One More Poem

Weekend before last, a friend shared a poem with all of us at the Richland Harvest Party. Along with it, he gave us several Scriptures, including Philippians 3:8: "Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus, my Lord; for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but refuse, that I may win Christ."

Considering all that's going on in the world, and considering my purpose (being a Christian, a wife, a mom), I have to ask myself if my attitude is like the apostle Paul's or Amy Carmicheal's.

(Apologies - this poem is written in three verses, but the server keeps squishing them together!)

MAKE ME THY FUEL

From prayer that asks that I may be

Sheltered from winds that blew on Thee,

From fearing when I should aspire,

From faltering when I should climb higher,

From silken self, O Captain, free

Thy soldier who would follow Thee.

From subtle love of softening things,

From easy choices, weakenings,

Not thus are spirits fortified,

Not this way went the Crucified,

From all that dims Thy Calvary,

O Lamb of God, deliver me.

Give me the love that leads the way,

The faith that nothing can dismay,

The hope no disappointments tire,

The passion that will burn like fire,

Let me not sink to be a clod:

Make me thy fuel, Flame of God.

Amy Carmichael

Semi-Appropriate Rain Poem

Rain Clouds

Along a road
Not built by man
There winds a silent
Caravan
Of camel-clouds
Whose humped gray backs
Are weighted down
With heavy packs
Of long-awaited,
Precious rain
To make the old earth
Young again,
And dress her shabby
Fields and hills
In green grass silk
With wild-flower frills.

Elizabeth-Ellen Long

Bugs & Birthday

First order of business: The Spouse's birthday is today! If my math is right, he's 39 years old now. He requested beef stew for his birthday meal, and German Chocolate Cake for dessert. His gifts are a new rain parka and a vice. He says he needs it to balance all his virtues.

Lately, life has been very insect-heavy. We hatched (pupated?) Painted Lady butterflies in a habitat (thanks, Grandma & Grandpa K). Actually, they pupated themselves and we watched. We've identified more beetles, moths, caterpillars and craneflies than I care to acknowledge on the property. We use Insects of the Pacific Northwest by Peter & Judy Haggard (thank you Auntie K, for the book money).

The most fun, though, is the praying mantis. We found one living in my daphne and if you put a cranefly near those front legs (praying, my eye), they go SNATCH with a terrible rustling of wings and bug parts, and he stuffs the fly in his mouth - at least all that will fit. The mantis has the cutest bug head I've ever seen; it swivels toward you and away, and his eyes are very bright.

West Crater

Recently the Spouse announced that our family has a goal: Visit, and climb if possible, all the volcanoes in Washington State. I told him he could climb Ranier himself, but otherwise I'll join the quest.

So last Saturday, we visited West Crater, the smallest volcano (that we know of) in the state. To get there from our house, you drive to Carson, WA and take county roads and forest roads. West Crater isn't a big, impressive cinder cone like Ranier, St. Helens or Adams. It's overgrown with trees and brush, but still impressive.