Month: June 2026

Tuesday, June 30, 2026 Sticks and Stones

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I play with sticks and stones. Sitting on a beach, out in the woods, wherever sticks and stones reside, I pick them up and rearrange them. I don’t remember when I started doing this. Was it when we took the kids on camping trips? Was it in my childhood? Whenever I started, it has become a happy compulsion, especially when I am away from home and time is unbound from my usual routine.

Last year when we were up at Grand Marais I ran back and forth like an excited child gathering up stones that I found especially pleasing. I placed them thusly:

Sometimes my compositions are quite simple:

I built an amazing edifice out of sticks and stones in Grand Marais once but I couldn’t find a photo. If I find it, I’ll let you know. (Later: I FOUND IT! Or rather, hubby reminded what year that was and THEN I found it.)

I don’t often have a chance to go back later and see what has become of these momentary rearrangements in nature. The conceited part of my soul (which is vast, indeed) likes to think that when people come across them they ooh and ahh and instruct their children to leave them as is. “Look Mark, look Sally! Someone has created these artful arrangements in the wilderness/on the beach. Don’t touch them! Let’s preserve them for others to enjoy.” Yes, that’s the kind of silliness my mind conjures up in unguarded moments.

Here at the boys’ camp, I have discovered the reality of the thing. I made a simple little construction out of sticks on Sunday and it was rent asunder within hours. I made another one this morning which met with the same fate in less time.

I have decided to take this as a challenge. I don’t think I’ve been seen while constructing, and I have not seen who’s been doing the destructing. I shall continue in my efforts and see what happens. The game is afoot!

UPDATE! I was working on my next Work of Art (which is what any Sticks-and-Stones Artist would call it), when a gregarious boy came and sat next to me on the bench chatting me up. We talked about all manner of things: the candy he was eating, his attempts at fishing, where he hoped to go with his group for the cookout that evening, etc. (O Lord of Little Boys, thank you for sending this fellow over!) He didn’t appear to notice what I’d been doing, but a red-headed friend of his meandered over and saw it right away. “What’s that you’re making?” Red asked. “Cool!” said Gregarious Boy, “Can I add to it?”

“Sure!” I said, as GB put an acorn cap on the top of a stick. The SAS Artist approved.

“What if I kick it?” asked Red, “Would you be mad?” He had a look of mischief on his face that I recognized as a mother of five boys.

“Not at all!” was my cheerful reply, “I’ll just make another one.” Privately I was thinking So YOU’RE the one!

Red put his foot out as if to kick it, but changed his mind, apparently unwilling to do it right in front of me. In a moment, the call went out for kids to come to the waterfront to go fishing and off they went.

Oh my goodness, I love those boys! I wanted to give them a motherly hug, but wisdom restrained me. Last time I checked, my edifice still stands.

Perhaps interactions like that are what the Lord brought me here for…. Other than that, I’ve taken prayer walks, praying for the campers and the staff. And I’m doing a fair amount of reading, writing and painting. All in all, this is shaping up to be a lovely week.

Sticks and stones may break this post, but words will never be deleted. Or something like that.

Monday, June 29, 2026 Summer Camp

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After all these years, I’m finally at summer camp. This was an experience denied to me in my youth so naturally I romanticized it as a place of wonder where you went from one amazing thing to another. Even after watching The Parent Trap, I still thought it must be a place that birthed lifelong friendships and created the best memories. Maybe you could even find your long-lost identical twin there. I would have been delighted to find out that I had a long-lost identical twin, by the way.

My older sister became a Girl Scout and I believe she had a summer camp experience once. By the time I came around, I only made it as far as the Brownies. We did one pitiful day camp that was so far from meeting my expectations that I left the memory of it smoldering on the inadequate campfire we sat around, where it remains to this day.

My husband and I are volunteering at a Christian boys’ camp this week. It’s the same camp he brought most of our sons to for a week every summer as they were growing up. He would stay up there, too, as a lay counselor. When they came home from camp, I’d hear about hocker games, archery and other skills learned, horseback riding, carpet ball, swimming, singing silly camp songs around the campfire, Bible devotionals and prayer times, and buying things like Charleston Chews at the camp store.

We only have one daughter out of our six children (we always called her our “rose among the thorns”). While the menfolk were up at camp, she and I had “Girl Week.” We planned it in advance with different featured activities each day. One day we’d have an extravagant tea party. Another day would be “Downtown Day,” where we’d go downtown with a certain amount of money to spend at the shops. We’d also have a day where we’d do take-out food and a movie. And of course we’d have a craft day, too, working on some artsy project together. Oh, such fun! Looking back, I think that the way we spent that week was better than any summer camp experience could have been.

