that injustices are undiscriminating
and people of all races and creeds experience
its cruel captivity sooner or later.
It's long enough.
It's long enough to know that when one uses civil disobedience
for his civil rights, he does not break the laws of the
Constitution of the United States of America - rather he seeks
to uphold the principles all men are created equal; he seeks
to break down local ordinances that have already broken the
laws of the Constitution of the United States.
It's long enough.
It's long enough to accept invitations to speak to the nation's leaders.

It's long enough to address thousands of people on hundreds of different occasions.
It's long enough to lead 200,000 people to the nation's capital
to dramatize that all of America's people are heirs to the
property of rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
It's long enough to enter college at 15.
It's long enough to finish and earn several degrees.
It's long enough to earn hundreds of awards.
It's long enough to marry and father four children.
It's long enough to become a drum major for peace.
It's long enough to earn a Nobel Peace Prize.
It's long enough to give the $54,000 prize money to the cause of justice.
It's long enough to visit the mountain top.
It's certainly long enough to have a dream.

When we note how much Martin Luther King packed into 39 short years, we know it's long enough for any man who loves his country
and his fellow man so much that life itself has no value -
unless all men can sit at the table of brotherhood as brothers.
Thirty-nine years is long enough - for any man to knowingly
flirt with death each day of his life - because to spare himself
heartaches and sorrow meant two steps backward for his brother
tomorrow.

Martin lived for several centuries, all rolled into 39 short
years. His memory will live forever. How wonderful it would be
if we could all live as well.

Martin, like all others, would have welcomed longevity - yet
when he weighed the facts, he said, "It's not how long a man
lives, but how well he uses the time allotted him."

And so we salute and honor the memory of a man who lived in
the confusion of injustice for all his too short, too long,
long enough 39 years- "For He's Free At Last."

Fanfare for a Fragile Life

2011-01-12T19:11:00.006-07:00

Tonight's Tucson Memorial Service began with Aaron Copland's "Fanfare for the Common Man." A lovely and powerful way to begin a time of reflection, celebration, and encouragement. Written to commemorate America's entrance into World War II, the Fanfare was also Copland's tribute to all who contributed to victory, especially those not in the spotlight.

I was reminded of the role of the "common" person several times tonight throughout the speeches and readings. In between the tears and admiration came the realization, or maybe I should say reminder, that life is fragile. These were common, ordinary folks thrust into an extraordinary situation not of their making or choosing who did not shrink from the service of their country or neighbor.

I was inspired. And humbled. It could have been me. It could have been any of us on any given Sunday.

The Greatest Hazard

2011-01-11T22:43:00.003-07:00

“To love is to risk not being loved in return. To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure, but risk must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.”

One of my freshmen students posted this as his Facebook status this evening. Seemed more profound than what I normally get from him so I Googled it. "Author Unknown." Still, I credit him for realizing something of depth and sharing it with his friends. He got quite a discussion going from it.

Speaking of freshmen. I'm so glad they grow up! Some days that's all that gets me through a class with them. I love them dearly. But they do challenge me...sometimes...

Preface

2010-12-31T17:35:00.003-07:00

We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day. ~Edith Lovejoy Pierce

If, in fact, New Year's Day is chapter one, then tonight is the preface. The space where we gather up our thoughts about what is to come, an opportunity to serve notice regarding my head about the year to come. #1, do not procrastinate. About anything.

Since June I've been working on an integrated teaching unit about New England's Women Writers. It's supposed to be a minimum of 60 pages with no fewer than 8 technology components integrated throughout. It's due today. And I'm not quite done, much to my chagrine. I started off with grandiose plans. I was originally going to have mini units for 15 authors, and had made good progress by mid-July when all of a sudden everything about my life changed and I've not done anything since then until this week. Sigh.

I've been in Maine for the past week. Before that, I was in Massachusetts for a week. It's been so good to be here with family! And even with the blizzard on Sunday-into-Monday, I've enjoyed every minute. Tomorrow I go back, back to the Valley of the Sun, back to work, back to the solitary life for another 5 months (solitary meaning without family, not friends). I go back, though, with renewed determination to do all the things I should be doing on a daily basis rather than sporadically. I know I can do it because I am claiming the assurance that "I can do all things through Christ."

