Object of my (intense) affection . . .

Do you own an object that evokes strong emotion each time you see it?  I do . . . this beauty stands faithfully near our front walkway, willingly positioned to greet whomever travels that path (usually me!).  She has been with me for years, and has served as the official welcoming-committee-of-one at 5 of my previous homes, and now graces our entry in The Enchanted Forest.

My emotional reaction to her is intense, and has not waned through the years.  She, for me, is a reminder of two very precious presences in my life . . . She was a gift from my brother.  A spontaneous, expensive, and unexpected gift from someone so dear to me - I smile and think of him every time I see her.  I am reminded of the moment when, after I'd squealed with delight at finding her in a most unlikely place - a beachfront souvenir shop - my sweet brother spontaneously hoisted her up (she's very heavy) and placed her on the check-out counter.  I was amazed and unbelievably moved at this gesture.  We are not a family of big gift-giving, believing that love is best expressed in other, less tangible ways.  But this gift was one that, after all these years, fills my heart with gratitude and joy at remembering that moment and the special person responsible for that joy.

The emotional reaction to this object is multiplied because she is a beautiful likeness of my beloved Buffy - my faithful and loving Cocker Spaniel who shared her 14-year earthly journey with me.  She came into my life as a tiny puppy, at the begging of daughter, Meg, and remained my constant companion through divorce, re-marriage, moving multiple times, additional pets who came and went, and much more.  She asked nothing of me but to love her, which I did intensely.  And I was honored to hold her in my arms as she left this life and moved on to the next.  There never was a more cheerful, loyal, faithful companion than sweet Buffy.  I see her in this beautiful statue, and I smile at the memory of her as my heart still tugs at missing her.

Is it irrational to love a lump of concrete?  Then, so be it.

The end . . . the beginning

His/her valiant struggle came to an end late this afternoon.  I was not good enough to do what the wildlife refuge expert told me - to euthanize.  I was not brave, but shamedly asked this baby to be braver than I and bear the struggle.  All I had the courage to do was try to make him/her comfortable by human standards, and to choose a serene and meaningful spot in the Wish Garden for his/her return to the earth that gives new life.  Someday I'll see him/her fly again, on the wings of another, perhaps.  Until then, I wish this tiny one a sweet journey.  And I'll pray for more courage, should I walk this path again.

Always Ask the Turtle . . .

Yesterday afternoon, getting out of the car, I spotted a whirlwind of activity in the dust/pinestraw beneath a large tree.  At first I thought it was a bird taking a dust bath - it's been so hot and dry here . . . but as I approached, I realized it was a beautiful Blue Jay fledgling, flapping its wings furiously!  I smiled, because as I got nearer, Mama Jay swooped down and nearly took my head off, letting me know that I should leave things alone and let her attend to her toddler learning to fly.
Two hours later, baby bird still in the same spot - didn't look good.  This time, risking the wrath of Mama Jay, I moved close enough to see that the baby's legs seemed injured and/or unusable.  Instead of hopping on the them, as fledglings do just before they take flight, he/she was frantically trying to escape by dragging him/herself on the ground with those baby wings, while the legs dragged painfully behind.  But again, Mama Jay let me know I was not welcome, so I backed away.
Repeat several more times over the next 24 hours.  My heart breaking at this poor baby bird, suseptible to neighbor cats and this blistering heat.  But Mama (and Daddy) Jay seem to find my concern unacceptable.  So, still,  I just watch and wait.

But a phone call to the Alabama Wildlife Refuge Center was the least I could do, and as I patiently wait for their return call, I am reminded of a story told by Gloria Steinem about butting in where we don't belong.  The story goes, "Gloria Steinem, the writer and leader in the feminist movement, once learned an important political lesson as a student on a geology field trip.

"I took geology because I thought it was the least scientific of the sciences," she told an audience at Smith College.

"On a field trip, while everyone else was off looking at the meandering Connecticut River, I was paying no attention whatsoever. Instead, I had a found a giant, GIANT turtle that had climbed out of the river, crawled up a dirt road, and was in the mud on the embankment of another road, seemingly about to crawl up on it and get squashed by a car.

"So, being a good codependent with the world, I tugged and pushed and pulled until I managed to carry this huge, heavy, angry snapping turtle off the embankment and down the road.

"I was just putting it back into the river when my geology professor arrived and said, 'You know, that turtle probably spent a month crawling up that dirt road to lay its eggs in the mud by the side of the road, and you just put it back in the river.'

"Well, I felt terrible. But in later years, I realized that this was the most important political lesson I learned, one that cautioned me about the authoritarian impulse of both left and right.

"Always ask the turtle."

Gloria Steinem

It is my sincere hope that this is one of those situations that doesn't really need my intervention at all . . . but that the miracles of nature will give this one a happy ending.  This beautiful baby deserves a happy ending.

Needing to know there's a butterfly . . .

