Man-made

A couple days ago a half dozen Chinese scholars and a couple of their children came to share a midday meal with us.  They had no transportation to our remote hillside home so I made five 40-minute trips to gather and later disburse them.  As we drove closer and closer to our home they came to realize the remoteness of our place and how it was "out in nature" [their words].  And it is in so many ways, "out in nature," even though we have made an artifical human footprint among the trees and wildlife.  They were thrilled, as were we, when nine deer chose to pass through the back yard as we were finishing the meal.

Today is defined as the last day of the year, defined by mankind, in a natural world which has no last  or first annual day.  Even our calendar is modern with respect to the life of the earth and solar system; we define this as a mere 2018 years since we started counting.  The structure of our calendar has made several changes in that time including a recent one just some two-hundred years ago.

Other cultures have different calendars.  The Chinese calendar is over 4000 years old, the Arabic and Hebrew calendars are lunar, based on the moon instead of the sun.  Regardless of the source of a calendar, it is mankind's way of quantifying and defining the cycles of nature.

That all feels logical to me, creating a tool to measure the movement of the sun, moon and stars, to record the changes of seasons.  What feels peculiar to me is the excessive celebrating the change of the calendar from one year to another.  We annually celebrate the birth of our bodies when we left our mothers' wombs; that occurred at a specific time and date and we're glad to be able to live through another summer and winter, so we celebrate.  But the first day of the year which was arbitrarily created by mankind, that it totally artificial.  We just love to find reasons to celebrate.  And we connect it to religion, hence the number 2018, and the seven days in a week.

As the story Christmas Carol by Dickens tells of the conversion of a Scrooge from hating Christmas to embracing Christmas, perhaps there should be a story about the conversion of a Denvy from seeing no value in the New Year's celebration to one who appreciates the festive mood at the end of the calendar.  Perhaps that story has never been written because there is no proper definable conversion.

I hope that your next cycle around the sun is peaceful, meaningful, enjoyable, profitable and reasonable, whenever that cycle may start or end.

A Simple Life

During the month of October a half dozen or so persons met and talked about Happiness.  The idea is that God created us to be happy, happy through at relationship with God.  We were invited to challenge ourselves to take some steps to becoming happier.  Among the ideas tossed around was removing oneself from temptations of materialism and strive for a simpler life.

That led to the question "What is a simple life?"  We agreed that everyone probably had a slightly different idea of how to live life simply.  I was motivated to review my own version of a simple life.

In ways I think I have chosen and in part successfully led a simple life.  I find joy in the little bird that hums over a feeder sipping up sugar water.  Through my childhood I only read about and saw pictures of humming birds.  In Alaska never did I see one, even on trips to other parts of the globe.  But when we settled in Oregon, they came to the window and ever since then they come daily.  In recent years for some reason some have even graced our lives through the winter.

In May of 2014 just a month before our 45th anniversary of our wedding, we had a gathering in our yard inviting anyone and everyone who had a birthday that year.  Ninety came.  It was one of the happiest days of my life.  One of the simple but lasting and most enjoyable gifts was a bird feeder.  It was wood with plexiglass walls with a wide overhanging roof.  Now I fill the feeder regularly as the birds, and an occasional chipmunk, empty by eating and spilling seeds.  Many larger birds so appreciate the spillage as they feed off the ground when they don't fit on the feeder.  Chickadees, juncos, jays, starlings feed the doves, quails and turkeys.

I believe that God led us to this home, a place where we labor to keep the weeds down and the flowers blooming.  This home is a blessing with trees that touch the sky while others cool the ground with far-reaching branches.  While the lawn is level and is the labyrinth moved into the native grasses, a hillside rises to one side and drops to the other.  The dry ground nurtures fruit and nut trees and gardens of vegetables and flowers, while an unvisited space is filled with flowing water.  After responding to God's call to reach out to the people of the world, this place energizes and relaxes  our bodies, minds and souls.

God created this place and I have the privilege of sharing it.  I hope that the house and other works of my hands don't overwhelm God's work but facilitates his calling to me.  Now I return to using my hands with simple tools and God's materials to create joy for others.

Homeless Issues Coming This Way

If I have a dream of a quiet week, this was not a successful week.  Ten days ago I was involved in a conversation about helping persons who have no homes or are sleeping no the streets.  After several followup moving forward actions were suggested I recommended that the person in the county who heads up this type of service be informed and I offered to do that.  The resulting meeting included a county commissioner with a brief update on the current situation, some pending plans and dreams, and other possible avenues to explore.  No unique and definite solutions were outlined.

