Snowstorm special!

See here...

Cross country skiing in Greensboro

I must be one of the few Greensboro residents who keeps cross country skis by the front door. I live in hope. Also, I don't have enough storage space.

I used the skis early last March when we had a good snow, and today I used them again. Yesterday the sky was grey-white and heavy. Today the sun was bright and the sky clear. Perfect for skiing, though cold.

At last the huge plot of land here is good for something. On Facebook I referred to it all summer as the Humongous Lawn and I was forever mowing it --and suffering from the mosquitos, who love me, and from wasp stings, because we had an infestation. Today I made trails and got quite the little workout.

I love the smell of snow. To me it is the smell of winter vacation. This isn't the Alps, but even in this semi-suburban neighborhood the smell reminds me of ski trips and crisp air at high altitude.








Taking the skis off...

White Christmas

It snowed yesterday. It snowed today. We have over six inches of snow here in Greensboro.


Trees near house, white sky, late afternoon, December 26.

White on white, front lawn.

Snow on leaves, December 26.

Torn leaf, snow.

Some large evergreen limbs tore off and fell in the storm. Not to worry, the tree is nowhere near the house. No repeats of the Great Tree Disaster. By the way, the house you see in the background is a neighbor's house, not mine.

+Maya Pavlova, indoors looking out. I took the photo from outside and you can see both +Maya looking out and the snowy landscape reflected in the window.

Heavily laden branches.

Consider the fig tree...

Cat on flannel sheets on a cold night.

Click on each photo to enlarge slightly and see more detail.
All photos taken with my BlackBerry camera.

As Christmas approaches...

... I think back to France, where I lived when I was growing up. I had hoped to be there for these holidays, but for a variety of reasons I could not go. Perhaps just as well since airport and other traffic in Northern Europe have been in a snarl due to snow. I hear from a friend, though, that things are lovely in Southern France.

Here is "Un Flambeau, Jeannette, Isabelle," which some of you will know as "Bring a Torch, Jeannette, Isabella." This is the way it is supposed to sound.

The first figs

Saturday was also the day of the first figs. The house I rent has a biblical back yard: a vine and two fig trees! The figs are now ripe, more of them each day, and the first harvest was Saturday. I'm going to be giving away figs a lot. Greensboro friends take note. They are delicious. In the photo some of them were still wet from the recent rain.

In other news, we've had rain, grey skies, and lower temperatures. Climbing back up today, but with a bit of rain. It's been heavenly keeping the windows open. And yesterday it was cool enough for me to talk a walk. The birds were happy too and singing loudly in the trees.

Ignatius Day: another butterfly

Happy feast of Ignatius of Loyola. Here is another butterfly, fluttering about the flowers at noontime on a rare warm-but-not-hot grey day. It is more yellow than the photo makes it seem, as is the beige-looking butterfly below (at the bottom of that post). The BlackBerry camera distorts some colors.

Prayer Posse, this one is for you, with my thanks

My friend Paul the BB is much more faithful than I in posting prayer concerns and requests in his "heart threads" and "Oremus" posts, but I am making bold to join him with a few requests for you intercessors out there.

First there's Kirstin, who is undergoing chemotherapy in an experimental protocol for a nasty recurrence of cancer. She is surrounded by love and very good care and has a strong will to live and live well, but this is one of those cases where the potential cure is very tough on body and soul. Please keep her in your hearts. Pray also (or offer merit or chants -- whatever your tradition is, we welcome it) for her best friend Andee, who has been faithful and compassionate in her attention and care. And for the medical people, of course.

Then there's Joel, beloved spouse of Margaret and informally-adoptive parent of Juan Manuel. Joel has had a bad attack of myasthenia gravis and they almost lost him a few nights ago. He is doing better, "guarded," as they say, and has a host of praying and caring folks in his life, not least of them our Margaret. Please pray for Joel, for Margaret, for Juan Manuel, and of course for the physicians and nurses and other caregivers.

And Fran of Smallbania, dear friend of mine and of many of us both irl ("in real life") and in the blogosphere, has had to forgo a vacation abroad with her spouse and daughter because of a most unpleasant episode in the hospital involving a gall bladder (now gone, bye-bye gall bladder) and several related complications. Fran is at home resting up and improving every day, but she could use some more prayers. She continues to be her thoughtful self and is black to blogging, a sure sign she is on the mend.

