Windfall

Sometimes, when we are diligently searching but looking in all the wrong places, the very thing we seek waits for us in plain sight. Things we don’t even know we need…

Glad to go out on a mission, I sought the variety of greens that I usually gather for holiday decorations. For cedar, I knew right where to go; the revered old tree had some lower branches that needed pruning. It was easy, using the long-handled loppers, to cut a couple of long branches off.

Once those were down, I pruned off the smaller branches and made a stack on the lawn to be retrieved later.

The Douglas firs were more difficult, as most of the lower branches were gone. Strolling the edge of the pasture, I searched for any possibility when something caught my eye.

 

Scattered about were many small branches blown down by a recent storm. I gathered them up and stacked them into another pile.

 

There is a spot where western white pine cones accumulate. It’s a bit of a mystery as there are none of these trees nearby that I can see, and now there were more there than usual and some unmistakable long-needled branches.

 

I made another pile. When I was finished, I had more than enough fresh greens to do what I wanted and to share with friends and neighbors.

After fifty years of marriage, my husband and I have reached a new plateau, of sorts, in our relationship. Gone are the rounds of endless discussions trying vainly to change a mind, the hurt feelings, the frustrations of not seeing eye-to-eye on an issue. We have always agreed on most of the important things, but have our differences, as everyone does. Perhaps the struggle to turn a partner into someone other than who they really are is a hallmark of youth, but it is one we’ve surrendered to time. We now truly value each other - “warts and all” – and with that acceptance comes a tremendous peace.

 

A few years ago, through a series of volunteer projects, I gradually became acquainted with a couple of remarkable women. One is a chatterbox - innately honest and a warm, caring person with a heart as big as all outdoors and a fierce enthusiasm to throw herself wholeheartedly into any endeavor she is a part of.  The other appears quiet and reserved and can size up a situation quickly, has an eye for detail, and a determined stubbornness when it comes to preserving the environment and all creatures within it.

One is a non-practicing Catholic; the other has probing questions on all things involving faith. We get together often, discuss anything, and respect each other’s opinions. Beyond a doubt, I have become better informed, stronger in my convictions, and more willing to act for causes I believe in because of their willingness to question and share. Ours has become a treasured friendship.

We had been without a dog for fifteen years when a series of circumstances led to our adopting our little rescue terrier, Scruffy. We wanted to find a dog locally, but we found him on the internet. We wanted to travel a short distance, yet we drove to another state to see him. We wanted an uncomplicated process - we visited him at an incarceration facility for young men, but still could not bring him home because the rescue group needed to visit and approve our home. Lord knows he has his issues, unique behaviors, and odd little personality quirks, but he has added a certain energy, challenge, and spirit to our aging lives. He makes us LAUGH harder than we have in years, gets us out of the house daily, and gives us a reason to look forward to every day. And we wonder – just who saved whom?

All of this is windfall - unexpected, unearned, a sudden gain or advantage. In one form or another it comes to all of us, but we need to open our eyes to see and recognize it. And when you do, acknowledge, accept, and value it – trust where it comes from and that there will be more to come.

 

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.         Ephesians 3:20-21

Beach Exploration: Driftwood

"The three great elemental sounds in nature are

the sound of rain,

the sound of wind in a primeval wood,

and the sound of the outer ocean on a beach."

Henry Beston

After a nearly unprecedented 8 weeks without a drop of rain, the weather has finally turned sodden again in our corner of the world. Trying to finish up gardening chores, I've found the ground in most areas dry as far down as I've dug. Many garden plants and vegetables suffered during this drought and needed to be watered, but native species (although now heaving a collective sigh of relief) will do just fine. They have, after all, lived here for eons and are well-adapted to the soggy winters/summer droughts of the Pacific Northwest. Some of the deciduous trees that are bone dry have given up early, simply dropping their leaves without a lasting show of autumn color.

The huge conifers are drooping and many of the cedars are "flagging" prolifically.

It is perfectly normal for them to do this on occasion, but these stately giants of the tree world require rich, damp soil to thrive and hot, dry weather may stress them enough that some of their needles turn a rich orangish-brown and drop. The return of the rains will undoubtedly perk them all up again.

 

Although our local beaches vary considerably, they are never far from fresh water runoff and lush vegetation - usually in the form of large conifers.

 

 

 

And so it is not surprising that driftwood is common, whether carried by water from somewhere else and washed up on shore or crashing down from the many high banks as endless erosion takes its toll.

Either way, it is at the mercy of the sea and its endless ebbing and flowing. With time, all wood here is "sanded" down to its essence with all trace of leaves, bark, and branches scoured away.

