It’s raining today so I’m building the raised beds in the garage. They’ll eventually be moved outside of course. Daisy is here keeping me safe from the rain, FedEx, Amazon, and UPS.

Currently reading: How to Read Water: Clues and Patterns from Puddles to the Sea by Gooley, Tristan 📚. Picked this up, along with Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer on a recent road trip which included a stop in Savannah, Georgia. I love hitting indie bookstores when traveling, and find myself gravitating to the nature and regional sections every time. We started an audiobook on the trip and have had to re-borrow it from the library so we can finish it: The Woman in the Window by A.J. Finn.

It’s nice to take a break from theology for a bit. We tried one of the Brother Cadfael mysteries (we’re on something of a mystery-genre jag right now) but it was a little tough to follow in audio format. Will definitely be looking into them in hard-copy at some point.

…and the vineyard (lol) is also done for now.

First peony has opened!

Got the grape trellises in. I’ll do the wire tomorrow and maybe plant the pair of vines on Sunday. It’s going to have to wait until after I get back from an overnight camping thing with the youth group. On deck after that are the elderberry cuttings, a replacement climbing rose, and the long-delayed raised-bed rebuild.

Beautiful morning for a 5K. Negative splits, too! I’ll take that any day of the week.

Expanding our orchard! Today we picked up a pair of Arkansas Black apple trees, along with a Cortland for pollination. Also grabbed a Keiffer pear to replace the one we lost a few years ago. Finally, a pair of muscadine grapevines: ‘Tara Bronze’ and ‘Triumph.’

I’ve wanted to try grapes for awhile now, so it’s high time to dive right in. Lot of holes to dig tomorrow.

Currently reading: Purgatorio by Dante Alighieri 📚

First pawpaw blooms!

Swarm trap

Top-bar hive

For the perpetual excuse
of Adam for his fall — “My little Eve,
God bless her, did beguile me and I ate,”
For his insistence on a nurse,
All service, breast, and lap, for giving Fate
Feminine gender to make girls believe
That they can save him, you must now atone,
Joseph, in silence and alone;
While she who loves you makes you shake with fright,
Your love for her must tuck you up and kiss good night.
— Auden

Here’s how we can be more like St. Joseph, whose solemnity we celebrate today.

• Pray a lot.
• Don’t say much.
• Go where you’re told — and stay there until told otherwise.

Books: dug out a collection of short stories I haven’t touched since college - Stories of the Old South, edited by Ben Forkner and Patrick Samway, SJ. Last night I read “Athénaïse” by Kate Chopin. I could have sworn I read The Awakening at some point along the way, but I’m looking at plot summaries and I’m either mistaken or I’ve forgotten every bit of it. In either case, I want to read more of her work.

Still working my way through Benedict XVI’s Jesus of Nazareth and trying to get caught up on all the magazines which have landed.

Associated Press:

Dick Hoyt, who inspired thousands of runners, fathers and disabled athletes by pushing his son, Rick, in a wheelchair in dozens of Boston Marathons and hundreds of other races, has died, a member of the family said Wednesday.

He was 80.

I'm a runner and have been on and off since high-school. I got into it because my father was a runner. Never serious, no events or anything like that. It was just something to do. I drifted away from it and came back in the years since then. An idiotic accident at home wrecked one of my ankles and I was told that impact-stuff like running was basically off the menu for me. At about the same time, I became aware of some middle-aged doughiness so I took up cycling. I loved it and built up to a couple of century rides. Then my wife started running, then we both started cycling together, and then we settled on just running, so that's what we do. The ankle seems to have healed over the years and other than a slight shortening of my stride, the effects are minimal.

We're fortunate to have a beautiful greenway trail system nearby, which lets us run along the local river without having to worry about cars. We've each done a couple of half-marathons and have settled into a nearly-year-round habit. For me, it amounts to 10 miles/week. This seems to be enough to keep the my endorphins going, heart healthy, and weight in check.

