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Springhouse magazine, 8250 Level Hill Rd, Junction, IL (2024)

12/22/2021

Humility like darkness reveals the heavenly lights.

Thoreau

12/18/2021

Soon will be the year's shortest day, and soon after that will be Christmas, then New Year's, thus marking the end of another unforgettable year.

The other day marked a pleasant visit across the way. The company was splendid, the conversation nothing short of dazzling at times, yet even the choicest utterance could hardly match the majesty of the flames in the fireplace. These flames crackled with their own language, one of night winds, and owl hymns soaked in rain. They crackled with memories of late afternoons when the sun had all but done it's duty for the day or of sunrises promising more than they could possible deliver. Language, no! Wrong word there. Music at its sheerest says it best.

GDN

12/12/2021

The enormity of the recent storms makes mere words seem a matter of syllables cleverly arranged, or scribble proving the quest to find meaning in what is beyond comprehension.

Well, there is this--each day is a gift! Five small words, each easy to utter and just as easy to write on the page, but, oh, how true.

GEDN

12/11/2021

Make peace with yourself, and heaven and earth will make peace with you. Endeavor to enter into your own inner cell, and you will see the heavens; because the one and the other are one and the same, and when you enter one you see the two.

St. Isaak of Syria

12/09/2021

Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose.

Elizabeeth Kubler-Ross

12/07/2021

Is there not a certain satisfaction in the fact that natural limits are set to the life of the individual, so that at the conclusion it may appear as a work of art?

Albert Einstein

12/06/2021

Here are two brief quotes from Sir Thomas Browme (1605-1682).

We carry within us the wonders we seek without us.............................................................................
I could never divide myself from any man upon the difference of opinion, or be angry with his judgment for not agreeing in that from which, within a few days, I might dissent myself.

Sir Thomas Browne

12/05/2021

Politicians offer eloquent speeches about life getting "back to normal" and he wishes he could nod in agreement. Instead, he listens to the honeyed utterances without saying a word or even breaking into a smile or a frown. All this, mind you, due to his strong hunch "normal" flew the coop months ago, never to return.

GDN

12/04/2021

His reaction to the booster shot was mixed.

As predicted, the upper arm where the needle went in was a bit sore the next morning, but what he mostly felt was mild euphoria. To sustain the mood required hearing little if any Late Breaking News.

Such is his life in the waning days of 2021.

GDN

12/03/2021

On an warm afternoon in early December he answered a couple of easy questions, rolled up his sleeve, and was instantly the recipient of a booster shot.

Bee stings had been more painful.

If the time comes when the booster needs boosting, he will answer the questions, roll up the sleeve, and be grateful when the needle finds the mark.

Let us do our best to send Covid to the dust bin of history where it belongs but that won't happen tomorrow, or even the day after.

GDN

11/28/2021

No story is the same to us after the lapse of time; or rather we who read it are no longer the same interpreters.

George Eliot

11/27/2021

As this year nears 2022, it is a good time to look at a few images from 2021.

May 2022 bring joy.

GDN

11/26/2021

As I tap out these few words, just beyond the window the wind's growl makes me think a large beast has broken free from a zoo somewhere.

The calendar tells us winter is still more than three weeks away, but on a night like this the calendar hardly matters, other than to decorate the wall. The wind is what counts, along with the dropping temperature.

GDN

11/25/2021

Gone is the near-Eden of weeks ago, when flowers and weeds bloomed much to the delight of butterflies and bees. The breeze was gentle and the moment seemed to last forever.

These are gone now as though they had never been.

Now butterflies cannot be seen--not one--and the wind bears an edge requiring at least one extra garment. Rather than a variety of blossoms, countless gray stalks stand between this day in late November and the rising sun.

If we are to believe the National Geographic, there are places in the world where the seasons are essentially one.

Not here.

GDN

11/24/2021

The dripping rain and the ticking clock bring to mind his own heartbeat.

Are these three but variants of the same tune?

It is, of course, a question he is not equipped to answer, but that doesn't keep him from asking, over, and over, and over again.

GDN

11/22/2021

Informed he was but water under the bridge, the old guy hurried to the mirror, and, sure enough, the wealth of wrinkles found there proved his person more past tense than present.

"I'm no senior citizen, no fount of wisdom--neither of those worthies adorned by cop-out expressions. What I am is old, old, old--ancient to the core.

"Past honors mean less than milkweed down caught up in a high wind."

"Sure, the mirror reflects an old age stripped of visible frills, and that's a stunner. Even so, there are times just plain being alive is so delightful my alphabetical grasp falls short."

GDN

11/21/2021

Once again he is lucky enough to see the massive moon rise above the horizon, but this time the moon soon disappears behind a low cloud.

This night no hound greets the event with a howl that can just as easily be described as a wail, or, for that matter, an unseen stream of canine yearning coursing through the night sky.

Cleverly aligned or otherwise, words always fail. Always!

Tonight, instead an owl fills the role of music maker. Fiddling with the camera, which only functions part of the time, he misses the impact of the owl's melody sort of, and that's a real shame--a shame that an instrument imperfectly constructed of plastic and steel should require special focusing, whereas the owl-cry evokes the Ancient, the Timeless....

The conflict between the Ephemeral and the Eternal never lets up, no matter the effort one makes.

GDN

11/20/2021

On a night cold as an unlit furnace, he regrets not wearing gloves, especially now that the full moon has just this moment cleared the eastern horizon, coaxing forth a dog's howl--raw melody minus a tune, that howl--and the realization from this gloveless soul that unwisdom infuses the whole human race, himself most of all.