Here's a link to the Taizé chant "Bleibet hier" (literally "stay here" and known and sung in English as "Stay with me, remain with me, watch and pray").

Please pray also in happy thanksgiving for Nathan, a young man I've prayed with and mentored a bit, who was baptized yesterday at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Greensboro. Nathan had been baptized as a child but in the tradition of his family, the Jehovah's Witnesses, who do not baptize in the name of the Holy Trinity. So, after becoming quite involved in the Episcopal Church, he asked to be baptized with the ancient Trinitarian formula which is that of most Christian traditions including the Anglican one. Nathan is a member of St. Andrew's but is also involved at St. Mary's House, where he has been co-convening the Centering Prayer and Taizé Prayer with me. (We are on break for July-August but will resume our hour of contemplation -- half Centering Prayer, which is a Christian form of silent meditation, and half Taizé prayer, with chants from the Taizé community, readings, silence and simple prayers -- in the fall semester.) He also helped start a local chapter of Integrity. He is a wonderful young man with much enthusiasm and feels blessed to have found a welcoming and inclusive church with a strong and long historical tradition.


Finally I ask your prayers for me, Jane. I am in hermit mode, chugging to the finish on a very large and long theological project known to the general public as The Big Tome. I have burrowed deeper into solitude and struggle in order to get it done and it is very intense work, even when I am not working consciously. I am well and healthy, I get good nutrition and enough sleep, enjoy the solitude much of the time, and have the wonderful company of Maya Pavlova, Feline Bishop Extraordinaire. She is very good at sleeping, napping, being playful, and keeping me company at the keyboard. She usually sleeps all afternoon but in the evening she tends to be in supervisory mode and hang out here in the study. I have no idea what she does in the morning, since I am keeping odd hours and am asleep much of the a.m. +Maya does come and visit after the alarm clock rings and usually settles on my chest for a while. She is a very civilized cat and does not wake me at 6 a.m. as some other cats are wont to do to their human companions.

I need and welcome your prayers, good vibrations, chants, meditations, and other holy expressions of support. Thank you! Come, Holy Spirit.*

*That's a link to the Taizé chant "Veni lumen" -- "Come, light" in Latin. "Come, Holy Spirit, light of our hearts," etc.

It is beastly hot here in Greensboro as in much of the Eastern part of the U.S. but I do have an air conditioning unit in the study and another in the kitchen/dining room, so I am managing, though the air conditioning is noisy and it is odd to be spending 90 to 95% of my time indoors in the summer. The phlox are blooming outdoors and surviving nicely. The humans, however, are wilting.

Peace to you all, and to all sentient beings.

Update on those Prayer Posse requests

Thank you, all, for your prayers. We welcome your weekend prayers too!

An update on how everyone is doing.

1. I spoke with P. yesterday. He is taking short walks every day. His voice continues to sound good. The sternum takes a long time to heal so he won't be able to lift anything heavier than a bottle of milk or to drive (seat belt is problem when you're recovering from chest surgery) for a while, but he is making steady progress. The dog is a little frustrated because she can't go on long walks, but sometimes there are visiting humans who take her out for a romp. B. (P.'s partner) is tired.

2. Deborah hasn't checked in but I am assuming no news is good news, because if there were trouble I would have heard from her spouse. I've left a message for her.

3. I am still writing. There wasn't much time for it during my teaching week but since Thursday I have been back at it almost nonstop. Big push today and tomorrow (outside of liturgy and Lenten Series). Keep prayin'.

4. Moira has a tiny faint squeak of a voice. This is good news. It means the larynx is still functional.

5. Mimi didn't find her wallet, but she got a new credit card, and she hasn't let a nasty English cold stop her. She continues to enjoy England in the good company of Doorman-Priest and his delightful wife.

We remember Ian, who died yesterday, and his beloved Lisa, who has lost the love of her life. Paul has a moving memorial post and also posted another beautiful piece of music as Ian was dying.

It's a rainy day in Greensboro. Yesterday was a rainy day in Greensboro. The day before yesterday was a rainy day in Greensboro. I am gearing up to do some writing and also to visit the computer people a bit later.

The daffodils are back in business

The snow has come, the snow has gone. The temperature went down to 9 degrees early in the week overnight and yesterday it was in the low 70s.

