Serenity

Visit to a National Garden

joannie65351 Comment

I visited a garden this week.  It was a garden with few flowers although the trees and grass are quite beautiful in the dappled sunlight.  It has been called a garden of stones…..gravestones.   The garden is officially closed right now because it belongs to the Federal Government and is closed now as Congress and the Executive Branch disagree over the nation’s budget and funding.  But the garden is not really closed…at least one veteran will be admitted today.

The Old ChapelThis is Arlington National Cemetery and I am here for the funeral of a friend – a West Point graduate, Vietnam War veteran, career military man. He died several months ago and now we’ve come to honor him and pay last respects at Arlington.  I wait with everyone else in the parking lot in front of The Old Chapel.  Funerals for war casualties and veterans have been conducted in this chapel since it was built in the 1930’s.  I find myself pondering all the military men and women buried here at Arlington – how many funerals have been held here and how many different wars are represented by this place.  I look across the hills and I am struck by the rows of markers….

There are just so many of them.

arlington rowsArlington National Cemetery covers about 624 acres and has been used as a cemetery for war casualties, veterans, and their families since the American Civil War.  It is located on the site that was originally the home, Arlington Hall, and estate of Mary Anna Custis Lee – great granddaughter of Martha Washington and wife of Confederate General Robert E. Lee.  But every school child in America knows that Robert E. Lee wasn’t always a Confederate general. Originally he was also a graduate of West Point Military Academy and an officer in the United States Army before the United States split into two and the Civil War began. He was offered the post of commander of the Armies of the Potomac at the start of the Civil War but, conflicted within himself about the war and loyal to his home, Lee wrote to his wife that he could not fight against the Commonwealth of Virginia. He resigned his commission on April 20, 1861 and became the commander of the Army of Northern Virginia and, ultimately, the commander of all the Confederate military forces.

Arlington HallWar brings strong emotions to the surface and, once he left to join the Confederacy, Lee would never be able to go home to Arlington Hall again. Fearing for her life, Mary Anna Custis Lee followed her husband’s advice and fled from her home. The Union Army soon took over the property and used it as an Army headquarters.  Its position overlooking the Potomac River and Washington, DC made it a strategic military position that could not remain in the hands of Confederate sympathizers.   Later, in 1864, when most of the local cemeteries had become filled with war dead, the Army’s Quartermaster General saw the political advantage of using General Lee’s home as a cemetery making it forever “uninhabitable” and ensuring that the Lees would always remember the cost of war.  The land was formally taken from Mrs. Lee for back taxes.  She had sent a friend to pay the taxes but he was turned away and the tax payment was rejected because the owner had not come in person – an obvious ruse by the Government to take the land and punish the General and his family.  Mrs. Lee was able to return to her childhood home one last time before her death in 1873. After the war, Mary Anna Custis Lee’s son, who was her heir and would have inherited the estate, sued the Government successfully and the estate was returned to the family but it was too late…it was by this time filled with the graves of soldiers from both sides of the conflict.  The estate was sold back to the Government for $150,000 (about $3.1M in today’s dollars).  The first war casualty buried at Arlington was William Henry Christman on May 13, 1864.

Since then, there have been so many more…..

arlington rows 2This is the second military funeral I have attended at Arlington. The funerals are conducted with great honor and respect by the Army’s 3rd Infantry Regiment. The 3rd Infantry is a fully functioning fighting unit but most people are more familiar with the Regiment’s mission to “honor our fallen comrades”.  As I stand in the parking lot, the horse-drawn caisson arrives along with the honor guard. Although our friend was cremated and will be buried in the columbarium at Arlington, a coffin is placed on the caisson’s wagon and the American flag is carefully and slowly draped over the coffin.  At this point, even before the actual funeral service begins, every action by the members of the funeral detachment is handled with solemnity and respect for the veteran being laid to rest this day.  Every step and every action is calculated and filled with tradition and symbolism.  After the service in the chapel, the funeral procession led by the caisson, the color guard, the 3rd Infantry band, and the honor guard will move slowly through the cemetery to the final resting place for our friend.

Caisson for LeeYears ago when I attended the first funeral here, we elected to walk with other friends and family members in the processional.  It is a very moving experience to walk slowly down through the rows and rows of war dead thinking about all the other people who have walked behind other caissons through Band at Arlingtonthe last one hundred and fifty years.  On our return, we decided not to stick to the roadway to get back to our car at the Chapel; we thought maybe we would walk up through the cemetery.  It seemed like a simple shortcut to cut straight up over the hillside.  Within ten minutes or so, we were hopelessly lost. In every direction there were white markers – all the same – row upon row – seemingly going on forever. We Arlington funeral photowalked this way and that slowing down to read the names on the stones, noting the different religions represented and, more sadly, the ages of the young men and women who had lost their lives in battles. The cemetery has 70 sections representing all aspects of war and the “brothers in arms”.  Section 21 holds military nurses and, more recently, there is a section just for casualties for the “Global War on Terror”.  Incredibly (to me), there is a section with Confederate Color Guardsoldiers and a section with former slaves – war may be fought over political and cultural differences but death knows no such boundaries.  There are the usual sections for different military services and different wars and different occupations.  In all, there are about 400,000 souls that have been laid to rest at Arlington and the funerals continue five days a week, about 6,900 per year. There is a three month backlog. The Government may shut-down but the funerals continue here.