GDN

11/19/2021

Up early, he slipped into his wintery wear and then stepped forth into the shiver-driven darkness, where--snap, snap, snap--he took a wealth of blurry snapshots of a rare lunar eclipse.

The least blurry appears here.

A brief nap had been planned, for everybody with a brain knows sleep is necessary, but wouldn't you know it, he foolishly downed enough caffeine to fuel a battalion, and thus was still up when the sun appeared to lift itself above the eastern horizon.

More snapshots, more efforts certain to result in a second or so of notice from photo-lovers, then back it was to be entertained by more scam phone calls, more news bulletins, plus various projects, the worth of which was not his to judge.

So it goes, near the tail end of this Year of Covid, this year of folks sure of what they know, never mind the various "knowings' rarely connect.

Maybe 2022 will make more sense that the year soon to be past tense, but don't count on it.

Have fun anyway.

GDN

11/18/2021

The wind was rowdy, stripping leaves from trees and causing him to turn up his collar.

Rather than complain, he thought it best to seek out the scenery most often ignored.

It was that time in the year to heed these words of St. Augustine: "Seek not abroad, turn back into thy self for in the inner man dwells the truth."

GDN

11/17/2021

To be sure he was far from being a botanist, yet even he was surprised to see a dandelion in full bloom the afternoon of November 16, 2021.

How can late autumn be dandelion weather?

Later in the afternoon he happened on a few words from Blaise Pascal (1623-1662). Suddenly the late bloomer in the front yard made sense, sort of.

GDN

Two extravagances: to exclude Reason, to admit only Reason.

Pascal

11/16/2021

Today looks set to grant us a reprieve from typical November with temperatures in the mid-60s. The golden leaves won't be lasting much longer. In southeastern Illinois the yellow maples, hickories, beech, sycamore and tulip poplar have provided the dominant hue. They take the opportunity to shine most brilliantly when the sun is blanketed by clouds.

11/15/2021

After this gentleman of considerable achievement spoke of a future project as something that might cement his legacy, this listener was stunned, thinking: "Heck, man, your legacy is already a matter of record. You've earned the right to soak up sunsets, tap your aging toes to tunes of contentment, etc.

In other words, rest on your laurels.

Alas, it doesn't work that way.

The potency of laurels is fifteen minutes at most, and as for LEGACY, that's just another high-sounding word that happens to begin with the letter "L."

GDN

11/14/2021

For all of three minutes he stared at the lava lamp, and for each of those minutes couldn't keep from wondering what it meant--those red blobs floating up and down as though lifted and lowered by a melody out there somewhere, a melody well beyond his own hearing. At the end of that time he also couldn't keep from wondering about his own importance. Was he just someone committed to skating from diversion to diversion until zapped by The Inevitable?

It was about then that he harked back to the late summer afternoon when he happened to be photographing a turkey vulture seeking fresh carrion. Against the sky's almost unbearable blue, this turkey vulture was wasting not one moment on anything less essential than simply staying alive.

Some days it does not do to ponder values, or to look too long at a lava lamps.

GDN

11/13/2021

The reason we are so pleased to find out other people's secrets is that it distracts public attention from our own.

Oscar Wilde

11/12/2021

Nothing will change the fact that I cannot do the least thing without absolute solitude.

Goethe

11/11/2021

Call it art, call it craft, or call it whatever, his recent effort was spoken of in terms of: cranberry sauce, map of the cosmos, and prayer wheel. Yes, he was glad a few folks appreciated what he had tried to do, yet down deep where vocabulary knocks on the door and is never allowed entry, down there he knew all he had drawn were lots of little circles within one big circle. Now that didn't mean the others were mistaken, it's just that he couldn't lay claim to culinary delight or insight of any sort. He just drew and drew, only to take a break, then draw some more.

Cradle to grave, mystery's clasp is best expressed as rustless iron, or so he believed, even while realizing deepest belief remains a theory.

GDN

11/10/2021

It is hard to visit our public woods in southeastern Illinois without noting John O'Dell's contributions. It was not on the itinerary, but there we were at the Tecumseh statue John O'Dell spearheaded at Glen O. Jones Lake. Our expectations for fall color were low, but the yellows were bursting. The drive over Eagle Mountain Road bisected the Crest Trail which John had taught me before talking me into leading group hikes there. We came out at Herod, past the portion of River-to-River Trail I had "adopted" at John's encouragement. Then we passed the site of the store John had once operated where my brother and I would sometimes play pool after Dad picked us up from the school bus. John wanted to connect people to our public spaces and succeeded. Many of those visitors never got the chance to know John, but their experiences here are better because of his diligence. He will be missed.

11/09/2021

When feeling braver than usual, try writing a definition of the mind that will be so precise and so convincing no one will dare question it.

Good luck, and be prepared for failure.

Ambrose Bierce, on the other hand, did manage to leave us with his unique "take" on the subject, and here it is.

GDN

MIND. A mysterious form of matter secreted by the brain. Its chief activity consists in the endeavor to ascertain its own nature, the futility of the attempt being due to the fact that it has nothing but itself to know itself with.

Ambrose Bierce

11/08/2021

Pre-dawn found him shivering, but only part of the shivering had to do with drop in temperature. How else to react to the drama of dark and light, of Infinity delivered once again?

GDN