That evening at an event at the college I thanked the university president for his support of DACA students and mentioned the need for housing in Monmouth during cold snaps.  We discussed several uses of the now vacant buildings on campus and he said, "Give me a call."

The next day a gentleman who lives our direction from town stopped by the church and wondered about assistance for a man sleeping in his car along side the road.  A couple days later that homeless man showed up at church while we were serving homeless families a evening meal.  We offered him the meal and I said I'd go with him to the county resource center the next day which I did.  After helping him migrate some of the system I left him in the hands of the county with hopes that he would find some way to move forward.  This morning his car was back alongside the road in his safe spot.

While I was at the resource center one of the staff told me that several ministers may be contacting me about setting up warming shelters for this winter.  I only wondered how all this could happen in less than a week with no preparation or preplanning.  It wasn't and isn't on my bucket list or my to-do list but with the rapidity of the events, this was no coincident; it was guided as if part of a much larger master plan.

Oh, yes, and we are helping a lady move out of her apartment but with no specific place to go.

Where will this stop so I can go back to my bucket list?

A New Day

I'm inside looking out.  We designed the house so that no matter where you were in the house you were always looking out.  It looks like fall, which incidentally literally started about 20 minutes ago.  It's hard to know why it looks like fall, trees are green, the sun is shining, and I can't feel the temperature.  Probably nothing about this moment says fall, maybe it's what's happened in the past several days and what's happening among people.

It's rained for about five days now, a bit over three inches in that time.  The university is buzzing with activity as the first year students are coming to campus for their first taste of higher education.  The church has started its fall schedule and the evening seem cooler and dark earlier.  The sense of fall may be completely internal and not from outside.

It's also time for harvest.  We picked and canned a dozen or so quarts of tomatoes from the garden yesterday.  There may be a few later but for the most part they're done.  We picked the last beans and as well as the last solo cucumber.  A couple nice sized onions were also brought for use of the next several days.  A bowlful of raspberry are a daily routine this past week which aren't enough to preserve but just perfect with ice cream and chocolate syrup or on the top of a bow of cereal.  They go great in a smoothie as well.

I haven't seen as much activity from the humming birds lately.  Perhaps some have found their own homes.  As Gail looked out the window yesterday she said "The young ones always look so cute."  I thought first she was talking about the humming birds but indeed she was referring to the family of tuffed grouse that were tiptoeing through the flower bed in front of the house.  She could have been referring to the flock of turkeys who came through as a few hens this spring and now number about a dozen with the young'uns.

While my view from behind the computer denies me the chance to see the yellow leaves I know that they're out there.  I saw them through another window earlier.  Don't get too excited, it's not fall color time yet, there only were about a handful.

We did start the wood fire stove in the house a couple times during the rainy evenings these last couple days.  The temperature and dampness causes the body to crave the cozy warmth of a wood fire.

Is it really fall?  The forecast calls for another week of warming days starting in the 60's and moving up to the 80's next week.  Fall or not, that will be great.

Fall, an Awesome Time in the Cycle

If I considered the calendar it too would remind me that it's fall.  The temperature, the weather in general, doesn't suggest fall.  There's no rain, typical of an Oregon fall and the temperature is a sunny 90˚F.  Yet, I'm gathering the pole beets and canning them.  A week ago that batch of beans became pickled beans.  The bowl of tomatoes became freshly canned tomato sauce, the cucumbers became "bread and butter chips" while yesterday's gathering were pickled.

Some of the herbs are hanging in the sun, drying and waiting their turn to enter the herb pantry.  The blackberries are coming in cookie sheet at a time to be frozen and bagged.  While the berries find a purpose for humans, the blackberry vines are being cut and putted and placed on the burn pile waiting for the rains when the state will again allow backyard burning.  They should be nice and dry and ready to go up in smoke in another month.

It's been a dry summer; I think we're just days short of three months without rain.  When we were in Eugene a week ago we drove home with the windshield wipers on, well, we drove almost home.  We turned the wipers off about a mile from our house.  When we walked out of a meeting in Monmouth last week, the pavement around the car was damp but again not in our yard.  Some plants are showing the consequences of this summer's climate, some trees are shedding browned leaves, garden plants are turning brown and wilting even though we water them regularly.  I guess that another sign of fall. They simply have completed their cycle.