I can't say I love 100% of every run while I'm doing it. Some are better than others and I feel like I could go all day. Others are a fight for every step. I always like the way it feels to be done with a run. I say all that to say this: I have, occasionally, wondered what it would be like to complete a full triathlon. I know men my age (I just turned 50) who have done it, so I have a passing familiarity with the training regimen, and that's where it stops for me. I don't have the time, and even if I did, I'm not sure my joints could take it. So I balk at the training.

Dick Hoyt completed 6 full Ironmans, 234 other triathlons, and 67 marathons. Oh and he also ran/biked across the US.

And all of these while pushing and pulling his son Rick, who is quadriplegic and has cerebral palsy. He'd push him on a wheelchair, pull him in a raft for the swim, then sit him on a two-seater bike.

His son, who doctors insisted should be institutionalized - "he'll be a vegetable for life," but who went on to attend public school and graduate from Boston University.

Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace.

Currently reading: Stories of the Old South by Ben Forkner 📚

…which means ‘Sent’

The Frist Museum here in town is hosting Picasso: Figures, showcasing all of the wonderful (and weird) ways that Picasso portrayed the human form over his career.

Upstairs, visitors can find Man with Axe and Other Stories by Liliana Porter. If you've ever looked at the I Spy books with your kids, it will be right up your alley.

The Porter work was wonderful stuff; these two detail shots really don't do it justice in terms of scale.

I’m attracted to Cassian’s writings and the work of other early monastics because they reveal parallels between the era of the desert fathers and our own; they, too, lived during a time when the known world was coming unhinged. In 313 CE, when the Roman emperor Constantine declared Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire, thereby marking the beginning of Christendom, men and women of conscience knew that the wedding of church and state was not a betrothal: it was a betrayal. The early anchorites withdrew from this arranged marriage because they knew that Christendom could no longer sustain their inner lives, that civilization had in fact gone mad. They left the cities and withdrew to the Egyptian desert, where the vastness of their spiritual hunger could be met by an equally vast landscape.

From Keeping the World in Being: Meditations on Longing, by Fred Bahnson. This is a wonderful a piece which resonated deeply with me after this long, eremetical year. I sought the desert fathers frequently in recent months and found, especially in the Conferences and Institutes deep wisdom well-suited to this enclosure-of-circumstance.

Come, let us reason together.

Tonight I teach the contraception and IVF session for RCIA. Should be a good one. We did it last year as a standalone session for the first time since there's so much to cover. The Q&A portion at the end was interesting, to say the least. I anticipate the same tonight.

In this big family, Daft Punk’s music was something that every single person could get behind and feel good about. Random Access Memories is in perennial rotation here and probably will be forever. Thanks for all the great work and good luck in whatever comes next.

Currently reading: Photographically Speaking by David duChemin 📚

I don’t think I’ve heard anything as lovely as the sound of all this snow and ice melting all around me. The gutters sound like it’s pouring down rain.

Beware the pogonip!

The striped birds are female redwinged blackbirds. You can just make out the bit of rose on their throats. Quite a contrast to the jet-black males with their beautiful red and yellow epaulets. The birds surrounding them are grackles. I tried to get a male and female together in the same shot but it was chaos out there with everyone moving around.

This handsome fellow is an Eastern Towhee. We had quite an assortment around the feeder these last few days. No huge surprise, I guess, given the weather.

Black-capped Chickadee

Tufted Titmouse

Downy Woodpecker

Golden Flicker. Their main diet is insects - this one seemed to be attracted to the first bare patches of grass and dirt that started showing up next to the house as all of our snow and ice started to melt today. It wasn't at all interested in the seed or suet.

Eastern Meadowlark. I usually see these at the edges of un-mown fields. I've never seen one in our yard before. Like the Flicker, it zeroed in on the newly exposed ground.

It came right up close to the window before splitting the scene.