I’m not sure yet how our week at summer camp will go. I had expected to help in the kitchen, but upon arriving here we discovered that they already have four cooks/kitchen helpers, all young guys. The head cook is 17 years old. He told me they might not need my help much, so I will probably see if I can tag around after my husband, helping with grounds work. I am praying that the Lord will show me how to be useful here.

The memory of this post will be left smoldering in a campfire in the morning.

Thursday, June 25, 2026 A Good Friend, An Acrylic Adventure

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I hosted a paint party recently. It was my job to not only find enough people to come, but also to pick out the painting that we would do. I had about 10 paintings to choose from. They were all nice, and I dragged my feet on the selection. Finally, the event was drawing nigh and I had to choose, so I picked one that I thought was quite striking.

The paint party was lots of fun and I got to know some of my neighbors a little better. It’s always interesting to see how the paintings turn out when you do one of these paint parties. They’re all basically the same subject with the same paint, but rendered in different ways. Still, that striking painting struck me differently when I thought about where to put it in our house. The bright red and yellow in the sky just didn’t fit anywhere here. What to do?

My good friend Teresa visited today and among other things we talked about that painting. She is an interior designer, a skill I do not possess on any level (hence, picking a painting that doesn’t work well in my house).

“Should I just throw it away?“ I asked.

She looked at it thoughtfully and said, “I wouldn’t do that. Why don’t you repaint the sky and the sun? You could put in some more muted tones that would make it more suitable“ The fact that she thought I was capable of this was quite encouraging. I had a few dozen small containers of acrylic paint that I had not looked at nor opened in probably 15 years. Why not?

As soon as she left, I got to work. It felt rather touch and go the whole time. At one point I accidentally spilled a little orange paint in the sky and had to just blend it in and hope for the best. The final result, while not perfect, is a painting that I think I can find a place for on one of our walls. I would not have been brave enough to try it without her encouragement.

That’s the difference that a good friend can make.

I’ll probably repaint this post in the morning.

Monday, June 22, 2026 Garden Gazing

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I always bring books with me to the garden bench, but I am surprised by how often I put them down, compelled to gaze around me instead. I go from reading words on a page to reading what God has written in this small garden. Read it for yourself!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

Friday, June 19, 2026 What Do You See?

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Note: I wrote this post for my previous blog, “Further Up and Further In” back in 2012. My father passed away in 2013. I reprint this in honor of his memory for Father’s Day.

What do you see? Do you see an old man? Of course you do, for that is what he is, an old man nearing the end of his journey. He sleeps most of the time, rarely talks, doesn’t remember much. And that, if you don’t know him, is all you can see when you look at these photographs. That is the limitation of photography and, in fact, a limitation of our eyes. We can only capture what is visible in that moment in time; we don’t see the broad spectrum of what makes that person who he is; we don’t see the rich and varied history of his life.

You see an old man. I see my father. You see white hair, age spots and wrinkles. I see the gentle, good-humored, kind and dependable man who helped raise me. You see his current uselessness, while I see a gymnast, a musician, a band teacher, a fisherman, a handyman, a fellow who worked hard, dressed like Mister Rogers and was lovingly faithful to his wife. You see a man who no longer interacts with his world; I see someone who read to his children, took them on endless camping trips, went swimming with them often every summer, told funny stories, whose knees creaked as he came running up the stairs at night saying, “you kids settle down up there!” and who much later quietly grieved the loss of his oldest daughter. And even what I see isn’t all there is to the man. Think what his wife and parents could tell, what they could add to our understanding of his life. Yet with all of that, our picture still isn’t complete, for only God knows the deepest parts of a man’s soul.

What do you see? What can any of us really see? Pray that the God Who Really Sees would open our eyes and give us compassion for those who can no longer tell us who they are.

Me in my Dad’s lap.
Leslie, who died in 1987, is also in the photo.

I love you and miss you, Dad!

Will I delete this in the morning? I didn’t last time, apparently.

Friday, June 12, 2026 Sir Fatty Frog

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I came across Sir Fatty Frog in the perennial garden the other day – gave me quite a start. He didn’t seem to notice me, so I presume he was thinking froggy thoughts in accordance with the way he was created.

Sir Fatty Frog
Sits on a leaf
(Why not a log?
Ask the frog!)

He’s plump and green,
Sir Fatty Frog
(I’m awfully keen
On that kind of green)

Sir Fatty Frog
Has bulgy eyes
(He’s all agog,
Sir Fatty Frog)

Give glory to God,
Sir Fatty Frog
(Just blink and nod,
He made you odd.)

Dedicated to my friend, Jeannette, who has been asking me to write more whimsical poetry.

Sir Fatty Blog will go on a deletion diet in the morning.

