Moose at the Mall

Two of my colleagues were at a local mall about a mile from my house on Friday.  They were in the parking lot when a strange looking animal went running by them.  Imagine their shock when they realized it was a moose!  They've never seen one in the wild, and, I dare say neither had others.  the poor thing was a long, long way from home, wasn't she?!

This is the proof...I borrowed it from my friend's Facebook page =)

The Iris Have It

The iris are blooming all over campus.  I took some shots Friday morning of the various shades and colors.

I have had a repeat performance today of another Friday a couple of years ago where I injured my eye.  Then, I got straight shampoo in my eye just as I was going off on a weekend writing retreat to Cape Cod.  This time, I somehow got my hairbrush in my eye this morning as I was getting ready for school.  I cried the whole day, literally.  Made for a strange day of teaching, with the students thinking they'd brought me to tears!

I came home early and just closed my eyes and rested them.  It felt good, although I also felt guilty for leaving early when I know it was adding to the burden of others.  Fortunately, I stuck it out until just before school got out, so it wasn't too bad (I hope!).

Meanwhile, my poor neglected blog!  I have had things to blog about...all the lovely birds I've seen in two weekend visits to my parents...the joy of sitting on their back patio and just listening, and watching, and reveling in the colorful birdlife around me:  humming birds, goldfinch, bluebirds, orioles, indigo buntings, purple finches, tree swallows to name a few...  

But school is just sucking the energy out of me right now.  There are just three more weeks left.  Sometimes I think that's too much time, others I think it's not enough...  All I know is that the time will pass quickly, and then I will be able to catch my breath and get back to regular blogging.

For now, some of the birds I've been enjoying...except that blogger won't upload them right now.  I'll have to do that later =(

Wings at my Window

When I was young, I remember reading a book called Wings at my Window about an invalid who befriended birds at her window.  I was fascinated and inspired by the story and from then on have always wanted a bird feeder at my window.  My parents have always had nice feeders around their windows, but not until this winter have I had one.

You've seen my pretty little feeder that is on my office window, and it attracts birds, but unfortunately, the design doesn't let me get good pictures of the birds.  Try as I might, I just can't get good pictures.  Today, though, a new bird proved to be most accommodating.  A male Rose-breasted Grosbeak came to feed for the first time.  He was the total opposite of the cardinals, who have been coming all along, but are very shy of any movement through the glass.  

This guy peered through the feeder at me, and stayed for quite awhile each of the 4 times I saw him throughout the day.  The last time he came, he jumped down on the window sill and peered into my office!  I was so excited!  He was not afraid at all, a delightful rainy day visitor at my window.

Recommended Recent Reads

I've been on the receiving end of two books from author-friends within the past couple of months.  A former student wrote one of them, chronicling her struggle with anorexia.  A blogger friend wrote the other, a collection of short essays about women in the Bible.  Both books were interesting and inspiring, both were about real women's struggles, even though they lived centuries apart.

Tiffany Schroeder Bartell's book, Healing a Hungry Heart, is honest, poignant, and, ultimately inspiring, especially for young women who struggle with the same issues of self-esteem and perfectionism that Tiffany did.  It is also instructive for people like me, someone who is "in" the book as one of her teachers who had no idea what she was going through at the time, although I remember wondering at things I now understand after reading the book.  Tiffany found her way out of the depths her despair and now helps others with similar struggles.

Trudy Morgan-Cole's lovely devotional/inspirational book, Daughters of Grace, is the perfect book to give your mother, your sister, your daughter, your best friend.  But it is also a great book to share with the men in your life.  It's a collection of essays about 26 women in the Bible, their struggles, their triumphs, and how they relate to 21st century Christian women...and men, too.  Beautifully illustrated, the book paints amazing pictures of lives that inspire.  More to the point, Trudy's words paint the pictures clearly and beautifully.

Both these books are good reads--for you and a friend!

West Point travels

I've just returned from a 4-day visit to West Point.  To be honest, it's not a place I ever thought to visit, and I was only there for meetings, but am glad I had the opportunity to see this interesting and beautiful campus.  I learned so much, about the history of the school, but even more about our country.  I had no idea on some of it...

Tuesday afternoon, we took a tour of the campus.  There was so much to see and learn!  From the buildings to the chapels to the sports venues to the "million dollar view," it was all very impressive.

