"In the night...the scream of the rabbit is terrible. But the scream of the owl which is not of pain and hopelessness and fear of being plucked out the world, but of the sheer rollicking glory of the death-bringer, is more terrible still. When I hear it resounding through the woods, and then the five black pellets of its song dropping like stones into the air, I know I am standing on the edge of the mystery, in which terror is naturally and abundantly part of life, part of even the most becalmed, intelligent, sunny life--as for example, my own. The world where the owl is endlessly hungry and endlessly on the hunt is the world in which I live, too. There is only one world."
Mary Oliver, Blue Pastures

Sunday, February 2, 2014

Happy Birthday Maude

The first time I met Maude Koevnig we had just moved to Oakwood. As we stood discussing our common lot line, a loud ski boat blasted by. The sweet little old lady glared down at the lake and said, "Those Goddamned sons-a-bitches!". Maude did not tolerate fools well. She was intelligent, well-read, a "grandma" to my daughter, a bird lover, and a wonderful neighbor. She died twenty years ago at the age of 88. 

Maude was not a religious person, but she used to say that she hoped heaven was as lovely as Oakwood. She lived there in the heart of Oakwood in a little Victorian cottage, surrounded by her books, for 65 years. Wherever in this Unitarian universe her soul is resting, I hope it's green and beautiful, and there are Warblers and Wood Ducks. And no boats.

Happy Birthday, Maude. 


George A said...

Make that no ski-boats. Sail and oar/paddle boats don't make much racket so long as their skippers are sober. No sail boats in heaven? Unthinkable.

Gunnar Berg said...