A Christmas Carol

2010-12-26T07:41:00.002-07:00

by G. K. Chesterton

The Christ-child lay on Mary's lap,
His hair was like a light.
(O weary, weary were the world,
But here is all alright.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's breast
His hair was like a star.
(O stern and cunning are the kings,
But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary's heart,
His hair was like a fire.
(O weary, weary is the world,
But here the world's desire.)

The Christ-child stood on Mary's knee,
His hair was like a crown,
And all the flowers looked up at Him,
And all the stars looked down.

A Christmas Hymn

2010-12-24T12:46:00.003-07:00

A stable lamp is lighted

Whose glow shall wake the sky;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
And straw like gold shall shine;
A barn shall harbor heaven,
A stall become a shrine.

This child through David’s city
Shall ride in triumph by;
The palm shall strew its branches,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry,
Though heavy, dull, and dumb,
And lie within the roadway
To pave His kingdom come.

Yet He shall be forsaken,
And yielded up to die;
The sky shall groan and darken,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry
For stony hearts of men:
God’s blood upon the spearhead,
God’s love refused again.

But now, as at the ending,
The low is lifted high;
The stars shall bend their voices,
And every stone shall cry.
And every stone shall cry
In praises of the child
By whose descent among us
The worlds are reconciled.

-- Richard Wilbur

Between Darkness and Light

2010-12-21T15:52:00.003-07:00

This is the perfect Winter Solstice poem!

From The Winter Solstice
by John Matthews

It is within the darkness and the silence
That the magic of Christmas starts;
Somewhere between the glimmer of lights
And the first breathless moment
When children come
Stumbling like new-born angels
Into morning light.

Within the darkness and the silence
We sit, watching wonder
Evolve into form; where we
Enter the ringing silence
In which the first bells of Christmas
Sound the music of the soul;
Where the morning joy begins
With a single carol
To a half-forgotten tune.

It is here, between the darkness
And the light,
That we wait, uncertain,
Seeking the moment
That challenges us to believe
In a freshly minted miracle
Born every Christmas Day.

Western Town

2010-12-20T11:20:00.005-07:00

You know you are in a western town (as opposed to a New England town) when cowboy boots beat out Bean boots. Friday, I decided to explore Old Town Scottsdale while hunting down some Arizona-ish stocking treats.

This was the first touristy thing I've done since I moved to AZ 5 months ago. Having started work the day after I arrived in August, I've not had the time to look around me until Friday. And even then, I didn't have much time to give it. Still, it was enough to enjoy. And I found the stocking treats I'd hoped for. Not a bad couple of hours!

There were many art galleries and jewelry shops with beautiful offerings I could not afford. There were quite a number of sculptures of horses, cowboys, and indians and a couple of real horses as well.

Venders were friendly, and even helpful. One lady gave me a great stocking stuffer idea (which I can't share at the moment since I followed up on it).

I wanted to get some native pottery, but didn't find anything I liked (that I could afford). I didn't get to all the shops, though, so maybe I'll find something when I go back (and I will).

What Sweeter Music Can We Bring

2010-12-10T21:26:00.005-07:00

For journal writing this week, I've had my students writing about and around Christmas. One day I asked them to write about their favorite Christmas carol. Today, I played some Christmas music (Chris Botti's Christmas album) and asked them to write where the music took them. At school, I don't play music with words because I want the students to use their own words and not be influenced by those of others. But at home, and in the car, it's a different story. Nothing says Christmas to me like Christmas music. And nothing says Christmas music to me like John Rutter's Christmas carols (unless it's the Carpenters Christmas albums...).

One of my favorite John Rutter carols is actually a setting of a poem by 17th century English pastor and poet Robert Herrick. His "What Sweeter Music" describes exactly the power and purpose of music to express our love and gratitude for the gift of the Christ child. (I wrote about this carol a couple of years ago, too, and you can go here to read more about the poem and hear a nice setting of it.)

