“Whoever trusts in his riches will fall, but the righteous will flourish like a green leaf.” (Proverbs 11:28)
Category: Summer
Glimpses of Summer
I’m sure it will come as a surprise to no one that my days this summer have been a lot less about taking photos of nature and writing about them, and a lot more about taking photos of a certain darling little lady and writing in my journal about her first smiles or the first time she slept through the night.
But in between the midnight feedings and uncounted numbers of diapers changed, I still watch for the beauty outdoors, even if it’s only through the windows while I’m pacing through the house in an effort to soothe her cries on a fussy day. I don’t see many exotic things, but I do see the way the morning dew is glistening on the clematis or the way the light falls warm and soft across the field grass just before the sun sets—and these bits of loveliness are things that have fed my soul on days that adjusting to life with three small children under my care is a little on the overwhelming side.
The other thing that has fed my soul lately is the book of Psalms which we’ve been reading through, one a day at breakfast time—and chapter 36 is one of my recent favorites. May these excerpts from it, accompanied by these glimpses of my summer, feed your soul, too.
“How precious is your steadfast love, O God! 
The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings…
They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights…
For with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light.” (Psalm 36:7-9)
In Celebration of Pink
Some of the prettiest pink things God ever made happen in the month of June.
It’s the month of glorious pink roses billowing in the ditches…
And pink begonias blooming on my porch…
And pink peonies bowing their full ruffled heads gracefully to the ground…And foggy pink sunsets on summer solstice……and my personal favorite this year? 
The pink toes of a certain wee baby girl.
“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” (James 1:17)
Baby Time
This week, our resident swan pair debuted their newest brood of offspring, parading them very proudly all the way around the lake (for all the neighbors to see, I presume). There are six cygnets, which might be their all-time record for family size!
There is a shy doe at the edge of the field, who acts very nervous whenever we come near. I know there’s a tiny fawn hiding in the swampy raspberry thicket beyond where she lingers, though we have yet to actually see him.
After three known unsuccessful attempts (including inside the exhaust pipe of my husband’s truck), last year’s swallows have finally settled on a place to build a new nest. Incidentally, it’s in the exact same place as they built the last one. Silly birds.
A mother rabbit went bounding off from my parent’s garden when I was visiting there earlier this week, scared by the dog. She left this wee cutie, with brown eyes almost as big as his ears, crouched obediently close to the ground. He didn’t move a muscle, even when I took this picture:
It’s been baby time everywhere we look outside lately—and then, finally, at 6:45, just after the pearly gray dawn of a Wednesday morning, it was our turn.
A tiny baby voice cried out for the first time in the little house on the edge of a lake, while outside in the gentle rain the swan family paddled softly through the lily pads in search of breakfast and the swallows twittered busily around their almost-finished nest.
“A woman has pain in childbirth because her time has come; but when she brings forth her child, she forgets her anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.” (John 16:21)
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.“ (Psalm 30:5)
Praise the Lord!
Ten Things To Do When Swamped With Cucumbers
At this time of the year when I walk outside, the call of the fields and forest gets somewhat dimmed by the call of the garden. Out in the woods, the ferns are curling up brown and everything is in that sort of awkward transition between summer and fall. But in the garden, at least the one I planted this year, everything is just reaching it’s most splendid peak.
And so that’s where I go, taking my camera with me to document the discoveries of dark round watermelons beneath notched leaves, big orange pumpkins and shiny purple eggplant. And the little yellow cucumber flowers, bright like little stars amidst the delicately serrated edges of leafy vines.
And then I dig down beneath those leaves, and I fill the wheelbarrow with cucumbers (and zucchini—but that’s another story) and I bring them up to the house, stack them up like cord wood on the kitchen table and wonder what in the world I’m going to do with them all.
Honestly, I thought I had planted just the right amount (just one hill, so we could eat them fresh), but lo and behold, I was wrong. We are drowning in cucumbers—and we still have pickles in the basement from last year! What do you do when you don’t need pickles and a daily whole fresh cucumber for lunch is getting a little old? Well…
- You give thanks for the abundance. It is truly a blessing to have my cup—er, wheelbarrow—overflow with produce, even if it is a bit of a scramble to use them all up before they spoil.
- You research the amazing health and home benefits of cucumbers to boost cucumber enthusiasm house-wide. Did you know that a single cucumber contains pretty much all of the vitamins your body needs for one day? Or that cucumbers are good for treating both high and low blood pressure? Or that you can use cucumbers on sunburns just like aloe vera? Or that if you rub a slice of cucumber along a squeaky hinge, it will stop squeaking? There’s a great list with more fun health benefits and uses here. I’ve always liked cucumbers and after reading this, I finally know why!
