All week, I've been drinking in the big skies and long views of northern Missouri.
A mile or so from Conception Abbey, at the end of a trail that winds through fields and vale, lies the Mary Grotto: dedicated to a seminarian who died here several years ago. One of the dear young men here walked me out early in the week.
Another day I went out at dusk, just before Evening Prayer, and walked the perimeter of the pond. The clouds, while benevolent, seemed a force of nature: bearing down, enveloping, incorporating,shifting, incarnating.
The next afternoon it snowed, the first fall of the season..
I didn't have the right foot gear, but I bundled up and tramped off anyway, noticing the way the trees, and grasses, and native plants receive and provide a nest for the snow.
Me and the birds--back to the grotto.