Sunday, September 15, 2002




Gone for Good to FRAGMENTS NEW HOME


Thanks to all who still come to this Fragments address from old bookmarks and links, or who flipped over here over the weekend while my new server had the hiccups for a brief while (and we don't expect this to happen, ever, ever again).

I don't anticipate adding any more entries here, so this will be the top of the heap for ever, I think. No more entries here...but life goes on at my new Fragments address. If you want to keep up with life on Goose Creek, please come on over. Look forward to seeing you there!



Friday, September 13, 2002




Some Words On Closure

And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. Isaiah 2:4

The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a little child shall lead them. Isaiah 11:6

Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.
Matthew 6:10






Visitation


Is it possible that we will be blessed this weekend with 'significant rains' as the meteorological auspex tells us? We have been hopeful and disappointed before, many times, this long, dusty summer. But perhaps, this time... For some reason, the crows, jays and titmice are more vocal than usual today. At first, it sounded like angry cries...scolding calls. But rather, it may just be excited aggitation, at both the coming of fall's migratory relocation coming soon for them, and, Lord willing, maybe too they sense a change from very, very dry, to mercifully moist. May the signs augur well and let there be rain on the birds, and us, this weekend. Please.

And to see the valley in its somber, soaked robes (hopefully) with the creeks flowing under gray skies this weekend, we are expecting a fellow-blogger, Kurt Brobeck of Sainteros, and his wife, to stop by as they travel near us, for a wedding. Kurt will be the very first person I have met who knows that a blog is not a wet place where cattails grow and frogs lay their eggs. It will certainly be a highlight of my short, blogging existence to put a face and a handshake with the gentle and evocative words that emanate from Kurt's pages.

Safe travels, Kurt and Kristi. And bring the rains with you.






Thanks, Harry


... You're a scary old place out there world
But I couldn't be happy without you
And I swear all my thoughts are about you
The most beautiful world in the world
Your mountains when you're mad
Your rivers when your sad
And those deep blue seas
I love you for your snow
Your deserts down below
I love the way you wear your trees
The most beautiful world in the world
And though there are times when I doubt you
I just couldn't stay here without you
So when you get older
And over your shoulder
You look back to see if it's real
Tell her she's beautiful
Roll the world over
And give her a kiss and a feel

Harry Nilsson
from The Most Beautiful World in the World



Thursday, September 12, 2002




Dust of Death


The Eagle soars in the summit of Heaven,
The Hunter with his dogs pursues his circuit.
O perpetual revolution of configured stars,
O perpetual recurrence of determined seasons,
O world of spring and autumn, birth and dying!
The endless cycle of idea and action,
Endless invention, endless experiment,
Brings knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word.
All our knowledge brings us nearer to death,
But nearness to death no nearer to God.
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of heaven in twenty centuries
Brings us farther from God and nearer to the Dust.

from: The Rock by T. S. Eliot





Are you Curious, George?


There is perhaps no better lesson from nature than that which is learned under the nighttime sky. Few things have helped me more to keep my philosophical bearings and perspective on this rolling blue-water ball of Earth than being able to find my way around in the heavens. The constellations are as much my seasonal friends as the spring wildflowers and the trees changing through the summer, fall and winter.

Do something for yourselves and especially for your children: Buy this book:

H. A. Rey's THE STARS: A NEW WAY TO SEE THEM

It's author may be familiar from his other books, the Curious George series. But this whimsical and wise field guide to the constellations (and more) is suitable for children and adults alike, make no mistake. Read the reviews. They aren't kidding. I think you will count this among your most cherished books. I know I do.






Fragmented Archives

I got nosey and went back to see how Moveable Type had imported some of my old blog entries from Blogger here. I had forgotten about some of those silly posts, fair images, and obscure lost thoughts from back in July. That was entertaining, like finding a journal with a pressed flower, a few newspaper clippings, and a postcard from a friend, way back when.

My apologies that not everything moved nicely. Moveable Type has formal "titles" of about 4 words; blogger does not. So MT has taken the first 4-5 words from the blogger entry and made that the MT topic title after the export. As you will notice. And color combinations, especially with blockquotes, create light text on light gray background...not readable. Just 'select' it with your mouse and it will show up fine. Or hit Ctrl A to select all text. Whatever. Sorry.

Made me laugh: Men are from Earth, Dinner Guests are from Mars.

Made me smile: Things I like about Summer.

Made me wince at having written it: Most entries from July. Oh well.

During the lull here, if you are new to Fragments, cruise some of the archives. Wince along with me, if you dare. Then, when the coast is clear, come over to the new digs and see what is in store for the winter Fragments!






