Consider the Lilies

 

John Singer Sargent, Study of the Vickers Children

On Easter Day the lilies bloom,
Triumphant, risen from their tomb;
Their bulbs have undergone rebirth,
Born from the silence of the earth
Symbolically, to tell all men
That Christ, the Savior, lives again.
The angels, pure and white as they,
Have come and rolled the stone away
And with the lifting of the stone,
The shadow of the cross is gone!
~ June Masters Bacher ~

Welcoming the Light

". . . I think your windows are the most important part of your home. Whether your furnishings are Louis Quatorze or cast-offs, your windows overlook the matchless blue of the sky, the silver glow of a young moon, or the black-purple of piled storm clouds galloping. Looking out keeps you from fretting because the chores aren't done or the washing machine won't work or it is time to change the beds again (a chore I absolutely hate). The vast outside brings a sense of proportion to you and a kind of quietness."  -Gladys Taber, from her book Country Chronicle

When I read Gladys Taber, it reminds me of conversations I used to have with my mother-in-law. She could talk about anything and would meander from subject to subject in a soothing voice. I miss her and I miss those conversations. Gladys is a great stand-in, from the same generation and with eclectic interests. The only drawback is that it is a one-sided conversation! So I'll use my blog to "answer" Gladys and especially her comments about windows being the most important part of the house.

I'm thinking of the window in the 1890s Dutch Colonial house, where we lived when my children were babies. The wavy glass in the panes brought in so much light and pleasure to this tired mama. I nursed babies from a rocking chair and watched the huge old apple tree through the carousel of seasons. From pinkish-white blossoms to mature fruit, I took delight in it each and every day to the point of feeling it was my special friend. It also gave rise to much meditation, as I thought upon the budding personalities in my charge and the hope of one day witnessing their fruitful maturity. 

Upstairs, in that same house, we could view the top of the apple tree from my bedroom window. Squirrels would often leap from the tree to the rooftop and my toddlers enjoyed watching their antics. One day an especially violent thunderstorm rolled through and I remember my oldest daughter and my son sitting with me at that window, spellbound as we watched the hail fly and the wind bend the old tree. We were hushed as we watched, with the window open, and there was imparted a special something into our souls: the awe of the Creator who holds the hail in His storehouse. 

In our current house, we have a large window by our dining table that allows us to enjoy beauty each and every time we sit down to eat. Purple clematis, lilacs, and a peace rose may be seen blooming during the spring and summer. One year, I planted huge sunflowers right in front of the window and we delighted to watch the goldfinches alight on the huge blossoms, oblivious to our  presence. 

I've seen the replica sod houses that the pioneers lived in, especially here in Nebraska, and I wonder, how did the family make it through a long dreary winter without the light of a window? I shudder to think of how dreary that must have been. 

When I get up in the morning, early, before the rest of the family, the first thing I do is open the shades and curtains to let the light into my home. I love that job---welcoming the light. While it seems a small thing, it is indicative of the great opportunity I have as a homemaker: to be a gatekeeper for the light. Let it shine!

Buggles the Mind

You don't have to be an entomologist to enjoy the unique art of Christopher Marley. He arranges insects in symmetrical patterns that mimic a kaleidoscope. The colors leap off the page and beg to be studied up close. His book, Pheromone: The Insect Artwork of Christopher Marley, is an unusual collection that will engage even an avowed insect-hater.

The Creation Museum

Adam and Eve photo by rauchdickson

We took a happy little side trip to the Creation Museum (Petersburg, Kentucky) as an addendum to our Washington, D.C. vacation. The museum's founder, Ken Ham, was a speaker at the pastor's briefing my husband attended and sparked his interest in the museum.

My oldest three children were already acquainted with Ken Ham via his DVD series entitled "Answers Academy," a class they had attended in our co-operative school this past year. It is amazing how strands of knowledge and events coincide by serendipity when you are homeschooling!

The Creation Museum is only 2 years old, and is very classy. It captured the element of awe and grandeur that I felt was missing from the D.C. Museum of Natural History. Ancient history came alive as we viewed life-sized scenes from Genesis 1-11: the lush garden of Eden, all manner of natural wonders including dinosaurs, the serpent, and the tree of life. When we reached the very vivid scene marking sin's entrance into the world, the change is so real that it made my heart feel literally sick. (I remember feeling that same sense of loss when I read Milton's Paradise Lost).

