Bird Watching as Meditation Retreat

Just to give you an idea of what you might encounter at this year's Bird Watching as a Mediation retreat on April 22-24, here is a blog post from a previous retreat....  You can register online HERE.



 

A few themes emerged from the recent Bird Watching as Meditation retreat, but most prominent were the differences between Seeking and Discovering. Each has it's time and place to be sure...but I think we agreed that beyond the goal-oriented approach to encountering wildlife, or life in general, we enjoyed just placing ourselves in a "state of seeking," or acceptance, to let Life's gifts and discoveries unfold.

Pink Lady's Slipper

 "We
sought and we found. We wandered and discovered...Pink Lady's Slippers,
a Field Sparrow's Nest, a Baltimore Oriole, Warblers, Columbine,
Rose-breasted Grosbeak, good food, good conversation, lovely and
wonderful precious encounters with nature."  - D. W. 



Saturday's cool temperatures and wind during the day made it less than stellar birding...but on the night hike we heard a clear and very close song from the upper prairie of the Chuck-wills-widow...a rather rare night jar species in Ohio...with most populations being only in Adams Co!  

 "Thank
you for a marvelous weekend filled with bird sightings (many firsts!). 
Your guidance has helped open wide the door to local birding." - D. M.

Male Rose-breasted grosbeaks

Sunday
was filled with lots of discoveries and gifts of beauty. We heard or
saw 52 bird species...over half of the 97 species at the last Prairie
Pond Woods end-of-year count...in one weekend!  And while it is nice to
hike the woods, strain the ears and get "warbler neck," we also enjoyed
watching the Rose-breasted Grosbeaks at the feeder, while having our scrambled eggs, fruit & yogurt and toast on the deck!

"The
beauty here is astonishing! The land recovers when given love and
stewardship. The diversity of the flora and fauna - the birds! - make
this a most holy place. I spend my days and weeks when away figuring
how soon I can come back." - S. C.

Showy Orchis by the creek

Below is a list of the bird species, a few more photos...and one last quote from a guest. 

"I am always blessed to be at Prairie Pond Woods.  It refreshes my spirit and soul.  I leave with a treasure in my heart."

Wild Columbine on Dolomote slump rock

Turkey Vulture

Canada Goose

Broad-winged hawk

Red-shouldered hawk

Wild Turkey

Mourning Dove

Chuck-wills-widow

Ruby-throated Hummingbird 

Red-bellied Woodpecker

Pileated Woodpecker

Eastern Phoebe

White-eyed Vireo

Yellow-throated Vireo

Red-eyed vireo

Blue Jay

American Crow

Tree Swallow

Carolina Chickadee

Tufted Titmouse

White-breasted Nuthatch

Blue-gray gnatcatcher

Eastern Bluebird

Swainson's Thrush

Wood Thrush

Cray Catbird

Brown Thrasher

Blue-winged Warbler

Northern Parula

Yellow-rumped Warbler

Black-throated Green

Yellow-throated Warbler

Prairie Warbler

Black & White Warbler

Ovenbird

Louisiana Waterthrush

Common Yellowthroat

Hooded Warbler

Yellow-breasted Chat

Scarlet Tanager

Northern Cardinal

Rose-breasted Grosbeak

Indigo Bunting

Eastern Towhee

Chipping Sparrow

Field Sparrow

Song Sparrow

White-throated sparrow

Brown-headed Cowbird

Baltimore Oriole

American Goldfinch

American Goldfinch Preening

Female Rose-breasted Grosbeak

And of course our companion throughout the retreat, Cyon

SHINING LIGHT ON DARKNESS

I’ve been caught up in reading the book Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor. At first I thought it was going to be a book about how to walk through the trials of life – and in fact gave it to a friend, having never read it, who had been diagnosed with cancer. After skimming through an article in Time Magazine at a doctor’s office, I thought it might be appropriate for her and bought a copy. A practice I don’t really recommend. The book turned out to be not so much about learning to walk through our dark times but, fortunately, a delightful and thought-provoking book about how to reframe metaphorical and accept actual darkness. With the Super Blue Moon about to take place on August 19, reading and blogging about this book seemed serendipitous.

Ms. Brown took a year to study the dark and write about what it could potentially teach us. She dined at a trendy restaurant where real blind servers wait on customers in blindfolds. She spent half a day in a “wild” cave…the kind not open to the public. She walked in the dark to a meadow and waited for the full moon rise. She brought new light to the “darkness” often referred to in scripture, challenging some of the old dualistic ways of thinking. In the end, she concluded that we need as much “endarkenment” as we need enlightenment.