The daffodils survived, except for a few blooms which doubtless froze. But the buds were just fine, insulated from the cold by the layer of snow, and in the last two days they have been popping out in full force. So we now have daffodils, jonquils, and crocuses (purple ones) in front of the house. I have brought in some jonquils and daffodils for my desk, since I am writing a lot over spring break.

In French we just say "jonquilles" and I think that covers both daffodils and jonquils, so I am never quite sure of the English difference. Whatever it is, the flowers are both bright yellow and white-and-yellow, and they are pretty.

Spring has sprung.

Mid-semester grades are due first thing in the morning tomorrow

Well, it turns out many of us didn't use most of our snow day for grading. We just enjoyed the day, rested, listened to music, noodled around on Facebook, did a little school work (little grading, a lot of course website updating in my case), played outdoors in the snow, caught up on correspondence or phone calls to dear one, and baked or cooked (in my case, cornbread). There you have it.

I am going to be up much of the night reading and grading, reading and grading.

But then I'll be done.

It's a caffeinated kind of day.

La, la, la, we have a snow day

... which of course means faculty can stay at home reading and grading, grading, grading because mid-semester grades are due in three days. We might be able to avoid the mid-term all-nighter!

The Southland is all snowy.

+Maya Pavlova is asleep and doesn't care.

A dozen daffodils bloomed in front of the house just a day ago.

I cut and brought some daffodils and jonquils indoors yesterday. There were a lot more ready to pop out. The snow probably won't hurt them; they are hardy. But I worry about the ice which may be coming as the temperatures drop.

Sleep well, little daffodils.

Photo: Daffodils in snow, Consett, Co Durham, England; photo by Owen Humphreys, PA Wire.

Prayers for JohnieB (but don't worry)

Dear all,

I've wanted to post this for a while but did not want to do so without JohnieB's permission, which I just received along with a nice catch-up letter.

JohnieB, friend to many of us in this corner of the blogosphere, is, as you know, a Vietnam War veteran who lives with PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder). He also gets depressed in the winter, which happens to many of us (SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder) and happens even more to people who already suffer from depression.

So he hasn't been blogging and I've been checking in to make sure he was okay. He is, more or less, but is in slowdown mode, something those of you who have lived with depression will recognize. He's taking care of himself, he's surviving the nasty New England winter up there, Miz Scarlett the Cat (see below) is at her post, and JohnieB has some support and is not dealing with this entirely alone. But it's still hard. Depression is a nasty beast. I have known it myself, as have some of you.


Please send prayers to JohnieB, for healing and lively spirit, and also please don't take it amiss if he does not respond to you. Energy is low in depressed times. Also, JohnieB fears "being a downer to friends." He sends greetings and says not to worry if he isn't responsive either on his blog or in private e-mails.

Do your thing, Prayer Posse! Thank you.

Photo of sleeping Miz Scarlett by JohnieB.

Friday cat blogging: study with vacuum cleaner and sun

This was about two months ago.

As you see, the always extraordinary +Maya Pavlova, unlike most kittehs, does not fear the vacuum cleaner. But don't ask her to use it. She has her limits.

Too bad, I could use the household help. But I am only her humble and obedient servant.

The weather is cold (nothing like Boston or Minneapolis, but chilly for the Southland, below freezing) and I woke up with a cat draped over my arm on the flannel sheets. I am so dramatically broke that I have to keep the heat low since I can't afford heating oil till after the next paycheck (still two weeks away -- cable is about to be shut off, too; I may have to watch the Inauguration at a friend's) so we are piling on the down comforters and sweaters, but there is good healthy food in the house and snuggling with a cat is always nice. Today is bright and sunny and as in these photos, Her Grace is seeking out the sun patches and will not need to roll into a tight little ball until later in the day. I have gotten through the first week of classes with minimal stress and only have a couple of hours of desk work to do, after which I can tend to the backlog of non-school things for the rest of the day, here at home with a nice mug of something hot.

These photos are not of very good quality, but they do capture the mood.

Global warming, anyone?

Heavy rains pound Italy, Rome declares emergency.

Photo: Protezione Civile, Roma, via Reuters.