The section on Noah's ark I thought was exceptional. On our trip, I had been reading the novel Chesapeake, which had an extensive description of ship building by trial and error. Because of my reading, I could look at the model of the inside of the ark with a little more appreciation and understanding. Noah did not have to learn by trial and error, he only had to follow the blueprint that God provided him. Noted: "The scale of the ark is dramatic and comes close to the limits of wooden technology. With no need for masts or a streamlined hull, and without the economic restrictions of shipwrights, the ark could be made incredibly strong using ordinary wood and tools." The museum's ark exhibit is built to scale and represents 1% of the volume of Noah's ark.

Also included in the tour is a star-gazer's planetarium which introduced us to the outer regions of the cosmos and helps us measure the incredible expanse of the Creator's hand, a hand that spans the universe.

Outside the museum is a real garden so breathtakingly lovely that I just wanted to linger and linger. Gorgeous plantings, little walking bridges, fountains and statuary made this look like the real garden of Eden.

All the other museums we visited left me feeling jostled and worn, but I left the Creation Museum feeling refreshed and built up. In the future, I'd consider this as a destination and not just a side trip.

Nature Study, The Elixir of Youth

Photo taken at Halleck Park, on our family nature walk.

"The old teacher is too likely to become didactic, dogmatic and 'bossy' if she does not constantly strive with herself. Why? She has to be thus five days in the week and, therefore, she is likely to be so seven. She knows arithmetic, grammar and geography to their uttermost and she is never allowed to forget that she knows them, and finally her interests become limited to what she knows.

After all, what is the chief sign of growing old? Is it not the feeling that we know all there is to be known? (snip)

I know how to 'make magic' for the teacher who is growing old. Let her go out with her youngest pupil and fall on her knees before the miracle of the blossoming violet and say: 'Dear Nature, I know naught of the wondrous life of these, your smallest creatures. Teach me!'"

--Anna Botsford Comstock (1854-1930) from her book Handbook of Nature Study

Tilted

This tree picture prompts the memory of a lovely thing, something enjoyed just last month. I had my morning devotions two days in a row beside this strange tree. As I read the words of Psalm 1, words which describe a tree planted by streams of water, I could see the living embodiment of the poetry right before my eyes.

Usually, I think of a lovely tree as being straight & symmetrical. This one does not conform to the standard definition of beauty. It is unbalanced, leaning heavily in the direction of the water. The branches that extend over the shore are short, while the branches that extend over the water are longer, appearing like fingers straining to reach into the cool flow.

I guess my life is a lot like that tree. I've tilted myself heavily in the direction of the eternal flow, actively seeking the Living Waters. That choice has forever ruined me in the world's eyes: I bend away from its attachments and appear rather lopsided as a result.

I am comforted by this scene because this tree is a thing of beauty in spite of its asymmetry.
With arms reaching toward the eternal, the less I want to extend myself to the world and the less I care about conforming to its standards.

Lord, make my life such a thing of beauty.

June Joys

• On my evening walk I spotted the first fireflies of the season. Always a thrill!
• The heavy, sweet smell of linden tree blossoms is pervasive this evening.
• A purple finch showed off his colors to me today.
• Children in the driveway with paintbrushes in hand, happily creating art work.
• Pork chops wafting their tantalizing aroma as they cook on the grill.
• Fresh strawberries.
• Reading The Sign of the Beaver late at night in our jammies.
• A big bowl of popcorn and a good movie: I Am David

Most of these summer joys are perennial; enjoyed year after year. Yet the newness of the season makes it feel as though I am experiencing it all for the first time. The mercies of the Lord are truly new every morning. Great is HIS faithfulness!

Lilacs

My lilac trees are old and tall;
I cannot reach their bloom at all.
They send their perfume over trees
And roof and streets,
to find the bees.
- Lousie Driscoll, 1875 - 1957
My Garden Is a Pleasant Place

Sophie Anderson
The Time of the Lilacs

Gulf Breeze

Seashell on Beach

Photographic Print

by William Swartz

We've recently returned from a road trip and vacation to Gulf Breeze, Florida. This was my first trip south and what a delight it was! Somewhere in southern Missouri we drove through an invisible doorway into spring, leaving the barren trees and cold dampness of winter behind. We drank in the sight of daffodils, pansies, azaleas, and as we continued south I had my first glimpse of Spanish moss and wisteria. Normally, one experiences the delights of springtime unfolding slowly and almost imperceptibly. To suddenly be thrust into the glory of the season is a whole different experience--exhilarating to the senses!