- You slice them up thin and use them in lieu of lettuce in sandwiches. Or you skip the bread and stuff a hollowed out cucumber with the sandwich fillings. We tried ham and cream cheese—yum!
- You put them in all tossed salads and try to keep the ratio of lettuce to cucumber somewhat reasonable, so you can still call it a lettuce salad, because…
- You also make cucumber salad, which is different. This version with tomatoes, avocado and feta cheese is my new favorite this year!
- You make gyros with cucumber sauce. (This probably qualifies as my top favorite way to dispose of cucumbers.)
- You make cucumber-and-cream-cheese tea sandwiches (and cucumber-tomato-mayonnaise sandwiches if your tomatoes are ripe, which mine are not). Only skip the tiny tea size and make them big.
- You try every new and interesting recipe you can find. Nice to meet you, cucumber soup and cucumber chips.
- You bless all your friends by smuggling them into the back seats of their cars as surprise gifts. (Just kidding—actually bringing a pile them to church with a “help yourself” sign attached might be a better idea!)
- And if all else fails, you make a cake.
Because naturally a cucumber cake probably would be the last thing you think of. But no, I’m really not kidding on this one. There really is such a thing—and it’s delicious! (If you’re adventurous enough to try it, too, the recipe I used is here. I doubled the recipe—because, hello, we’re trying to use up cucumbers over here!—but stuck with a single batch of the frosting and used lemon juice instead of the elderberry cordial.)
“He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy.” (Acts 14:17)
What are your favorite ways to enjoy the blessing of cucumbers?
End of Summer
This morning, as the mid-morning sun was making the dew on the spider webs sparkle, I rode my bike down the bumpy gravel road to Sheryl’s house. The bike trailer bounced behind me, heavy with my precious cargo of two little ones and a Bible tucked in the back pocket. I hoped I had estimated how long the ride would take me correctly; I didn’t want to miss out on the sweet fellowship time beforehand!
This is the third summer we’ve spent studying the 23rd Psalm. What precious times we’ve had together going slow through the beloved familiar passage, sometimes word by word, soaking it in, mining the depths of Scripture for quantities of treasure that we never dreamed could exist in the space of so few words. And now it was all over until next year. Today was the last day, our sweet weekly summer gathering coming to a close just as the calendar was gently finishing August. The ditches were full of goldenrod and lavender clouds of asters, and the banks of ferns were curling up brown around their lacy edges. Yes, my eyes told me, as I focused up on the landscape around me and away from the dusty road beneath my tires: fall was really almost here.
I’m really sorry to bid this summer adieu, because it’s been such a good one. Beautiful fellowship with these dear sisters in Christ has been just one of the highlights of this season for me. As I meditated back over the passage we had been studying, somehow the other happy memories and pictures of this summer seemed to intertwine in my mind with the words of the psalm. And so in honor of the end of a glorious season and those precious weeks of study we savored together, I present this photographic essay of my summer and Psalm 23:
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want…
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures…
He leadeth me beside the still waters…
He restoreth my soul…
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…
I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me…
Thou preparedest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies…
Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over…
Surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
Amen.
Ruffed Grouse
Look what I shot the other day from the car window!
(No, no—not literally! You know, with the camera.)
We have an abundant population of ruffed grouse in our area, and we hear the males drumming frequently, but they’re rather skittish birds and challenging to photograph. So I was pleased when this one sat still and eyed me warily long enough so I could step on my brakes, roll down the window and take its portrait. (Hooray for country dirt roads where you can do that!) I didn’t have a telephoto lens on, so this isn’t exactly a close-up—but I can’t complain about the scenery he chose to pose in front of! Haven’t the daisies been gorgeous this year?!
I drove past the same spot the following week and everything was mowed back, chopped off low and rough for safety purposes. Even if my little grouse friend had reappeared, the photo could never have been the same again. Thinking about that, I was reminded of not just the fleetingness of photo opportunities, but of the golden opportunities that come our way in life, and these words of wisdom:
“Be very careful, then, how you live–not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.” (Ephesians 5:15-16)
Make the most of the opportunities you are given, whether great or small—you never know whether they may gone forever tomorrow!
In Search of: Wild Raspberries
The golden rays of the sinking sun slanted down through the treetops as we worked our way carefully along the brushy edges of the narrow lane, searching. There were no buckets present; this excursion was not for duty or mass accumulation, but sheer enjoyment. We ate them as fast as we found them, fingers soon stained with streaks of red. It was an evening for one of summer’s best simple joys: picking wild raspberries.
