Category Archives: nature

Theology is all or nothing.

nature, quotes, theology

“Theology means the word about God. Theology is therefore ALL or nothing. The whole of nature and the super-nature and the subternature IS ALL theology; all man and every part of him is theology; every meadow and every flower is theology; Sirius and the Milky Way, nebulae and meteors are theology; the history of the planet and the history of the people, the history of radioactivity and the history of every butterfly, and of every grain of sand, and of every drop of water, and of every ray of light are theology.

“If the whole of nature is not theology, then theology is nothing or nature is nothing. If the whole of nature does not speak about God, who will believe Isaiah or Paul? If the whole of the world around is a wilderness, what can the voice of one prophet crying about God in that wilderness accomplish? If the whole universe does not speak of God, who can without contempt hear the words of one man?”

-St. Nicholai Velimirovich

What the deer and I notice.

family, nature, other gardens, , , , , , , , ,

When Ivy shook the crabapple tree, dozens of fruits thumped down on the grass, alerting the deer across the street. Right away one mama hurried over with her two fawns to accept the offering.

I’m at daughter Pippin’s for a few days, having many literary, outdoorsy and even poetic adventures. Five hours farther north in California than I live, and at higher elevations, I’m enjoying the more dramatically aromatic and visual signs of fall.

In their back yard, dozens of mushrooms have sprouted: these are Western Black Elfin Saddle, and Spectacular Rustgill — plus one I didn’t identify.

Higher up where we played at the edges of a lake, various plants drew our attention to them because of their beautiful colors, and even Pippin learned a new species: Dwarf Bilberry. In our sightings it was often set off by azaleas turning color in a wide range of tones.

At the lake we discovered schools of baby trout, minnow sized, in a sunlit pool making for a natural fish nursery.

The most surprising thing close to home was a Monarch butterfly in Pippin’s garden, seemingly having wandered way off course; they are never seen in this part of the country, and this is the wrong time of year, as well. It was fluttering among the extravagant dahlia flowers, and we encouraged it to light on a white one, or any color more complementary. But it preferred the red one.

Just below is a picture of this year’s most startling bloom, maybe 9-10 inches across, “Belle of Barmera.” I never get bored looking at these beauties, which are planted inside a high-fenced garden to keep them from the deer. This was one of the years that the deer poked their heads through and ate some anyway.


It’s been quite a rich visit as far as natural wonders go.
I hope to tell about other sorts of fun I’ve had, very soon.

This is really it…

nature, weather, ,

 

This is the last really warm day. Yesterday and today have been around 90 degrees by midafternoon, and staying warm into the evening. I opened the windows again after having them closed when it was cold and drizzly for a week. All through the day I have gone up and down the stairs doing housework; and every time when I am going up, and encounter the extra heat in the stairwell, it surprises me afresh, and I praise God for it.

The living enchantment of September.

nature, poetry, , , , , ,

In addition to several poems that he shares in his recent post about September, including those of Derek Mahon, Howard Nemerov, and Bashō, Stephen Pentz offers this thought:

“I have a vague notion of what occurs when ‘the ecliptic and equator cross.’ Something to do with the movement of spheres, I suspect. But I’m reminded of my oft-repeated first principle of poetry: Explanation and explication are the death of poetry. Here is a wider principle I have adopted at this moment: Explanation and explication are the death of enchantment. The enchantment of the World, of course. Mind you, I accept the existence of the ecliptic and the equator. This is not an anti-scientific manifesto. I simply prefer, for instance, a single butterfly or a single leaf, with no explanations attached.”

-Stephen Pentz on his blog, First Known When Lost

Here is one of the poems:

THRESHOLD

When in still air and still in summertime
A leaf has had enough of this, it seems
To make up its mind to go; fine as a sage
Its drifting in detachment down the road.

-Howard Nemerov

I hope you will visit his blog and read the whole loving tribute, including evocative works of art, to the month that is soon to be gone for another year.