Blessings in Disguise

Why was our usual railroad crossing closed for construction work today?

To drop off my son for cross-country practice, I had to go another way.

I caught my breath as the giant moon moved over the tracks to set shortly after sunrise.

To share this view, I parked the car, hopped out with camera-in-hand and walked a path I'd not journeyed before.



Along the way, I spied bushes of wild fruit ready to reap.




Juicy wild plums...












Shimmering strings of dark choke cherries...












And clusters of red, dew-covered berries.











Driving home, I followed the detour through lots cleared for a new housing development that I'd not yet visited. Here the rising sun shone through towering pines.








At the two highways' intersection, the glistening sun on the misty meadows drew me farther west – up a parallel highway to gain a different view of our home road and its hills...

... and lured me farther north to the lake shore where a big bur oak stands and fog fairies danced in the dawn.


With these images collected on my camera's memory stick, I understood why I woke with a sore toe. Had I not cut the nail too short yesterday, I would have walked my usual path today. But by skipping this morning's exercise, taking a detoured route to school and following the morning mist, I encountered incredible images. What previously seemed irritating inconveniences to my daily routine, I now recognized as blessings in disguise.

An Awesome God...

"Our God is an awesome God!"
Noah sang this refrain today as he rode his bike out into the field to show me his mammoth sunflower blooming in his garden.

Two weeks ago during Vacation Bible School, Noah learned not only that song, but also about saving God's grace.

Monday evening of that week, a storm wreaked havoc on our community. High winds and hail knocked over trees, tore off building rooves and shredded crops.

To our amazement, Noah's sunflower withstood the winds, but its leaves were shredded by hail.

Even so, a perfect flower bud emerged giving Noah hope for this plant – one he'd started from seed in his kindergarten class last spring – to mature. A few nights later, deer devoured his tomato and pepper plants plus the sunflower's leaves from four feet to the ground. Still, this plant persevered.

Last week, the head's yellow petals began unfolding. Every day we watched this giant unveil its beauty.

Today the whole center is alive with bees and other insects climbing the stem to pollinate its composite head.

Noah and I staged a photo shoot so that tonight at the school's Open House, we can visit his former kindergarten teacher and show her how the little seed has transformed.

It's not quite twice as tall as her more-than-six-foot-tall husband, but the flower certainly towers two-and-a-half times over her student.


Its thick stem measured 6 inches in diameter – larger than this upcoming first grader's grip.


And from the top of its flower head to the ground measured 10 feet and 1-1/2 inches.




Truly a measure of grace between:
a beloved teacher,
a young gardener and a Creator's protection.

Noah finished the refrain: "He reigns from Heaven above – with wisdom, power and love. Our God is an awesome God."

His Other Job

... quarter log siding the house – for a Nordic flair!

At last, Dan has finished the north side.


(That leaves me to sand, prime and paint the back step, posts, rails and insets for a true Scandinavian feel.)



Now he's measuring up the east side with the deck and three-season porch...



... and laying one log at a time. (This job began last fall with the south and west sides completed before last winter.)

This year's plan is to finish the rest before the cold settles in.





Then we can enjoy a little outdoor dining and relaxing – Scandinavian style – especially, when our Norwegian visitors arrive the end of September. But for now, I look forward to white washing the floor and trim when he's done with... his other job.

Under the Sea...

Oh, under the sea!

That's the refrain I sang early this morning.

I felt like Disney's Little Mermaid exploring her childhood environment, discovering treasures and encountering creatures.

The difference? Instead of swishing my fishtail to propel myself under the water, I squished along in my dew-soaked sneakers through my family's farm pasture where a river runs through it.

The wetness didn't hinder my enjoyment as I discovered:

Bracket fungus resembling coral reefs.




A risk-taking wasp hanging on a spotted touch-me-not.





A spider web – more than three-feet in diameter – shimmering in the morning light.

(Its enormity made capturing the whole web impossible under this lighting. Only after I circled and marveled at the creation did I wonder from where its creator watched me. Oooo...)


Three kings' crowns stacked on top of each other...
Or at least, that resemblance.