There is something about
the absence of light, AFTER the sun goes down, that has always comforted
me. It is a time of no expectations. Work is done. No one is going to
call or need anything. It feels freeing. When I go outside for my dog’s last circling of the grounds, the dark night feels claustrophobic,
which is also comforting to me.  Her book resonated within me because I have always loved the night more than the morning. I considered myself a “night person” all through high school and college and the first 10 or 15 years of my 32-year marriage. As far back as I can remember, mornings were a struggle. Most fights with my mother were about getting up and getting going. Most of my marriage I always felt a bit guilty staying up late and getting up later than any of the other women I knew. Most “morning people” were complete enigmas to me. How could they possible wake up and bound out of bed, ready to take on the world, or at the very least their daily work? I need more transition time. After all, I was just doing something completely different in my dream as far as my brain and body were concerned.

I had a revelation once that I both hate to go to bed and hate to get out of bed, which can be quite the dilemma. Night people generally don’t get their vision for the day until sometime in the afternoon. It’s when the creative juices begin to flow, ideas come, energy increases…then it’s time to make dinner. Damn! This is probably why night people have not taken over the world. And once night people are in bed, that’s where they want to stay. My motto has always been:

“I don’t want to get up until I’m bored with lying down.”

I guess I enjoy my Theta and Alpha waves; those slower, more calming and creative brain waves we experience as we drift from deep sleep (delta waves) to being fully awake (Beta waves). In her book Ms. Taylor shares a theory that proposes humans were never meant to sleep continuously through the night. The author theorizes that since the invention of artificial light, we stay up later (after it gets dark) and so our bodies need longer, deeper sleep, but it was not always this way. He believes that humans used to sleep for a sleep cycle, wake slowly, and then remain in that dreamy, sub-conscious state, when creative and spiritual thoughts were allowed to incubate for longer periods of time before entering a new sleep cycle. Now, when we wake in the middle of the night, we head for the medicine cabinet and don’t necessarily see it as something to embrace. But maybe we should.

One evening last week I decided follow Ms. Taylor’s lead and take a walk in the dark up our long gravel drive to view the night sky from the top. My German Shepherd, Cyon, well-equipped to maneuver without hesitation, trotted ahead of me until I couldn’t see her at all, coming back only to check on me now and then. I took a flashlight, purposing not to use it, unless I heard rustling in the bushes or up in the trees.  I failed miserably at this intention. 

At first I took my time, in order to both alleviate the only fear I had…falling…as well as let my eyes fully dilate to take in the light from the stars. But the further I got from the house, with its glowing windows and porch light, the darker it got and the more fearful I became of a 90-degree ankle turn or a full-fledged face plant. So the flashlight kept coming on just to see the condition of the rough road for the next few yards, then back off again. It wasn’t until I got to the top of the drive, overlooking the black fields and the shadows of distant hills, that I was able to spend time with the embracing darkness and the 200 billion stars of the Milky Way.

"Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you."                

-Psalm 139:12

And this was one of her points...if darkness is as light...then both are Divine. She even goes so far as to say that, according to the Bible, God dwelt in darkness before light was even created, challenging our notion that darkness is bad and only light is good. And that maybe our negative perspectives of darkness have been learned.

While I stood there letting my eyes adjust, I kept thinking about all the nocturnal animals out in that opaqueness, some of them probably staring at me at that very moment. How much better their eyes are designed to see what remains cloaked for us. How much better their ability to hear and smell, embellishing night time instincts of hunting, caring for their young, or finding a mate. The darkness is almost as light to them, too. So much happens outside after we turn the last light off inside.

A few nights later I woke up and looked over at the bedroom window to see what tint of daylight was seeping through the curtain. When I saw none, I checked the clock, which, from my perspective, warned me in red lights that it was only 5:00 in the morning! Then I wrestled with a foreign idea: What if I got up right now and went outside? 

What?! But I’m very comfortable right where I am and still pretty groggy, I internally protested. 

What would Barbara do, I asked myself?  She would attend this fleeting darkness and be a guest of the sunrise.

Twenty-minutes later on the back deck, wrapped in a fleece blanket and sipping hot tea in the dark, I heard, for the first time in the morning, the Whipp-por-will singing his heart out. Way past breeding season, I wondered if he was now just praising the darkness of the night, or the coming light. 

The next new moon, when its reflected light is most dim, is September 2, 2024.

