Hurricane Season

It seems that we don't get to start enjoying the start of the school year, with autumn not far behind it, without first having to deal with hurricane season. I think Mother Nature could have done a little better with her timing than to throw wind, rain and storm surges on us just when we're trying to get the kids (and us) back into the rhythm of things. Take this week, for example. Our kids went back to school last week during a week that was so warm and humid, they had to put out heat advisories. The children sat in the dark because the lights made the rooms hotter. Some of the older schools only had fans. Over the weekend, a cold front moved in, and when I say cold, I mean 48 degree overnight temperatures and a high yesterday of only 59 degrees! So what's on tap for today, the beginning of a new school/work week? The remnants of one hurricane and the approach of another later in the week. These are the kinds of days you find yourself saying: "I just can't win."

How often do we go through a period where everything we touch just seems to fall apart, where no matter what we do or where we go (or, as in my case, what we touch ... a.k.a. electronics and streaming systems which have all decided to die at the same time), nothing works out for us. It's enough to make us throw up our hands, grab that pint of Ben and Jerry's, and zone out on Netflix (if it works, that is). 

Here's the real scoop (excuse the Ben and Jerry's pun) on this line of reasoning: no storm lasts forever. Even in nature, sooner or later the rain stops and the sun comes back out again. We know that, so why do we act as if we didn't? Because we don't like what we can't control, and we can't control the weather, or the technical glitches (darn that cloud!), or the actions of others. All we can do is remind ourselves of all the other times we ranted about our seemingly never-ending run of back luck only to wake up one day to sunshine and all problems somehow having solved themselves!

So when you feel as if you're getting hit with one storm after another, just remember that this, too, shall pass, and the sun will shine again, and you will survive once again. The proof of that? You're still here!  Good job! Keep up the good work!

And so it is. 

Chasing The Last Breath Of Summer

I was sitting at my desk writing the other day when I heard that unmistakable sound of kids laughing and shouting to one another. When I looked up I saw three boys racing down the street on their bikes, heading towards the park and ball field. It was a picture perfect summer day, with a warm breeze blowing comfortably so that I could shut off the AC and enjoy open windows. Birdsong accompanied the sounds of the boys and, in the distance, what sounded like an angry squirrel was giving someone a piece of their mind ... probably one of the neighborhood cats who patrols the yards around here.

As I watched the boys chasing each other down the street, and inhaled the aroma that only a summer afternoon can bring, I couldn't help thinking that, with summer coming to an end in just a few days, it almost felt as if the boys were chasing after that last breath of summer, as if they were trying to catch up to it and hold on before they were pulled back into the world of classrooms and homework. I totally understood.

It's not like we had a spectacular summer weather-wise this year in my neck of the woods, far from it. It also wasn't as it I did anything spectacular, either. It's just something about the lazy, hazy days of summer that we hold in our hearts and long for each year, especially after a long and cold winter. There's a spirit to summer that dictates slowing down, feeling the sun on your face, and enjoying the fruits of the season. Somehow a nice, juicy slice of watermelon doesn't taste as good in February, or even April, as it does on a hot summer day. The ocean waves welcome us with open arms in July and August before they close them and move on to warmer climates. Grass smells sweeter. It's a summer thing.

Next weekend is Labor Day weekend, the official end of summer even though the calendar says fall is still a few weeks off. We'll pull out all the stops for the last barbecue of the season, grill that beautiful yellow corn just harvested, and, yes, slice up that last watermelon. Breathe in deep, friends. Breathe in that last, golden breath of summer and chase it all the way to the first day of school. Then put this year's collections of sea shells and summer memories away until next year when the sound of laughter calls us back out to play again.

And so it is. 

Okay, Who's In Charge Here?

Remember how I wrote last week ... and the week before ... and the week before ... about all the rain we've been having? About how I was sure Noah was returning and at any moment I would see the Ark floating past my window? Well I was wrong. It wasn't last week, or any of the weeks before ... it was this week. This week we went from heavy rain and downpours to actual walls of rain so heavy it was like trying to look through thick fog. Roads and streets were flooded not to mention basements. Our annual big-deal attraction, the Dick's Sport Goods Open Golf Tournament, which takes place just down the street from me was in danger of being cancelled since there was 6 inches of water on half the golf course. Blake Shelton was coming in to do an outdoor concert and it was anybody's guess whether it would go off as planned. The worst of it was being stuck in the house day after day. A little rain I can handle. You just put on your sneakers, grab an umbrella and head out. Walls of water - not so much. And if my being stuck in the house was frustrating, imagine the kids, home from school, also stuck in the house. My grandchildren's day camp was cancelled because the facility was flooded. Parents all over the area were seriously wondering if they would make it until school started again in a few weeks. 