A Christmas Carol, Sung to the King in the Presence at White-Hall

Chorus:
What sweeter music can we bring,
Than a Carol, for to sing
The Birth of this our heavenly King?
Awake the Voice! Awake the String!
Heart, Ear, and Eye, and every thing
Awake! the while the active Finger
Runs division with the Singer.

From the Flourish they came to the Song.

Voice 1:
Dark and dull night, fly hence away,
And give the honor to this Day,
That sees December turn'd to May.

Voice 2:
If we may ask the reason, say:
The why, and wherefore all things here
Seem like the Spring-time fo the year?

Voice 3:
Why does the chilling Winter's morn
Smile, like a field beset with corn?
Or smell, like to a mead new-shorn,
Thus, on the sudden?

Voice 4:
Come and see
The cause, why things thus fragrant be:
'Tis He is born, whose quick'ning Birth
Gives life and luster, public mirth,
To Heaven and the under-Earth.

Chorus:
We see Him come, and know Him ours,
Who, with His Sun-shine, and His Showers,
Turns all the patient ground to flowers.

Voice 1:
The Darling of the World is come,
And fit it is, we find a room
To welcome Him.

Voice 2:
The nobler part
Of all the house here, is the Heart,

Chorus:
Which we will give Him; and bequeath
This Holly and this Ivy Wreath,
To do Him honor; who's our King,
And Lord of all this Revelling.

Robert Herrick (1596-1674)

#29

2010-12-03T20:20:00.006-07:00

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments." If I've heard it once, I've heard it 60 times. Minimum. "My Mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun." "Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.""I think my love as rare" "I scorn to change my state with kings."

I've been hearing kids say quotes all week long. We are in the midst of the Renaissance period in British Lit and I had my 60 students memorize 6 fairly substantial quotes from some of the best poems of the period...including their choice of four Shakespeare sonnets. Alas, none of them chose my personal favorite, Sonnet #29. Most chose the famous Sonnet #116 or the infamous Sonnet #130. Many of the boys claimed they could not, absolutely could not memorize a sonnet. "It's too hard," they'd say. Their mean old teacher was merciless and heartless. As a result, the majority of them can now claim they know a Shakespeare Sonnet by heart. And I know three.

OK so they are right. It is hard. But oh so satisfying =)

When in disgrace with Fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least,
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

"Chick"

2010-12-02T12:34:00.005-07:00

I'm on my lunch break. Normally, I don't take one, as I have so much to do, so much "Ed-line" to keep up with (our school's on-line grade book program). The only time I take "off" for lunch is when I have meetings. Such was the case today. A student senate meeting led by a mature and responsible young lady whose grandfather is an icon in the world of religious/ inspirational art. But that's a story for another day. I only mention it because I came back from the meeting and decided to take the rest of the lunch period for "me" before I went back to grading, recording, posting, and, finally, teaching.

So I'm on my lunch break and I think maybe I'll try to write what's been on my mind since before the break: Robert Bolt's "A Man for all Seasons," the movie I'm showing to my AP 11th

grade English Lit. class. I told them yesterday that this was possibly my all-time favorite movie. Then I thought of all the other movies I love (including one I shared two weeks ago with the sophomores--The Mission) and I amended it to be "one of" my favorites. Regardless of where it ranks on my list (at least in the top 5), it is a favorite. Amazing. Powerful. Inspiring. Memorable. Challenging (as in challenging me to do and be better). And funny.

Yes, funny. You wouldn't expect funny when talking about a 15th-century setting with religious and political...and philosophical...themes criss-crossing through it like a maze. But there are definitely funny spots in it... like Sir Thomas calling his wife Alice "Chick." The first time I heard that, I thought I had miss-heard it. I thought "chick" was more of a "modern" term of endearment. Not one issuing forth from erudite Renaissance mouths!!! But there it was again today, plain as day (and the close-captioning words on the screen). It made me laugh all over again, right along with my students.

What they will discover, however, as we progress through the movie, is that one's conscience, and the keeping of it, is no laughing matter. It is, quite clearly (at least here), a matter of life and death. I asked the students if there was any belief they were willing to give their life for. Most of them "hoped" they'd die for their family or religion. But several of them were unsure. It's a scary thing to deliberately choose death over life for the sake of principle. Maybe they're a little young to be dwelling on such things. I'd like to think that I at least gave them something to think about. Because there will come . . . a day . . .