FROM ONE STATE TO ANOTHER

After an exhausting thirteen-hour drive from Ohio on the first leg of our June vacation to Nova Scotia, we pulled into the driveway of a friend who lives in the town of Wappinger Falls, New York, just outside of New York City.  Melisssa is a nature artist and dog trainer, whom I met several years ago at The Festival of Faith and Writing. I don’t remember exactly how we met, but after realizing we both had a love of nature, art, and dogs in common, as well as a questioning faith that didn’t seem to fit anywhere, we became instant friends. 

Melissa and her husband have lived in a circa 1740 farm house for the last 22 years, slowly making changes over that time. They built a wonderful deck for entertaining, complete with picnic tables and enough bird feeders to help every migrant on their way up through New England. Recently they pulled up the kitchen flooring, only to discover wide wooden planks underneath, which they spruced up and varnished.  Her front porch brims with pots of flowers, herbs, tomatoes, squash and strawberries.  Each morning, she made me chocolate mint tea from leaves plucked off her potted plant. Her three dogs are as much a part of the family now as her three children once were.

But before all the remodeling and gardening and dog training, they had a busy life of working, homeschooling their children and finally sending them off to college.  Now all on their own, Melissa and her husband are in the place many of us 50-somethings are in…that uncertain, scary, yet potentially exciting, threshold, often called a “liminal space” or liminality.  If you are not familiar with the term, here is an excerpt from Wikipedia:

“In anthropology, liminality (from the Latin word līmen, meaning "a threshold"^[1]) is the quality of ambiguity or disorientation that occurs in the middle stage of rituals, when participants no longer hold their pre-ritual status but have not yet begun the transition to the status they will hold when the ritual is complete. During a ritual's liminal stage, participants "stand at the threshold "between their previous way of structuring their identity, time, or community, and a new way, which the ritual establishes.”

Indeed, there comes a time (or perhaps should) when a person realizes that they are in some kind of transition, when they are no longer required or compelled to do what they have been doing, maybe for decades.  There are lifestyle "rituals" in being a parent, caretaker, employee, or spouse. Sometimes the transition can be ideological, if we begin to move away from beliefs or dreams that we long-held. These internal viewpoints with all their involvements, roles and rituals, too, may no longer fit or serve us, yet what we now believe to be true or best, or any new vision for the future, remains ambiguous. 

This can be a downright frightening thing, usually because we start to have emotions we can’t quite name. We get edgy. We begin to evaluate our lives, and become dissatisfied with things we feel guilty about being dissatisfied with. We long for a change but can’t exactly name that change. People may think we’re weird, or selfish or immature, thinking we should count our blessings and be content.  But maybe being content is not the best or most “righteous” thing to do be at this time.  Maybe a distant drum is beating...and we are beginning to hear its new rhythms. Maybe it's time to listen to our guts...for a change.  Or maybe it’s just time for big change. 

But change is scary for many people.  In his book,  Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life, Richard Rohr writes:

"The human ego prefers anything, just about anything, to falling or changing or dying. The ego is that part of you that loves the status quo, even when it is not working. It attaches to past and present, and fears the future.”

Unfortunately, our culture doesn’t really recognize these rights of passage and transitional phases of life as significant or sacred journeys…we call them things like a “mid-life crisis” or depression, or various kinds of “syndromes” such as the empty nest variety. Giving men and women the time to stand on these thresholds with support and encouragement for as long as they need is not in most of our discussions.  We can spend too much time “willing" ourselves to be content to no avail.  And the constant conscious or unconscious pressure  (external or internal) to keep the status quo, without reflecting on the underlying reasons why we are doing what we’re doing, is what leads to the little red sports car, the new husband or wife, the affair, or the depression. 

So over eggs and oatmeal in her newly renovated kitchen, Melissa and I discussed the liminal spaces we both find ourselves in.  As of this writing, she recently married off the second of her three children, and is looking forward to an Artist-in-Residence program in the fall at Acadia National Park.  She's not letting the fact that there are now only two of them rattling around in that old farmhouse be a discouragement. They are embracing it.

They are finding fresh rituals, like time to sit together in front of their new picture window to watch and listen to the birds through a microphone her husband rigged up. Or sitting in front of their big stone fireplace and reading together this past winter. She is considering co-authoring with her mentor a book on dog-training. That’s some creative and healthy transitioning! 

But it has taken standing for a time on that uncertain threshold, getting counsel, prayer, and trusting that her new desires will come. And not only come but be truer to her real self, filled with the wisdom of the years and an unfolding passion and deeper love.