Neither Here Nor There

I can't stay long this morning. It is calm and brisk and promises to be an archetypically beautiful knife-edge clear September day, a-wastin' out my window. Firewood needs laying in; there is a big oak down since last year that should heat us nicely, not this year, but next. The garden, except for some emerging greens and a few Hubbard squash and half-ripe Romas, is a dusty, gray place, gone to rest for another year. It needs cleaning up, and a cover crop put out. Company coming on Sunday, so will need to make the best of a rough rural situation... shabby but neat, without pretense, we are proud of the place, even though there is always more that needs doing. House is a verb.

There is so much to say. And so little. I feel the melancholic turning inward as the days shorten and the nights grow longer. Again, my old nemesis and friend, Janus, has me looking both ways at once: inward and outward, past and future, Summer-winter, part and whole. There will be words for this, but they will have to be gleaned like unexpected mushrooms after a late summer night rain; they will appear like magic when my thoughts are seemingly on changing the oil or sharpening some battered garden tool. They will appear. Then vanish, almost grasped, but not quite. And if I never quite attain to the words and lines on pages, they have left their traces in my thought-world, with the promise that perhaps, one day, I will write, someone will read, and say "I know that thought, I have felt that longing or delight, we are the same in that way".




Wednesday, September 11, 2002




The Peace of Wild Things


When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry






Back on Blogger. Sort of.

I am fully moved in to my new incarnation of Fragments over at another server (not blogspot) and using Moveable Type.

However, there is a server file transfer going on for a couple of days (starting mid-day Wednesday) so I will probably post an entry or two here, just to keep from getting all crampy and out of sorts from losing regularity and all, you know, not writing every day to keep the system all moving and such. We wouldn't want that, now would we?

But don't get too comfy here. I am getting rather used to Fragments new home, even though it seems a lot of you are lazy and instead of making a new bookmark, are doing the clickey thing and coming HERE to link to THERE. Ah, old habits die hard.



Tuesday, September 03, 2002




MOVING WEEK! Please reset your bookmarks. Fragments has moved to its new home HERE. Do stop by. Same old Fragments (from Floyd) with the same cast of GaryLarsenish characters (weird old men, bugs and flowers, and talking animals of all sorts) plus the occasional Grampa Tale from Goose Creek.

URL address for the NEW HOME of Fragments:

http://fragments.blogon.com/fragments CUT & PASTE!




Monday, September 02, 2002




Hot Time in the Old Town

Well, heck so near home, and we missed it. Paintballs filled with pepper spray...now that could liven up a street party, for sure. (BTW.... Virginia Tech won over LSU 26 - 8....nyah nyah nyah...woosie Tigers.)

From the Sporting News: BLACKSBURG, Va. -- At least 15 people were arrested early Sunday after a shouting match between Virginia Tech and LSU fans got out of hand.

Police officers in riot gear dispersed a crowd of about 3,000 unruly fans, hours before 14th-ranked LSU was to play 16th-ranked Virginia Tech in Blacksburg.

Police Lt. B.E. Bradbery said football fans gathered on opposite sides of Main Street and began exchanging team chants about 9:30 p.m. Saturday. By midnight the crowd had grown and become disorderly, Bradbery said.

Blacksburg police called in every off-duty officer and contacted other police agencies for help. Police Chief William H. Brown declared the disturbance an "unlawful assembly" about 2 a.m., and officers in riot gear made their way down Main Street and scattered the crowd by firing "pepper balls, pepper spray encased in plastic.






The Road Less Travelled

Wet, drizzly late-August days, like today, can be surprisingly chilly. I got thoroughly misted messing around the woodpile this morning and had to come in to warm up my hands. They were as cold as if it were winter. Even though it was warm, in the low 60s, I found myself losing heat quickly after I got wet. It's wasn't so bad while I was busy, but when I stopped to listen to the drops dripping out of the trees for a few minutes, I could feel the chill creeping up my bones. And I remembered Carlos.

Thirteen years this month, I began my first job as a physical therapist. We had moved to Sylva, North Carolina...a location chosen because I knew I had to get back to the mountains. And I particularly wanted to live near the Smokies, since the botanist in me had never died, even as the therapist struggled to be born. Carlos was my first truly memorable patient in my first job as a therapist.

Carlos was a patient in the hospital because he had almost died on Labor Day weekend from exposure: being so wet and cold that the body's temperature cools, vital functions slow down, and it can and frequently does result in death...from exposure.

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