Stacks

2010-11-27T06:56:00.006-07:00

I've been enjoying a new blog, Good Light Comfortable Chair. I especially enjoyed yesterday's entry, "The Stacks in My Study" about magazines and torn-out magazine articles.

I, too, have had stacks. Stacks of books, stacks of magazines, stacks of articles I've torn out for reading and filing. Yes, filing. I have had great plans to be organized. Someday. Meanwhile, I moved this summer and had to seriously consider what to do about all my stacks. Family members who were helping me move of course thought I should just throw things away. Why would I move stacks of magazines and articles I've not read in years? Just throw them out! Start all over in a stack-free house!!! (Notice they did not say that about the books).

Well, I ended up moving some of the magazines, but all of the torn-out articles. Four months later, they are still in stacks in my new study. Waiting for a rainy day to come along so I can go through them, sort them, and file them for future reading/use. Maybe. Consider, though, that I now live in Phoenix where it rarely rains...

Thankful

2010-11-25T17:14:00.002-07:00

For each new morning with its light,
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food, for love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I went south for Thanksgiving for the first time in my life. Normally this day would find me with 2-3 dozen family members and friends somewhere in Massachusetts, but this summer--within the space of 2-3 weeks--our family somewhat combusted (not in a bad way) and moved to the far corners of the country: I moved to Phoenix for a new teaching job; a niece moved to Loma Linda, CA for medical school; my youngest sister and her husband moved to Charlotte, NC for a new teaching/principal job for him; and a nephew moved to Collegedale, TN for college.

This was a shock for a family that has been within 2 hours of each other for the past 18 years or more and has managed to spend every holiday and every birthday together during that time. While I've been lucky to see everyone at least once between September and this week, we won't be all together until Christmas now. Still, the seven (out of 11 core members) of us have enjoyed this Thanksgiving break together in Charlotte.

I do have much to be thankful for, in spite of the distance that has come so suddenly upon us. And it has been good to contemplate it all over the days.

100 Books

2010-11-21T19:17:00.008-07:00

Have you read more than 6 of these books? The BBC believes most people will have read only 6 of the 100 books listed here. I've read the ones that are bolded. What ones have you read?

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (Which movie version do you like better...Colin Firth's Darcy or Kiera Knightly's Elizabeth?)

2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien

3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte

4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling

5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee

6 The Bible (I'm enjoying The New Century version right now.)

7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell

9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman

10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens

11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott (have read this many times. Also played "Jo" in a faculty production at Cedar Lake.)

12 Tess of the D’Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy (wrote a very long paper on this book for a doctoral class at UNH...60 pages...)

13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller

14 Complete Works of Shakespeare (took a seminar in Shakespeare with Ottilie Stafford. We had to read every play we hadn't already read/seen!)

15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier (loved this book. Lauren, Jerry, Connie and I read it back to back to back to back one summer in Loma Linda)

16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien

17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulk (This was fascinating...you really lived the horrors of war in this book.)

18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger (I read this on a student's recommendation. He thought every English teacher should read it, even if I couldn't teach it.)

19 The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger

20 Middlemarch - George Eliot (I still have a book report I wrote on this in 11th grade. Don't ask me why)

21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell

22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald (beautifully written...)

24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy

25 The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams

27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky (taught this one year for Honors English)

28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck

29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll

30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame

31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens

33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis

34 Emma - Jane Austen

35 Persuasion - Jane Austen (my new favorite Austen book)

36 The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe - CS Lewis

37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini

38 Captain Corelli’s Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres

39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden (this was fascinating)

40 Winnie the Pooh - A.A. Milne

41 Animal Farm - George Orwell

42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown

43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (loved this)

44 A Prayer for Owen Meaney - John Irving

45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins

46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery (I know this almost by heart)

47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy

48 The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood

49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding

50 Atonement - Ian McEwan (amazing movie)

51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel

52 Dune - Frank Herbert

53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons

54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen

55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth

56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon

57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens (I love teaching this as a parable on salvation)

58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley

59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon

60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (a beautiful book...haunting...I was lost in it for days after I finished reading it...read it on the plane to and from Russia)

61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck (this book was edited in the old GBA library...literally words were blacked out!!!)

