What an Incredible Weekend!

What a beautiful weekend! Productive too! I did about 5 minutes of gardening. Jeff cut down many more alders from the slope behind the house with our new chainsaw. We’ve used our new clothesline for a few more loads of laundry. And I upgraded to a new server! More on that in a separate post.

The gold finches are back this week and I heard a loon for the first time in 2008 this morning! We’ve seen them on the lake for a few weeks, but I hadn’t heard one call until this morning. Maybe it is just because it was warm enough to open the window.

Today we went for a drive around the lake and then we took some back roads looking for a hiking trail that Jeff heard about. We didn’t find it so we headed over to Sherbrooke. I just love the looks of Sherbrooke. It’s an ancient looking down – looks like you could turn off the power and it would be 1850. That is where Jeff’s office is. We went down to the river where the boat launch is and took a few pics. We stopped back on the St. Mary’s River on the way home and took a few more pictures of the mighty St. Marys. Here are some pictures for you:

We found this on the side of one of the backroads. It was a little spooky and there was a poem that was displayed around the entire monument. It says something about the “Sons of Martha” and is dated 1930-1931. I Googled it at home and it is a Rudyard Kipling poem that is dedicated to the work of Engineers. I don’t know why it is where it is. It looks like it is on an old road or rail bed. I don’t know the significance of the date 1930-1931 either. It’s a mystery. Maybe you can solve it.

This is what is says:

In Loving Memory
of
Those Who Worked

and Died Here

The Sons of Martha
–

The Sons of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part;
But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and troubled heart.
And because she lost her temper once, and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,
Her Sons must wait upon Mary’s Sons, world without end, reprieve, or rest.

It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.
It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.
It is their care that the wheels run truly; it is their care to embark and entrain,
Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main.

They say to mountains, ‘Be ye removed’. They say to the lesser floods, ‘Be dry’.
Under their rods are the rocks reproved – they are not afraid of that which is high.
Then do the hill-tops shake to the summit – then is the bed of the deep laid bare,
That the Sons of Mary may overcome it, pleasantly sleeping and unaware.

They finger death at their gloves’ end where they piece and repiece the living wires.
He rears against the gates they tend: they feed him hungry behind their fires.
Early at dawn, ere men see clear, they stumble into his terrible stall,
And hale him forth like a haltered steer, and goad and turn him till evenfall.

To these from birth is Belief forbidden; from these till death is Relief afar.
They are concerned with matter hidden – under the earthline their altars are;
The secret fountains to follow up, waters withdrawn to restore to the mouth,
And gather the floods as in a cup, and pour them again at a city drouth.

They do not preach that their God will rouse them a little before the nuts work loose.
They do not teach that His Pity allows them to leave their work when they damn-well choose.
As in the thronged and the lighted ways, so in the dark and the desert they stand.
Wary and watchful all their days that their brethren’s days may be long in the land.

Raise ye the stone or cleave the wood to make a path more fair or flat:
Lo, it is black already with blood some Son of Martha spilled for that:
Not as a ladder from earth to Heaven, not as a witness to any creed,
But simple service simply given to his own kind in their common need.

And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessed – they know the angels are on their side.
They know in them is the Grace confessed, and for them are the Mercies multiplied.
They sit at the Feet – they hear the Word – they see how truly the Promise Runs:
They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and – the Lord He lays it on Martha’s Sons.

Rudyard Kipling

—
Update: Google is educating me that there are a series of these Sons of Martha cairns across the country. I wonder what the significance was of this particular location. I’ll let you know if I find out.