Amid the browning that comes with fall and no rain, the fall crocus are everywhere and oh so plentiful.  Amazing plants, how they store all their energy in their bulbs and then at the appropriate time, just stick their blossoms out.  No fanfare, no leaves, no stem, no stalk, just a bouquet of blossoms, rain or shine.

We ask ourselves as common folks, scientists think they know, how do plants and animals know when it's fall and they would change their behavior.  It seems to be a part of us humans as well.  When you step out into the darkness, which comes earlier and earlier each day, we can just sense the approaching change of seasons.  Yes, it's cooler, but there's a sensation in the air that we sense.

Animalwise only chickens live with us now.  They are products of past years, only three of them, and a purchase of babies in early April.  Their feeders and water containers allowed me to visit them a couple times a week but now they are laying eggs and I must gather the six or eight they lay each day.  They're still not full size but that will come about in time.  The horses escaped the last padlock a couple days after the eclipse and went home to join their herdmates down the hill.  They were close enough to talk to each other and apparently the conversation led them to escape.

I see no noticeable difference in which birds are eating the bird seed I put out.  The doves, quails and wild turkeys can be seen cleaning up on the ground from the spill over by birds in the feeder.  We got a new and larger humming bird feeder so we don't change that as often but I would wonder if they are feeding on less of our sugar water than earlier.

I'm off to the garden, to gather a cabbage for supper and a few tomatoes to sit on the side.  I will also go and wash my hands again to see if I can reduce the smell of rosemary and thyme.

The Walk from the Barn

As the last light of dusk faded into total darkness I walked from the barn.  It was a slow walk.  The evening was silent and the air a comfortable warmth after a day of uncomfortable heat.  Each step was intentional and small.  As I thoughtfully looked down my step moved from over a ground-height curb delineating the driveway from the lawn.

It's been a dry summer.  We remember no rain in August although the neighboring city recorded a trace.  Also July had no rain.  Somewhere around the middle of June there was some rain but at the time the forecast was for some days with no rain and we engaged the contractor to redo the roof on the house.  That's about two and a half months with no rain, not even a drop to turn the dust on the bench to mud.

My steps fell on brown dry pieces of remenants of grass that grew faster than I could mow it a couple months earlier.  Typically during Oregon summers there's no need to mow lawns unless one waters it.  Without thinking one foot rose and moved in front of the other.  The ankle rolled as the ball of the foot pivoted before rising to move forward.  The heel landed waiting for the rest of the foot to touch the ground before the other would take its turn to move forward.  The silence of the evening allowed one to hear the crunch of the grass.

Deep in the soil critters too small to see did what they were created to do to make the isolated system of this earth continue over the million of years.  Far over my head, pretty much just in front of me the moon shone short of being full.  Far beyond the moon, really far beyond the moon and even the sun, there are stars and beyond them more stars.  As vast as space may be, the world under my feet is small, really small, far beyond our imagination.

What a marvelous system we live in, one where we as humans have the resources and skills to creatively maintain a indefinitely but improving existence of the earth's offerings.  Yet as small as the critters are beneath my feet are, so small are we in the bigger scheme of things we call outer space.  Just as the critters can't imagine our existence we can't fully understand or imagine the existence of other beings in this vast space of orbs of light we call stars and bits of dust we call planets.

Thank God for this beautiful walk in the cool of the evening and for not having to understand the complexity of life around us.

Let Me Get This Straight

There's no global warming but the United States in Texas has just experienced the most costly natural disaster of record and the amount of rainfall in some areas is greater than any other single weather storm in US history.  They say the amount of rainfall is in the trillions of gallons, equivalent to the amount of water that flows over the Niagara Falls in several days.  Niagara Falls dumps about 45 million gallons per second or 3 trillion gallons per day compared to the 13 trillion gallons dumped by Harvey.  Imagine this: all the water hanging out over you in the clouds.  That's a lot of water up there.

Can you even imagine how long eternity or forever is?  You're right, it's nearly impossible but it is a very long time especially compared to our meager lifetime of some 70 odd years.  Yet, we believe that a God who can love more deeply than any of us will damn a person to hell forever for messing up during a lifetime on earth.  Even a human wouldn't impose that punishment on a bad dog.  Perhaps God has a plan to love us into goodness.

Back to global warming.  The forecast for the next seven days in Oregon, the first seven days of September, has high daily temperatures exceeding 90˚F.  By the end of that stretch of warmth, the record for the most days over 90˚ in one year will have been matched or broken.

