Alnitak, Alnilam, Mintaka

This is a December occurance. It is the Astronomy Picture of the Day for today, 2006 December 29. I use these beautiful images often as my computer wallpaper.

Mintaka comes from the Arabic word for belt. Alnilam means "a belt of pearls." Alnitak means the girdle. All three are Super Giant Stars and are 35,000 times greater than the Sun in brightness and 20 times the mass of the Sun.

Turning Off Lights

The photo exemplifies our existential Christmas Eve. It is our dearest A, and her darling Z. A to Z, thank you for being ours. A California grandson can attest to the fact that it happened. The more I think about it the more wondrous it is in my memory. I love our family so much I feel gushy.

More of our family spent the afternoon of the 27th with us. We have grandsons from California that I think of as our Gentle Giants. B is 6'4: and his brother D, is 6'3". It makes the rest of us feel like shrimps; well maybe not their uncle, B, who is about 6'. People of height are noticed when they come into a room, when they walk in a mall, when they sit in front of you at church or in the movies. They can reach things. They show up in family photographs. Their height alone marks them.

He Who Must Be Obeyed has an ancestor that was seven foot tall or more. It is in the family history written in Norway. The work starts out with the giants fighting in a field near Laerdal, a municipality in the county of Sogn og Fjordane, Norway. His great grandmother was married in the Borgund Stave Church there.

What is this all about? I started writing about wrapping up the Christmas lights. That is how my morning started. He Who Must Be Obeyed was winding up the light strings from the front bushes and the little row of White Spruce in the front yard. I don't think Christmas is over until after Epiphany. I am not turning off the lights inside until January 6th. Speaking of epiphanies, that A to Z was mine this morning. Yes it is a web browser too.

The Boe Barn

A son and grandson built this beautiful barn. Last year about this time he added trout to the pond; they all had to be taken before the water got too warm in June. Fly fishing in ones back yard is as good as a Black Hills stream; closer to the freezer, too, or the grill.

I suspect my daughter in law took this photo last December and emailed it to me. I think it is lovely. Thanks J. for sending it on.

In the olden days when we lived in Nemo, SD, a neighbor boy would often knock on the door with a string of trout just caught in Box Elder Creek. They were cleaned and pan ready, ten cents apiece. My own children swam in the creek but I don't recall very much fishing going on. One caught a trout in his hands that had spilled over a dam behind our house.

There is More Than One Way to Skin a Cat

The above maxim is strange but the meaning is true. I have spent three days trying to get the sheep picture below uploaded. It was just too large to handle so I emailed it to myself from my picture file. That was an automatic jpg.

Our eldest son is in Italy for a month. He had to leave his family to take on a task for Boeing. He tells me he might be able to go to Rome for Christmas. That is very exciting news. It is good it is him instead of me as I would surely die of the moment.

I love getting his email. I hope he writes about every little detail of his experience there.

We in Omaha are getting rain instead of snow. Every city is beautiful in a snowstorm.

The Shepherd

My father was a sheepherder in his youth. That is a lowly position and one that, for years, I wasn't terribly proud of. To make matters worse, I doubt very much that in that wild western land he herded on horseback. I just bet it was on his two feet.

What I am certain of is that he spent some of the time when the sheep were safe and still in carving on the rocky outcrops of the South Cave Hills. I have seen only two of these petroglyphs by his had. There are more. He also painted many canvases of sheep. Many of them include Archer Gilfillin's sheepwagon and dog. In some ways I can compare my own father to today's readings which are all centered on the care of sheep. I am not so timid anymore about saying "My Father was a Shepherd."

"He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young." Isaiah 40:11

"For he is our God; and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand..." Psalms 95:7

"How think ye? if a man have an hundred sheep, and one of them be gone astray, doth he not leave the ninety and nice, and goeth into the mountains, and seeketh that which is gone astray?" Matthew 18:12

Saints and Christmas Trees

The tree is up, the flocking vacumed away, He Who Must Be Obeyed is so terribly exhausted. I am still addressing cards and with every envelope, I pray a little blessing for that person or family so very dear to us.

This 12th of December is the Saint Day for St. Jane Frances de Chantal. Born at Dijon, France in 1572, she married and had six children. After her husband's death, Francis de Sales became her spiritual director. She founded the Congregation of the Visitation for women who wished to live a religious life but could not endure the austerities of existing orders. She spent her life in the care of the sick and poor, and died in 1641.

We still exist, we women who would like to live a religious life but can't endure the austerity of it all. We not only want our comforts, but our Christmas tree as well.

I have a dear e pal who calls himself the English Papist. He sends me the Saints and Readings every single week and has for years. I am thankful for his faithfulness. J.R. you are the saint, me thinks.

Called to the Table

I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see. - John Burroughs. Me too.

Weather Forecasting and Hypothermia

December 5th, the countdown to the 24th is on a slippery slide. Holy Cross is having Advent Services on Wednesdays using the Holden Evening Prayer as liturgy. It will be a good way to quiet oneself for Christmas.
The only thing I have done in preparation is to address some Christmas Cards. It feels like I am farther along than I actually am, as I started with the 'H's' in my Address Book. I am doing them the old fashioned way, with a pen. Having married a Boe whom is the fifth of ten siblings, I have the largest amount left.

Sometimes I write a Christmas letter...at the moment I am all written dry. Perhaps after this Wednesday's Advent service, I will think on a higher plane. Lately, all I can think of is what is not right with the world. What sort of letter would that make? I have gone there in an email or two; but I have deleted the paragraphs of nasty temperament in a couple others before sending them off. Half empty glasses are nothing to write about; and they only drag one's reader.

A sister in law sent me a book, called "Sister Chicks." I would never have picked it off the shelf by it's title. It has surprised me in that I can relate to it and a trip to Finland with the main character. If you read this, E., thanks. I like it and I am about half finished.

A cousin sent He Who Must Be Obeyed a book when he had his shoulder joint replaced. I am reading it aloud to him as it sooths both of us, even though the story is chilling to both of us. Being children in Dakota, it is a bit too close to our own experiences with cold weather. "The Children's Blizzard" is about the January 12, 1888, killer storm that took Dakota Territory, Nebraska, Montana and Minnesota down in disaster with below zero temperatures, strong winds, and blowing snow. It caught rural children not dressed for disaster, as the morning walk to school was balmy. Those trying to walk home or to a warmer place were in for trouble of the worst kind.

The author describes weather fronts, lows and highs, temperature changes and exactly how a human dies in below zero temperatures. We are not done with it, but we are learning a lot. He has also put familiarity into the children and parents involved in this ghastly disaster. And thank you to L and N who sent this to HWMBO.

He Who Must Be Obeyed was lost in a blizzard once while deer hunting alone in the Black Hills. We talked about it some the other day. He was dressed for the cold but was lost in deep snow getting deeper by the minute. He was ready to find for shelter for the night about the time he found his pickup that he had left hours before. He said his pockets were full of candy bars but he made one bad mistake. He didn't have any matches.