62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt

64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold

65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas (I've been to the island prison off the coast of Marseilles)

66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac

67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy

68 Bridget Jones’s Diary - Helen Fielding (gotta love the movie)

69 Midnight’s Children - Salman Rushdie

70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville (the unabridged version!)

71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens

72 Dracula - Bram Stoker (this was for the same doctoral class at UNH. I would not have read it otherwise)

73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett (many times...the movie too)

74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson

75 Ulysses - James Joyce

76 The Inferno - Dante

77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome

78 Germinal - Emile Zola

79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray

80 Possession - AS Byatt

81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens (I've enjoyed it best in live theatre)

82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell

83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker

84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro (I loved this. It has one of my all-time favorite quotes at the end where it talks about the remains of the day)

85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert (In French)

86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry

87 Charlotte’s Web - E.B. White

88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom (Tuesdays with Morrie is better...and a favorite to share with seniors)

89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

90 The Faraway Tree Collection - Enid Blyton

91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad

92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery (also in French)

93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks

94 Watership Down - Richard Adams

95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole

96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute

97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas

98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare (my favorite Shakespeare tragedy and the one I teach instead of Macbeth)

99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Roald Dahl

100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo (in French, and three times in the live theatre and also as a movie. The musical is wonderful)

Beaver Moon Antics

2010-11-19T21:24:00.005-07:00

"When I admire the wonder of a sunset or the beauty of the moon, my soul expands in worship of the Creator." ~Mahatma Gandhi

November's full moon is the Beaver Moon, so called by Native Americans because it was the time to set beaver traps before the swamps froze. This is also the time when the beavers are getting ready for winter. It is also called the Frosty Moon. I'm paying attention to the moon tonight because I realized, after a challenging day with one of my classes, that we are nearing the full moon for November. And in my experience the couple of days surrounding a full moon usually bring challenges to the classroom.

Some people laugh about this, but ask any ER worker, any insurance agent, or any experienced classroom teacher and you will hear the same thing from them: people get squirrelly around this time of month. I am always relieved when I see that full (or near full) moon.. There's a reason for the behavior...something outside of the classroom =)

Gandhi would have it something other worldly. And of course I believe that, too. I love what he says, in fact. But somehow I don't think my experience today was of a heavenly nature. Possible what Dickens called "the other direction." Ha!

Mission Minded

2010-11-18T21:05:00.004-07:00

I love how a powerful story can transform even the most reluctant learner. I love when students look forward to coming to class, to talking about what they are learning. It's what teachers long for and only periodically experience. This school year I've had the pleasure of introducing a new group of students to some of my favorite literature and movies. And what I love most about it is not just sharing stories alone, but sharing the meaning and message of the stories. This week, for example, I've been watching/ studying The Mission with my sophomores. Set in 1750s South America, it's more than a historically accurate story. It's a profound story of forgiveness and redemption, beautifully filmed and acted. The sound track alone will move you if nothing else does.

The first time I saw this movie, I was with a small group of students on a retreat. It was the evening of a full day and we were looking forward to relaxing with a good movie. We were unprepared for the effect this movie would have on us. As the story unfolded, we become more an more attentive, more and more focused on the images, almost to the point of being oblivious to anyone else around us. When it ended, we sat there in stunned silence for a full eleven minutes (one of the boys timed it). No one wanted to speak. No one wanted to break the spell. In spite of the discomfort for some (boys), it changed us. As individuals and as a group. We will never be the same for having gone through that experience together.

I don't know if this new class will feel the same way tomorrow when we finish the movie. I hope it makes an impact. But the fact that it happened even once is enough.