And there are just so many of them….

Unknown SoldierUltimately, we found our way up to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and decide to stay a little longer to see the changing of the guard.  This tomb is guarded day and night, rain or shine, winter and summer. There is always a guard from the 3rd Infantry marching back and forth, 21 steps right, turn and then 21 steps left….silently and steadily day after day.  There are actually four service men buried in the tomb, one from each of four major conflicts of the past hundred years – World War I, World War II, Korean Conflict, and the Vietnam War. The inscription on the tomb reads “Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God.”  I suppose medical procedures and advances in DNA technology in the past decade make it possible that there will never be another “unknown” soldier but somehow I doubt it and wonder how many more will die.  It is sad to think that these young men were lost forever to their families and friends.

Changing of the Guard a the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

But today, we do not walk. There is final short service at the grave-site ending with the honor guard’s 21 gun salute – the sound reverberating throughout the still quietness of the place. Finally taps is played.  Once you hear it, you never really forget the haunting beauty of that lone bugle and the thought of a single soul winging its way up to the heavens.  

Day is done, gone the sun

From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
All is well, safely rest
God is nigh.

Fading light dims the sight
And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
From afar, drawing near
Falls the night.

Thanks and praise for our days
Neath the sun, neath the stars, neath the sky
As we go, this we know

God is nigh.

A single soul is honored today.

As we leave this garden, I take one look back and say arlington rows 3one last goodbye to our friend and thank him silently for his service. My glance turns into a long last look through the gates and down the hill at the rows upon rows of white marble markers. At once, I am filled with an overwhelming sadness and new tears come to my eyes. I read recently an anonymous quote – “Our flag does not fly because the wind moves it, it flies with the last breath of each soldier who died protecting it.”  Every last breath…..

And there are just so many of them…..

 

Sources and for additional information on Arlington National Cemetery:

Arlington National Cemetery: http://www.arlingtoncemetery.mil/

Wikipedia:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arlington_Cemetery

The Old Guard (Wikipedia) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/3rd_United_States_Infantry_Regiment_(TOG)

The Old Guard (Official): http://www.army.mil/info/organization/unitsandcommands/commandstructure/theoldguard/

Arlington House (Wikipedia) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arlington_House,_The_Robert_E._Lee_Memorial

Arlington Cemetery Unofficial Site: http://arlingtoncemetery.net/

Visitor’s Guide: http://dc.about.com/od/monuments/p/ArlingCemetery.htm

Tomb of the Unknown Soldier:  https://tombguard.org/

Taps Lyrics, Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taps

Video – Changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DLVzKTyXI_E

Taps Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wn_iz8z2AGw

An Urge to Bird (July 10, 2013)

joannie65352 Comments

Yeopim CreekIt feels like forever since we have gone birding.  Of course, we are always on the look out for birds and notice sparrows and cardinals and blue jays along the way as we take care of chores around the place.  The feeders always have some bird or another hanging out taking a little nut and seed break.  And there’s a particular northern mockingbird that always sits on the hedgerow along the road leading out of our neighborhood and we look to see that he is still standing sentry there by the road as we head out to work every day.  So seeing birds around is not really the issue.  The urge to bird is more about getting out in the woods and seeing birds in a different habitat even if they are the same birds.  I seem to have missed most of the spring migration this year and I am not really sure why…it just seemed to have passed me by somehow.  I read reports of warblers here and red knots there and osprey returning and snow geese departing but we just didn’t seem to get out there too much to scope things out.

And time is fleeting – you get just a glimmer of spring like a gentle breeze through the trees offering just the faintest kiss on your skin and then is gone leaving you with no trace it was ever there.  It is the same with everything.  You roll through your life and stop one morning to get your bearings and find that your kids are grown and friends you thought would be with you forever have moved on to greener pastures.  The small potted hydrangea you planted and figured would not live a season is now a giant shrub covered with pale blue snow balls and the dogwood is now shading out the roses you knew were the only thing that could grow in that much sun.

Bob WhiteSo I found myself in hot steamy June pondering the passage of time with a gallon-sized yen to head out into the woods or somewhere to look for some birds.  It was time to take a “time out” to head to a spot where I knew we would see good birds.  It was past time.  A few hours’ drive south and we are soon in familiar territory. Even driving up the road to the house reveals a lone Bob White Quail running out ahead of us keeping just far enough ahead for him to feel safe but thereby preventing my every attempt at getting a good look at him or a good photograph.