Gulf Breeze, on the Florida panhandle, is situated on Fairpoint peninsula and boasts eighteen miles of waterfront. The pristine, sugary white sand beaches beckoned us to leave schedules and cares behind and to devote ourselves to the leisurely art of beach bumming. We all got sunburns in spite of our spf 50 sunblock, but it was so worth it!

Hunting seashells is a delightful occupation. It is amazing how many of the designs reminded me of flowers. My daughter made the mistake of stowing one in her purse---ugh, the smell was NOT at all flower-like! Some of those shells still shelter little inhabitants.

For people of the plains, the waves were almost mesmerizing. I believe it was Willa Cather who compared the blowing grass of the prairie to the waves of the sea, and now I have validated that observation with my own eyes.

Today, it is typical that we learn about nature from books. It is infinitely more desirable to experience it tangibly, to smell the smells, to feel the grit between the toes, to hear the loud voice of the gull for oneself.

I read an editorial in yesterday's newspaper by Froma Harrop on this very subject. She mentioned the fact that attendance at America's national parks has been dwindling since 1987 and attributes it to "videophilia". You can probably guess the definition of that word: the love of electronic media. She goes on to quote author Richard Louv, who has coined a term for our modern nature estrangement--"nature deficit disorder."

Here is a quote from this same author:

"Today, kids can tell you anything about the Amazon rain forest but not the last time they saw the leaves move."

Adults need to watch the leaves move, too. I'm on a crusade against "nature deficit disorder." While a vacation affords a special opportunity to indulge in the wonders of God's creation, taking time to be outside regularly can be considered a vacation taken in increments. And those little moments give me renewed strength to go out with joy and be led forth in peace.

Nature Poetry

"As the hart panteth after the water brooks,so panteth my soul after thee, O God.

My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God:when shall I come and appear before God?"

David from Psalm 42:1-2

I love nature poetry and nature books. Often I read books by Edwin Way Teale in the winter, when I can't get outside much for my "nature fix". Nature poetry was addressed in my devotional reading today. A.W. Tozer highlighted King David, arguably the greatest nature poet of all time. Here is what I read:

"David was acutely God-conscious. To him God was the one
Being worth knowing. Where others saw nature, he saw God. He was a
nature poet indeed, but he saw God first and loved nature for God's sake.
Wordsworth reversed the order and, while he is great, he is not worthy to untie
the shoelaces of the man David."
A.W. Tozer, from the book The Warfare of the Spirit

I think Tozer has a point; the sense of awe that is typically expressed in nature poetry can be confused with worship. Anyone can feel awe when they view a gorgeous sunset or see a rainbow, but that feeling does not necessarily constitute worship. To see God first and love nature for His sake is a different matter entirely.

Viewing creation in connection to the Creator is like tracing the sun ray back to the sun. Nature observations can increase our understanding of the One who has made it possible for our very lives to be His "poiema", His poetry. Just maybe, the nature poetry that humankind so universally enjoys strikes a chord within us because we ARE poetry--whether lovely or crass. Lord, make my life a poem that honors You.

Worshipful Resignation

"Though we cannot control the universe, we can determine our attitude toward it. We can accept God's will wherever it is expressed and take toward it an attitude of worshipful resignation. If my will is to do God's will, then there will be no controversy with anything that comes in the course of my daily walk. Inclement weather, unpleasant neighbors, physical handicaps, adverse political conditions,--- all these will be accepted as God's will for the time and surrendered to provisionally, subject to such alterations as God may see fit to make, either by His own sovereign providence or in answer to believing prayer."
~~quote taken from Born After Midnight by A.W. Tozer

We had an ice storm this week-end, followed by a thin dusting of "powdered sugar" snow. It was inconvenient. It meant postponing our women's event at church, and from there my mind extrapolated other unpleasant ramifications: maybe my parents wouldn't make it to my daughter's first recital, maybe there wouldn't BE a recital, probably the attendance at church would be small, then the necessary offerings might not be collected, so then the bills wouldn't be paid on time, and we couldn't travel to see our sick mama, and we don't have decent winter tires on the car and on and on and on.

