10. After Compline

It’s late, after Compline. I’ve come down here from the chapel to the cellar to sit at the typebench and to listen to the sounds. There’s nothing as quiet as a group of monks who are keeping monastic silence. It can be oppressive after these many years. And so I come down to cellar among the great slabs of bluestone that form Our Lady’s foundation to hear the sounds of the house: the furnace going on once in a while, the water gurgling through the pipes, the mice skittering across the floor above me. The peaceful sounds of life to which we seldom listen. But then the far off screaming siren of a fire truck come to me, or an ambulance responding to a fire or a car accident. Lord be with them, victims and rescuers.

I guess my email address is being passed around Saugerties. Even though I turned off my profile this morning, I’m still getting messages from local residents. That’s terrific, actually, because I am hearing from wonderful people. I hope Abbot Agnes doesn’t discover me here at the PC, tapped into the world wide web. Worse, he would be upset over my blog. After all, I shouldn't be speaking with anyone outside, except when we're in the village on errands.

But what the heck … you can send email to me: BrotherJesse@windsweptpress.com

So. Yes to the woman from Quarryville who asked if we have enough food for the coming winter. We have 48 sacks of rice and four and one half barrels of dried lima beans. If we can beg some flour for making bread, we will do fine through the winter. Last Christmas, some nice folks from Woodstock gave us 50 pounds of coffee! Life doesn’t get any better. Well, of course it does ... at a pig roast!