Wednesdsay morning, we spent time at the Jewish Chapel with the rabbi who happens to be a graduate from my father's high school alma mater (Greater New York Academy) and his and my college alma mater (Atlantic Union College) (both of them  Christian schools).  He was a physics major in college, but found his way to serving his country, first in Iraq and now at West Point.  

Rabbi Huerta talked with us (about 35 educators and pastors from all over New England and New York) about the language of The Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes.  The original language, that is.  Aramaic.  He reminded us of the inadequacy of the English language when it comes to shades of meaning.  For example, in English, The Lord's Prayer begins "Our Father."  A formal and rather distant term.  In the original language, it reads "My Daddy."  Such a different connotation!  Such a close and intimate reference!  Starting that prayer off in such a manner totally turns that prayer on its ear, doesn't it?!  His discussion on The Beatitudes was much longer (there are more of them after all), but was equally as astounding.  Maybe even more so.  It had all of us talking about it for hours afterwards.  Reinforced for me the importance of context and original text when you are dealing with translations...

Wednesday afternoon we toured the West Point Museum, the largest military museum in the country.  There were many, many fascinating items on display.  Much to my dismay and frustration, my camera battery went dead, and I forgot to bring my spare with me, so had to make do with my phone camera (which I was at least glad I had).  As a result, I was only able to preserve the impression of some of the amazing things I saw instead of the details.  

Some of the things that still stand out include a bomb like the one that was dropped on Hiroshima, a carved eagle captured from Hitler's holdings during WWII, a drum used in the Revolutionary War, pistols belonging to George Washington, a life mask of Sitting Bull, and more.

Whenever I see such memorabilia, I am filled with awe just being near evidence that amazing people really do live and change the world, one way or the other, literally affecting the way I live now.

Photos:  Cadets and the "million dollar view" of the Hudson River; inside the Cadet Chapel (flags are replicas of flags taken into major battles from the 1700s on); the book (scroll) of Esther on velum in the Jewish Chapel; Rabbi Huerta; life mask of Sitting Bull; giant carved eagle captured from Hitler.

Fog on the Hudson

It was a foggy morning.  I sat in the Hudson Gallery of The Thayer Hotel at West Point (yes, the West Point) this morning trying to listen to the discussion, but all I could do was look out the window, fascinated by the way the trees stood out starkly against the fog.  

I wanted to get out of my seat and go outside and take pictures.  But of course I couldn't.  Instead, I tried to sneak pictures from where I was.  In essence, through a glass darkly.  And yet you get the idea, in spite of lights reflected in the glass.

Later, as the morning wore on and the fog wore off, the opposite bank of the river (the Hudson) began to emerge.  I can imagine this is spectacular in the fall.  Still, for having to spend 4/5ths of my spring break in meetings, there's at least a view to take me away.

Patriot Day Trilogy

Listen my children and you shall hear

of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

on the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;

Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Paul Revere's Ride

By the rude bridge that arched the flood

Here once th'embattled farmers stood.

Their flags to April's breeze unfurled

And fired the shot heard 'round the world.

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, Concord Hymn

If you're a patriotic sports fan living in New England, there is almost nothing better than Patriots Day, a day, celebrated mostly in New England states, that honors the bravery of the colonial soldiers during the battles of Concord and Lexinton on April 18, 1775.  On any givenyear, if you do it right, you can go to the 11 a.m. Red Sox game, catch the end of the Boston Marathon(it's the 113th running today) sometime between 1:30 and 2 (depending on who's pitching), take a leisurely stroll across town, grab something tasty to eat in Quincy Market, and then catch either a Bruins or a Celtics play-off game that evening.

Crazy as it sounds, I actually did that once, a number of years ago now.  Then, it was a Bruins game.  Today, it will be a Celtics game vs. the Bulls if you're so inclined.  Several times, I've done the 1-2, Red Sox and Marathon.  On top of all this, if you're a real early bird, you can witness the re-enactment of the famous battles and then go downtown for the atletic events.  The re-enactment starts before dawn when "Paul" and his friend "Samuel Dawes" ride "sound the alarm to every Middlesex village and farm."  As the sun rises, the British march on the two towns and the patriots rise to the challenge while hundreds, perhaps even thousands, stand along the way to gawk and marvel at the antiquated warfare tactics that set this country on the road to the democracy we now enjoy and flourish in.  And yes, I've done that, too.  More than once

No matter the weather (and it's often cloudy, overcast and/or rainy), there's nothing like this day for community warmth and friendliness.  It's one of my favorite holidays.

