Monthly Archives: October 2014

As the sun at noon.

This poem by John Donne I believe did not start out as a poem. Someone posted it as follows, in poetic lines, but I found the same lines as prose on Bartleby.com, in the middle of a passage in “Sermons Preached on Christmas Day.” Donne evidently did not give the title “In Heaven it is Always Autumn” to anything, but more than one person has more recently used his line to title a poem, as I found in my searching.

Donne uses several vivid words to describe the winter we can experience in our soul at any time of year, showing that he is familiar with that inner dark and coldness. We know that he did suffer terrible grief when his wife died, and it was doubtless not the only occasion when he felt desperate need of God’s presence and mercy.

What an encouraging word the preacher poet brings out of his training in God’s ways, able to comfort us “benighted” ones with the comfort that he has been comforted with, as in II Cor. 1:4. Because these thoughts were part of a Christmas sermon, I thought of sharing them later at Christmastime, but taking my cue from the first line extracted, and because it happened to be in the current season of the year I needed a reminder of God’s thawing Love, I’m not waiting.

“In heaven it is always autumn,
His mercies are ever in their maturity.
We ask our daily bread
And God never says
You should have come yesterday,
He never says
You must again tomorrow,
But today if you will hear His voice,
Today He will hear you.
He brought light out of darkness,
Not out of a lesser light;
He can bring thy summer out of winter
Tho’ thou have no spring,
Though in the ways of fortune or understanding or conscience
Thou have been benighted til now,
Wintered and frozen, clouded and eclipsed,
Damped and benumbed, smothered and stupefied til now,
Now God comes to thee,
Not as in the dawning of the day,
Not as in the bud of the spring
But as the sun at noon,
As the sheaves in harvest.”

– John Donne, 1624

Nina

When the weather is hot, my friend Nina prefers not to be out pruning roses or picking apples, so yesterday, it being 99 degrees, I kid you not, was a good day to visit and find her in the cool house doing a little embroidery. She set it aside while talking to me, though, and curled her slender legs under her where she sat in an easy chair.

I’ve been getting to know her since last winter, but I don’t recall ever seeing her dressed for cold weather. It’s usually some combination of Bermuda shorts and flip-flops, because she does not like being hot. Once when I came by she was just taking a loaf of bread out of the oven. It was intended primarily for her sandwiches, but we discovered that we are alike in our inability to resist freshly baked bread, so we enjoyed a warm slice together.

Before this year, I had rarely spoken to Nina, but I did study her very intently when I would see her in church, not daring to hope that ever in my life I might look so elegant. Maybe the use of a cane actually helped her to walk with the grace and erect carriage of a dancer. Week by week I would see her go up to the altar to pray, as though she were processing up a great hall to be crowned queen, or like a bride on her way down the aisle to be joined to her husband. She always wore a hat and a smile, never hurried, and looked completely serene and at peace. Yesterday she told me that as a young child she was allowed to walk to church by herself, which she loved to do, because being in church to her meant Peace.Nina bd girls w roses

We organized a surprise recognition of her 100th birthday, which fell on a Sunday. Our sisterhood bought 100 roses and toward the end of the service passed them out to as many parishioners to hold. At the very end Nina was ushered up to sit at the front and we all paraded by and gave her a rose and/or a greeting.

What a lot of stories she has to tell from so many years on this earth! Her family was Russian and her father went to China as part of the large crew on the Trans-Manchurian Railway, around the turn of the 20th century. Nina’s family were among the many workers’ families who became permanent residents of Manchuria, but they also were like many of the Russians in that they eventually immigrated to America. Her brother came first, and then Nina all by herself made the journey as a young woman. The stories of that trip to San Francisco, and how she found her brother and met her husband, are the fascinating topics of our chats together.Nina roses HB

A year or more after her 100th birthday Nina switched to a wheelchair for church attendance, but at home she continues without any assistance. She has lived alone for more than 25 years, having been widowed twice.

The second time she had only been married a year when her husband told her that he had had a dream about his late wife in which she asked him to take a walk with her. “Did you go with her?” was Nina’s immediate question. Because Russians have a superstition (she did not use that word) that if you have this dream about someone who has passed from this life, and you agree to walk with them, you will soon join them “on the other side.”

Nina says that her husband would not answer her question, and it wasn’t very long before they were in a car accident together, in which he was instantly killed. For a short time Nina lost her own will to live, but thanks to the mercy of God she realized that she loved her children and wanted to go on living. But in her own house, mind you, where she can do things the way she likes, including her own yard work, cooking, and housecleaning.??????????????????????

When she was about 50 she had some health problems, likely brought on by the pain of her first widowhood, and two of her doctors advised her about her diet. Between them she got the message not to eat dairy products or white flour, and to drink carrot juice. 50+ years ago how many people were drinking carrot juice? Not enough to cause the stores to carry it, so she bought a juicer and has been making her own ever since.

There doesn’t seem to be a fitting way to end this introduction to my friend who is now 102. She is going forward, and going strong, and shows no sign of slowing down. I want to learn from Nina, I want to be more like her. So far my lessons are: smile, drink your carrot juice, and stand up straight.

Tea and Tomatoes

Turkish tea fr Kate 9-2014Kate brought me the most amazing tea from Istanbul. I keep sniffing it and trying to discern what all those exotic smells are — no label tells me anything about it. And I’m kind of afraid to make a pot of tea and end up disappointed, because you know how herbal teas often don’t taste as good as their dry aromas lead you to expect? It  Well, what do I expect, after all that watering down…

P1110230 new mugBut when I do take the plunge, I will drink it out of this new mug I gifted myself with. Big mugs, preferably those that hold a pint, are my favorites, but they usually aren’t so girly looking. When I saw this big and flowery one, there was little deliberating.

Today Mr. and Mrs. C. came over. The guys then went to Starbucks to drink tea and talk, and we “girls” worked in the garden. It reminded me of when I was in Turkey lo these many years ago, and in the villages the men would sit in the café and drink tea and play tavla (backgammon) while the women were out in the olive groves harvesting the fruit.tomatoes peeling 9-14

But today really wasn’t much like that – we also spent quite a while looking at pictures of Kate’s wedding for which Mrs. C. had arranged the flowers, and we talked to the man who delivered a cord of firewood on to our driveway. He is 83 and still does all his own busintomatoes peeled 9-14ess.

Mrs. C. is always glad to take cuttings from my garden to experiment with. This time I sent her home with some wayward sprouts of my mystery salvia, and some succulents. Also some of our lovely Yellow Brandywines. But we still have more tomatoes than we can use fresh, so I scalded and peeled a bunch last week and made tomato pudding.

tomatoes peeling ice

Turn aside.

THE BRIGHT FIELD

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
the treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the burning bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

~ R. S. Thomas (1913-2000), Welsh poet