The new scanner has been installed, also the new mouse. I didn't find the deal on monitors I was hoping for, so I'll wait about that. As soon as I figure out how to do what I want to do, I'll post some pictures. Right now I'm trying to figure out how to get by with the one power strip I'm using instead of adding a new one. There's just way too many wires and cords snaking around to suit me. I know, I know, get a Mac, Mama.

Skip sent a short reflection on a bucolic scene he observed yesterday. Since I'm not feeling inspired to write much today, I'm borrowing from him:

Early this morning I found myself driving on a small country road not too far from our house. It was a partly cloudy, cool day. Topping a small hill, I approached a fenced open field with a number of cows grazing. It caught my attention, as the field was pretty and was filled with sunlight.

I began dropping down the hill and a cow that was close by seemed to be grazing in a peculiar way. Her head was bobbing up and down. Puzzled, I took my foot off the accelerator and looked more closely. She was not grazing. She was licking the head of a very young, jet black calf that was lying in tall grass. The calf was holding its head upright as if to accept those licks from its mother. There was something utterly maternal in this scene. I felt it deeply, this very basic act of caring for an infant, and the infant's response to its mother.

With a lump in my throat I looked up and straight into the eyes of a huge bull that was maybe 30 feet behind mother and calf. The bull had stopped grazing and had turned its attention to this passer-by, on full attention to my intrusion. The scene was now complete, and became whole. The very essential parts of life were all present.

Oddly enough, our devotional today struck a similar theme:

Psalm 149. Hallelujah! Sing to the LORD a new song, sing his praise in the congregation of the faithful.

When I walk past our neighbor's farm in the early morning my friend Daisy courses the roadside, the ditches and hedges, seeking a scent she can pursue. She yearns to follow her nose, to run, tail flashing behind, yipping her joy of the chase. A groundhog would be fine, deer would be interesting, a fox would be prime. It is in her nature to chase.

A light frost in the shadows, a heavy dew on the rising meadow, clear sky with fading moon and brightening dawn, cows grazing quietly with a protective eye on their calves, the distant thrum of the first school bus on the county road—all seem to proclaim permanence and tranquility.

A little after seven the first hammering begins. Carpenters and masons are at work transforming the other side of the road into housing for new people. All this will change. Our world is in flux.

It is in our nature to build. And to gather. And when gathered, to worship. And, when worshiping, to sing praises. The saints of old knew that. The saints today know it too.

Every day we sing a new song. Hallelujah! (from Forward Day by Day http://www.forwardmovement.org )