Harvest Hurrah

Mt. Baker at dawn today
Mt. Baker at dawn today
Mt. Baker last night with fresh snow
Mt. Baker last night with fresh snow

As a celebration of harvest time, our church shared a harvest meal together this weekend, and this beautiful Hopkins poem came to mind.  Hopkins himself wrote, “The Hurrahing sonnet was the outcome of half an hour of extreme enthusiasm as I walked home alone one day from fishing in the Elwy.”    And how else can we approach the gift of harvest than with “extreme enthusiasm”?

Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the stooks rise
Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behaviour
Of silk-sack clouds! has wilder, wilful-wavier
Meal-drift moulded ever and melted across skies?

I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
And eyes, heart, what looks, what lips yet give you a
Rapturous love’s greeting of realer, of rounder replies?

And the azurous hung hills are his world-wielding shoulder
Majestic – as a stallion stalwart, very-violet-sweet! –
These things, these things were here and but the beholder
Wanting; which two when they once meet,
The heart rears wings bold and bolder
And hurls for him, O half hurls earth for him off under his feet.
~Gerard Manley Hopkins “Hurrahing in Harvest”

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a specially laid table at the Harvest potluck
A gathering of over 90 church family and friends, including two special people over 90 years of age!
A gathering of over 90 church family and friends, including two special people over 90 years of age!

After the Potluck

eatingdessert

We celebrate end of winter’s overlong stay,
And find a respite from embittered mood,
Ignore our sagging incomes for a day,
With shared potluck communion of comfort food.

Beef stew stocked with veggies and potatoes,
Drizzled bread cubes over macaroni and cheese,
Salted nachos dotted with ripened tomatoes,
Meat loaf topped with ketchup to please.

Home made bread from the oven, steaming and soft
Fresh hot chocolate and coffee provide reason to stay,
Remember the smell of shared food will lazily waft
So welcome and hardy with no debt to pay.

When the job is lost or the family is sour,
Too many nights lonely and aching in pain,
Fellowship together for only an hour,
Nurtured and nourished, is never in vain.

Once gratefully finishing up the last crumb,
When life’s feast is done, the journey’s end near
Hang on to your fork awaiting dessert that’s to come
Instead of clinging to worry and unknown fear.

Keep your fork when uncertain about what comes tomorrow
It will remind you of what you can not yet see;
The meal’s not quite over, there’ll be sweetness, not sorrow:
We’ll celebrate together, the best yet to be.

A Church Potluck of Comfort Food

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Perhaps it was celebration of the end of a long cold winter month
Possibly a need of respite from a month of dieting
Likely a response to economic bad news day after day:
A potlatch, a potluck, a communion of comfort food.

What to bring? What soothes stomach and heart?

Macaroni and cheese, with drizzled bread cubes on top
Beef stew chuck-a-block with vegetables and potatoes
Teriyaki chicken
Meat loaf topped with catsup
Spaghetti and pizza

Home made bread, steaming, soft
Whole chocolate milk
And ice cream sundaes

Nothing expensive
Or extravagant
Or requiring debt to pay.

It was the beginning
Of an evening of games and laughter;
When times get tough
And jobs are lost, savings dwindling

It is time for reconnecting community,
For huddling against the storm
Forgetting worry for a night
And sharing comfort, all together, smiling.