Walking home this evening

I closed the door at 5pm, walked away to the grassy fileds behind the castle and took deep lungs full of fresh air blowing down from the mountains of Snowdonia.

The castle looks a  bit foreboding sometimes with its feet thick punched slate walls reaching high above me.

 

No signs of wear on the outside and no visible cracks assay the skilled workmanship of Welshmen masons. Hundreds of thousands of tons stacked several stories high reaching corporately far above the tallest 200-foot trees below.

 

I linger amidst the sea flowers and watch the fritillary butterflies and bees and am amazed at nature. Not mother nature, God’s nature.  Imagine something such as this being borne of an evolving process of superior phases. What I see is really degeneration, yet I see with awe, for even in its degenerating dysfunctionality it still holds me captive when I think of how it all came about. I stand still and breath slowly, watching over the sheep in the meadow beyond the stand of sweet chestnut tress and coppered beech trees that flank them.

 

How did this happen. can it really be that in the beginning was the word and the word was with God and the word was God. He was with God in the beginning, through Him all things were made, without Him nothing was made that has been made? No one has or can explain to me how these things came to be. I walk through the woods on my way home and smell the tree ash composting beneath my feet. I stop and hear the woodpecker drumming for a while. I wait until he’s done. He’s above me now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A tree creeper drops to the base of a yew tree and spirals upwards around the stem until it reaches the branches. It flys to the base of another and then another. I see no colour but shape and characteristic to-base flight patterns and upward spirals tell me these things. The road is quiet now. Most have returned home by the time I get to the gateway out of the castle grounds. A lone squirrel waits for me to pass before returning to his feast.

 

 

 

 

 

I passed through the Llandygai Village where I live. I see my neighbours as I pass through. We had a village fellowship last week. We sat and talked about everything and nothing and we felt thoughtfully about one another.

I stop to eat cherries from the cherry tree in the middle of the village. The blackbirds and thrushes are way above me. They eat their fill too. Theres plenty for everyone and too many for me. far to many and far too high up.

It’s John’s 18th birthday today. Liz made a meal of Pizza for hin and Kat made him a birthday cake. We sang “Happy Birthday!” and here he is.

 

2 Comments

  1. I wonder if hand-tool woodworking leads us to live in a pace of life more harmonious to the subtleties of nature … or if the search of a harmonious pace of life leads us to hand-tool woodworking.

  2. I suspect there will be a lot of talk about woodwork in heaven. Jesus was good with hand tools!

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