Life in the foothills of Oregon was been quiet.  Oh, Gail still goes to the clinic most every day and I spent about three days in the hospital with a small intestine obstruction which corrected itself when they relieved the pressure from above and we remodeled the side shed on the garage about the time the total eclipse of the sun occurred.  Otherwise, we're watering plants, pulling weeds, trimming bushes and trees and feeding the domestic and some wild animals.  We're not mowing; there's nothing growing in the lawns of pastures.

The crocus, the fall variety, are blooming.  The blackberries are ripening.  We dug the potatoes, typically with about three to four big potatoes near the top of the soil.  The wild turkeys have eaten the tops off the carrots, again.  We pulled the cucumbers, seven biggies, and harvested four pints of pickled green beans that the deer couldn't reach.  The tomatoes are doing well; we canned ten pints of tomatoes along with pickling the beans.  It is harvest time even if the temperatures are late summer.

With no major projects on the horizon, the days will be filled with little jobs around the yard, making wooden things and doing some catchup cleaning in the barn and garage, and maybe the house.

Did They Know Their Grandparents

I received a phone call yesterday.  It was my sister Ruth.  She'd been going through some papers which prompted a question.  Did our parents know their grandparents?  Did they have the opportunity to sit on their elders' naps and talk and play?  Perhaps this was also prompted by her first grandchild who is less than a year old and who lives a long way away.

Dad was born in 1917 and his grandfather Ernest Saxowsky died in January of 1918.  No, Dad didn't know this grandfather.  However, Ernest's wife, Louise, lived until 1941 just a couple years before Dad married.  Louise lived in Hebron so there were plenty of opportunities for Dad and his grandmother to get to know each other.

Dad's mother's parents, the Birkmaiers, lived into the 30's and 40's.  Christoph died in 1935 and Margaretha in 1942.  They too had moved from the homestead south of Hebron into Hebron during their latter years and so Dad had plenty of opportunity to know them.  Both his parental and maternal grandparents regularly attended the same church that he did, so there were plenty of opportunities to see them regularly.  If customs of sharing the noon meal after church which I observed as a child was a part of their practice during Dad's childhood, they probably often shared meals at either Grandma Louise's house, Grandpa and Grandma Birkmaier's house or on the farm where Dad grew up.

On Mom's side the story is quite different.  First, Mom's grandparents lived on or near their homesteads in southeastern South Dakota and secondly her mother's father died even before Mom's mother, Regina, was married.  Adam Weisz died in 1907 and his wife Margaretha died in 1916, four years before Erna was born in 1920.

Mom's parental grandparents, the Zieglers, did live into her teens.  Wilhelm died in 1934 and Barbara in 1935.  However, they did live in southeastern South Dakota so visiting them was not a frequent event.  I suspect there was some connection and familiarity between Mom and her parental grandparents.

Ruth also mentioned that she thought that she remembered someone saying that each of our four grandparents were the first in each of their families to be born in America.  Unfortunately that is not true but what was probably intended to be said was that in all four cases our grandparents are first generation America, all born in America whereas all their parents were not born in America.  In all cases some siblings were born in America and some were born before their parents immigrated to America.

This bets the question did we know our grandparents or any of our great-grandparents.  The answer is simple: all of our grandparents were alive during our childhood although David was only two years old when grandpa Ziegler died; and all the great-grandparents had died before any of us were born.

A Long Way

Just thinking:

We've come a long way since we had a president who said "Ask not what your country can do for you, but what can you do for your country" to one who we support because regardless of his ethics, his morals, or what he says, he will line our pockets with money.  At least that's our hope and anticipation.  Personally I like the approach from 56 years ago better.

A Day of Spring

Truly it has not been springlike this winter in Oregon.  However, today it's been quite pleasant, no rain, sunshine and temperature worthy of a sweatshirt only.  So it's time to blog about gardening and loving the yard.

I could have broken from the hiatus much earlier; the crocus were blooming-in the snow.  Irises were poking their leaves out, but then they do that the fall before and just sit there through the winter.  The bluebells are thick like a lawn, and mowed off by the deer like a lawn.  Tulips are slowing inching up and for the most part behind temporary fences since deer treat tulips like chocolate cheesecake-delicious.

We did have burn day last week.  The first burn of the spring is always special to reduce the pile of trimmings from throughout the winter.  It's a special annual season, a time to dig in the soil which is wet and soft but the skies are not so wet.  The transition is often surprisingly, going from constantly wet sidewalks to desert-like cracks in the garden.

