Dreaming of an Autumn Day at Fragrance Lake

Welcome friends...thanks for coming by. We're seeking beauty in all of creation... in our faith and our families; our art and our music; our crafts and kitchens, and even in our own backyard. We'll share a poem or a recipe, a picture or a memory; maybe a dream of how we wish our life could be. And though we acknowledge that the world can be harsh, we're keeping it pleasant in our little corner; endeavoring to keep the words from the Book of all Books: ...Whatsoever things are lovely; think on these things.

I so enjoy hearing from you...so leave me a comment; it'll make my day!

Photo: Bee and thistle: Taken high in the Cascade Mountains where there is a bee buzzing on every thistle. by Debora Rorvig

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Dreaming of an Autumn Day at Fragrance Lake

Photo is from fishwhatcom.com

     I'm just sitting here on my sofa this late evening, reflecting upon a dream I had a few years ago. In the dream, I saw a lake; I recognized the place--it was Fragrance Lake. I hiked there once with Kelly and the kids. The only way to get to Fragrance Lake is by hiking...or by dreaming. It was a tranquil autumn day in my dream; and golden leaves were dropping from the deciduous trees along the shore and landing on the water. The lake was dappled with golden leaves. A warm afternoon sun shone on the water, and an occasional breeze caused the leaves to float lazily about without a worry for where they went.
      Nothing else happened in my dream. I was just there.
      I awoke at peace, and just lay there, pondering my dream.
     A still, small voice inside of me said, "You've entered the autumn of your life, daughter."
     That startled me a bit, but I kept listening.
     "This is how I will make your autumn years."

     Just of late, I'm noticing how full life is. Golden, ripe, and sweet. My forties didn't seem that way, and my thirties, well they were just a blur of activity. But there's a richness in the fifties. And I'm learning how to float like leaves on the water, without a worry for where I am going.
     The writer of Ecclesiastes says, "He hath made everything beautiful in his time." I'm thankful for the beauty of this time in my life.
     I don't know why I'm sharing this with you tonight. It's 12:47 and I should be off to bed. But I hope that you will somehow be encouraged to enjoy this time of your life; and to know that every time of your life holds a promise of beauty, as you trust in God.
     Good-night to you...and sweet dreams!

2 comments:

ellen b. said...: Well I'm glad you shared. God is blessing me in my Autumn for sure. Praise God for his love and beauty...; July 21, 2011 at 7:57 AM
farmlady said...: I love your.."learning how to float like leaves on the water," I'm trying to live my life like this.
I have a very different idea of "God" than most, but I see him (her/the essence/spirit etc.) in that photo. There are places where he is more alive and visible that other places... but it's always a tangible awareness... if you are looking.
Keep listening to that voice and looking for the answers... but stay in the moment.

"The whole of life lies in the verb SEEING"
~Teilhard de Chardin

Autumn will come...; July 21, 2011 at 1:30 PM

I Am From

I Am From...

by Debora Rorvig

I am from a lumber mill worker’s company house
with peeling paint and a sidewalk made of two by fours.
From faded flannel shirts that smell of pine and cedar boughs.

I am from Mason Jars of homed-canned pears,
from Dairygold milk with cream on top
in bottles on the porch.

I am from a garden plot with rows and rows of golden corn
that always wanted hoeing,
and from atop the highest branches of the Gravenstein apple tree in the Attolini’s orchard-
with apple juice dripping from my chin.

I am from saurkraut and wooden shoes-
the Millers and the Youngedykes,
and from the lively Scottish clan
who wear the McKinnon tartan.

From farmers and woodsmen
plain folk all,
who’s hands were calloused hard
but who’s hearts were tender-soft.

I am from ‘what will the neighbors think’
and ‘if you can’t say something nice,
don’t say anything at all.’

From saints and sinners who didn’t see eye to eye
but loved each other anyway,
and in their own way.

I am from the Western shores of Washington
strewn with agates, kelp and driftwood,
from Steelhead salmon, salty smoked
and chowder made from clams we dug
at Semiahmoo spit.

I am from my mother Ruby,
who taught me how to sew
on the old Singer treadle machine;
and told me all about my heritage.

And from my daddy, Raymond Claude
who took me nightcrawler hunting in the moonlight
and showed me how to bait my hook
and fish along the Nooksack River’s edge.

I am from an ancient, tattered Holy Bible kept safely on the upper shelf
with pictures of Jesus Christ
and a letter edged in black- carefully tucked inside.
There are births and deaths recorded there,
and a poem by great- great grandfather Alexander Laughlin Mckinnon
who I never met--and yet I know him
better than some I’ve met.

Precious is that Book to me.

And that is where I am from.

My Life List

*Seek first the Kingdom
*Never stop dreaming
*Make a difference in my students' lives
*Create alternate streams of income to fund my goals
*Dress with flair
*Master virbrato on my violin
*Try cross country skiing in Eastern Washington
*Lose those extra pounds and be healthy
*Be more active in my church
*Stop fearing things, people and confrontation; say what I think
*Stop Hurrying
*Inspire my grandchildren
*Own a Cottage on the Beach
*Live the Word
*Memorize the Book of Hebrews
*Find the perfect hairdo
*Be myself
*Look up old friends and make new ones
*Remodel the kitchen and bathroom
*Make my garden lovely
*Sleep under the stars in the desert and hear coyotes howl
*Write and publish a book(s)
*Travel toRio de Janiero, Cape Breton, South of France, Italy,Scotland, Wales, UK, Ireland, Norway, Turks & Caicos, New York City and the Eastern Seaboard; The Deep South, Africa

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Dreaming of an Autumn Day at Fragrance Lake

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