I've reached the end of one of my Gram's journals. There are several more to read, but I am feeling the need to take a break for a while. In addition to the writings and poetry I've shared here, there are many entries in which she writes about her daily life. It is such a blessing to have this account, but the process of reading also brings up a lot of emotion for me as I realize again and again just how much I miss her.
The next few weeks of my life will be consumed by Vacation Bible School, Campmeeting, dog training, and visits from family. I will pick up here again in the fall. For now, I leave you with this fun piece about my Gram's "Fear of the National Geographic." ~ KB
Fear of the National Geographic
I don’t subscribe to the National Geographic magazine but it is often found in doctor’s and dentist’s offices. This may, in part, contribute to the way I feel about it.
It is truly amazing, a real lodestone of knowledge. Erotic flora and fauna tempt the eye and the mind. One can look down on rain-forests or on a patchwork pattern of cultivated land or see the world from an insect’s point of view. One can climb the highest mountain, build pipe lines, or irrigate the desert, all in living color. Bats cling together in caves; lizards bask in the sun; lions gather at water holes and the sun is setting over a golden sea in Hawaii when a door opens and a voice says, “You’re next!”
On the way home the land looks flat and colorless compared to the highly colored pages. I imagine wildebeests and elands scattering before the car. At my driveway, elephants and their young move ponderously aside. Monkeys chatter in the trees and the pitiful contrived face of she who is perhaps the mother of us all appears before my eyes. The sky darkens with volcanic ash and molten lava creeps down a blackened mountainside. A cedar forest in Maine waits to be inundated by the sea in order to form coal thousands of years hence. Winds erupt and trees fall before it like scattered toothpicks. Stars are born and die, flares appear on the sun.
Beneath my feet the plates of the earth are grinding slowly toward each other.
