Veronica Boulden

I finished "How It Went" by Wendell Berry last night. So I was able to read both books of Berry's short stories about Port William before our recent trip to Florida was over.  I was often crying, one time out-right sobbing, sometimes reading portions aloud to Dwayne and talking to him about the text, highlighting many quotes for my common place book.  And I am still thinking about what was said, knowing I'll need to read these books again soon.  Large, deep parts of my soul feel like they have been shifted around.  These are not a books one looks up from to see the world the same as before.  

   This picture reminds me of the Andrew Wyeth painting "Christina's World." I'm going to call it "Adele's World." 

Our visit with Grandma continues... with cookies and ice cream in the evenings, and a visit to Brevard Zoo, one of her favorite places. On the way home, we had dinner at Rib City, which is now one of my favorite places.  Dwayne's cousins came to visit before we left town. Our nephew and his wife live nearby, so they also came to visit. They have a new puppy that we all enjoyed so, so much. 

These two are watching through Star Trek Next Gen together.  It is our duty to bodly pass on culture to the next generation. 

"At such times as these she felt that the great, mute creation was trying to speak to her. This disturbed her, it moved her almost to tears, for it seemed to intimate the nearness of some consolation- forever imminent and unreachable, almost knowable- for everything that was wrong."  -Wendell Berry, A Place in Time

We're visiting Dwayne's mom at her home in Vero Beach. Mom has been in the hospital and rehab since Thanksgiving, so we've come to give Dwayne's sister a break and simply enjoy the time we have with mom. It's in the middle of our homeschool year, and we all have so many responsibilities, but as we order our lives, nothing is more important than being with mom right now.  We take at least one walk on the beach everyday, and the landscape varies constantly, drastically, yet it's always beautiful.  What Grandma wants, she gets. She wanted snickerdoodle, so... The exuberance of nature overwhelms my senses at the beach. I can almost hear the earth singing. The sun warms my face and the cold waves roar and then whisper and break on my toes and the salt spray mingles with the salt tears at the corners of my eyes and a chuckle rises in my belly at the exact same time it rises in Adele's belly, too, and we laugh in unison at the sandpipers feet, at it all, at everyth

  Avril memorized the first portion of The Hobbit from "In a hole in the ground..." until Bilbo shuts the door on Gandalf as quickly as he can without being rude, "because wizards are, after all, are wizards." To go with this recitation, we made a visual from fabric. It now hangs in my hallway as a lovely keepsake. 

Exhilarated at the journey I was on, I ran along the path.  I started out across a dry, empty riverbed to reach the place where the path picked up again on the other side.  As I stepped out, a train flew by and nearly ran me over.  It blared its horn in rage like it was angry that it had missed me.  I was blown back, so I just stood there, shuddering for a moment at how close I'd come to being mown down.  But I recovered remarkably fast.  I was more than eager to keep moving on, filled with joy, excitement, and sheerest delight.   I watched till the train was out of sight, and more cautiously this time, stepped quickly across the riverbed before another train could come.   "Why a train?" I remembering thinking.  I was aware that I was dreaming as I am often am in dreams, but I was also thinking, "Wow! What a dream! I hope this one never ends!"  These pictures and sensations remain with me now clearer than most memories including my marriage ceremony or the birth

In seasons of change, or trial, or grief, a new song always seems to arrive, and just in time.  I consider this marvelous evidence that God is closer than a heartbeat.  Then the song goes on repeat.  The lyrics become the message that I preach to my soul.  And the new song becomes that new song that I sing to the Lord from the midst of the situation I am walking through.  Sometimes, it's not even me that is singing; It's the Holy Spirit singing through me for me.  Taylor Leonhardt seems to have a beautiful melancholy lament for everything, and she is providing the soundtrack for my life right now.  This is one beautiful song about drawing some healthier boundaries, something that resonates with me in this season.

We went for a two-hours-long hike in nearby Huntington State Park. This clump of turkey tails took my breath away. There's every shade of brown, white, and grey with lines of blues, greens, and even pinks.