Our Valley House kids have been starting on parts of the face. Here was the results of our eye project. This one looked as if it could have been taken off of a thousand year old urn in the archeological museum in Greece. Giving the kids vibrant acrylic colors turned a boring drawing session into an exciting alchemical experience. These are fun to look at large where you can see the brush strokes more easily.

This is another photo taken by Robin Fowler on their trip into Moldova. Below is a poem written by April Folkertsma on the ride.


I Can't Do Anything with this Dark

It's a quarter to 4 a.m.
And I can't do anything with this dark,
sleep, read, pray.
I can see only as far as the bus headlights illuminate,
along a bumpy Moldovan road,
On my way to Chisinau for clarification
or further vision.

My fellow travelers sleep
and I am asleep-awake in the twilight
world of jetlag.
This road leads past the lives of the living poor
whose barren vineyards are eery shadows-
appartitions who trail us, me, mile after mile
in this dark,
and I can't do anything

A fog settles in and not even headlights
are enought to cut through what I cannot see,
along a bumpy Moldovan road
on my way to Chisinau.
The fog breaks
The bumps increase,
We turn a corner
and I find I still can't do anything with this dark.

We pass a man walking in the night
and I wonder where he is going all alone,
so late, so early, without a light.
Perhaps he knows what to do with the dark,
and that is nothing more than go straight.
"Go straight," I hear him say as we speed by,
Our lights catching his eyes reflection,
illuminating. "Go straight," he whispers.
I catch a gleam of his life, and
breathe deeply the beauty of this,
a night when I could do nothing.

A project at our day center with children at risk took photos of jumping taken by Caleb Coppock, traced them cut them out pasted and painted them and this is what was left. The audio is John Coon playing scales and me being his latin metronome.

Reading through some of Wendel Berry's short Novels and his non fiction work called the Unsettling of America, has stirred up lots of childhood memories. Berry's novels just have a goodness about them. They honor hard work, the nurturing of people, for land, and animals alike. The old idea of husbandry, the care for the life of the farm in order to preserve it as a legacy for future generations, comes through as a counter paradigm to our popular anti culture culture of quick profits at the expense of the poor and of our children. He see's the true beauty of an America which lives for the next generation, loves life, and God, and has a great respect for all of creation.

When I was a little boy we rented a farm house and fed the horses to pay a little less rent each month. This painting stirred up by reading Berry's novels was from memory, really of hearing the story of dad destroying the television in the garden. It reminded me of my own struggles with how to live in balance with technology and mass media culture. These stories have stirred a renewed respect for my parents and the deep sense of love and commitment to family they have always nurtured.