(Decades ago, my dad taught my siblings and me how this hollow-stalked plant could be pulled apart at these joints and, like a 3-D puzzle, be reconnected. Because of this phenomenon, Dad's family dubbed the plant: joint weed. I've since learned its formal name is horsetail.)

A one-eyed troll sipping from a straw.

OK, maybe that's a stretch with this tree knot.

(Today Dad explained: more than 50 years ago, his father attached a metal "L-shaped" brace into the tree, so the pasture gate could swing on it. Eventually, the tree grew over the brace, forming the knot, and then began absorbing the gate post.)


What fun to let one's imagination run back to the days of youth and...

Under the sea... Oh, under the sea!

Tropical Canopy

Wandering the woods with our dog this morning, I spotted a sign seasonal change:



Sumac leaves turning from green to red.












The plant's berries – fuzzy and bright red – intrigued me.








Skeletons – of sumac past – drew me closer into the live grove.

There I spied flattened grass in an oval shape... Most likely, last night's bed for a white-tail deer. (above, lower right)



I wondered what drew the deer into this place.

Looking up through the foliage, I understood.


This makes an enchanting place to dream.

I imagined nightfall as stars twinkled while lying under this UpNorth tropical canopy.

Dusk to Dawn

Driving my middle son home from football practice Tuesday night, the sun set spurring him to utter:

Red skies at night, sailors delight.






Soon the moon – in its waxing gibbous phase – rose over the horizon.













This morning as I drove my oldest son to cross-country practice at the local ski hill, we watched the sun's rays burst through the mist.








Along with two other moms, I walked to the hill's crest with the team on their warmup.


Awestruck by beauty, I mentally sang: "The hills are alive with the Sound of Music" –– thankful for my sons' sporting activities taking us outside to witness changes from dusk to dawn.

Trail Treasures

As rain drizzled this morning, I wondered where to wait while our dog took his run.

The woods beckoned. I walked the winding way discovering...



An arrow-leaved aster baring its russet center.









A fallen aspen leaf holding rain droplets.













A fringe of paper birch rustling in the breeze.












A stand of birch reaching for the sky.












A droplet-covered clover leaf resting on a shiny, pine-bark piece.





Tranquility amidst these trail treasures...

Two-Mile Musing: the lane change

After dropping off my son in front of the school for cross-country practice, I headed to the track for a two-mile trek. I parked the truck and pulled on a sweatshirt to keep warm in the crisp air.

As I walked, I noticed things. Sprinklers watered the football field. The sun rose in a clear blue sky. A jogger, running the opposite way, raised a hand of greeting. Last summer, he'd stopped me and pointed out the osprey nesting atop a stadium light pole. But today, no osprey flew in from the river to feed their young. Their nest suffered in Monday's storm.

Change... it's one thing of which we can be certain in this life.

The jogger lapped me. As I rounded the next corner, I started walking into the sun. He jogged around the opposite corner coming down the aisle of sprinklers. That's when I saw another change –– in lighting.

Running through the sun's rays and the sprinklers' spray, the jogger's figure formed an intricate silhouette. He was too quick; and I, too self-conscious, to pull out my camera and capture his oncoming image.

When the cross-country team started their workout – blasting down the track to get to the back-forty trails, I was ready with my camera. Quickly, I snapped a couple shots hoping to capture their illusive forms. To my surprise, I not only caught theirs, but also a sliver of the jogger's. And then, he was gone... finished with his morning exercise.

I continued walking – moving over a lane each time I completed one round – with the goal of eight laps. Halfway down Lane 3, I noticed a tiny plant growing in the middle of the asphalt track.

How on earth could a seed take root under layers of black top? Not to mention: How could it withstand the summer sun heating the pavement to stovetop temperatures?

This plant had adapted to more than change... it had beaten the odds.

I started down Lane 2. The sprinkler's spray crossed over my path. To avoid getting soaked, I changed lanes, jumped onto the football field and then stepped back onto the track.


Tsch. Tsch. Tsch. Tsch. Tsch. Dribble...

During my last lap, the timer stopped the sprinklers.


