Mother Nature's Choir

 

Spring is finally here (at least according to the calendar)! The days are getting warmer, and more of then are filled with sunshine. The signs of spring are starting to pop up outdoors with the first shoots of the snowdrops pushing through the soil, and the daffodils struggling to do the same. The stores are filled with Easter candy and fluffy bunnies. Everywhere you look there is something that shouts, "spring is here."

There is another sign of spring that speaks to my heart. It is waking up in the morning and, finally, hearing birdsong. The only birds I hear over the winter in these parts are the crows and the few geese that live on a nearby farm that don't migrate. The first morning I hear the sweet song of the robins, or the notes of the chickadees, or the chirps of the sparrows, I know for sure that spring has indeed arrived. 

Of all the magical, amazing ways Mother Nature has blessed us, there is something about her beloved choir of birds that cannot fail to lift our hearts. Here are what look to us like delicate, tiny creatures who endure all kinds of weather living outside, not to mention predators always looking for a meal, and yet they can still sit on a branch and gift us with their songs. Whenever I hear a bird singing, it reminds me to be grateful for my life and all the blessings it contains. I do not have to live outside in bad weather; I have a roof over my head and a warm place to sleep. I do not have to worry about being someone's meal; I am fed by Mother Earth. I am reminded of how grateful I am every time I hear those beautiful sounds. I only wish I could speak in bird language so I could thank them, too.

Next time you hear birds singing, stop for a moment and give thanks for all your blessings, and for the Choir Master Herself that taught them how to sing. 

And so it is. 

Dreaming Of Snowdrops

I'm pretty sure most of us would agree that this winter has been beyond brutal. The continued arctic cold, snow storms and ice have left us wondering if we'll ever see spring again. So I've decided to put my focus on all things spring. I'm watching gardening videos, rooting new plants from old cuttings, reading my gardening magazines, and letting a YouTube video of spring meadows and the sound of birdsong play in the background as I go about my day indoors where it's warm. Hey, a girl can dream.

One of the things I dream about are the first flowers of spring. Most people would list things like daffodils and crocuses, and they would be right. However, for me the first flowers of spring have always been the snowdrops. In the Northern Hemisphere they may flower in late winter before the vernal equinox. They are hardy little plants and the sight of them pushing courageously through the snow to spread the hope that spring is really on its way fills my heart with joy. When I lived out in that small country village many years ago and winter could, and often did, stretch its arms into April, it was the arrival of the snowdrops outside my door fighting to hold their dainty little heads up that kept me going. I took it as a message from Mother Nature that winter doesn't last forever and we just have to keep our own heads up and look to the sun.

I often think that my greatest lessons in life have come from nature, from the plants, trees, and animals. If a tiny little bird can keep spreading its wings in the cold, and a gentle little plant can push its way up through the snow, who are we to complain? We just have to keep the boots and the shovel handy for a while longer ... and start combing through those seed catalogs with visions of green in our hearts.

And so it is 

The Long Sleep of Winter

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

but I have promises to keep,

and miles to go before I sleep,

and miles to go before I sleep."

Robert Frost

It is said that a bear hibernates in winter when food and water are scarce. By hibernating, they conserve their energy and strength so that they can put off having to search for food. I think I'd be okay with that. I'm all for conserving my energy and strength. I'm not so sure about the not eating part, though. But, seriously, what else is there to do in winter?

I like to think of winter as a time for my mind to hibernate. I like to give it a rest from all the planning, all the "shoulds," and let it just dream. I read lots and lots, both fiction and non-fiction. While I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions (which would probably all be broken by now anyway), I do like to set myself a subject to study, or something new to learn. Sometimes it's something physical like the time I took on the task of learning how to knit socks. Other times it's mental or spiritual, like reading books on forgiveness, patience, or discovering what I'm passionate about. On those few and special days when the sun is shinning, I like to curl up with my blanket and tea, and watch how the sunlight turns the snow into mounds of glittering diamonds. For all that people think there isn't anything to look at in winter, I can find beauty in the smallest things if I look hard enough, like the blue jay that creeps up on to my daughter's front porch to steal some of the dry cat food she puts out for the neighborhood strays. Or the call of a cardinal trying to find it's mate.  There is something to learn, and something to see everywhere if we just take the time to look.

Today the sun is shinning brightly under a big, blue sky. It is a whole 20 degrees and the forecast is for 35 later today. After days of below zero temps and wind chills, this sounds like heaven. Perhaps I'll take myself outside to see what I can see, and learn what I can learn ... and be thankful for the gift of this time to do both.

And so it is. 

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

 

The tree is up, the lights are lit, the carols are playing on the radio, and there is even a dusting of snow on the ground. Yep, Christmas season is here!

It seems like only yesterday we were still running around in t-shirts wondering if summer would ever turn into fall. Now it's ugly sweaters, warm hats and mittens. The stores have been filled with decorations and sales since Halloween. It seems like the older I get, the faster time flies. Either that, or the stores are trying to beat the competition by being the first to put up Christmas displays ... in October!

As for me, I still love my old fashioned Christmas. I haven't been to a Black Friday sale in years. I like to take my time, find that perfect gift for each person, and kick back with hot chocolate while watching "It's A Wonderful Life," or, "Charlie Brown's Christmas." What's the rush? The meaning of Christmas is lost in the hustle, bustle, and frenzy of "getting it all done." What's happened to "peace on earth, good will towards men?" Or, "For unto us a child is born?" It's not about the presents under the tree. It's about the babe in the manger. It's about family, friends, warmth, love. It's about hope.

