Achy Breaky Endorphins

I am being a dedicated person this week.  I have just completed 4 hours of volunteer time at the local county park/swamp.  While there I pulled weeds, raked leaves, dug out poison ivy, swept sidewalks, hauled and spread mulch and pruned wild crazy overgrown trees.  I met some charming young women who work there and a very nice man who supervises the staff.  He is also in charge of the reptile and amphibian survey in our county.  Now I will get off my butt and start counting those animals and email him!  It appears that we have been sighting some rare species, so we need to be more careful about tracking them.  I also learned a few indigenous plant names and what they looked like as they were starting to go dormant.

My back aches, my feet hurt, my ankles are stiff and my hair is full of leaves and mulch.  My clothes are filthy.  But I remain unbowed, because this is a good thing to do every once in a while.  For some reason it is more inspiring than shelving books (my other volunteer effort).  This is probably because you can whistle accompanied by birds or even talk while you work and the air is wild and free.

I will carefully shower, will wash the garden tools with soap and water and will wash all clothes to avoid any trace of poison ivy.  (As a post script, I got a dot of poison ivy on each wrist...!)

Now I am off to eat enchiladas and drink a nice margarita as a reward.

Reflecting Another's Beauty

If you look ever so closely and compare the two photos above, you will see that this butterfly's spots reflect the color of zinnia petals on which he rests. That is a really nice ability.  Don't you wish we could so easily reflect the beauty of those around us?

Sharpshooter

The crisp white of the snow was a thousand mirrors against the setting sun. The surface of the water multiplied that reflection by another thousand shards of silver light. It pierced my eyes and was like white fire inside my brain. How could something so far away be so bright and still seem so cold? It was as if the earth welcomed this parting lightning glance from her old friend and in response swirled, tossing the hem of her dress with a glance over her shoulder displaying her version of fire and ice. It was as if a tango of ardor was being performed between the star and the planet. The intensity of the passion was not for mere mortals such as I to comprehend. I was to stay out of the way and let them do their Klingon dance.

Beech Tree Leaves

While some people are now thinking about lying on a sandy beach in the warm sun, I looked up at these paper thin, golden, beech leaves crackling like a fire in the wind yesterday and I felt very warm.

Dwarapala

This Dwarapala or door guardian has sat patiently through all kinds of weather at the front door of our home(s). He is our gatekeeper and has been with us for many years. My daughter used to pile various flower blossoms on his head and on his belly in the spring and summer as she had seen her Indonesian playmates do. He is patient through all kinds of weather and stands strong to greet us upon our return from any journey. It was with intentional effort that we crated him in wood and brought him to the United States with us. It is with intentional effort that we lift and move him from house to house. He is made of volcanic stone and weighs perhaps 70 pounds. He has not changed over the years except to develop for a fine patina of green that seems to last through all seasons.

Pocket Llint

Found in the pocket of a jacket that had not been worn since the prior fall.

Any Old Path Will Do

The one great thing about the natural world is that every path leads you to something just a little different, just a little more interesting than what you had recently passed. It is hard to turn around and go back even though the day is bleary cold. Although the path is the same as you took yesterday, it will pull you forward because something new happened when you were sleeping...some new color change, some new plant, new animal trail, or new birdsong will intrigue you until you realize that you have forgotten the time of day and must pull together all your strength to return.

Sunrise - Sunset

As I age I find that I frequently do not know whether I should look backward or forward more often for wisdom. Is the better part of the day sunrise or sunset? Are beginnings or endings the most important to cherish and learn from?

(Photo was taken in the mountains of Italy at the end of a very gray day in an almost empty village where my ancestors once lived.)

Wonder

The object in life should be to never lose one's sense of wonder
about the beauty of this earth and the awesome changes in each season.
Sharing the wonder with those you love is the very best of life.

Metaphor

Two weeks ago on an early morning with camera in hand, I went out to look at the fog which hung between the trees. I raised the camera to see if I could capture the mysterious mist and feeling of the early day. I had not reset the camera and my flash went off against the fog. Each drop of moisture reflected the light back into the lens of the camera hiding the trees in the near distance. All I got was these large drops of water that hung in the air. It is an interesting photo but reminded me that if we don't step back but instead peer too closely and intensely at something trying to analyze it, we don't see the forest for the 'trees' or whatever is in front the trees.

Ms. Manners vs. Pachamama

Pachamama, the passionate one, has been very restless this past week. For two nights, she threw her hair around in grand sweeps and tore the leaves and branches from her shoulders scattering debris across the lawn making it look as though a love-war had happened during the night. A small dead tree was tossed across the driveway and another large branch across the path to the dock. It was almost as if she had sent a message that she did not want me to leave the house. I was able to move the small tree to the side, but the branch across the path to the dock is too precarious for me to try on my own as two other smaller branches cross it high above.

On the third night of this dance, the full moon emerged to bring Pachamama some peace but to test my patience. The moon light cast its pearl beam directly across my bed at 3:30 and has done so each night since then waking me up each time. It is too bright to sleep and since I have not yet sewn draperies for the bedroom, I must allow the moon her mischief and be patient.

Two nights ago just before the moon passed beneath the branch of a tree to beam gaily through the window once again, I was awakened by some rhythmic sound above my head. I could not make it out in my sleepy fog but it sounded like large drops of water hitting the ceiling above my bed. But it was not rain. There was no rain falling. The pattern was soft and rhythmic. One, two, three, four across the tray ceiling above my head and then it repeated but in the opposite direction. I realized that it was the padded pacing of some animal. Something was in the attic. It sounded too large and slow for a squirrel and although I pictured a bobcat due to the padded footfall, I knew it was not that. I am guessing it is a raccoon. I heard it for two nights, but last night it was quieter. Maybe it is some mystical beast that was thrown out of sphere by Pachamama!

Today I had to call the rodent removal people. I am too practical and too scared to let it set up housekeeping in the attic.

What is Pachamama trying to tell me? Is my footprint too large? I guess I will try to be more polite.