Well, somebody had to do something, so I sat down at my desk and had a conversation with whoever might be listening in the world beyond this one. "Okay, who's in charge here? Have we upset you in some way that you think summer swimming meant swimming in your basement? Where on the list of outdoor activities did water rescue fall? Kids are crying, parents are screaming, and my internet reception has slowed down to a crawl ... what's up? " I know, sounds a bit strange even to me now that I see it in print, but I was beyond angry at seeing my summer come to an end prematurely with a natural disaster. Suddenly, at that moment, for some reason, the Serenity Prayer, of all things, popped into my head:

God grant me the serenity 

to accept the things I cannot change,

the courage to change the things I can,

and the wisdom to know the difference.

Only true madness brought on by a severe case of cabin fever can make one imagine that they can change the weather by yelling at God. Perhaps a better way to "weather" the storms (pun intended) of life was to turn my attention to the things I can change for the better. Maybe I can call someone else who is stuck in the house and cheer them up. Maybe I can write a letter (yes, I said a letter, not an email or a text) to someone I haven't seen in a long time just to say hi and catch up. Maybe I can clean out that linen closet that has become a haven for everything I don't know what to do with. Maybe I can put on YouTube and dance away my frustration. Maybe I can accept that I am not in charge of the weather and that I need to let go and let God, or Mother Nature, of whoever is responsible for pulling the plug and letting the water drain out do their job ... 

... which, of course, they did eventually. Today the sun is out, the morning is cool and promising, and my trusty new walking stick is sitting by the door waiting for me to lace up my sneakers and hit the pavement. See, the hardest part of that prayer is not "accept the things I cannot change," but, "the wisdom to know the difference." Once we master that, the rest is easy. 

And so it is. 

P.S. The concert went off as planned. My 11 year old granddaughter got to go and said it was a blast! 

Of Dreams and Dragonflies

For the past several weeks, I have been seeing dragonflies everywhere, often two or three times a day. I even had one hovering right outside of the window where I sit to work at my desk. He seemed to be trying to get my attention as if to say, "Hey! Look up! The world is out here, not in there!" That one really freaked me out.

Never discounting repeated sightings of my non-human brothers and sisters, thanks to all that I have learned from the Native teachers in my life, I pulled out my handy book of animal totems and meanings to reacquaint myself with the symbolism around the dragonfly.

When a dragon fly flies into your life, it is there to tell you that change is coming. It is telling you to live your life to the fullest which may mean "changing" habits that keep you stuck. It also declares that it it time to make that decision you have been putting off ... it's time to move on.

I have to admit, I have been in something of a funk lately. The endless days of rain continue in earnest. This morning, for instance, the rain came down so hard that the buses and trucks driving by were sending up walls of water. Just like my winter time blues that usually hit sometime in February or March, these summer time blues are a new experience for me and I'm letting them take the joy out of my every day experience. It has also manifested some writer's block around a new and challenging project I was working on. Dragonfly says that I need to create some new habits to get me through the dark days. For example, if I can't get out and walk without drowning, I can put on some good dance music and boogy away the blues. I can put on country music videos and sing along. I can up my yoga practice to something more challenging. By the time I'm done, hopefully my writer's block will have dissolved as well and the stream of inspiration will be flowing again. Be the change, baby, be the change.

I love it when Mother Nature sends me messengers to remind me that she is way smarter and wiser than I am. Let's face it, she's had more practice. Guess it's time to find that new Keith Urban video I like. I can dance and sing at the same time. Then I'll sit down and go back to work. However, when the rain finally stops, I'll be keeping one eye out for my little winged friend, just in case he's not done with me just yet.

And so it is.

When Is A Donut Not Just A Donut?

I don't know about you, but I'm totally ready to bid summer good-bye. Weather-wise, our neck of the woods has so far experienced a summer that was extreme heat and humidity on one end, and endless days of downpours on the other ... although I think we had about two picture-perfect weeks back in June. Nope, this lady is ready to put away her shorts and sandals and pull out her jeans and sweats, and nothing says Autumn where I live than the arrival of ... wait for it ... donuts!

No, I haven't been hit with heat stroke and lost my mind. Donuts? Yep, but not just any ordinary donuts. These donuts come to us compliments of the opening of our beloved Cider Mill for the season. I've written about this place before, but for newcomers, I will explain. The Cider Mill is the home of freshly made apple cider, donuts, pies, jams, jellies, cookies, candy apples, and all things apple, plus a few other items. Every day you can go in and watch them make the cider, hundreds of gallons of it, from the actual apple to the finished product. This year they are even introducing an apple cider slushie! On the opposite side of the building, you can watch them make donuts fresh daily, and not just your run-of-the-mill donuts: cinnamon, cider, maple, chocolate and two new ones this year - caramel and oreo cookie! Along with all of the cider, donuts and other items, there are also locally produced cheeses and dips.