Easter Greetings

Lonely (or vain) Turkey

This afternoon as I was about to go out the door from school, I saw what I thought, at first, was a big lump on the ground beside a car in the parking lot.  On closer examination, I realized that it was a turkey...huddled beside the car, looking at his reflection!  

While I watched, he pecked at himself, or gave himself a kiss???  Normally, we see a flock of turkeys, so maybe his was lonely and trying to make friends with the reflected turkey.  

He was so distracted with the mirror-turkey that I was able to get quite close before he got up and strolled away.

Instrument of God's Peace

Last weekend I watched a movie about a man I knew almost nothing about except that he wrote a prayer that has been beautifully set to music that I have played and sung many times.  I love the words, but never knew the story behind them until I saw the movie.  I've even been to the place where the author lived and worked.  It is as picturesque and beautiful a place as you might imagine, nestled in the int rugged mountains of Italy.  But it took watching the story of Giovanni Francesco Bernardonek and simultaneously finding myself in a dark enough place to crave desperately what he wrote about, that I came to understand what Francis of Assisi meant when he wrote this prayer:

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

Where there is injury, pardon;

Where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope;

Where there is darkness, light;

And where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master,

Grant that I may not so much seek 

To be consoled as to console;

To be understood, as to understand;

To be loved, as to love;

For it is in giving that we receive,

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

It was more than 800 years ago that Saint Francis penned those words  No doubt they were very appropriate words for his time.  But I think they are just as important, and necessary, for us today.  Now, more than ever, we need to be understanding, we need to be looking out for each other.  With all the sadness andd stress of the world around us, there has never been a greater need for peace, the peafce of Jesus Christ.  And there has never been a better place or time than right here, right now.

Catching Up

It seems like it's been feast or famine with me on this blog the past three months.  In January, I wrote every day, but in February and March the entries have been few and far between.  It's not like I have nothing to share.  Rather, the time has just not been there to think things out for blogging.  I have also been reading a lot more than usual, and that generally means I write less as a result.

While that was going on, Spring has finally made its way to New England.  All our snow is melted in Massachusetts, but in Maine, at my parents' place in Alfred, they still have a couple of feet of snow in their front yard and almost as much in the back.  It's not very pretty anymore, unfortunately.  I was up there yesterday and captured a funny little chipmunk stuffing his face with bird seed and a Harry Woodpecker flying away just as I snapped the picture.  

Meanwhile, back at the . . . condo, I've also been watching movies.  One was Lawrence of Arabia.   I'm almost embarassed to admit that I have never seen it before.  It was amazing.  I would never have watched it even now, though, except that I read a book recently called Dreamers of the Day where he figures rather prominently.  Until that book, I had no idea that Lawrence was a real person and that the movie was about his real experiences.  The book was beautifully written, by the way.  I highly recommend it.

Saturday Sunbathers

While making the rounds to my favorite North Shore towns, I saw a number of birds.  Not as many as I thought I might, but some interesting poses all the same.  

And even though the pigeons and sea gulls are fairly common, I love their contrasting and irridescent colors...never mind their cool demeanor.  

The pigeons were...well...let's just say they were in a loving mood.  This is the most decent of the pictures I took of them =)  

Rockport Rocks

My trip to the North Shore on Saturday was inspiring and refreshing.  I stopped in a number of towns, each for a different reason.  I shared yesterday how Gloucester seemed to mirror Jane Austen's Lyme for me this time.  My last stop before going back home was Rockport, home to the famous Motif #1, beloved ov artists and photographers alike.  Here's why:

A Very Austen Weekend

I went on a huge Jane Austen kick this week- end, watching no fewer than three different versions of Persuasion and the Emma Thompson version of Sense & Sensibility with Thompson's comments and the second half of the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice as well as Becoming Jane Austen.  