Brother of Acts of Hope, who lives in Rome (when he is not living in Istanbul or traveling to Perugia or Milan for work or on a gig in some other European country), has left New York City, where he and Brother's Dearly Beloved spent most of this week, for Rome. What will await the two of them when they land, I do not know. They live on one of Rome's famous seven hills, so there will not be flooding at the apartment, but who knows what the airport will be like. Stay tuned, and pray for the Gypsies (see the article via the link above) whom the city administration evacuated from the banks of the river Tiber today.

Floods do happen outside of periods of global warming. Below is (according to Reuters) a plaque on a wall in the Jewish ghetto in Rome, reading in archaic Italian "In 1598 the Tiber (river) reached this point." During the great flood of 1598, waters of the Tiber rose 19.56 meters (63.97 feet) above sea level.



Photos: Chris Helgren, Reuters

Meanwhile, it's still soggy in Venice:

Photo: Manuel Silvestri, Reuters.

Venice under water

Speaking of Venice (see previous post, immediately below)... Venice is flooded. Highest level in twenty years. Almost all streets are under water.

Photo: Luigi Costantini, Associated Press. Accompanying paragraph-long description here. That's the Rialto Bridge you see.

The smell of snow

We have had a few days of cold, crisp weather here. Last night as I was shutting down the computer I glanced at the weather information on the side of my Yahoo page, in the place where I have all "my" cities, and Greensboro, at the top, said "partly overcast."

I went out to the car around 11:00 p.m. to retrieve a bag of books and papers I had brought in from the office. Although the sky was indeed a little overcast, the air was still crisp. There was a smell in the air that brought me straight back to winters in the Alps, as surely as Proust's madeleine triggered his childhood memories. I thought to myself "it smells like snow" and breathed deeply, wondering how this smell and feel had come to North Carolina in November.

Around 6:45 a.m. I got up, started padding around the house, and looked out the window, and lo, there was snow.

There is not even an inch, but the ground is covered, and the trees, and the car, on November 21 in Greensboro.

I felt impossibly happy, as if winter vacation at age ten or a northern New England weekend in my thirties or forties had returned.

Who needs meteorologists? The smell was in the air.

Pray for the OHC monks of Mt. Calvary, California

I read last night on my friend Paul's blog that Mt. Calvary, the California residence and retreat center of the Order of the Holy Cross (Anglican Benedictines) was devastated by fire yesterday.

Both Paul and I have ties of deep affection with the OHC monks, he with the Santa Barbara crew and I with the smaller crew at the Priory in Berkeley, which has recently undergone the process of dismantling and merging with the California and West Park, New York monasteries. You can read about the fire and the monks here, chez Paul. Very sad news, though thank Godde all the brothers are safe, so the loss was of things and not flesh.

Paul also reflects on impermanence in this post.


I have been pondering those realities of the "stuff" we carry around and our attachments to it since the tree fell on my former house, as I continue to go through things rescued and moved haphazardly.

I also had horrid nightmares last night, but they were largely about the biennial faculty evaluations and pre-tenure review at school.

In another dream, I walked all the way from Boston to a women's monastic retreat house on Cape Cod, but it took only two hours and for some reason my parents (who generally would not go near a monastery) were meeting me at the retreat. And the road looked familiar. Apparently I had walked it before -- perhaps in another dream, which I remembered inside last night's dream.

Pray for the brothers of the Order of the Holy Cross, who keep their core of contemplation, but who are human as we all are, and who have been displaced by violent weather in the form of wind and fire.

My friend Richard is an Associate of the order, as are several other friends, and I have been pondering making that commitment myself for a few years now. (Though the St. Helena Breviary is more to my liking --more on the Order of St. Helena here-- but I have an abiding love for the Benedictines, and for some reason their communities of men feel welcoming and comforting to me. There's probably some deep psychological reason for that, or maybe it has to do with my being hetero, but ultimately the "why" doesn't matter.)

Grant peace and comfort, O giver of life, to all your children displaced by fire, that they may find shelter through the hospitality of their neighbors and know anew their dearest home in You. Through Christ our strength and our salvation, Amen.

Election Day morning

Chicago was unusually warm and clear. Here in the Southland, we awoke to grey, chilly, wet weather. One of the trees in the yard to the side of my house, at the border of my neighbor's yard, is tipped in golden yellow, the leaves closest to the trunk still green. The leaves and branches are moving: there is also wind today. The fig tree outside the window of my study is nearly bare.

I am still tired from the conference and the trip, but it was good to be in my own bed last night.