Thursday, June 11, 2026 Dear Diary…

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Dear Diary,

I have been hither and yon since last I wrote. How I do love visiting our loved ones, seeing their faces in person, having good conversations; it’s all a very sweet joy, especially spending time with the grandchildren. I hosted a Camper Party that was the Mother of All Camper Parties for our two oldest grandchildren (6 and 3). We told stories and had real tea and real cookies (Grandma usually doles out water and graham crackers and requires the guests to use their imagination). The laughter during our story telling time nearly rocked the camper. I let the young’uns pick four characters (stuffed animals) for each story out of the infamous Green Knapsack and off we went, improvising all the way. Ah, good times.

—- interruption for weather report! — As I was sitting here reminiscing and writing, I suddenly became aware of a terrific wind picking up. The trees are in a veritable frenzy out there! I don’t do a lot of jumping out of chairs anymore, but you should have seen me move. I turned off the water fountains and watched out the back door for a moment. “He bringeth forth the wind out of his treasuries.” That’s a phrase I’ve come across in the Bible and I must say, today’s the day for it, this very hour. Way off in the perennial garden I could see our wind spinner making a blur of itself. Quite exhilarating!

You will have to take my word for it – the wind was blowing fiercely!

Back to our travels, it was a grand time. With the possible exception of being woken up in the middle of the night in our camper hearing a woman screeching at the top of her lungs looking for her lost cat. She and her group had been in the camper next to us and couldn’t find their cat before leaving earlier in the day. I’m all sympathy about wanting to find the cat, but sympathy dissolved into antipathy at the caterwauling that went on for 10 minutes or so. “FRIS-BEEEEEEE!” FRIS-BEEEEE! MEOW, MEOW, HERE, KITTY, KITTY!!!!” I do have a hard time being charitable at times like that. In retrospect, she’s given me an entertaining story to tell, which softens my heart.

As much as I enjoy the delights of travel, I am always thankful to get home, back to our comfy bed and our even more comfy routine. Even when I was all the way across the nation, I think the Sticky Chair was calling me.

Writing from the S.C.

Me.

I’ll probably go looking for this post in the morning, screeching at the top of my lungs.

Wednesday, June 10, 2026 The Workshop: Tiny Art Restart

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Yes, I finally got out the carefully packed zipper bag of art supplies that I brought with me out West in April, having intended to do some Tiny Art out there. Hope springs eternal, apparently, since I have done this many times in the past and the result was the same as this time: Zip. Nada. Null and Void. But today, the muse struck me like a mallet hitting a gong. Tiny Art Happened.

Quirky flamingo with a serpentine neck:

This is the truth:

You’ll only get this next one if you know the song “Where have all the flowers gone?” If you do, you’ll be singing it for the next few hours – sorry.

Flower siblings:

And now you know what happens when inspiration strikes! Full disclosure: I copied all of these from art I found on Pinterest. But the words, as always, are mine (for what that’s worth).

Where have all the blog posts gone…long time passing?

Tuesday, June 9, 2026 Commonplace Quotes: LOTR Edition

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I’m currently reading a book called Bandersnatch, about the writing collaboration between JRR Tolkien and C.S. Lewis and other writers that called themselves “Inklings.” I am astounded to think that we might never have had the gift of Lord of the Rings, were it not for C.S. Lewis’s encouragement to his friend “Tollers.”

A few quotes from the trilogy (which, if you haven’t read yet, you really should do so):

There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, waiting for some final and desperate danger to make it grow.
JRR Tolkien, Fellowship of the Rings

As someone who has often had a very timid heart, I find this fabulously encouraging.

Indeed, in nothing is the power of the Dark Lord, more clearly shown than in the estrangement that divides all who still oppose him.
(same)

“The counsel of Gandolf was not founded on foreknowledge of safety, for himself, or for others,” said Aragorn. “There are some things that it is better to begin than to refuse, even though the end is dark.”
JRR Tolkien, The Two Towers

“Work of the enemy!” said Gandolf. “Such deeds he loves: friend at war with friend; loyalty divided in confusion of hearts.
JRR Tolkien, The Return of the King

There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end, the shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty forever beyond its reach.
(Same)

Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea, comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-Earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.
(same)

Of course, those quotes are just a pittance compared to the full breadth of the book. Go and read it.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, but not all deletions are an evil.

Monday, June 8, 2026 The World and They That Dwell Therein

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The earth is the LORD’S, and the fulness thereof;

The world, and they that dwell therein.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of glory shall come in.

Who is this King of glory? The LORD, strong and mighty, the LORD, mighty in battle.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates..and the King of glory shall come in.

Who is this King of glory? The LORD of hosts, he is the King of glory. Selah.

When your garden and the creatures who pass through it speak the psalms to you.

I think it’s bedtime; I shall dream of deleting this in the morning.