Actually, it started Thursday, while I was home sick for two days, so it wasn't quite as concen- trated as it sounded at first.  Still, it was a lot of Jane Austen =)

On top of all that, I had such cabin fever yesterday, that I took a drive up to the North Shore  (Manchester-by-the-Sea, Magnolia, Gloucester, Rockport) and found myself going right back in time.  

See if you don't agree with  the similarities between Gloucester, MA and Lyme, England (setting for Persuasion).

Small Wire

Just for my poetry-loving friend, Inland Empire Girl, who shared an Anne Sexton poem on her blog, here is my favorite Anne Sexton poem, "Small Wire." When I teach American Literature, I teach this poem in tandem with Jonathan Edwards' "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" sermon. The 17th century Puritan minister and 20th century poet with a Puritan heritage use much the same imagery, to very different effect. Where Edwards describes sinners as loathesome creatures that God holds by a fragile strand over a raging fire, ready to drop us into that fire at any moment that strikes his fancy, Sexton talks about that thin strand being strong enough to connect us to God, big enough for Him to become intimately part of our lives, part of the very fabric of our being. I much prefer Anne's take. Tell me what you think!

Small Wire

My faith
is a great weight
hung on a small wire,
as doth the spider
hang her baby on a thin web,
as doth the vine,
twiggy and wooden,
hold up grapes
like eyeballs,
as many angels
dance on the head of a pin.

God does not need
too much wire to keep Him there,
just a thin vein,
with blood pushing back and forth in it,
and some love.
As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.
So if you have only a thin wire,
God does not mind.
He will enter your hands
as easily as ten cents used to
bring forth a Coke.

A Beautiful Noise

Even though it's not here officially for another two weeks, Spring rather loudly proclaimed its imminent arrival today in two distinct ways.  When I arrived at school this morning my ears were literally assaulted with a cacophony of bird song coming from the woodsy marsh on the far edge of the property.  It was, indeed a beautiful noise.  I've been hearing birds there for the past few weeks, but not the roar it was this morning.  A sure sign of spring =)

My little window bird feeder has continued to see constant activity from a dozen or so birds: the shy cardinal pair, the sparrows (still can't tell what kind for certain), and the several titmice.  They are the boldest and most comfortable.  There are two, in fact, who stop to sing to me before taking their seeds each time.  I still can't get great pictures, but they do put a bright spot in my day each time they come to eat, especially when they sing to me.  Another beautiful noise =)

When I left school this afternoon, the snow had melted enough to reveal . . . the daffodils have pierced the frozen ground and are on their way to blooming!  I was so excited!  Another sure sign of spring!  And while there was no noise involved there on the part of the daffodils, I certainly was making a joyful noise at seeing them =)

In Like a Lion

March sure came in like a lion this weekend!  But typical of New England, it was also on a roller coaster ride, taking us with it.  Friday, we had 60 degree, balmy weather.  All I needed outside was a light jacket.  Saturday was MOTS ("more of the same," in the words of Boston's award-winning legendary meteorologist who just retired on Thursday after 30+ forecasting the weather here).  In fact, it was feeling so much like spring that I indulged and bought 3 bunches of daffodills to brighten up my living room.

All well and good until sometime last evening.  It started with an e-mail from a parent asking if we would have school today.  I looked out the window.  Nothing.  I went on-line to check the weather and saw that Boston Public schools were already cancelled.  Within a couple of ours, our local superintendent had called to tell me we wouldn't have school today either.  So I sent out a flurry of e-mails and Facebook messages (actually, just put it in my status!) and made several phone calls to let everyone know they had the day off.

Then I settled in to see what would happen.  I can't tell you how many times school has been called off when it shouldn't have been, or it wasn't called off and should have been.  You never know when you do things ahead of time.  But when I looked out my window this morning (after sleeping in), I saw that we'd made the right call this time.

After shoveling out, I went to see if I could find some wildlife and ended up at my favorite nearby lake.  I thought I might see some ducks and geese, but there were only sea gulls huddled on the still ice-covered lake.  I'm not sure why the unprotected wind-swept lake is a better place to sleep than the warmer, less windy shore.  Perhaps it's safer is all.

Once again, I was intrigued by the silhouette of the dark leafless trees against the white of the frozen, snow-covered lake.  Contrast, patterns, and texture are interesting to me...