Cook's Country (June/July 2016)
Clay went for a run this morning in Rock Creek Park, a large national park here in Our Nation's Capital. It's a truly beautiful place to be in the mornings, a quiet swath of green in the heart of the city.
There's a point on the trail where a bridge crosses a bubbling creek. It's always a lovely spot. But this morning, there was a large, beautiful bird standing in the water. (Sorry, we're not up on our ornithology: Let's call it a heron.) While the water swirled and tumbled around it, the heron stood perfectly still, untroubled by the brook.
It reminded us of a comment left by one of our readers, Julie, last week, after we'd written about Orlando. Julie suggested a poem, by the great Kentuckian Wendell Berry, that she turns to when she needs support and inspiration. Julie must be a mind-reader, because it happens to be our favorite poem.
Our sadness (and this morning, despair) about Orlando remains. But we don't plan to wallow in despair. To paraphrase Mr. Berry, we choose not to "tax our lives with forethought of grief."
We'll leave you with Mr. Berry's poem, along with an excellent recipe for Grilled Broccoli with Lemon and Parmesan. (We still know you're here for the food.)
Spread the words and the message of "The Peace of Wild Things." It has brought us comfort in difficult times. We hope it does the same for you, whenever your difficult time may be.
THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS
by Wendell Berry
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
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