Cultivating the Family Garden

2010-11-14T20:52:00.010-07:00

To us, family means putting your arms around each other and being there. ~Barbara Bush

“Your family and your love must be cultivated like a garden. Time, effort, and imagination must be summoned constantly to keep any relationship flourishing and growing.” -Jim Rohn

My sister spent the past three days in town (her husband was here for a medical conference). I took Friday off and enjoyed a spectacular day with her and my nephew who was also here. We gardened, sat by the pool, went shopping, talked a lot and just hung out. Thursday afternoon and Saturday was more of the same. I haven't done anything like that in some time. It was good to relax with family. I love the garden she made for me on the back patio with bouganvillia and a hummingbird bush. The birds do, too! The front patio is more of an herb garden with French and Spanish lavender.

In the evenings, we had fun discovering authentic places to eat --including two visits to a delicious pizza place, Grimaldi's, located in what seemed to us an out-of-the-way corner of Scottsdale. We've been to the Brooklyn version of this place twice (the original one). It's located right under the Brooklyn Bridge and usually has a wait time of more than an hour. Here, we waited about 2 minutes each time. Shows you the population difference between the two cities =)

The Place You Were Called To

2010-11-09T23:01:00.004-07:00

"The place you were called to is where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet. . . . When you experience your deepest gladness, you experience life's abundance, God's abundance." --Randy Roberts, August 21, 2010, Loma Linda University Church

"If you want to experience abundance at work, do what you were made to do. Do it for theOne who made you to do it (Colossians 3:22)."

Randy Roberts is one of my favorite speakers. I've never had the privilege to hear him live, in person. But I've watched him on the internet (live streaming) dozens of times. He is pastor where my niece now worships out in CA where she is in her first year of medical school. She is active in the musical life of the church and I've had the pleasure of seeing/hearing her minister to the congregation twice already in the past two months and will again this weekend (she's the cellist here).

It's a wonderful thing to be able to do what you love and know it is also what you are called to do. Every day when I wake up I say a prayer of gratitude for the opportunity I have to do what I do. I know I am fortunate. Not everyone is happy in what they do for a living. Truth to tell, I haven't always been happy, even though I knew I was doing what I was called to do. So the two don't always go hand in hand. But they are working well together right now. Can't complain about that!

The Lesson(s) Done

2010-11-08T21:13:00.005-07:00

"This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight Into the wordless
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.~Walt Whitman, "The Clear Midnight," Leaves of Grass

I've had this poem saved on my computer for several weeks. Not sure what prompted me to set it aside, but tonight it spoke to me again. "Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done." It's been a long day. Mondays I'm at school for 12+ hours, arriving around 7 and leaving well after 7. I often don't even get out of my room once I go in.

Teaching 6 high school English classes is beyond time consuming. The prep alone is exhausting, never mind the actual teaching. And yet, I love it. Even the classes that challenge me. I greet each day with joy knowing that not only will I be pondering themes I love, but, with any luck, so will my students.

But for now, night, sleep, and the stars.

Photo: campus at dusk

For the Birds

2010-11-07T18:18:00.004-07:00

I am having fun attracting birds to my little patio out back. During August and September, I had a plethora of hummingbirds.

Then all of a sudden bees took over the feeder, keeping the hummingbirds at bay. So I removd the feeder until I can figure out how to keep the bees away.

I put up a finch feeder and have been inundated with cheery little house finches.

But that's not all. I have had a verdin visit, several mocking birds (including a cute chubby one),

a chatty gila woodpecker,

a pair of curve-billed thrashers,

and a dark-eyed junco. My cats are fascinated by all the birds on the other side of the glass =)

Gathering Leaves

2010-11-06T08:47:00.003-07:00

by Robert Frost

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.

I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.

But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.

I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?

Next to nothing for weight;
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,

Next to nothing for color.

Next to nothing for use.
But a crop is a crop,
And who's to say where
The harvest shall stop?

I have become increasingly negligent with this blog. I'm not sure why. I think about it quite a bit. I am constantly looking for things to blog about. I even have the time. I just haven't done it. It's not that I'm not interested in doing it any more. I am. It's just that sometimes I wonder at the weight of what I write. Like Frost's poem here: Next to nothing for weight...next to nothing for use. I want what I write to have some weight, some merit, some use...for myself if no one else. But that's a pretty heavy demand, especially if you're going to write every day. I ask my students to write five times a week in their journals. I give them writing promts 2-3 of those days, but they are supposed to come up with something worth writing down the other 2-3 days. An even heavier demand of reluctant writers I'm realizing.

