Scenes From Prague Last Fall

Leaves are turning yellow here, and we walked among their falling last night.

There's a bright restaurant, all windows, along the river. It looks over at the castle in the nighttime.

The castle says, "I'm beautiful."

The restaurant says, "I'm alive."

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The restaurant would trade its life for beauty in an instant, I think, because it does not slow down and breathe in that life. It is making money, money, money. We are in a little hurry to have fun and take in beauty and talk about having seen it. But we are alive, unlike every castle. 

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On Monday, we saw banana trees drooping low, bearing their lush bunches closer and closer to earth.

On Tuesday, we saw a wall of leafy vines, all turning from green to burnished red, draped over a wall. 

Like a shawl. 

Time Passing Under the Siamese, Silly-Leaf Tree*

By my part of the stream in a corner of the park, the new summer breeze draws its silk cape over my bare arms.
Who knows what may come or go?
But may God receive praise for it all.
For this moment: the grass bits on this paper, the sap from that old tree: knowing that life probably goes on.
For the last moment: when I saw the soft heart of someone for whom I'd given up hope.
And for the next moment: when life will continue or end at Your pleasure.
Be praised, Great God.

Ant biting my ankle.
Two mallards swimming by.
A groundhog, honestly, nibbling at leaves above its head, exposing its soft belly.
A branch creaking in the wind, like a strange bird or a rusty door,
and, naturally, two heavy-footed humans scare the groundhog away, and the breeze stops,
as does the rusty door-branch. The mallards are past now.
The stream is still flowing, at least.

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*I believe we've talked about how I don't know the names of things in nature. This is a tree whose trunk splits very low, creating two, and whose leaves look like mittens and high-five hands.

Machetes, Mission Bamboo, Family

Why was my forearm hurting on Tuesday? Why was my hand cramped? Because I was wielding a machete all Monday. At Joella's family's home, affectionately called The Hideaway, some of her family, Becky and I worked at landscaping. We hacked at weeds and poison ivy, growing in large, jungly ropes up the sides of trees thick and tall. Some of the vines were so hefty that they were suitable for Tarzan-style swinging.

After the larger part of the work for the day was finished, it was decided that some of us should go find bamboo to be assembled into an archway at the end of the lane. The only problem was that no bamboo grew on their property. Normally, this is a blessing, for bamboo is invasive, as Asher pointed out, and Joella, and Zachary... "but the old place has bamboo!" "But we can't just go creeping around there. It's too visible. Plus that'd be weird." "There's some bamboo down the road at the neighbors'!" "Yeah!" "I'll go along if we can sing the 'Mission Impossible' theme!"

And so, Becky, Joella, and I took Snickers bars and the family pick-up down route 441 to a stand of bamboo on the shoulder of the road. We clambered out and hacked away, no doubt to the bewilderment of all passersby. But, I ask you, what would you do if you needed bamboo RIGHT NOW? That's what I thought.

We worked quickly, and I sat in the back of the pick-up with the 12 green stalks, my legs and arms around the bases of the stalks, foliage flying. Joella did not go slowly the half mile down 441, and several times the stalks wrenched almost free of my grasp, and out into the wide world. At the end of the lane, we deposited the bamboo and went flying up to the house to "get into our party clothes" for a picnic with Jo's family.

The Garbers are so sweet. The celebration began in a circle of lawn chairs, with Jared and Sarah, in unintentionally matching shirts, introducing the strangers to the family. Then we ate, and I drank up the atmosphere of family. Joshua, the one-year-old, was all the centerpiece anyone could wish for. He played alone in the middle of this circle, with the occasional family member stopping by to help him play his colored xylophone.

In little time, the circle had divided into three groups: the men, the women, and the youth, with Joshua, of course, on the outer edge of all three of these. I remained a member of the youth group for the purposes of this gathering, for even some of the young married folks found themselves still in the youth group. We told jokes and chatted about the silliest things. Haha, running barefoot...

It made me wonder what my family would do on such an occasion (if, say, we were ever to have one). Would there be outsiders? Would there be awkwardness if we were to so align ourselves in time and space as to be together? Would the men find a common interest? Would the women? Would there be pettiness? Probably not much, pettiness takes a certain level of comfort... I don't know. But I want to find out someday. I miss what I know of my extended family.

Trees, by [Alfred] Joyce Kilmer, 1914

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed

Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me;

But only God can make a tree.

Weekend Continues

Last weekend was so packed that it merits three separate posts. Steve and Meg and I left Lancaster with our packed lunches and some non-specific directions. The day's goals: Longwood Gardens and the Brandywine River Museum. The day was windy, and clouds moved quickly in large mounds across the sun. We wanted to see everything. We started with the outer perimeter of brand new treehouses and the hourglass lake where catfish swarmed from under the bridge to gulp at the tulip petals I dropped. Those hideous beasts. If they were any bigger, I am sure I would have felt some fear.

We visited the DuPont house where a very large kitty was reclining on some cacti. Visitor after visitor stooped and petted her; the only indication that she was still alive was the rhythmic rise and fall of her massive belly.

We passed through the tulip beds: squares of the densest tulip patches humans can manage. A block of bright orange, a block of streaked yellow and red with fringes like leather jackets; a block of sedate and orderly small-headed purple; a block of magenta; light pink; large white-petalled towers over tiny violas.

At the far end of the tulips, a cat slept on a bench near a sign which told us of the important role the cats play in the garden: they catch rodents in exchange for (a seemingly endless supply of) food, shelter, and more loving tourists than Cinderella at Disney World.

We traveled into the trees near the belltower. A limby North African tree stood at the bottom of the hill near the Magnolias lining the road. Oh, that tree needed a friend. Sometimes fathers will build jungle gyms in their back yards so their kids can climb all around and see the world from a thousand different angles and turn upside down and look up into the sky. God built this one. I climbed high up into it. There were no signs. I am pretty sure I'm insured.

Our legs were getting tired. We could use a rest. We passed through a side door in the wall of apple trees at the edge of the vegetable gardens and found three chairs around a little garden table. I half expected wood elves to come serve us cider and honey wafers to restore our energies. After a brief respite, we turned the corner out of the alcove to find that we were right back in the action of the gardens.

We went into the conservatory where we experienced the perfume exhibit. Wow.

As we walked down from the bonsai room, there was Kelly Neibert. Just walking along alone. "Kelly!" I thought. But in reality, I just stared into her face as intensely as possible, so she would be sure to notice the stranger to her right. We talked precious little. She was busy. We were leaving.

We braved the long lines at the gift shop to buy Aida a mini gardening set, and an African violet for my aunt. The Brandywine River Museum was closing when we arrived. We went to a Thai Restaurant and loved it. We were tired. We rested in my living room where I watched and they made fun of the new Twilight movie, New Moon. Really, Twilight, guys? Yes, really. When we see the next one (and we will!), we plan on muting it and adding our own dialogue. You're invited to come see the magic.