Today in the cool weather I will wear a wool sweater knit for my father when he was a Marine in World War II, probably when he returned from the Marshall Islands with a wound in his foot and was in hospital in Hawaii. My father is taller and bigger than I but the sweater has shrunk from washings over the years and just fits me. The wool is tight and warm, a very dark navy blue with a small turtleneck. There is still a bit of the Red Cross label on the neck. A woman whose name we will never know knit this sweater, and perhaps others, for men she would never meet. My father recovered well and has, if I remember correctly, a 10% disability. His automobile license plate has a purple heart on it. He is proud of his service in the war. He has also been, for years, a supporter of peace, speaking out against our current wars in the local high school and giving the young 'uns his "war is hell" speech. In a memoir he wrote nearly two decades ago, he writes that you never forget the smell of death.

Father of Acts of Hope turns 90 this coming weekend, and Godde willing, I will be up in Boston with him and Mother of Acts of Hope, celebrating quietly. Today my parents are voting. My brother is watching the election from overseas. In less than an hour I will go to my neighborhood Get Out the Vote gathering, at 9 a.m. in someone's home, under the leadership of a young Obama-Biden campaign staffer, wearing my father's sweater, knit by a Red Cross volunteer whose name we will never know.

Election Day.

Brought to you by your daily ¡Sí, se puede!

Activated till the polls close on November 4.

A Louisiana storm and personal update from Grandmère Mimi

Grandmère Mimi of Wounded Bird is doing fine. I had a long-ish chat with her this evening (and a much shorter one yesterday) and she sends her thanks to everyone for the prayers and support.

Mimi and her family are still in New Roads but expect to return home to Thibodaux tomorrow, unless things change. It looks like Hurricane Ike is headed for Texas, not Louisiana, so the coast is clear, so to speak. There is power at Grandmère and Grandpère's home because they are on the local hospital grid, so it's safe to go back there. They will be quite busy once they get there though, getting food back in the house (the contents of fridge and freezer spoiled) and getting re-settled. Mimi is also not sure she will have any internet access since things are not back to normal. So please bear with her. She may need a blogging break even when she is back home and wired again.

Diana the dog has been sweet and well-behaved and is doing well.

There were also three basset hounds belonging to Mimi's son, but they have now left New Roads, with her son who recently headed back to his home, so there is a little less doggy-ness on the premises.

FEMA has been no help. The state government, amazingly, has been a little more helpful. But I will let Mimi elaborate on that when and if she so desires.

Mimi says "We're all fine!"

Je Vais - Haiti Twoubadou

Yes, same root as the French word troubadour.

This is a music video, not live, but at least you can see the musicians.

To my ear, there are echoes of both Cuba and Louisiana in this one! So goes the gorgeous spread of music in the African Diaspora and its cultural companions.*

Enjoy.


And pray for Haitians, who have already suffered grievously from Hurricane Ike, and for their and our Cuban sisters and brothers.

May the people dance again.

* haitianmedia.com says:

Haitian Twoubadou, a silky and romantic take on Haitian Compas. Twoubadou translates as troubadour and, as that designation implies, the style is more concerned with melody, lyrics, harmonies and acoustic instruments than some of its Caribbean competitors.

Twoubadou (from troubadour) music has a long and important place in Haitian culture, one that transcends rural-urban and class divisions. The term is used to describe singer-composers who accompany themselves or are backed by small string-based ensembles. These traditionally consist of one or two guitars, a tanbou (barrel drum) played with the hands, a graj (scraper) and a manumba, a large, box-like "thumb piano" on which the player sits and plucks metal tongues suspended over a sound hole. Twoubadou is derived from blending of the Cuban son brought back to Haiti in the early twentieth century by itinerant Haitian sugarcane cutters and Haitian meringue. The form has become deeply Haitian over the intervening decades, and most Haitians consider it an indigenous music. Twoubadou songs are expected to truthfully convey the bitterness and humor of life and love, often employing ribald and off-color lyrics. Some twoubadou singers have been the conscience of a generation.

Twoubadou groups can still be heard in Haiti at patwonal (patron's day feasts), during Carnival, at private parties and in hotels and restaurants frequented by tourists. Eclipsed by konpa and other popular styles that it helped to spawn, twoubadou has been taken for granted by Haitians until a resurgence of interest that began in the late 1990s. Even so, this delightful music remains virtually unknown outside the country.