Glory Be

I finally canned our applesauce last week, and as I was sorting apples into bowls lined up on the counter, I was struck by how much nicer it is to wash dirt off of wild apples than it is to wash poison off of glossy, tended ones.

This is a fair observation, not a smug one, because I used some beautiful, poisonous apples, too. Praise Him for all.


Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spáre, strange;
Whatever is fickle, frecklèd (who knows how?)
With swíft, slów; sweet, sóur; adázzle, dím;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is pást change:

Práise hím.

-Gerard Manley Hopkins