It’s quiet this morning. The only sounds are from the birds.
The wetland by the wilderness cabin
Redwing blackbirds feed on the cat-n-nine tails. Woodpeckers peck the trees. Canadian geese honk to stake their claim to what remains of the beaver lodge. Trumpeter swans blow their trumpets to shoo away the geese. The loons warble a primordial language, an echo of a time we cannot remember but dare not forget. The first sounds from a primordial Silence.
At daybreak at the edge of the wetland, I read from The Book of Common Prayer (BCP):
“One day tells its tale to another
and one night imparts knowledge to another.
Although they have no words or language,
and their voices not heard,
Their sound has gone out into all lands,
and their message to the ends of the world.”
[Psalm 19:2-4]
The pale blue dot — our island home
I come to the wetland on this “pale blue dot” (Carl Sagan) in a vast universe to hear the primordial echo away from the human crowing, honking, and pecking that hurt my ears back home. Barclay, the ever faithful Cavalier King Charles Spaniel companion, lives by his own natural rhythm at home as well as here at the cabin, but his wagging tail and constant smile here tell me he prefers this place where the only sounds come from the air and the wetlands.
Barclay smiling on way to the cabin
Barclay professes no particular creed, yet he seems to know better what my faith tradition, ducks, geese, swans, and loons know:
“The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament God’s handiwork” [Psalm 19:1] and “the whole Earth is the Theater of the God’s glory” [John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion]. With the help of The Book of Common Prayer, hearing aids, and binoculars, I sense it too.
Glorify the [Primordial Silence], O springs of waters, seas, and streams,
O whales, and all that move in the waters,
All birds of the air, glorify the [Primordial Silence],
Glorify God and praise God forever.
[“Song of Creation” excerpt, Morning Prayer, BCP, p.89, amended by GCS]
- Gordon C. Stewart, The Pea Pod, Northern Minnesota, May 6, 2018.
At the cabin next to the wetland we love quiet candle-lit evenings by the wood-burning stove. The candles are easy. We buy them. The wood for the fires is harder. We gather the logs and the kindling from the surrounding woods, drag them next to the deck, and break or cut them into pieces to fit the dimensions of the small wood stove. In a week or two, a friend and I will get out the chain saw to cut up large oaks that have fallen in the woods. But that will come later.
Thou shalt not even think of using a chain saw, for in the day that you use it, you shall surely die!
Before stepping foot on the property we thought it was on a small lake, not a swamp on outskirts of the Silvan Shores Association. We immediately fell in love with the quiet serenity of the place and the simplicity of the wood cabin.
I didn’t say ‘lawyer’, Grandpa. I said ‘lawyers.’ Sometimes you don’t hear so well or just don’t listen. But that’s okay. So, how many lawyers should I have? How many do you and Grandma have?
Views from the Edge 