As many of us approach it, or stand on the threshold of this uncertain time and space in our lives, we can heed the words attributed to Abba Poemen, one of the early desert fathers of Christianity, 

“Do not give your heart to that which does not satisfy your heart.” 

My hope is that you spend some time with your heart today. And if Ambiguity or Uncertainty show up, I encourage you to stand on the threshold, extend an invitation to come inside and get to know one another. 

The Curious 'Shroom

I TOOK A WALK TODAY....and thought, "What a great summer to be a Mycologist!"

While strolling along the upper prairie and into the woods this morning, I couldn't take more than four steps without having a colony of mushrooms at or near my feet.  The forest floor is coated with them, all at various stages in their short life cycles.  I have never seen so much fungi my life!

All the wet weather we have had in Ohio this summer is to blame...or thank. And you know it's wet when even the fungus has fungus growing on it!!

 Mushrooms can seem magical...just a small ball crowning the surface of the leaf litter...and the next day it's a full blown toadstool!  This is especially true after a rain because for mushrooms all you need to do is "just add water!"  Unlike plants and animals, the fruit of the fungus (what we call a mushroom) does not grow by cell division at its early stage...it grows by cell expansion, as water fills each compacted cell it already possesses.  Nature's sponges.

 The true mushroom or fungal body actually lies beneath the fruit, spreading underground or within wood. Like the apple and its tree, the mushroom is connected to tiny "branches" or filaments called hyphae, that acquire and store nutrients as they break down organic matter. Because they gather and store nutrients this way, instead of through chlorophyll and photosynthesis, they are called saprophytic organisms.

Some mushrooms have a special relationship with trees and shrubs, penetrating their roots and delivering nutrients like phosphorus and nitrogen, while taking carbohydrates and moisture from them  This mutually beneficial relationship is called a mycorrhizal association.



Mushrooms are not only full of B vitamins (some are a favorite food of the box turtle), hold moisture, and recycle decaying organisms...they are also ephemerally beautiful. Below is a gallery of a few more responding to the recent rainfall.  You don't need to know their names to enjoy their beauty or appreciate their role in the ecosystem.

I TOOK A WALK TODAY - WILD! flowers

Trout Lily

All along the little spring-fed creek at Prairie Pond Woods and the larger Hickman Run that it flows into, wildflower ephemerals are announcing the season of spring is here. First came the Trout Lilies and Bloodroot. Now the Rue Anemone, Purple Cress and Jacob's Ladder are in bloom. Next, Wild Columbine and Hepatica will cover the rock outcrop that shades the spring creek.

Pennywort

I know there are nature preserves or even private properties where large patches of these wildflowers dazzle the beholder, and I'm glad they exist and are protected.  But I get as excited about my little patches dotting the land here and there, as I do the spectacular ones.  I brim with joy at the first Moneywort (especially since I rescued several from an ATV trail) or the first Cut-leaved Toothwort, even if it is standing solo among the other vegetation. 

Rue Anemone

I'm thrilled because these are WILDflowers...and each holds potential for the spectacular. They are feral. No one planted them. Who knows how old some of these individual perennials may be? These, or their offspring, are the ones that survived logging of the forests. These are the ones that have been quietly cloaking the forest floors for decades and centuries.  



They need nothing from us. No cultivation. No fertilizing. No pampering (except for removing alien species on occasion). They are right where they are supposed to be, needing nothing but the soil, the light, the rain and insects for pollination. When their petaled performances are finished, they will release their seeds or spread out their roots, and the show begins again next spring.

Wild Columbine

My only mission at Prairie Pond Woods is to let them flourish. Let them perform their encores year after year. Let them fill as much space as the space will hold. To simply just let them be.

HOW I SPENT MY EASTER VACATION

There's a Bar & Grill in Adams County about 15 minutes from Prairie Pond Woods in the middle of nowhere. We used to pass it on field trips to a local nature preserve or when my husband and I would take the back way to Route 52 along the Ohio river. I often wondered what it was and what went on in that mysterious, half-dilapidated building.  

It looks like it was converted from a big, old white farmhouse about 30 years ago...and it appears that absolutely no updates have been made outside or in since then, except for current beer logos on the back-lit signs and the "juke box." There are several pool tables, but it's so dark inside I don't know how anyone could see the balls. The country music is loud, when someone eventually moseys over to put a few quarters into the high-tech music box/photo booth that hangs on the wall. And what eating establishment in the Midwest would be complete without a big screen TV with football and NASCAR on every Sunday.