It's not just the cider and donuts that make me think of the coming of Autumn, though. It's what comes next: the harvest. In a few weeks the outside of the establishment will be filled with bins of every kind of apple imaginable, all grown within driving distance (Cortland, home of the Cortland apple, is 30 minutes away via the highway). Every week as the different kinds of apples are ready to pick, they are transported here, and each bin is marked as to what that apple is best used for: baking, cooking, canning, or cider. After the apples start coming in, what follows is what I wait for all year: squashes of all sizes, shapes and varieties, pumpkins, raspberries, and blueberries, not to mention loads and loads of corn. With the arrival of the apples and the harvest, I officially welcome autumn into my neighborhood even before the first leaves turn to red and gold.

So you see, it's not just the arrival of donuts and cider that makes my heart sing (although my sweet tooth might disagree with you), it's knowing that coming up right behind them are the gifts of long, hot, wet summer days. I guess when you put it that way, it's not too much of a sacrifice to make for what you get in the end!

And so it is. 

Never Judge A Book By Its Cover ... Or A Tomato

It seems the older I get, the more those old sayings we all grew up with come back to fulfill their true meaning to me. For example, remember being told: "Don't judge a book by its cover?" That one keeps showing up more and more in my life as we try to navigate these turbulent times we're living in where prejudices feel as if they are running ram pent towards anyone who looks different, dresses differently, or worships differently. Growing up in New York City and going to a racially and ethnically diverse school, I could never understand people in other areas who carried their prejudices to the extreme. What I came to understand and accept from the time I was a child was that, underneath the different modes of dress, the different accents, or the different religious traditions, were some really neat people, people I could learn a lot from, and who could learn a lot from me. We fed each other.

A few weeks ago, I was at my beloved farmers market picking through the produce. I noticed some folks who definitely were from out of town, perhaps on vacation. They were commenting on how the produce "looked different" from what they were used to buying where they shopped. Mostly, they were appalled at the blemishes and bruises on some of the produce. "How can they put stuff like that out there to sell? Who would buy something that looks like that?" they complained. Well, as it turns out, I would. The farmers I buy my produce from are all committed to clean, green, organic growing practices. Sure, without the use of pesticides and chemical fertilizers, you don't get those picture-perfect tomatoes, all shiny and round, that you see in the grocery store that come from factory farms. What you do get, when you cut it open and look inside, is juicy, meaty, and most of all, tasty, not to mention safe to eat. So after the complaining out-of-towners moved on, I picked up some of those bruised and maligned tomatoes and took them home. Once I had cleaned them and cut them up, they went into a pot with some olive oil, fresh basil from my table-top garden, plus a few other goodies, and ... volia'! I had the most delicious, luscious spaghetti sauce that all the "chemically perfect" tomatoes could not possibly have produced! 

It's not what's on the outside that counts. With people, just like with produce, it's what's inside that feeds the body and soul. Bon Appetit! 

And so it is. 

Looking Through The Eyes Of Wonder

I was reading a story this morning about a woman who was looking out of the window at her lawn covered in dandelions, a bumper crop as her husband described it. To her it looked a field of weeds that would need hours of work. Just then her 5 year old daughter came and looked out of the same window. "Oh, look, Mommy! Look at all the beautiful yellow flowers! Can we pick some?" At that moment, the woman understood that how we choose to look at life is what we will actually see. She saw weeds. Her child saw beauty and wonder.

I was reminded of that the other day while watching a slow-motion video of birds in flight. First up was a white dove, it's angelic wings moving with all its might back and forth in the air. Because it was slow-motion, you could see it's muscles working hard beneath the feathers and skin. It caused me to wonder how those light-weight wings could propel that beautiful creature through the air. As if that wasn't wonder enough, the video also captured a humming bird in slow-motion as well. How that tiny creature had the strength to move those even tinier wings at such an amazing speed not only to fly, but to hover, was nothing short of a miracle. If this video had been playing at regular speed, I would only have seen a dove in flight and the brief flash of the humming bird across the screen. When the video was slowed down, I saw beauty and wonder.

If we can slow down long enough to capture the wonders and beauty of nature, if we can look at the world through the eyes of a 5 year old, what wonders might we uncover when we look at our human selves? Have you ever wondered how it is possible that you can walk, talk, breathe, eat, see, hear, smell and post on Facebook all at the same time? That you can learn to swim like a fish, or jump like a kangaroo, or run like a cheetah? Are we so busy trying to "get it done" that we forget the miracle, the gift of being given the equipment to do it with? Take a moment and look at your hand while it is squeezing a ball. Look at how the muscles, ligaments and tendons expand and contract. Feel the strength and the life blood moving through that hand. Talk about an amazing creation.

As for me, I've always thought that dandelions were beautiful. Even when I was gardening on a large scale, I usually let the dandelions keep a small section of the garden. When I found out that dandelions have many useful qualities as both food and medicine, it ceased to be a weed in my mind and became another wonder of Nature, as something that had worth.  It would seem that the little girl in the story had it right all along. May we all see through the eyes, and the heart, of a child.

And so it is.