Yellow FlyNow here I am sitting on an old wooden pier in dark water wetlands watching my husband motor away up the creek in the john boat as he heads out to fill his yen to do a little fishing.  I sit quietly in the warm sunshine with my binoculars at hand and a camera just in case I get lucky enough to get a good photograph or two.   The yellow flies are in season and they do try to take a little blood now and then but the mosquitos are not so bad down here by the water.  I sit and let the peacefulness of the place soak into me like the black water slips silently in at high tide and fills the wetlands.

 Protonotary WarblerI wait and the birds come to me – some I know well like the Carolina Chickadee and the White Breasted Nuthatch and the Tufted Titmouse.  But some are relatively new to me like the Protonotary Warbler whose “sweet sweet sweet” echoes up and down the creek making him difficult to spot until he comes clearly into view like a golden dollop of butter with blue-grey wings.  I have taken to calling this bird “Butter Baby” in my mind because of its beautiful color.  However does the bird live in a muddy black water swamp and still keep its bright golden plumage so clean?

A Carolina Wren has built a nest on the top of the pier post between the piling and the boat lift supports.  Mama Wren flies in with a big fat green caterpillar for the babies, sees me, and commences to lecture me with her witchety ratchety buzz saw mama song.  She flits from tree to piling to lift cable to tree again until I get the message and hold my hands over my eyes so I cannot possibly see her or her babies.  I must admit that I cheated and spread open my fingers just a little so I could watch her slip into the nest.  Quick as a wink, babies were fed and she was out again and back on the hunt.

A little later, we take the boat up creek to look around and I see birds that are very new to me.  I strain to focus my binoculars so that they show things just a little bit more clearly.  I desperately try to take pictures that will be blurry but might just show the bird clearly enough that I can check it against the guide book I have left back at the house.  I call out field markings and colors in hopes that my husband or I will remember the words I say later even when we forget exactly what we saw.

Blue Gray GnatcatcherA pair of Blue- Gray Gnatcatchers has stopped on a branch over the water to do a little preening.  Another grey-green bird with a roundish head, light wing bars, and a short pointed beak flies by and makes me think flycatcher although I cannot fathom what kind he would be.  A little further up the creek and we are startled as several Green Herons burst out from a Bald Cypress tree and fly upstream.  Just as we are congratulating ourselves for being in the right place at the right time for once, four more herons shoot out of the tree and head up stream behind the others.  Seven herons in all – what a beautiful sight!  I strain my neck looking back to the tree wondering if there is a rookery there but I see no signs of a nest anywhere.

Green HeronWe have pimento cheese sandwiches and diet Dr. Pepper® on the pier and listen to the plaintive but incessant call of a Pileated Woodpecker perched high up in a cypress across the creek.  We decide that he is a juvenile who somehow got out of the nest and got stuck in the tree and now calls frantically for mama to come guide him to safety.  I notice he is way too timid to leave the tree but not so much so that he cannot break bad on a Northern Flicker who lands on a branch nearby.  I zoom the camera lens as far out as I can to try to get a photo but know that the bird is just too far away for a clear shot.  Towards evening, Mama Pileated shows up and both birds fly out across the wetlands and away to the north.

Blue Tailed SkinkSo many beautiful birds to see in this place….and more.  As we head back to the house, I spot a Blue Tailed Skink on the deck boards and finally am glad that some creature stops long enough for me to take a decent picture.  We sit on the front porch of the house while my husband tells me about the large-mouthed bass he caught, describes the iridescent colors of the sun perch and notes how plentiful the white perch seemed to be this year.  I spot the chestnut back and white tail of a deer sprinting across the field and heading for the safety of the woods on the other side.  An Eastern Bluebird flits from the electric wires along the driveway over to the Purple Martin house looking for a good meal of bugs.  No martins have ever lived in the house to my knowledge but bugs and wasps have made it their home over the years.  I tell myself we need to take the house down and clean it out so that maybe martins will move in one spring but neither one of us wants to hike through the high grass filled with chiggers and deer ticks to get to the house.  Late spring just isn’t the right time to get the job done.  By the time winter comes and the grass is relatively chigger free, we have usually forgotten about that we intended to clear out the martin house way back last spring.  Time flows on and chores we think are important get lost somewhere in the current.

Eastern BluebirdAs dusk sets in, I notice a pair of Meadowlarks inspecting the newly mown field perhaps looking for good nesting sites or maybe just hoping to spot a fat grasshopper for supper.  My weekend birding list is coming together nicely. Across the way, I hear the “pee-o-wee” of an Eastern Wood Peewee but never can seem to zero in on the location of the bird.  No problem.  I’ve seen good birds and had a good time…..found time.  Time we carved out — time that we didn’t know we had to do something we really needed to do.  Or more correctly, time to do “nothing” that we didn’t know we needed but now realize was very important indeed.

“The trouble is, you think you have time.”*

*Attributed to Buddha but actually appears to be from “Buddha’s Little Instruction Book” by Jack Kornfield (1994).