 

Some driftwood fits its name and drifts along with the seas - for who knows how long - picking up all kinds of passengers. Some use logs as a resting place or hook a ride for a bit;

others are in it for the long haul, attaching themselves permanently to the wood.

 

Some of this wood has been purposefully transported here by humans for constructing piers and various other structures.

Depending on the type of wood and the severity of the coastal waves, some of these can remain in place for many, many years.

Humans have never been able to resist using this wood, which nature has already cut, limbed, and stacked.

Depending on where they lived and what the land offered, various Indian tribes have used this readily-available resource for fire, shelter, tools, utensils, art objects, and boats.

 

There are stories of early-day pioneers collecting and lugging this wood to what they deemed a suitable home site on which to build a simple shelter.

"Every time we walk along a beach
some ancient urge disturbs us

so that we find ourselves shedding shoes and garments

or scavenging among seaweed and whitened timbers

like the homesick refugees of a long war."
Loren Eiseley

 

 

The lure is still there - as evidenced by the "play" structures, pieces of art, and campfire remnants still found on any beach with a reasonable amount of driftwood.

 

 

With time, isopods, shipworms, and bacteria decompose the wood and gradually turn it into nutrients that are returned to the food web of the sea. Nature, ever the master recycler, never wastes a thing. 
 

 

No matter the season, or weather, we return to the beach - to relax, walk, listen, observe, contemplate... for it is here that we are renewed, cleansed, reminded of our place in the greater scheme of life. Storms are bound to come - we may be battered and worn down, our size and shape may change, but we will also become hardened and polished. Like driftwood, we toss about on the seas of life, following the ebb and flow, until we wash up on some steady shore - rough edges removed, outer facade stripped away. If our inner grain runs straight, strong, and true, we will be primed and ready for whatever "new use" we can be put to. Are you ready?

 

"If you want to build a ship,

don't drum up people together to collect wood

and don't assign them tasks and work,

but rather teach them
to long for the endless immensity of the sea."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery

For other BEACH EXPLORATIONS,  please click below:
SAND
SEA STARS
SNAILS

I AM

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

from Desiderata by Max Ehrmann, 1927

I feel a peace in the woods that I can feel nowhere else. Here, surrounded by green in all its glorious shades and hues, I truly feel God's presence. I am a part of this earth, as He intended me to be; my senses are sharpened and alive, freed from the various distractions that life is full of. My eyes feast on this beauty and never tire of it.

I am surrounded by trees, their trunks in various sizes and shapes climbing every skyward in search of precious light. Their foliage forms a canopy above me, filters and scatters the light to the growth below.

Thickly covered with mosses and looking like wizened old sages, the Big Leaf maples stand at intervals. The huge trees divide and branch early in their lives and continue to do so, as many sturdy straight branches grow upward.

Their leaves have a distinct lacy appearance and stand out bright green against the darker, muted shades of the cedars.

I am awed by the size of some of them, but they feel like comfortable old friends. I wonder at the variety of creatures which surely find homes among the nooks and crannies of their gnarled, rough bark.

The cedars are different, with a single straight, linear-barked trunk - their branches growing straight out around the trunk or curving gracefully down.

Distinct among the evergreens, their needles appear fern-like, lush, and compact. The huge ones dwarf everything around them, standing aloof and regal.

Smaller around, but standing out in their own way, are the gray, smooth-barked, straight trunks of the Red Alders.  

In my mind's eye, I trace their trunks with a brush and oil paints, gently forming them with slightly rounded back and forth strokes - streaks of Burnt Umber contrasting with the lightened Payne's Grey.

High above, their smaller leaves form a wonderful, spattered pattern against the sky and other foliage.

At ground level the sword ferns - growing in neat clumps as if lovingly placed by a gardener - grow in upright, orderly fashion.

Their meticulously precise fronds are large, easily waist to shoulder high to me.

Below them the matted, tangled growth of the forest floor grows lush - richly nourished with centuries of decay from the leaves and branches of all that have gone before.

And I, feeling very small and insignificant, stand among this grandeur. I, too, am nourished by all those who have gone before; by their struggles, efforts, and faith. I stand tall - for I am a child of the universe, meticulously formed. I breathe deeply, marvel at this burgeoning life, and know that none of it is random. 

But ask the animals, and they will teach you;
     the birds of the air, and they will tell you;
ask the plants of the earth, and they will teach you;
     and the fish of the sea will declare to you.
Who among all these does not know
     that the hand of the LORD has done this?
In his hand is the life of every living thing
     and the breath of every human being.
                           Job 12: 7-10