But...a crop is a crop, according to Frost. And who's to say where the harvest shall stop? Who's to say what's meaningful? What seems lightweight to one, might make all the difference to another. And so...I'm determined to do what I ask my students to do: write at least 5 times a week here. Don't hold me to it. But I will try...

Photo: an impromptu sketch one of my seniors made of me yesterday afternoon.

God Speaks

2010-10-23T10:14:00.003-07:00

This song has been on my mind since sometime yesterday morning. It was written by Mel Rees and was on an LP Record that we used to listen to Friday nights and Sabbaths when I was young. The lyrics are most comforting...

God speaks in the stillness of the night

God speaks in the days so warm and bright.

the flaming sunset paints the sky

And sets the clouds ablaze

God speaks in all these wondrous ways.

God speaks in the mountains and the plans

He speaks in the scent of autumn rains,

In mighty rivers rushing in their haste to reach the sea,

God speaks to you and me.

How can we feel alone with Him so near?

Lift up your heart, He'll see and hear.

When things go wrong and no one seems to care,

Just look around, He's everywhere.

God speaks in the whiteness of the snow,

He speaks and the flowers begin to grow,

His voice is hear in chapel bells

And in the peaceful doves,

God speaks in every heart that loves.

Reading Recommendations--a meme

2010-10-10T08:23:00.004-07:00

This post has been sitting in my drafts since March 2009. I'd forgotten all about it and just now discovered it unfinished and, obviously, unposted. I finished it this morning and am sharing it in the hopes that some of you will do your own version, sharing books you love and recommend. Thanks in advance for the new reading material!

Four Childhood Books I've read (and re-read):

1. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (plus all her other books)
2. My Friend Flicka, Thunderhead, Green Grass of Wyoming by Mary O'Hara
3. All the Anne books by L. M. Montgomery and the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder
4. Winnie the Pooh and House at Pooh Corner by A. A. Milne (plus When We Were Very Young and Now We Are Six...the poetry books)

Four “So-Called Classic” books read and never forgotten:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (and, a new favorite, Persuasion)
A Man for All Seasons by Robert Bolt (play about Thomas More)
Hamlet by William Shakespeare (my favorite Shakespeare to teach)
Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton (an achingly beautiful book, first read in college, another favorite to teach)

Four personal modern “Classic Novels” favorites:

The Chosen by Chaim Potok
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan
Anything by Elie Wiesel; ditto for James Alexander Thom
(These are random picks as I have many favorites)

Four authors I've read again and again:

Chaim Potok
William Shakespeare
Louisa May Alcott
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
Jane Austen
Soooooooooo many more!!!

Four authors or books I'll never read again... ever:

1. Bram Stoker's Dracula
2. Charles Darwin's Origin of the Species

3. Can't think of any others right now...
4. ???

Four books on my To-Be-Read list:

1. Girl in a Blue Dress by Gaynor Arnold (a novel about Charles Dicken's wife)
2. Symphony by Jude Morgan (a novel about the inspiration for Hector Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique)

3. An Altar in the World--A Geography of Faith by Barbara Brown Taylor

4. Wormwood by Susan Wittig Albert (from the China Bayles series)

Four Non-Fiction Books I’d take to a desert island (instead of 2 fiction and 2 non-fiction):

The Bible
Gifts from the Sea by Ann Morrow Lindbergh
Tuesdays With Morrie by Mitch Albom
Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis

Four Book recommendations I have followed (and loved):

1. Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody mystery novels about a 19th century Egyptologist and her eccentric family (a librarian friend got me started reading this amazing series)

2. Stephen King's On Writing (a former student (turned English major) recommended this fantastic book about the craft of writing...I loved it and have used it for my honors composition classes. They, too, love it. And I've never read any of his other books!)