So Sunday was a sun day and the last for a while as the weatherman posted a series of dark rainy clouds on this weeks forecast.  So back to some of the indoor activities until the next sunny day comes up.

Happy spring (a week early).

How Long is Long Enough

Nine months is long enough for a fetus to develop in preparation for birth.  So science, experience and a mother's attitude will tell you.  College students figure it's about 20-30 minutes that they should wait for an absent professor.  More than an hour for a traditional Christian Sunday morning worship service is pushing the edge of being too long.  One hundred to a hundred and twenty minutes is just about right for the length of a movie.

But how long is long enough to allow a new presidential administration to establish itself before evaluating its performance.  If the actions in the first several days make everyone happy maybe that's enough.  If the actions in the first weeks seem to consistently disturb a large number of people, maybe that enough.  If there are highs and lows, if people have varied opinions, maybe one needs to wait a bit longer, weeks, months, a year?

Today it's been four weeks since inaugural day and the country is gravely divided on the evaluation of these first four weeks and the effectiveness of the government during this time.  Eight years ago an African American nominated and supported by the Democratic Party was elected.  Those who didn't vote for him vowed to disrupt any efforts by him to do anything.  Now the shoe is on the other foot, but again those who didn't vote for the current president have rather consistently blocked most efforts by the present president to govern the country.  Some would even say that he is not governing the country but padding his resumé, bankroll and ego.

While I may be among those who see his efforts as counter to traditional and progressive ideals, I more strongly believe that we must find common ground and work together to advance conditions to help all persons.  Perhaps my frustration comes when I don't see current policies and governance improving the lives of all persons but only some persons.  My frustration is also that that then finding a common goal for the betterment of all persons, we argue about what others are doing wrong and trying to obstruct their efforts.

I have no solution to our dilemma or even a clear understanding of our dilemma just as million of much smarter persons don't have an answer, but I would suggest one place to start.  Work with each to improve life on planet earth by finding a simple common goal and working toward that goal without labels and titles for our philosophies.  I believe that if leaders of traditionally opposed parties would clear define goals to improve life and honestly and intelligently debate the path to those goals we would improve our lives.  We can balance poverty and wealth without taking anything from anyone.  We can accommodate residents, natives and guests around the same table.  We can believe our faith while recognizing those who believe in another faith.

We can continue to maintain a great society.

On the Edge

It's super bowl Sunday; they say it's an unofficial national holiday.  Sometimes I wonder if it's considered more important than Christmas.  Too be a bit extreme, I wonder if comparing a couple teams of big men knocking each other to the ground over or paying thousands of dollars to watch that to a poor man who taught us to love each other, to be non-violent and whose memory and lessons continue to inspire and affect the entire world after 2000 years.

Yet, the wisdom of our current catholic pope saw the virtues of this day: to come together in unity to enjoy ourselves, to be positive; to respect rules and work together.  He helped me to make the connection between something I cherish and something I accept.

At church a mother of a young man, probably just shy of 30 years old, asked if I might visit with him about his questions concerned the reason for life and how God fits into the picture.  He is very close to family who lost a son a dozen years ago to cancer.  Now the dead boy's sister, just over 20 years old, is fighting cancer and not doing well.  So where is God in this scenario?

The super bowl pre-show included a clip of Johnny Cash's "Old Ragged Flag."  It speaks to respecting the flag that has been through many wars.  The men and women that have worked and fought so hard to keep America free both in war and peace, I respect them highly, to the point that I tear-up when I think about it.  However, I don't agree with pledging alliance to a piece of cloth, despite its symbolism, instead pledging alliance to the principles that form this country and society.

A blog I follow recently spoke of an open mind and how after listening openly one can close the mind on an idea judged to be best.  I'd be a hypocrite to say that my mind is more open than that because saying that means I have closed my mind.  Despite being raised in Christian doctrine that didn't leave much room for questions, I think I have more questions than ever including the role of Jesus and the nature of God.

Just about everything seems to sit on a razor thin edge where one could go one way or another.  So what do I know or believe.  I believe that I should first and foremost benefit other people and most issues will stay on the edge as questions that are secondary to what's most important.

I hope that if I fall off the edge on one side or the other I can climb back up to see what on the other side.  And you know even when I question God I inherently accept the God's existence because I'm asking God about God's existence.  Confusing isn't it.  That's living on the edge.