Let’s all sing praises for the summer of 2014, shall we?
I absolutely love Whidbey summers. The long, sunny days fill island residents with enthusiasm and energy.
During the first five years of our marriage, my husband and I both worked full time, hauled our golden retriever everywhere because we assumed everyone loved him as much as we did and remodeled our first house — a 1,100-square-foot track home located on a street lined in motor homes and boats.
In Winter I get up at night,
and dress by yellow candle-light.
In Summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
— Robert Louis Stephenson
Do you watch animal videos online? Yeah, me too. I also gain great joy from taking care of a variety of pets on our property.
I’m equally drawn to wildlife and June is particularly fruitful here in the Pacific Northwest. Watching baby birds fledge, “Junior Camper” bunnies hop along the edges of the grass, and marine mammal babies rest along the shoreline pull at my heartstrings.
This time each year, my husband, Matt Klope, a career biologist and trained volunteer for the Central Puget Sound Marine Mammal Stranding Network, gives me the “Share the Shore” talk regarding the unbelievably cute Harbor seal pups.
It’s wedding season and thoughts of my own wedding and marriage preparation, some 33 years ago now, came to mind this week. I vividly recall asking our pastor to forgo extended comments about children. It wasn’t that we didn’t want kids; we were simply not in the “having kids’s mindset.”
We had just graduated from college and our energies focused on building our careers, our marriage and our home. I distinctly recall thinking, “Someday we’ll have kids.”
It’s nearly Mother’s Day and I’m enjoying two streams of thought this year. The first involves the three mothers God gave me and who remain endearing women in my life.
I love a good blog and there are hundreds of thousands to chose from. I have carefully organized bookmark folders on my computer arranged by topics of interest to me. Two clicks and before me I’ll find a beautiful quilt design, amazing photography, a meaningful quote, a gardening idea, a political discussion or a new recipe.
It was a story this week, called “The Breakfast Club,” that has captivated my thoughts. It was written by PAT SKUD and shared with a small group of us who sat around a dining room table in a Devries Road home.
I spent all day Thursday in Seattle, visiting my daughter who teaches third grade at Queen Anne Elementary. Mount Rainier stood watch over the city with stunning strength and beauty, owning the landscape.
On Tuesday the frogs began singing in our pond and a chorus of birds, just returned to our island, began calling out to each others from nearby trees.
I’m still grabbing my jacket on my way out the door, but the bright sun and blue skies all remind me that the season is changing and spring is arriving on Whidbey Island.
A trip to my garden clearly reveals what is needed after months of wind and rain and relative darkness: It’s time to clear out the debris and prepare the soil for planting.
While much of the nation contends with the inconveniences of extreme cold, many of us have been drawn outside this week by the sunshine and mild temperatures. If you are a gardener, no doubt you’ve ventured out to assess your flower beds and garden plots. I’m seeing a mess of spent annuals. I’m also seeing great promise, fueled by last year’s seed catalogues.
I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
During the last few weeks we have taken a look at various things people do to connect with God in personal and sustained ways. I’ve been using Gary Thomas’ book, “Sacred Pathways: Discovering Your Soul’s Path to God,” as a reference and I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this series.
The diversity of people with whom we live — and the ways they naturally interact with God as well as friends and family —explains in great part why we behave the way we do; why we make the choices we make; how we process information and respond to life as it unfolds.