My husband and I affectionately call the place, Lolo, the town where the McLean boys would go to a dingy, backwoods speakeasy in the movie, A River Runs Through It.  Probably not very gracious, but it's what came to mind for both of us the first time we went. One of our neighbors solved the mystery, after telling us about "best place to get a steak in Adams County." For my birthday last September, I suggested we go there just to check it out and do something different.  We sat in the dirt parking lot (in a Prius, of all things), staring at the house-turned-bar wondering which door to go in. Front door? Side Door, with its kennel full of twelve-pack Bud Light cartons (yes, an actual 4x8 chain-link dog kennel)? Was there a back door? And would we be shot should we choose the wrong entrance? Finally Craig spoke. "Now, I would be more than happy to take you to a nice restaurant for your birthday."

"No way, I said, let's go in."  We approached with caution.

Like Lolo, this place seems to function off the radar. People smoke inside, like the outdoor grill cooking up steaks in the back, even though lighting up in a restaurant is now against the law in Ohio. And even though Adams is a dry county, they were either grandfathered in, won an appeal on a township technicality, or somebody is just looking the other way.  I'm not sure.  Either way, they raise their Budweiser freak flag strong and proud, and would probably blow smoke in your face if you questioned it. Last Sunday between 1:00 - 2:00, at least 4 groups of people came in to buy a 12-pack of  Bud.  So, why do we go there?  People are not friendly to us at all. People drink a lot...or already had before they got there. Most look like they just rolled out of bed. No doubt they are all packing heat of some kind.  And the owner doesn't show up to cook until he wants to (anytime between 12-1:00 has been our experience). 

But we like it because on Sundays you can get a really good steak or ribs or Adams Co. farm-raised shrimp in season.  The couple that owns the place also has a farm we pass each time we drive to Prairie Pond Woods, so we see the pastured cows and the pond where the shrimp are raised.  You would pay twice as much at a city restaurant for the size of the meat, potato and salad you get there.  We make four meals out of it.  And it feels good supporting some kind of local mom and pop place...even with all its quirks. So far no food poisoning.

We also like the cultural shock we get (and probably give) when we go there. Its a reminder that not everyone is like us. It challenges us. It makes us wonder what kind of life the petite, white-haired lady with missing front teeth leads...good or bad?  Is she happy?  She seems to be some kind of Matriarch in the bar and laughs readily.  And what about the guy who burped out loud seven or eight times while he sat at the bar or milled around.  Is he struggling in life? Or does the fact that he felt no compunction to muffle them or excuse himself just make make him enviably freer than most? Or does he feel as though he is with family...except for us.

We notice the community that seems to gather on Sunday afternoons, lined up on stools in a horseshoe around the bar, taking communion with their aluminum cans. Their relationships and interactions are puzzling. Often they will just sit and stare, their drinks on the counter, no one speaking to another, like a Quaker meeting gone bad. Occasionally, someone cracks a joke at the expense of another and laughter quickly rises and falls. Then someone walks in the door. If they are known, the crowd greets them like Norm walking into Cheers.  If they are strangers, like us, we are looked over but not greeted, or maybe just the slightest nod to acknowledge our existence if they make eye contact. They take our order.  They serve us.  There are precious few pleasantries. We leave. We are the outsiders, and this is not Carvers.

It is a glaring illustration of the cultural divides that exist, and probably always have. I don't understand their world any more than they would understand mine. I'm filled with suspicion and I judge their imagined lifestyles on what I see on the outside  I'm guessing, by the cool responses we get, they are suspicious of us. They probably imagine we are uppity, and would not understand why my husband and I are having a deep, theological discussion in their bar on Easter Sunday!

We will continue to go back now and then.  I'm hoping on one of the visits, we can experience a moment when all the guards are down...maybe around a football game, the Great Uniter.  Or maybe one of them will greet us in a friendly way and we will respond in kind and a bridge will be formed.  I'd like to know what they think about things. I'd like to know who they are and what draws them to this oasis. I'd like to find out if we are really that different deep down. I'd like to share a great steak with them...and a laugh.

SECOND DAY SIGHTINGS

I ended up only going for two very brief walks this morning in between thunderstorms. The folds of clear blue-gray clouds, outlined in back-lit sky, kept rolling in then clearing out, leaving only the dirty white rags of full cloud cover. I'm hoping these next few days of rain will bring out the morels! I'm ready to go hunting because it has been slim pickins', especially after one huge harvest a few years ago when I caught the fungi fever.  