I was anything but worshipfully resigned.

Then I went into the sanctuary and beheld His glory. Here is what happened:

During communion, an older gentleman from our congregation stood to bless the cup. He made reference to the scripture from Isaiah, which tells us that "though our sins are as scarlet, they will be white as snow." He proceeded to describe in poetic detail a nature scene that he had held in his memory bank from his youth. It was a country snow scene, where each blade of grass, each fencepost and tree branch were encrusted with snow. He spoke of the quietness, and then the utter indescribable beauty of a pink sunrise reflected as a million points of brilliance off the virgin snow.

His description moved me deeply. My tears fell as I noted the wetness in his own eyes. Half a century had obviously made that holy moment even more vivid and precious to him.

It changed my whole perspective. How could I have missed the beauty? It was a gift from my Heavenly Father, and my eyes were blind to the moment.

The cares of this life can so encumber us. I want to be worshipfully resigned to God's will, as Tozer so eloquently words it. Even in inclement weather.

His Mighty Firmament

North (Printer's Proof V)
Keith Jacobshagen
Lithograph 1990
Kiechel Fine Art


Praise the LORD!
Praise God in His sanctuary;
Praise Him in His mighty firmament!
~Psalm 150:1

I have been fascinated by sky paintings and photos ever since our local art museum featured an exhibit comprised of sky photographs from each county in our state. The colors, cloud patterns, textures, and moods held endless fascination for me.

Biologist Lewis Thomas added to my fascination in his book, The Lives of a Cell. In it, he compares the atmosphere of the earth to the membrane of a single cell. Without a membrane, chaos would reign. It is this sky membrane that "edits the sun"~~protecting us from harmful ultraviolet light, and nucleic acids and proteins. Amazingly, it permits the full penetration of the specific kind of light that is required for photosynthesis.

More from Thomas:

"It is hard to feel affection for something as totally impersonal as the atmosphere, and yet there it is, as much a part and product of life as wine or bread. Taken all in all, the sky is a miraculous achievement. It works, and for what it is designed to accomplish it is as infallible as anything in nature. (snip) We should credit it for what it is: for sheer size and perfection of function, it is far and away the grandest product of collaboration in all of nature."

Thomas calls this "fantastic luck".

Good writing. Good biology. Bad theology.

I can forgive him for that and enjoy his observations, just as I can enjoy the exhibit in the museum. I am so thankful that the "totally impersonal" atmosphere he marvels at has a voice of its own:

"The heavens declare the glory of God;
And the firmament show His handiwork.
Day unto day utters speech,
And night unto night reveals knowledge.
There is no speech nor language
Where their voice is not heard.
Their line has gone out through all the earth,
And their words to the end of the world."
Psalm 19:1-4

The Self-Taught Individual

Ninth grade is the year for biology. This fact has caused me a deal of stress, because I have at least one ninth grader who thrives as an autodidact. I have no doubt that he will learn biology; it's just that it most likely will not be in a neat, sequential format like the one laid out in the expensive textbook I purchased. When I lifted that textbook out of the mailbox last month, my heart felt almost as heavy as the book. I knew I had purchased it because a college-bound high school student needs to be able to write "biology" on his transcript. As far as textbooks go, it is no doubt a good one ~~~Exploring Creation with Biology written by Jay Wile. But in my heart I knew that it was a compromise.

But how do you learn biology without a textbook?

We've already used the microscope, kept nature notebooks, studied insects somewhat in-depth, dissected a cow eyeball. But mostly we've read. Currently, we're reading the fascinating story of smallpox in a book called Dr. Jenner and the Speckled Monster. A person effortlessly comes away with some understanding of viruses and T cells and immunity after reading a book like that.

I know that all learning cannot be effortless, but somehow that big, fat, biology textbook makes me tired. I need courage to continue learning as we've been doing, without fear that my children will fail to measure up to the standards required by college. I have a feeling that they will be able to put their randomized bits of knowledge in order on their own once they decide they have the need to do it.