Excursions to the local u-pick berry patches with their neatly mulched rows and abundant berries are a yearly tradition that I love and look forward to. Earlier this week, I brought home buckets full of blueberries; a couple weeks ago, it was buckets full of strawberries. But there’s nothing quite like venturing out into the woods to find them growing wild. You know—where the value of the berries acquired is in direct relationship to the amount of scratches on your ankles and arms, the number of mosquitoes and deer flies swatted, and the quantity of burrs stuck to your clothing and hair. And where you may go searching only to find that the bears have beat you to them, like they or some other hungry four-footed creature did to my secret gooseberry patch last week! Though thankfully (or would that be regretfully?) I have never had the pleasure of actually meeting a bear while out picking!
But the rewards of your labor are berries with flavor that no cultivated varieties can ever quite manage to live up to. Entirely worth the trouble. And, like I said, best eaten straight off the bush.
I wonder if God smacked His lips when He made raspberries? Certainly He must have smiled to Himself as He anticipated our enjoyment of them!
“And God said, “Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is on the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit. You shall have them for food”…And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” (Genesis 1:29, 31)
With the memory of sweet-tart sun-drenched berry juice fresh on my mind, yet again, I have to agree.
This is the Day
One morning a couple weeks ago I heard a great commotion of twittering and chattering out on the porch, and I ran out none too soon. The first baby swallow had dared to fly from the nest to a nearby plant-hanging bracket, and his parents were circling the porch, excitedly encouraging him on. By late afternoon, all four of them were gone, off to join the swooping scores of swallows that dance in the sky above our farm everyday.
It’s kind of a happy-sad thing to see them go. Happy because that’s exactly what they’re supposed to do and I don’t have to clean bird droppings off my porch floor anymore; sad because I’ll still miss their happy sounds, looking up to see them peeking over the edge of their nest at me, and watching them grow. 
This week, my baby turned one. She also started experimenting in the realm of walking. Right now she still tends to revert back to her (very skilled) version of a crab crawl after a couple wobbly steps, but I know soon enough she’ll be off and running, ready to explore the world. These days of her helpless sweet littleness are flying by so fast.
Again, that happy-sad feeling. The joy of watching her grow and learn and become her own little person is as great as the wistfulness I feel as I watch these precious baby years slipping away. 
I thought about this as I watched those little birdies all fly away, and it was such a good reminder for me to cherish the sweetness amidst the chaos (because, yes, I have to admit that teething and dirty diapers are not always so sweet). Tomorrow, next week, next year there will be new joys, new sorrows. There will be new things to say goodbye to, and new things to welcome. But today with it’s unique gifts, challenges and blessings will never come again. David says it so well:
“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it!” (Psalm 118:24)
This is the day to savor the way she reaches up her little arms to be held, and the way she pops her thumb in her mouth and lays her little curly blonde head on my shoulder when she’s tired. This is the day to rejoice in the sound of her chanting “ma-ma-ma-ma” like I’m the most wonderful person in the world and the way she squeals and giggles when she sees a furry animal (stuffed or alive). This is the day to take videos of her trying to figure out how to put her own shoes on, and take pictures of the look on her face (very pleased) at her first taste of the frosting on her birthday cake, and write down that she said “uh-oh” when she dropped her ball over the edge of the couch. Yes, this is the day.
What has God given you today? What fleeting opportunities are there for you to seize? What precious memories are there for you to take joy in the making of? May you find them and rejoice in them greatly!
(See here and here for the rest of the story and pictures of these swallows!)
Light After the Storm
This was the light that broke forth after the storm, making the fields sparkle golden-green and the daisies by the roadside glow shining white. The contrast was spectacular between the lowering navy underbellies of the receding storm clouds, and the land beneath suddenly bathed in the piercing evening light.
We, on our walk through the fields, stopped and caught our breath in wonder. The ordinary grasses and trees were highlighted in stunning relief, and for a few minutes, the landscape was almost surreal in its beauty. The splendid effect of the most brilliant light is always the most striking when contrasted with the darkness it chases away.
So was the coming of the Messiah into the darkness of our world:
“The people dwelling in darkness have seen a great Light, and for those dwelling in the region and shadow of death, on them a Light has dawned.” (Isaiah 9:2)
And He, the Light of the world, continues to shine, the glory of His brilliance all the more breathtaking when contrasted with the darkness it chases away. He beckons all to step into the piercing rays of His light, and let Him wash away their drabness, robing them in the stunning beauty of His holiness.
“I have come as Light into the world, so that everyone who believes in Me will not remain in darkness.” (John 12:46)
Come to the Light of Christ—it’s shining for you and no one is ever turned away. And if you are already walking in it, take a moment to rejoice in the wonder that you no longer “walk in darkness, but have the Light of life” (John 8:12)! How glorious to be His child!
Rejoicing Hills 