When I sat down to record my morning sightings/hearings in my phenology journal, I noticed how different the years have been on April 1. Today, the only plants I could add to the two bloodroots from yesterday were one other bloodroot bud and one anemone in bloom along the spring. I compared that to April 1, 2012 and 2007, when it appears everything was in bloom: columbine, purple cress, violets, Virginia bluebells, golden ragwort, dogwoods and redbuds, etc.  

Most of the bird sightings are about on target...although I still haven't heard my first thrasher that everyone else seems to have encountered.  Usually, he announces his return on the tips of the pines that surround the deck. But I did hear turkeys in the hills, a barred owl at 8:30 am and saw a pair of yellow-bellied sapsuckers. The phoebes are back...one I see every year up by Kavanah (though she never nests in it) and the one scouting out the guest room exterior shutter again. For the last two years they built a nest on top of the black shutter underneath the eaves and hidden by the lilac bush. We accept the mess and wash it off in fall. 

Yesterday, two chickadees spent most of the morning and into early afternoon flying around in the garage rafters, I assume trying to find a suitable cavity to nest in.  Finally, after a few hours of puttering and loudly listening to The Signature of All Things on audiobook, they left and haven't been back.  Evidently, not literary avian.  

And this morning two rust, white and black Eastern towhees spent a good deal of time duking it out in the blue spruce tree out front for the affection of their duller-in-color female counterpart. Actually, you'll notice a fair amount of territorial defense behavior going on all over the place if you pay attention.

Some years flora and fauna can be predictable and some years not. I love recording it in my journal and comparing it...although sometimes my documentation skills can be just as sporadic as spring flowers. But one thing that is fairly predictable and heartwarming in my life is my dog's nap time. 

Cyon paces and hints by walking over to the basement door. I check my watch-usually between 10:30-11:30. I let her inside. She gives me a "see you later" look, and immediately lays down on her blanket. I tune in NPR on my I-Pod and she falls fast asleep for an hour or more. Just enough time to write my blog posts...

OPENING DAY

I TOOK A WALK TODAY...

For me, April 1 is Opening Day.  For my baseball-loving husband it is on April 6 this year. But every April Fools day, Prairie Pond Woods opens its doors and invites all the Nature Fools, Spiritual Fools and Creative fools to come immerse themselves in the outdoors, in the Spirit or their own artistic endeavors.  



You know who you are...you're the one everyone else thinks is way too into the environment, way too intense about Life or way too "flaky" or esoteric.



But you're also the fool who knows that going against our fast-paced, left-brained and nature-deficient culture is how truth, beauty and wisdom can be found. 

  

So check the Calendar and contact me to see if we can set you up for a few days of utter foolishness!  And don't forget, the Bird Watching as Meditation retreat is coming up soon.  Registration Deadline is April 11...you can register online HERE or click on the button in the upper left corner.  How convenient!

On the walk today, either I was being stalked by one Pine Warbler or there were many trilling in different parts of the property, which is wonderful!  I also heard or saw Phoebes, a Kingfisher, Brown-headed Cowbirds, Eastern Bluebirds, a Red-shouldered Hawk, American Goldfinches, Chipping Sparrows, and a Crow clicking away under the walnut tree. And the Juncos are still around. 



It was a bad winter for Pines along the path.  The Refresher Course had no less than 5 Virginia pines, both dead and alive, blocking the trails and making future work for my poor husband. But maybe not. Perhaps Wisdom is suggesting we create some new paths and let the old ones recover and regenerate...and truly what wisdom there is in that!



Sometimes we need to seek out new paths on our life's journey...especially when there are obstacles that don't allow us to go forward...and this is true for me now in my life. It is a win-win situation most times, really.  If I stop  walking (and mowing) the same old paths, plants that have been stunted will begin to flourish and reproduce.  And if I choose a new, wise path (maybe cutting right through patches of invasive deer tongue), plants or seeds that have been struggling in the shade might bloom along the edges, as they are now allowed to soak up the sun's light and warmth. Something to ask ourselves...are we walking the same old routines, patterns, habits, jobs or relationships that don't really move us in the directions we want to go? 

In the direction I went this morning, I only found two Bloodroot plants getting ready to bloom along the spring...looks like it's still a bit early here.  So I decided that this would be a day of preparation...meaning getting my little gardening corner of the garage purged and organized, weeding the front garden bed, charging the camera batteries and getting my systems into place. This way, when the rest of the Ephemerals burst on to the scene...I'm ready to go!



Oh, and I pulled the FOY tick off the front of my neck, which hurt like you-know-what!  Spring is here...