Today my house is quiet; just the hum of the furnace and the low sound of the television in the background. As I sit in the book room, looking out the picture window, I find myself humming old hymns. One of my favorites is Come, Thou Fount. It is full of "old fashioned" language, like Ebenezer and prone. Not commonly used in our Twitter and Facebook culture these days. Still, I find myself humming the melody to this and other classic hymns that would have been the contemporary music of my great-grandmother's generation. Where my child are more likely to sing songs that have bubble-gum rhymes, my grandparents and their parents sang songs that challenged the soul and mind.
I can picture my great-grandmother sitting in a rocker humming to herself as she darned socks, or mended a shirt. I have a couple of rockers in my house. One of them is anxiously waiting for a warmer day. I don't know if I would take my quilting out to the porch, but I have brought a book or two to enjoy.
Here's to the quiet, the simple, the almost sacred experiences of a quiet day.
Sending you hushed blessings from the farm.