Interestingly, I came across a truly lyrical biology book, a series of essays by Lewis Thomas entitled The Lives of a Cell. Thank you, William K. Zinsser for suggesting him! Now this is a man who can write about biology in a way that delights. For example, this paragraph on pheromones:

" 'At home, 4 p.m. today', says the female moth, and releases a brief explosion of bombykol, a single molecule of which will tremble the hairs of any male within miles and send him driving upwind in a confusion of ardor. But it is doubtful if he has an awareness of being caught in an aerosol of chemical attractant. On the contrary, he probably finds suddenly that it has become an excellent day, the weather remarkably bracing, the time appropriate for a bit of exercise of the old wings, a brisk turn upwind. En route, traveling the gradient of bombykol, he notes the presence of other males, heading in the same direction, all in a good mood, inclined to race for the sheer sport of it. Then, when he reaches his destination, it may seem to him that most extraordinary of coincidences, the greatest piece of luck: 'Bless my soul, what have we here!'"

I love the way this man personifies the moth, don't you? And look how effortless it was to figure out that "bombykol" was a powerful pheromone released by a female moth to attract a mate. A curious individual would proceed to find out a little more about this chemical. He might go on to study pheromones in other species and even how/if they effect us as humans.

In contrast, a biology textbook would probably say something like this:

"Bombykol is a chemical substance called a pheromone. It is released by female silkworms in order to attract a mate. Named after the moth's Latin name Bombyx mori, it was discovered in 1959 by Adolph Butenandt."

Somehow, those words do not give me a taste for further investigation.

I was somewhat comforted by an article I came across this evening by John W. Osborne, called Thoughts on Autodidacticism:

" .....unscheduled reading made the child father to the man. It led to [my career] in academe. It was self-education rather than twelve years in a public school which allowed me to complete the college work that prepared me for graduate school. The mature Cobbett boasted that 'books and literature have been my delight.' His intensive personal reading helped to develop that direct, vigorous style of writing which still holds a reader's attention. Knowledge imparted in classrooms‑-what Ben Jonson called 'schoolcraft'--would have smoothed our way early in life, but might have cramped our individuality and led us along other paths."

THAT sums up my dilemma: smooth the way OR provide for individuality?

No pheromone receptors have yet been found in humans; perhaps our gift of language negates the need for pheromones and the messages they transmit. I'm banking on that gift of language to transmit the mysteries of biology to my children.

Meanwhile, fat biology books make great flower presses!

House Guest

My husband and I often sit out on the deck in the evenings for a cup of coffee. We have recently heard a strange noise coming from the surrounding greenery, a noise completely unfamiliar to us. Was it a bird? An insect? A toad?

Then one evening when my husband was away, I saw this frog hanging on my glass sliding door. Here was obviously the answer to our mystery. I took a good look at him to see if I could figure out how he managed to hang from slick glass. I noticed that he had little round disks at the end of each toe (toe? claw? paw?)

My little bit of research identifies him as a tree frog, and those round discs on his feet have adhesive qualities. Interesting creature~~~but I was ready to go inside.

I gingerly began to slide the door open, hoping the little fellow would just hop off. Instead, he slid himself through the crack straight into my kitchen! There he chose to hang on the inside of the glass slider. Happily, after all the children had the chance to take a good look at him,my son was willing to play the hero on my behalf and take prince frog back outside where he belongs.

Bioluminescence

photo credit:
USDA Forest Service Archives. www.forestryimages.org
Gerald J. Lenhard, photographer

The walk that I planned to take early this morning got postponed.....later....and later.
It was twilight when I finally made it out the door with my oldest daughter, Melody.
Usually I am too tired by this time of the evening to be as alert to the world of nature as I would be in the morning. But tonight was special.

We saw our first fireflies!!

They always give me a thrill, like friends returning after a long season away. These nocturnal flashers evoke in me a sense of nostalgia: reminding me of long games of hide-n-seek on warm summer evenings, birthday picnics outside with friends, my own children begging to stay outside just a little longer so as to catch the light in a jar.

The technical term for the chemical light produced by lightning bugs is "bioluminescence". The word feels wonderful on the tongue, doesn't it? You can almost guess its meaning by taking it apart. "Bios" is Greek for life. And "lumen" is Latin for light. The scientific (family) name is equally descriptive: Lampyridae.

