Nature – Page 7 – sethlewis.ie

Rivers, Not Lakes

There’s a small lake in our village with a path around it and an island in the middle where a pair of swans make their nest every year. When the cygnets are born, they’re grey and fluffy and clumsy until they grow up and slowly become majestic. Eventually they all fly away and I don’t know where they go. Then every year one couple returns and there’s a new nest and eventually new cygnets.

The cygnets and ducklings and baby coots (cooties?) on the lake make the place a lot nicer to visit, because there are certain times of the year when the water isn’t much of an attraction on its own. It has the typical problem that most small lakes have: it tends to grow green and manky with pondweed and algae and such, especially in the summer. Some summers are worse than others, but even on a good year (like this one) there are still places where the weeds are thick enough that the little cooties can walk around on them instead of swimming.

Thorn Bush (a poem)

This week I have a short poem for you about a plant in our garden. It’s about more than that, really, but I’ll let it speak for itself:

Thorn Bush

The bush in our garden
Is covered with thorns

Days Like Blackberries

It’s blackberry season in Ireland right now, and our family has a yearly tradition of picking them. They’re not hard to find. The vines are growing in the hedges along the roads, reaching out into the paths in the woods, climbing over the old stone walls in the fields, and all of them covering themselves in juicy, plump, sweet little berries. Like candy, except healthier, and with thornier packaging. And free! They just grow, right out of the ground, in loads of public places where we can pick and eat and keep as many as we want. Last weekend we got almost four pounds on one family walk which are now (thanks to my wife) three jars of delicious homemade jam. Can you believe we live in a world where there are jam-bushes growing wild?

Time-Travel With Care

Time-travelling is one of the standard plot devices of our stories and films, from H.G. Well’s The Time Machine to Interstellar, Dr. Who, The Terminator, and hundreds more. It’s not hard to see the appeal—it’s interesting to imagine what it would be like to visit the world of the future or the past. It’s exciting to think of dipping into a different era, something totally unlike our normal everyday lives here and now. But it’s also easy to see the risks that this kind of time-travelling would bring with it. In the Back To The Future films, Doc Brown gives several stern warnings to Marty about the dangers and potential consequences of interfering with the past. He knows that time-travellers must be aware that even the smallest of actions can change the course of history in surprising ways—as we see in the films.

The Sheep Don’t Know

A cliff rises above the sea, jagged, wild, immovable. The waves, far below, break against it with noisy violence. This is where the ocean ends and the patchwork fields begin, suddenly. In the fields, there are sheep. As I walk past, one of them looks up at me as he chews a disinterested mouthful of grass. He has eyes, so he can see the same view I see. He has ears, so he can hear the waves, and the gulls crying out above him.

I am only visiting, and part of me envies this sheep his home and his everyday sights and sounds. I look up and wonder what the gull’s eyes are seeing as he soars over all of this on the power of the wind. I wonder if I were a gull, could I ever get used to that feeling enough to focus on feeding myself? I think I might be a skinny gull. But I think I would be filled with the thrill of wonder.

Playing In Power

It has taken me more than four decades of living to fully appreciate this, but a good wetsuit is a wonderful thing. Long sleeves, long legs, thick and tight and warm. The ocean is never warm in this part of the world. But a good wetsuit can give you a couple of millimetres of protection and believe me those millimetres are everything.

When I’m suited up, I walk confidently into the water. I’m ready to catch some waves. My son is beside me but our bodyboards collide and we’re laughing as my daughter flies past us on a fast one. We cheer her on, pick up our boards, and go again. And again. And again.

Shooting For The Earth

Shoot for the moon, they say, and even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.

I‘m not so sure. I’m not denying it would be a thrill to take a walk on the moon, but I wouldn’t want to live there. I guess I like oxygen too much, and trees and water and birds. And I have absolutely no interest in landing among the stars, either. Do you know how hot those things are?

I know, I know, it’s metaphorical. No one wants to land on a literal star, they’d just like to be a star, or at least hang out with them in their exclusive clubs and private yachts. The saying just means dream big, have ambitions, and what’s wrong with that? Nothing.

It would definitely be a thrill to take a walk on the moon, or even on a red carpet, but I’d rather not live in either of those rarified atmospheres. I’m happy down here on Earth where I don’t have to breathe all that pressurised air. That’s why I’m not building a rocket. I’m tending a garden.

The Music We Make

If you walk on the footpath outside our house when the windows are open, there’s a good chance you’ll hear music. Our whole family loves listening to music, and we appreciate a wide variety of styles. We love well played instruments and well thought out lyrics, and we love them even better when they’re put together. Music is powerful, far beyond any rational understanding of sounds. It bypasses all of that and aims straight for the heart. Don’t ask me how, I don’t know. I’m just thankful God made the world this way.

The End

Yesterday my wife and I attended the funeral of a friend that we will miss dearly. We still hear the echo of his deep voice in our ears, singing to the God he loved and served so well for so long. We will carry the memory of his smile and kind words with us as a precious treasure for the rest of our lives.

It’s hard to say goodbye.

It’s hard, but we need to do it. We need to remember, and grieve. We need to look back with thankfulness and look forward with hope.

But who can dare to look forward at a funeral?
Who can see beyond the finality of death?

The Interests Of Others And The Art Of Conversation

There are many kinds of art in this world, and all of them speak to us in different ways. One of the most powerful art forms I know of is usually not recognised as a form of art at all, but it should be: it is the art of conversation. Complex communication between two conscious humans would be considered a miracle if it didn’t happen constantly. The ability to exchange thoughts and ideas and feelings with other people—to hear what is happening in the hidden realm of another soul and share what is happening in your own—this is one of the great gifts of humanity. To do it well is the great art of humanity.