A Christian Book of the Seasons

[One-eyed Jack]

Installment 1
February 18, 2008

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
-- Joyce Kilmer

Tho' Winter of a morning still paints the windshield of the un-garaged car with frost, subtle signs of Spring have begun to manifest here in the Willamette Valley. Today as I walk I see that the wild hazelnut trees (Corylus californica) have come into flower. From each branch hangs a pendant procreative part, four to six inches long -- a dangling male organ bobbing and jouncing merrily in the breeze, fairly bursting with seed. Yes, even "Solomon in all his glory" (Matthew 6:29) can hardly rival these! And hidden in the tangle of smooth limbs we may be sure the female organ demurely rests, holding close her ovarian embryo, waiting upon the glorious procreative impulse of the male.

How marvelous and holy is God's great Work upon the Earth!

Futher along the trail the tiny blooms of the grouseflower (Synthyris reniformis) huddle humbly on a muddy patch, for all the world like the self-effacing American Christian so often trodden into the mud by the hobnails of vile secularists. This lovely purple flower is the earliest to bloom in these environs -- like Jesus the Christ it comes before all other competitors, and yet it is of surpassing grace. Be of good cheer, humble grouseflowers! So often trampled and overlooked, yet shall ye be resurrected anew each Spring to grace God's Creation!



From a high branch of a cottonwood a covey of mourning doves takes flight, and circles back toward the highway shoulder where I left the car. O mild birds, symbol of the Holy Spirit (Matthew 3:16)! Did not our Lord admonish us to be "harmless as doves" (Matthew 10:16)? Surely the sight of these birds is a sign to the observant Christian. And so I retrace my footsteps, and find that the meek dove hath left indeed her sign upon my windshield. As I have no towel, I try to use the automatic washers and the windshield wipers to remove it as I drive. Alas -- I find that in truth the "hasty of spirit exalteth folly" (Proverbs 14:29), and the limy mess spreads and smears across the glass. However, the Lord created the "fowls of the air" for man's use, and so as I drive home I soothe my vengeful mind with thoughts of light shotguns and dove pie.

Rest in God's grace my friends,

~~ OEJ

[Old Man Hatchet]

Re: A Christian Book of the Seasons

What delightful prose, dear Brother! I have taken the liberty of deleting everything I found offensive.

In Christ, February 18, 2008

Tho' Winter of a mornng still paints the windshield of the un-garaged car with frost, subtle signs of Spring have begun to manifest here in the Willamette Valley. Today as I walk I see that the wild hazelnut trees (Corylus californica) have come into flower. From each branch hangs a (offensive material removed) Yes, even "Solomon in all his glory" (Matthew 6:29) can hardly rival these! And hidden in the tangle of smooth limbs we may be sure (more offensive material removed).

How marvelous and holy is God's great Work upon the Earth!

Futher along the trail the tiny blooms of the grouseflower (Synthyris reniformis) huddle humbly on a muddy patch, for all the world like the self-effacing American Christian so often trodden into the mud by the hobnails of vile secularists. This lovely purple flower is the earliest to bloom in these environs -- like Jesus the Christ it comes before all other competitors, and yet it is of surpassing grace. Be of good cheer, humble grouseflowers! So often trampled and overlooked, yet shall ye be resurrected anew each Spring to grace God's Creation!



From a high branch of a cottonwood a covey of mourning doves take flight, and circle back toward the highway shoulder where I left the car. O mild birds, symbol of the Holy Spirit (Matthew 3:16)! Did not our Lord admonish us to be "harmless as doves" (Matthew 10:16)? Surely the sight of these birds is a sign to the observant Christian. And so I retrace my footsteps, and find that the meek dove hath (even more offensive material removed).

Rest in God's grace my friends,

~~ OEJ

[One-eyed Jack]

Re: A Christian Book of the Seasons

O Brother Hatchet, I beg you, do not read vile intent into my simple yet saccharine description of God's glorious natural Creation. I have long admired the prose of devoutly Christian nature writers (although I can't think of any of their names right off the bat) and have always longed to try my hand at their style.

In the current thread I hope to write a new installment every few weeks or so, chronicling the progression of the seasons in my poor attempt at lyrical and vacuous Christian prose.

~~ OEJ

[Justina Thyme]

Re: A Christian Book of the Seasons

Your prose is indeed beautiful, Brother Jack, and reads like fine poetry.

Brother Hatchet, as a woman, I shall bow to your wisdom and praise your editing skills.

[WickedWitch]

Re: A Christian Book of the Seasons

Oh OEJ, this is yet another reason to marvel at your brain and love and stalk you

[One-eyed Jack]

Re: A Christian Book of the Seasons

Installment 2
February 24, 2008

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
-- Joyce Kilmer

In the mighty Cascade Mountains the storms of the Winter past came down like the Assyrian on the fold (Isaiah 10:5). Even in the foothills where the snows of January have for the most part melted the evergreen wild ginger (Asarum caudatum) and wood violets (Viola sempervirens) remain flattened to the ground, humbled by the season. The trail I tread is littered with branches, with limbs torn broken and raw from the bodies of the tall trees which bear silent witness to God's great Creation. Just so in days of old were the limbs of Christian martyrs torn from their bodies because they witnessed for Christ (Hebrews 11:37)!

A mile from the trailhead a Methuselah of the forest has fallen across the path. It is a Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) as large around as a dinner-table. In its fall this great patriarch has shattered a big-leaf maple (Acer macrophyllum) and blocked the trail with a tangle of debris. Like the prostrate wild ginger I must be humble (1 Chronicles 12:6) and lower myself to the ground to pass beneath the fallen giant. The Strait Path (Matthew 7:14) is not for the haughty! Neither is it for the indolent, for the Christian must be like the gentle forester who diligently clears the treadway, who removes obstacles and snares, and makes plain the Road. "Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established!" (Proverbs 4:26) The Christian Forester perforce must saw through obstructions, even fallen patriarchs, which block the way to Christ. Just as in days of old Isaiah was cut in twain with a great sawblade.

A few miles further on a great mossy bollock of andesite rises on the hillside above the trail. I determine to investigate. Up a steep slope beside the outcropping I scramble. The summit of the rock is a meadowlet of dry grass and lichen, level with the treetops. While the view is not so grand as that from the Hill of Gibeah, the treeclad hillsides across the valley and the rushing creek far below nevertheless remind the Christian of "a land of hills and valleys, and drinketh water of the rain of heaven" (Deuteronomy 11:11).

Against the slope there is a shallow cave, a ledge sufficient to shelter in from rain. In prehistoric times Red Indians may have taken refuge here. Perhaps a Satchem of the Mohicans crouched under this very ledge to wait out a shower before proceeding to his pagan dwelling to sacrifice a few captives with his obsidian blade. Verily, in His mercy the Lord prepared shelter even for the ignorant, bestial savages...even though they were surely bound to end up in the torments of Hell anyway.

I descend once more to the trail, clutching the leafless twigs along the way to steady myself. Without a firm grip on the limbs of Scripture any soul might fall! Only after returning to my car do I notice the bumps swelling on my hands, and realize that the leafless twigs were undoubtedly poison oak (Rhus diversiloba). I wish the leaves had been out, that I may have recognized the evil shrub before grasping it. My heart sinks as I realize that, like Job, I must needs soon suffer a plentitude of weeping pustules and sore boils (Job 2:7).

Surely the Lord try us upon Earth that we may be found worthy of Heaven (Zechariah 13:9).

Rest in God's grace my friends,

~~ OEJ