This occasion calls for poetry, certainly. Here is one by Robert Frost.

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

And another, just-for-fun. It is by Jack Prelutsky.

The firefly is a funny bug,

He hasn't any mind.

He blunders all the way through life

With his headlight on behind.

Colored Pencil Artwork

We are fortunate to live within walking distance of a fishing pond and walking trail; and a five minute drive will take us to a bigger lake and recreational nature area. That gives our family the opportunity to make walking and nature observation a regular part of our homeschool experience. Sometimes we identify trees, birds, seed pods, or wildflowers. Last week my son caught a spotted trout with his hands, which he kept just long enough to examine for the purpose of drawing it and writing about it briefly in his nature notebook.

I keep a notebook alongside of my children, and find it to be a very worthwhile and absorbing pursuit. My artistic skills are w-a-y underdeveloped, and I would be too embarrassed to take an art class with other adults. But with kids, I can relax, learn right along with them and work on my skills without worry or fear.

I've seen a pattern develop as I look through the pages of my notebook: most of the drawings are flowers. Colored pencils are the media of choice for me, simply because they are so portable. And so, I decided to try to improve my art skills a little.

This book, Creating Radiant Flowers in Colored Pencil, came with me on my recent mini-vacation, just in case my husband and I had time to sit under a tree on a blanket. To my great delight, we did!! While the Preacher took a nap, I had an art lesson using the book as a guide. I worked all afternoon on a drawing of a parrot tulip, using a technique called burnishing. Because colored pencils are translucent, the colors can be layered with white in between layers.

Here is the result of my afternoon pursuit. Now this marks a real breakthrough for me, allowing adults to peek into my notebook!

I think I am becoming bolder as I launch into my 5th decade. Not only have I opened my notebook for view, but I also wore one of my vintage hats to church~~~something I have always wanted to do but felt too self conscious to actually carry out. You know what? It is fun to step out of the comfort zone once in a while!

Lilacs

Elizabeth's Lilacs
by Xlaogang Zhu


April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
~T.S. Eliot


The lilac has always been my signature flower. I can never get enough of its evocative fragrance. Once, as a teenager, my high school sweetheart filled my car with arm loads of blossoms. I still recall the memory when I breath the fragrance.

Later, my husband indulged my love of lilacs by introducing me to the Ewing Park in Des Moines, where the Lilac Arboretum is nothing short of supernal. As newlyweds we lived nearby and I remember brilliant spring days, running from bush to bush and exclaiming over the variety of colors and fragrances. And the high point of it all was to just lay on a blanket and get intoxicated with the perfume.

Never the blossoms of nobility, lilacs are loved by "common folk". In the language of flowers, their short-lived blooms symbolize humility.

Chalk up one more good reason to be ordinary!

What is your signature flower?

In Retrospect: the Best of 2006

The temperature has been hovering in the single digits this past week. My oldest daughter pulled out some of her pictures from our Arizona vacation, taken last March. Warm memories!
The children each brought home a cactus as a souvenir. There were so many to choose from! For me, it was almost as much fun making a list of cactus names: Monkey Tail, Hedgehog, Brain plant, Mother-in-law's tongue, Pincushion, Barrel, Dead Man's Fingers, Turk's Cap, Pregnant Onion, Pencil Plant, Dutchman's Pipe. The names are all so appropriately descriptive!

Of course, the large saguaros are also endlessly fascinating. We had to pull over to the roadside several time so that the children could snap photos. Edwin Way Teale writes about these "water towers of the desert" in his book Wandering Through Winter:

"It is these giant cacti (saguaros) that come first to mind when we remember southern Arizona.
Each column that towered above us was, in effect, an expandable storage tank. The accordianlike pleats that run vertically up the side of a saguaro enable it to expand or contract, to increase or decrease its circumference. The cactus becomes more slender in times of drought, more plump when rain has fallen. Its spongelike tissues have enormous capacity for holding liquids. A large saguaro may collect as much as a ton of water from a single rain."

A Christian could easily find a sermon in this natural wonder, but Teale rarely moralizes. He allows nature to make its own indelible mark on the human soul. A wise teacher lets the student come to his or her own conclusions, don't you think? That is why I enjoy Teale's writing so much.