God be praised, the frozen pipe situation is fixed. The warm temperatures today (mid-40's) thawed the pipe, and there was no damage done. Everything is fine. MeeMaw and I are grateful for this very specific answer to prayer. And we are determined to be more vigilant about such things in future.Animals have been much on my mind lately. In addition to our cats (indoor and outdoor) and our visiting equines, MeeMaw and I feel protective of the birds who come to our feeders. One of the girls with whom I work has been pestering me to take her one year-old Schnauzer off her hands ("He'd be a great farm dog, PeePaw!"). And naturally, we are thinking more and more about a farm dog. We don't want a Schnauzer (or any purebreed), particularly one that is already a year old and likely untrainable. One thing is for certain...our next dog will be a working dawg.
A friend sent me some very poignant photos today. In the first one, a female swallow has been struck by a car as she swooped too low over the roadway. She is obviously very badly injured.
Then we see her "husband" coming to assist her. The man who took these photos (in France) reported that the male swallow made several trips with insects, trying to feed his injured mate.
Upon one of his return trips, the male discovered that his mate had died. The photographer reported that the male tried to move his "wife." This is apparently very unusual behavior for swallows.
The male then began to publicly "grieve," crying out to the dead female swallow and mantling her with his wings.
He then backed up a bit and continued to cry plaintively over his loss. I have to confess that I tend to believe that the little fellow was aware that his mate was never going to return to the nest with him.
Finally, the male stood for a long time over the body of his mate, watching her still form. Finally, he flew away. I take comfort in reflecting on the fact that my heavenly Father was a close observer of even this small incident involving His creatures.
One of the most interesting movies we've seen in some time was one we watched back in the fall. It is a British film called "Kes," and is the story of an English schoolboy. His bleak, unlovely life is for a brief period brightened by his friendship with a kestrel, which he attempts to train. If you're interested, here's a clip from the film.
He then backed up a bit and continued to cry plaintively over his loss. I have to confess that I tend to believe that the little fellow was aware that his mate was never going to return to the nest with him.
Finally, the male stood for a long time over the body of his mate, watching her still form. Finally, he flew away. I take comfort in reflecting on the fact that my heavenly Father was a close observer of even this small incident involving His creatures.
One of the most interesting movies we've seen in some time was one we watched back in the fall. It is a British film called "Kes," and is the story of an English schoolboy. His bleak, unlovely life is for a brief period brightened by his friendship with a kestrel, which he attempts to train. If you're interested, here's a clip from the film.
Another of our high favorite old movies is a black & white film starring Edward G. Robinson as an immigrant farmer. It's called "Our Vines Have Tender Grapes." One of the most tender scenes is one in which the farmer (who is rather poor) spends an exhorbitant amount of money so that his little girl can see a circus elephant up close. I was very pleased a couple of years ago to find the book on which the movie was based, and gave it to MeeMaw as a gift. Here's a clip from that movie, too.
On a different topic...one of my favorite bloggers, Herrick Kimball, has posted an astonishing essay about the movie "Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou?" (by the odious Coen brothers) and how one of the characters in the movie spurred him to some profound insights about the agrarian lifestyle. I highly recommend the essay.
Finally, I wanted to share a bit of music that's a favorite of my good friend Doug. But before I do, a memory...
Several years ago in Texas, we were at a fellowship meal at our church. Like most presbyterian congregations, ours was made up mostly of affluent folks. One exception (besides MeeMaw and PeePaw, that is) was a man named Bobby. Bobby was a very interesting fellow. For all his self-consciousness about his lack of education, he was a voracious reader. He was also an original (if quirky) thinker. One of the most maddening people I've ever known (due to his habit of selecting topics on a weekly basis that contradicted each other from week to week), he was also one of the most genuine and sweet-natured people I've ever met in my life. I have very fond memories of many breakfasts with Bobby. During these meals, we would argue, laugh, debate, threaten each other...all the things that make up a good masculine friendship.
Anyway...this particular Sunday, we were having a fellowship meal, and the conversation was indistinguishable from the one that had taken place at the last fellowship meal. All of a sudden, Bobby stood up, walked up to the counter behind the food-laden table, and set up a large boombox. He announced, "I thought I'd play us some good music while we eat!" Then he pushed "play" on the machine, and a raucous, rousing Southern Gospel tune roared out of the speakers. MeeMaw and I were nodding our heads and tapping our feet, enjoying the music. And one of the most enjoyable things about it was observing the expression on Bobby's face. His eyes were gleaming, he was mouthing the lyrics along with the quartet on the tape, and his massive, flannel-shirted frame was bobbing up and down in time with the tune.
When the music was over, MeeMaw and I both said somthing like," Hey, that was great!" The rest of the room was silent. Finally, one other person said, "Uh, yeah...yeah. That was, uh, great." And I watched Bobby deflate right in front of us. He unplugged the boombox, went back to his seat, and finished eating in silence.
All that to say that I share Bobby's taste for good Southern gospel music (though I don't have anything approaching his expertise on the subject). And like Bobby, I think it's perfectly appropriate music for a Christian get-together in church.
So getting back to my friend Doug...he sent me a link to a great rendition of an old favorite hymn. And I love the fact that two of the men in the quartet are elderly...and yet they have powerful, powerful voices. Give this one a listen. Everytime I hear it, I want to go all pentecostal on y'all.
Rest well, loved ones.
