Frodo | Close to the Ground: Living Inductively

For several weeks–in a messy corner of my mind–I have been working on a blog post. So far, that post exists only as an unruly pile of ideas waiting to straighten themselves out. Fall has come, though, and I need to be reading, writing, and walking out in the beautiful world.

For many years, I have been searching for the right time to read J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings another time. I was hoping that if I waited long enough, I could approach the book with the absolute wonder and absorption that I felt when I read it for the first time in the fall of 1967–fifty-eight years ago. A little over half through The Fellowship of the Ring, and even though I am familiar with every scene and much of the dialogue, I am again wonderfully absorbed in Middle Earth. Turns out, I started reading September 22, which LOTR aficionados may recognize as Bilbo’s and Frodo’s birthday. I count it a fortuitous beginning,

our current copy of the The Lord of the Rings

Mostly what I want to write today are Tolkien’s words that give me comfort. I hope they give you comfort as well.

There they (Frodo and Bilbo in Rivendell) sat for some while, looking through the window at the bright stars above the steep-climbing woods, and talking softly. They spoke no more of the small news of the Shire far away, nor of the dark shadows and perils that encompassed them, but of the fair things they had seen in the world together, of Elves, of the stars, of trees, and the gentle fall of the bright year in the woods. (last page of the chapter “Many Meetings” in The Fellowship of the Ring).

Here in Arlington the oppressive hot weather ended many weeks ago and autumn is beginning in earnest. The walks I take now also give me comfort. Below are some photos from recent walks.