This Christmas my wish for all of you are all those things: love, peace and hope. Let the magic of Christmas back in. It may be the best Christmas gift you'll ever receive.

Peace and blessings.

P.S. If you're in the mood for a heartwarming Christmas story, check out my new book, "The Christmas Cardinal," Book Four in the Maplewood Farm Series. Available in Kindle or paperback on Amazon. It's short, sweet, and filled with Christmas magic. Merry Christmas.

A Time To Reap

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

"A time to sow and a time to reap. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh."

     The time has finally come. After all that planting, weeding, watering, and tending, the crops are ready. Farmers and backyard garden enthusiasts are bringing in the harvest. The squashes and pumpkins add fall-like colors to the stalls at the outdoor markets, the apples are bright and juicy, and the desire to create wonderful things with these treasures looms large. There is canning, preserving, cooking and freezing to be done to carry us through the long, cold days of winter when we dream of spring and starting the process all over again. We remember what worked and what didn't, what bore fruit and what didn't, and we take what we've learned into the next planting season a little older and a little wiser.

     The older I get, the more I like to think back on my life experiences in the same way. I can remember seeds I sowed for home, family, career, and dreams galore, some of which brought great gifts, and some which didn't make it. Some took longer than others, while some had to be replanted in a better place, in healthier soil, and tended with more love and attention. Some took decades. Today, as I sit here looking out of the windows of my new little home at the glorious leaves still gracing our trees, I can honestly say that I am wiser for having had those experiences. The seeds that succeeded were the ones I was meant to harvest. Those that didn't were never mine to begin with. I was just trying to grow into what others expected me to be. It might have taken over 40 years to find the right soil, in the right place, to plant my seeds in, but it was well worth the wait. I told my mother when I was five years old that I was going to be a writer. Sixty years later those seeds finally took hold and brought forth fruit. Am I sorry it took so long? Sure. Am I still happy anyway? You bet. Better late than never. Some seeds, like dreams, take a little longer to harvest. 

And so it is. 

And A New Season Begins

I was beginning to think that Autumn would never get here. The 80+ degree temperatures continued well into September. Then one morning I woke up to a crisp, slightly chilly but sunny morning and saw the first leaves beginning to turn from green to the golden fall colors I love so well. Ah, finally, the new season begins.

A new season has begun in my own life as well. After a long summer of renovations, sorting, purging, packing and thinking it would never all get done, here I am safe and sound established in my tiny house built with love by my family and friends for me to be my forever home. Actually, it's a house-within-a-house, an add on to a duplex. Whatever it is, it's mine, the home I have wanted for years. I can look out of the windows and see trees, grass, and hills instead of concrete. I can hear crickets at night instead of constant traffic noises, and, most of all, a porch to sit on to watch the leaves change and float gently to the ground (and, yes, I love the idea of raking leaves this year). 

Our lives go through seasons just as in nature: the seasons of childhood, adulthood, parenthood, and, as I like to call it, our Third Age. At some point we reach a time when we need to put down our roots for good and just live out our lives one day at a time. No more transplanting ourselves from home to home, job to job, lifestyle to lifestyle. That is where I am now and I couldn't be happier. I wake up every morning to the sounds of my family getting ready for the day next door instead of hearing neighbors slamming doors and turning up the volume on their car radios. I sit with my morning coffee and daily devotionals until I feel ready to start my day. The family dog hears me stirring and sits outside my door crying until I let him in to say good morning ... I have a dog to share! After years and years of raising cats, I have a big hulk of doggy love. P.S. If I feel myself having a bout of kitty withdrawal, I can go next door to my granddaughter's side of the building and love up her three feline children ... see, it's one big family from one end to the other.

The seasons outside my window may come and go, but the seasons inside will remain the same from this day forward. Sure, I'll change the decor from fall, to winter, to spring, and back to fall, but in my heart it will always be that beautiful Autumn morning when my dreams came true and my forever tiny home burst into color. Be it ever so humble (and small), there's no place like home.

And so it is. 

Water, Weed, Pray

I can't remember a summer that was as hot and stormy as this one, and that's saying a lot seeing as I'm coming up on my 75th birthday next week. My heart goes out to people who have gardens in their yards, or in containers on their porch, and especially to the local farmers who are working hard to keep their crops growing and healthy. With each heat wave and each storm, the need to water, weed, and pray gets more and more important. It's not like they can just give up and let the vegetables take care of themselves. They created the gardens, and it's there responsibility to maintain and care for them.

The older I get, the more this analogy speaks to not only our outer gardens, but our inner gardens as well. When our inner wells run dry, when the heat of anger, frustration, challenges, and the state of the world wear us out, we need to find a way to water our spirits and cool down. No rational decision or action can take place if we don't. We need to weed out the negativity that influences our lives and feed only those beliefs that nourish us. The stronger we get in body, mind, and spirit, the stronger our lives, our community, and our world will be. 

Let's face it: there are plenty of storms ahead for all of us this year. It's not only the weather outside, but the weather inside that will challenge us in the coming months. There is no place for violence, hatred, or looking down and excluding others. These are the weeds of humanity that need to be pulled. In their place, let us feed ourselves with love, kindness, compassion, service, and responsibility. Above all, let's all pray, in whatever way and in whatever tradition works for you, that what we harvest this fall will be the best, the healthiest, and the most nutritious life we can grow. It's not only for us that we plant and tend this garden, it is for our children, our grandchildren, and the generations to come. What we sow today will be their harvest tomorrow.

And so it is.