3. Louis L'Amour's westerns, another student recommendation (this time by a reluctant reader)

4. The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith (first in a lovely, lovely series!)

The last lines of one of my favorite books:
It is now some twenty minutes since the man left, but I have remained here on this bench to await the event that has just taken palce--namely, the switching on of the pier lights. As I say, the happiness with which the pleasure-seekers gathering on this pier greeted this small event would tend to vouch for the correctness of my companion's words; for a great many people, the evening is the most enjoyable part of the day. Perhaps, then, there is something to his advice that I should cease looking back so much, that I should adopt a more positive outlook and try to make the best of what remains of my day. After all, what can we ever gain in forever looking back and blaming ourselves if our lives have not turned out quite as we might have wished? The hard reality is, surely, that for the likes of you and I, there is little choice other than to leave our fate, ultimately, in the hands of those great gentlemen at the hub of this world who employ our services. what i the point in worrying oneself too much about what one could or could not have done to control the course one's life took? Surely it is enough that the likes of you and I at least try to make our small contribution cout for something true and worthy. And if some of us are prepared to sacrifice much in life in order to pursue such aspirations, surely that is in itself, whatever the outcome, cause for pride and contentment.

~ from The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro (the third to the last paragraph)

Come, Rest Awhile...

2010-10-09T08:48:00.006-07:00

Come, rest awhile, and let us idly stray
In glimmering valleys, cool and far away.

Come from the greedy mart, the troubled street,
And listen to the music, faint and sweet,

That echoes ever to a listening ear,
Unheard by those who will not pause to hear

The wayward chimes of memory's pensive bells,
Wind-blown o'er misty hills and curtained dells.

One step aside and dewy buds unclose
The sweetness of the violet and the rose;

Song and romance still linger in the green,
Emblossomed ways by you so seldom seen,

And near at hand, would you but see them, lie
All lovely things beloved in days gone by.

You have forgotten what it is to smile
In your too busy life. Come, rest awhile.

~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

I blatantly stole this poem from a blogger friend, Gracious Hospitality. I know she won't mind. It says exactly what I've been feeling for the past two months or so. I have needed to rest awhile for so long, I almost didn't know how to do it once I got the chance. I truly had forgotten what it was to smile. My life was too busy. Busy doing God's work, albeit. But too busy all the same. I had been ignoring the part where Jesus Himself says we need rest. Of course the only true place to find rest is in Him:

"Come unto Me, all ye who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest."

Why is it that it seems wrong to rest sometimes? When you're involved in the Lord's work, it seems as if there is never enough time to do all that needs to be done. There is always one more meeting, one more activity, one more phone call to make. One more, one more. And you feel guilty if you don't do that one more thing. Trouble is, it begins to add up...and take its toll.

I spent 17 years at my last job. 17 years that were exhausting and draining to the point where I felt empty, dead inside and out. Everyone wanted something from me and even though I gave them my all, literally, it was not enough. Couldn't possibly have been enough for all they wanted. Towards the end, I didn't want to answer my phone, open my e-mail, go to church, go anywhere except to my family's homes. I went to work because I had to, and I did my job because it was there, but I knew I was spent. And I knew I had to go.

I didn't know where I was going to go, or what I was going to do, but having spent my entire life serving the Lord, I knew He would give me something else to do. Somewhere fresh and new, something I could do while at the same time be renewed myself. It took a month and a half for something to come along. In the meanwhile, I rested.

I took a workshop, visited a number of literary "hotspots," wrote, spent time with my family, and walked. A lot. I lost 20 pounds, recovered my perspective, and felt happier than I have in years. And then came the new job. In Arizona. Just teaching. Amazing.

God knows. He knows what we need. He knows how and where we can best serve Him. He knows long before it ever happens. And yet He lets us figure it out for ourselves. That, too, is amazing. That He knows, and yet lets it be our choice.

As I write this, I am sitting on my back patio, listening to a church service, surrounded by bird song, interrupted by the frequent hummingbird buzzing in for a refreshing dip into the feeder just feet from the table where I write. Three months ago I could not have foreseen this. I could not have, not even in my wildest dreams, imagined myself in Arizona, back in a boarding school, enjoying every minute of my day. True, I am thousands of miles from most of my family, and that has been very hard, but I feel alive again. I am well-rested every day. And I'm smiling again. Yes, smiling.