My Lord, What a Morning!
/I boated into to Sound View from Anderson Island today to check on camp. Leaving Amsterdam Bay, I had to pull out the compass because I could not see the Key Peninsula - just 1.2 miles away. I am used to this and have navigated many a foggy day for my unique commute to work. After steering a NW course for about ten minutes, I saw the red buoy to starboard and found the pier in the smoky haze.
It was really low tide when I beached the boat and set anchor far out on the tide line. It smelled like a really low tide as I set a “pull line” on the anchor so I could bring the dinghy closer to shore when I leave in the afternoon. It seems as if the low tide smell was somewhat different today - but, then again, my nose has become acclimated to a persistent smoky smell and perhaps this is some reaction taking place as the two smells come to grip with each other in my brain.
Normally, I am keenly aware of the sun rising (Sound View faces East) so I turned around to see the early sun.
Somewhere out there is Anderson Island - from whence I came.
The aroma was still overpowering and …. different … as I started the climb up the hill away from Puget Sound. At this point, a song popped into my head. This is not unusual because songs are ALWAYS popping into my head because I know lots of them. This one was an old spiritual “My Lord, What a Morning”, The song was being sung by The Seekers. Only Judith Durham’s clear voice could cut through this haze.
My Lord, what a morning,
My Lord what a morning,
My Lord, what a morning,
When the stars begin to fall.
Lots of leaves fell prematurely during the high, dry winds on Labor Day.
Hiking the uphill trail from the waterfront to the dining hall, I noticed that a slight rain, or a heavy dew had fallen. The ferns had a shiny look and the wood chips and maple leaves on the trail were wet.
“This is good”, I thought.
Usually, I love the smell of rain falling on areas that have been without for so long. But again - something smelled “off” - with the lingering smoke affecting even this simple delight.
Our lowland forests at camp usually stay pretty moist but the dry winds that blew in on Labor Day causes concern. These woods are mostly maples, alder, and a few cedar and are truly remarkable.
You will weep for the rocks and mountains,
You will weep for the rocks and mountains,
You will weep for the rocks and mountains,
When the stars begin to fall.
Like all spirituals, this one has uncertain roots. Whether it came from slave plantation or from free African-American congregation in the north - we are unsure. There are many verses but only two sung by the Seekers (an Australian quartet).
The haze is still apparent as I exit the waterfront trail and view the dining hall sitting empty and lonely. Normally, this is the “hub” of camp activity but over the summer, we did not use inside spaces for meals or gatherings. This fall, however, we are serving “to-go” breakfasts and dinners from the dining hall as well as offering ukulele and handbell classes inside (with masks) for our guests.
Hopefully soon - we can have meals and gatherings here again.
Hiking up the hill from the dining hall.
We have been feeding the camp cats in the dining hall and they have been doing their jobs keeping the mice out of the kitchen until we re-open. I fed the two grey cats, both named Fuzzy, and continued the hike uphill.
One of several slash piles scattered in the woods.
The recent timber harvest did a whole lot of good in regards to “forest health” - words you are probably hearing a lot of since the wildfires began. The upper woods of Sound View are primarily Douglas fir, alder, and cedar. When these forests become too cluttered, then wildfires have a greater chance of thriving. The timber harvest cleared out unhealthy trees, dry rotted logs, and blackberry snarls that contribute to bad forest management. Over the summer, family campers helped clear out lots of “slash” (free firewood) for their cooking fires and now, we can walk these woods and easily deal with potential problems and new fallen trees.
In late fall / early winter the large slash piles will be burned in concert with the wet season. In March, we will begin planting the next generation of trees including ones that will thrive in our soil.
We are starting to harvest sunflower seeds. A little “real” sunlight would definitely help the tomatoes.
I checked in on the farm critters I have no idea how this smoke is affecting them but there are no places to bring them indoors. Missy came in today to feed/water them and gathered up around two dozen eggs. So, that hopefully is a good sign for the chickens at least.
In the garden, the sunflowers are still imposing. We are waiting for the tomatoes to ripen so we can put them on burgers as part of our “to-go” meals. Hopefully, enough sunshine is getting through.
You will hear the shout of victory,
You will hear the shout of victory,
You will hear the shout of victory,
When the stars begin to fall.
It is really easy to get (and stay) depressed during this very unusual year. But - I know that God is in charge. Perhaps God is pointing out our mistakes in a very blunt way. The smoke, the smells, the fuzzy awareness, the worry, the want for freedom are “stars falling” and a clear call that the planet is in danger. Whether we are weeping from the stinging haze, or weeping over a damaged world full of mistrust, hate, racism, pain, or worse - indifference - we are still weeping.
What victory will make us all shout for joy?
