Monthly Archives: September 2026

Grateful for Annie Dillard.

books,

Annie Dillard has departed this earthly life, which she lived so intensely. She had a strong effect on me and my own writing life, such as it is, for which I am very grateful. I read several of her books, but the last time I really engaged with one was quite a while ago, and I wrote about it here: For the Time Being. 

In that essay I used many quotes from the book in my effort to convey what it was about, and what I love about her. Just now in my desire to say a little something in memory of Annie, I offer one of those excerpts, which I think somewhat describes her vision and work:

“Our lives come free; they’re on the house to all comers….
God decants the universe of time in a stream,
and our best hope is, by our own awareness,
to step into the stream and serve,
empty as flumes, to keep it moving.”

Rest in peace, Annie. I think you’re still in the stream, for the time being ❤

It crept in as an intruder.

death, humanity, love, nature, quotes, ,

“The world, knowing how all our real investments are beyond the grave, might expect us to be less concerned than other people who go in for what is called Higher Thought and tell us that ‘death doesn’t matter’; but we ‘are not high-minded’, and we follow One who stood and wept at the grave of Lazarus—not, surely, because He was grieved that Mary and Martha wept, and sorrowed for their lack of faith (though some thus interpret) but because death, the punishment of sin, is even more horrible in His eyes than in ours.

“The nature which He had created as God, the nature which He had assumed as Man, lay there before Him in its ignominy; a foul smell, food for worms. Though He was to revive it a moment later, He wept at the shame…. Of all men, we hope most of death; yet nothing will reconcile us to—well, its unnaturalness. We know that we were not made for it; we know how it crept into our destiny as an intruder; and we know Who has defeated it.

“Because Our Lord is risen we know that on one level it is an enemy already disarmed; but because we know that the natural level also is God’s creation we cannot cease to fight against the death which mars it, as against all other blemishes upon it, against pain and poverty, barbarism and ignorance. Because we love something else more than this world we love even this world better than those who know no other.”

— C.S. Lewis, “Some Thoughts”

Scents of a September morning.

quotes, smells, , , , ,

I was excited to walk to the library this morning. Only that one errand needed doing, so it wasn’t necessary to drive from place to place. I love staying home, but I also like taking walks. It’s having to get in the car and into traffic that is a bother.

So off I went, wearing my newish pack that one of my grandsons gave me last Christmas, with his wishes for fun adventures wearing it. It was just the right size for my wallet and the three books I was returning, all related to the Iliad. I’m still reading that classic, but I was done with those commentaries.

I had barely got around the corner when I ran into the first roses on my way. I was surprised — I must have been driving past them several times a week recently, but clearly with my mind elsewhere. As I was within a few inches, and not rolling past in a car, it was easy to stop and look into their faces. I sniffed all the colors along the fence, and they were delicious. These below were my favorites, because of their romantic nature:

I thought of what Elizabeth von Arnim said about this experience:

oleander

“[Walking] is the perfect way of moving if you want to see into the life of things. It is the one way of freedom. If you go to a place on anything but your own feet you are taken there too fast, and miss a thousand delicate joys that were waiting for you by the wayside.” 

Fifty steps further on, I caught a whiff of something sweet, and looked up to see that it was the oleander bush that towered above me. I don’t know if I’ve ever noticed the scent of oleanders — but how could that be? I have known them my whole life, and was pleased to encounter so many in Greece last year.

A few more steps, and I came upon a riot of blooming rosebushes at a busy intersection. This path was truly a highly decorated and aromatic one.

And then onward under the canopy of tall redwood trees, in the sunshiny and mildly warm air, and my heart was light. I soon reached the library — only to find it closed. A tall fence closed off the entrance, and a sign told about renovation, and that it would open again in the spring. In the meantime, we could use a temporary facility a few blocks farther away. What to do? Would my feet complain if I added this extra distance to their task? I decided that I didn’t want to extend my walk further, and turned back toward home, a little disappointed. I would have to drive to return my books after all. But worse things could happen.

Walking home the other direction I noticed different sights, as I looked down into the creek that is full of willows, waving in the breeze and showing their silvery undersides. I took the little shortcut along the creek, passing by this spot where the sunlight is often filtering through the trees in such a way that it makes me want to stop and sit a while, on the nice bench that has been installed there. But the bench faces into a big tree trunk, and doesn’t have a great view. So I never do.

This fennel plant was in bloom and smelling like licorice candy.

Next time I think I’ll plan to walk all the way to the temporary library. It’s likely that by then the roses will be gone, but I’m sure there will be some other good things on my path. And I won’t be going too fast to see them.