With this change, my steps grew louder; my thoughts, clearer. Like life, two miles go quickly with each lane change.

The Tornado's Toll

By Tuesday morning, everybody in our town had a storm story – their own or one they'd heard.

On our way to Isaac's cross-country practice, we noticed trees – that had been leaning Monday night – now uprooted by their crowns' weight. Later on a walk with Moose, we more closely examined the uprooting.

At practice, Isaac's teammate told how Monday's power outage intrigued his family to go outside to see what was happening with the weather. There above their home, the clouds joined and released a few times before forming a funnel cloud. Their dad said, "That's kinda cool."

Then the funnel cloud gained power and headed south toward the lake. There it wreaked havoc at the public park. His teammate reported trees were down over the driveway, on the beach, atop a shelter, the bathhouse and the park host's camper.

After morning music lessons, the boys and I headed to the park to see the damage first-hand. A half mile up the highway, I said, "Look! The eagle's nest is gone!"

The platform above the power lines was wiped clean. For years, a giant nest had weathered the elements and housed multiple broods.



Getting into the park was a challenge with the fallen trees. Crews were on hand moving and sawing debris. Since the boys were determined to see their favorite fishing and swimming spot, I found an out-of-the-way place to park. The damage was devasting.

While looking at the Norway pine fallen over the shelter, Isaac slipped – as the ground gave way – into the hole left by its uprooting.

Aaron and Noah checked out the beach and fishing pier to find things mostly in order.

For me, the bur oak tree standing in the middle of the beach was the best sight.

This tree provides relief for those who seek shade near the water on hot summer days while watching the kids play.

Hooray! Our beach keeps its #1 status among those in the area.

While wandering the park, I noticed another woman photographing the disaster. She introduced herself as one of the park's hosts. I said, "So you were one of those in the camper when the storm hit?"

She nodded, "My husband and I and another couple were having dinner inside when it got very dark. The wind picked up. Hail pounded the camper. And then a few trees blew over on the beach and the bath house. Our friend said: Maybe we should get out of here? I shook my head and said: I think we're safer in here. It got quiet and then the winds picked up again. We could hear trees crashing all around us. One landed right on top of our camper."

No one was hurt. When the storm ended, they went outside for a look. She said,

"I told them: Next time you come to visit, I'm collecting a cover charge for entertainment!"

Weathering the Storm

Tornado sirens blasted last evening when dark clouds, high winds, hail and a down pour struck the area.

The boys and I took shelter in the basement of our church where we had gathered with dozens of others for this week's Vacation Bible School. When the power went out, the kids led songs and told ghosts by candle light. Later, on our drive home, we noticed downed trees and leaves beaten to the ground by hail.

Pulling into our washed out driveway, Isaac shouted, "It's a good thing Mom said to put Moose in the kennel before we left. Look!"

The tree to which we tether our dog had a large branch whipped down beside the spot where he usually rests. And the maple tree that serves as a post for his kennel had one of its multiple trunks snapped off twisting the fence. The lean-to doors sheltering his food-and-water coop had blown over too. Physically, Moose fared well and seemed himself after a long run.

From our home's northwest corner, the wind had blown off fascia trim and the gutter drain. Tree limbs and branches scattered the yard. Our lawn – browned by this summer's drought – looked green. That illusion stemmed from the heavy leaf cover brought on by hail. Inch-sized ice balls lay bedded deep into the grass.

Noah's garden suffered damage. He ran down to the field and cried, "My pumpkins!"

Upon closer inspection, he realized only the plants' leaves were shredded. The two big balls were still intact. In fact, one had even started to turn orange.

Although the tomato plants were flattened, they were still rooted and their green fruit was mostly unharmed.

Amazingly, Noah's 12-foot sunflower stood tall against the eery sky. Back in April, Noah started this plant from seed with his kindergarten class. His teacher told him the plant might get three-times his height before gaining a head.

After the storm, we noticed a perfect flower head forming in spite of the plant's torn elephant-ear leaves. To encourage Noah, I said, "There's still hope – if it's standing after all that!"