I love the quote, "Without change there would be no butterflies". I often refer to it when life presents unrequested, and unexpected, curves in the path. But I have never felt that I couldn't learn to appreciate the change and embrace it as a gift - a puzzle piece that I hadn't anticipated needing to complete my life's picture. But now, watching someone I love very much dealing with unrequested (although not totally unexpected) changes, I feel uncertain and somewhat fearful. How will I handle those curves in my path, which advancing age will surely bring? Will I be aware that my faculties are failing? How will I react when the simple - the things that I can now do almost without thinking - suddenly seems so difficult and confusing? Will I be embarrassed? Will I be afraid? Will I be aware that my reasoning is no longer up to even the most ordinary task? Will I even know that I am no longer capable? When will that day come? Soon? Oh, please - not soon.

Of course there are no answers to these questions. Only time will tell. But, for now, I am being presented the gift of learning patience and empathy, and am trying to trust that even these changes can give birth to a beautiful butterfly. Oh, how desperately I need there to be a butterfly . . .

(This beautiful butterfly friend landed, and stayed, on my side porch for almost 30 minutes, waiting patiently for me to figure out where I'd left my camera, and for me to snap a few shots before he/she went off to attend to whatever butterfly business was at hand. I try to remember that only through profound changes is he/she the delicate and beautiful creature of today.)

Mastering the art . . .

Did you know that there is an art to stacking limbs in a wheelbarrow? Well, there is, I assure you. But will I divulge the details of the art here? Of course not, because I have not yet mastered it! I have no idea what it is!!!!! All I know is, I'm from the school that says "pile absolutely as much as you possibly can into the thing, then pile on some more! And curse every time either a) the load shifts and half of the stuff falls off and has to be picked up and loaded back on, of b) the entire wheelbarrow gets overbalanced and completely turns over, spilling everything you just spent an hour picking up! When will I ever learn?

But I'm that way about everything. I'll spend double the time, and triple the frustration, trying to work around something rather than taking the minute or two (maximum 10) that it would take to properly prepare for my project. Like painting around light switches. It takes about a minute, including going to the tool drawer for the screwdriver, to remove the switchplate, right? But I'll spend 30 minutes carefully painting around the thing, stopping numerous times to grab a wet paper towel to correct my mistakes and clean up my errors.

Oh well, the sun came out today, and I picked up 3 wheelbarrows full of limbs and sticks from the Wish Garden. Things are looking better already!

Choosing the uplifting

So today was spent on a task that I hadn't planned, and quite frankly didn't enjoy. Sunday morning I completed a gorgeous flower bed in the Wish Garden, filling it with beautiful blooming periwinkle, white and pink vinca, and some lovely lavender wildflowers Rich dug up from the perimeter of the property. With the bird bath placed at the center, it was a most bright spot in the developing garden. But, Sunday afternoon and again yesterday afternoon we were hit with sudden, SEVERE weather, with hurricane-force gusts, hail, and torrential rain that persisted for about 2 hours each day. Since The Enchanted Forest is just that - a forest - you can imagine the number of downed limbs and debris that we were left with. And, since the Wish Garden is mostly under 60+' tall pine trees, the volume of limbs and pine cones pelting down on everything in sight left me dejected and sad. My newest flower bed was demolished, and everything is covered in soggy leaves, pine straw, hard immature pine cones and branches. Things were blown down, overturned, broken and generally trashed. So I turned my back on the Garden for the day, too disappointed to even deal with it, and tackled the job of cleaning up the rest of the property. Five hours and many wheelbarrow loads later, the pile of debris was taller than me!

But instead of posting photos of the trashed Garden, or even the huge pile of debris that I single-handedly created, I'll choose the uplifting . . . and show a 'before' of the flower bed, and our recently-completed mantel makeover. Changing it from a dark, disappearing-into-the-wall-color wood tone to white and adding new tile made all the difference! So here's a "how we found it when we bought the house" and an "after' taken today! Yea! One task marked of the list! Hundreds more to go . . . including cleaning up the Garden. Tomorrow.

Bone-tired and lovin' it!

Today was one of those dream-come-true days . . . when I can stay home all day and do nothing (not that I didn't have plenty of other things to do, mind you!) but play in the Wish Garden all day! Oh, the joy!!!! A good day's work, if I may say so myself . . . giving a new home to a boatload of plants 'rescued' from the "distressed plants" cart at Lowe's! Love it! It may be late in the season for some of the annuals, but the perennials will (hopefully) reward me next year for my act of heroism - saving them from the landfill. At least in the Wish Garden, if they are not happy and don't thrive they will give new life to others through the compost bin! So here's a glimpse of some of today's accomplishments, and some that have been in place but not yet revealed. (Beginnings of a flagstone wall . . . lots of plants in the ground, but many more still waiting . . . relocating some of my twig garden fences. . . Oh, what a wonderful day!)





Tools put away - check

Shower - check

Dinner ordered (take out once a week is acceptable - right?) - check

Hammock-time - Can't wait!!!