Memories Are Made Of This

Last Wednesday I was blessed with the opportunity to spend the day at a beautiful lodge on a lake deep in the woods with a bunch of beautiful ladies for a day-long retreat. For once the weather decided to cooperate and we had the opportunity to walk the grounds, sit and dream by the river, and hike some of the paths. As I was walking around the main building, the wind shifted and I caught a familiar and much beloved scent ... lilacs! How I love the smell of lilacs. They usually don't bloom until June around here but we've had several days of warmer-then-normal temperatures and with all the rain we've had, it combined to produce a bumper crop this year. Their sweet perfume wafted on the wind and took me back to my childhood, our backyard, and my mother.

Growing up in Queens, New York, it was unusual to have a backyard, let alone a garden, but we had both as our house sat on a double lot. Part of the yard right outside the back door was cement and provided space for a picnic table, folding chairs and my Dad's sacred grill. Behind the house we had a garden that was not much on grass but blessed with bushes, trees and shrubs. We had two rose bushes, a hibiscus tree, and my favorites - two lilac bushes. When the windows were open to the afternoon breezes, the smell would tiptoe into the house and fill the back laundry room and the kitchen. Even as a youngster, I had a knack for flower arranging and my Mother would have me arrange the lilacs she cut in a vase to put on the dinning room table. Every time she walked through the room and saw them, she would smile. I think the sight and smell of them made her happy. She never did tell me why they had that affect on her and I never asked. To this day, whenever I catch the scent of lilacs, I remember my Mother and that smile when she saw what I had created in that vase.

It's funny how certain scents can spark memories. The smell of popcorn always reminds me of Saturday matinees at the movies. Coffee dripping in the pot brings back scenes in my mind of Sunday mornings and the smell of coffee that woke us all up. When someone in the neighborhood lights a fireplace or fire pit, I remember trips up to the hunting camp my Dad shared with some friends and our summer vacation sitting around a fire and catching lightening bugs. But I think it's the smell of the lilacs that move me the most.

Yesterday as I sat here at my desk working, I caught the scent again as the breeze picked up in anticipation of an incoming rainstorm. Looking out of the open window I spied the bush in front of the empty house next door that they are renovating. There they were in all their purple glory, more lilacs. When the guys come back to work on Tuesday, I may just wander over and ask them it it's ok for me to cut a few for myself. After all, by the time they get done with the renovations and people move in, they will most likely have already died off. What a waste! I want to take them up here to my little nest in the sky and arrange them in a vase on my table. Then every time I walk by the table, I can look at them, inhale them, think of my Mother, and smile.

And so it is.

The Gift Of Another Monday

An oldie from last spring that is so fitting on this Monday Morning. Enjoy!

So, here I am on this glorious Monday morning, sitting with my coffee and watching the clouds sail overhead, kissing the tops of the trees on the hills beyond. I'm thinking about what I want to do today as opposed to what I have to do today. In reality, I don't have 

to do anything. Every moment is a choice between happiness and something else. For some folks, on a Monday morning, happiness is more of a dream than a choice.

I can remember all those years I dreaded getting up on a Monday morning and dragging myself out to a commute I despised only to get to a job I truly hated. Every other face I saw on the street, on trains and buses, and in cars, had that same, sorrowful look: "Good God, it's Monday again!" Sure, I had to work to put food on the table and a roof over our heads, but every time Monday morning rolled around again I began to question my sanity. 

Whenever I have been stumped by a situation, or felt lost on my path, I have always found my answers by watching the natural world. After all, we humans are a late addition to the game (the natural world having a good thousand years or so more wisdom and experience than we have), and if we fell off the earth tomorrow the rest of nature could go on very comfortably and, I expect, a lot happier, without us. It behooves us to spend some time studying with the masters.

Humans are the only ones who have the need to measure time. For the rest of nature it is enough that the sun comes up and the sun goes down. Each and every morning the birds sing the day awake outside my window, rain or shine. They go about the business of feeding themselves and their families. Not one of them says to another: "Oh, God, it's Monday again!" They do what needs to be done without complaint because they don't perceive anything missing from their lives. At some point in the day they may even take a moment to play chase in the sky with other birds, or simply soar for the love of it. Squirrels react the same way to a new day. They are up with the sun, in search of a meal (and maybe a little something to put back for later), yet still find time to play tag up and down the trees or across rooftops. I once had a squirrel neighbor that liked to stretch out on his tummy on the roof across the way and just take a nap in the sun. To my knowledge, that fact that it was Monday, or Tuesday, or even Thursday, never came into the picture. They had awakened to the grace of another day and that was all they needed to know.

Even for those of you who must still get up on a Monday morning and take yourself to work, keep in mind that the fact that you have been granted another day on this earth is an act of grace, be it Monday or Sunday. Every day is a gift. How you decide to see it is your response to that gift. Mother Nature didn't assign names and attitudes to each day of the week, we did. Maybe it's time to change the name and choose a different attitude, like, maybe, gratitude. Gratitude changes the start of the day from, "Oh God, it's Monday," to, "Thank you, God, for another Monday." 

If I'm going to be honest, I have to confess that I did wake up a little grumpy this morning, but, thankfully, I know how to get out of that now. I sit myself down, take a sip of my coffee, watch my furry and feathered neighbors greet the day, and say, "Thank you, God, for this day." Works every time.

And so it is. 

The Language of Flowers

Like many lucky mothers across the country yesterday, I was gifted with beautiful flowers for Mother's Day. A sweet pot of dark magenta mums sits next to me here at my desk. Once they become acclimated to their new home, they will be put into a bigger pot that will become a feature in my tabletop fairy garden. I also received a bouquet of fresh cut, tiny orange day lilies that are now gracing the table where I eat my meals. Every time I sit down to eat or walk past it, I will be re-gifted over and over with their simple beauty. In every way, they are truly Mother Nature's messengers, sending messages of beauty, joy, and gratitude for the simple things in life.

Did you know that flowers have a language all their own? For many years, and especially during the Victorian era, people associated flowers with specific meanings. For example, we all know that red roses usually refers to romantic love, but did you know that white roses represent new beginnings? That's why they are popular in bridal bouquets. Pink hydrangeas also represent love, while white ones are symbols of purity and abundance. Gardenias represent trust and hope, and stargazer lilies represent ambition and encouragement. Tulips, those long-awaited signs of the arrival of spring, represent enduring love between partners and family. And we've all heard the saying, "Rosemary for remembrance." 

I like to think flowers are the way Mother Nature shows off her artistic abilities while reminding us that beauty is all around us and and always has been since the beginning. It's where the great artists got their inspiration, and where writers like Henry David Thoreau and poets like Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson found meaning. We don't need iPhones and iPads to find beauty and meaning in our lives. We just have to put down the devices, go outside, and see for ourselves. No text message or Facebook selfie can compare to the messages of love that are all around us each and every day.

And so it is. 

Mother Love

Just the other day I was sitting at my desk working when I noticed some movement on the roof of the house next door. Looking up I saw my neighbor, the little grey squirrel who has taken up residence there for the last two seasons, coming out of her hole under the roof carrying something large in her mouth. On closer inspection I realized that she was carrying her baby. The little one had his tail wrapped around Mom's neck and was holding on for dear life as she scampered up and over the rooftop. Mom is kind of on the small side herself so this was no easy task. She had to stop every few steps to keep her balance and get a better grip on Junior, but she did not give up. She kept going until she was up and over the rooftop, and out of sight. I do not know why she decided to move her baby. It could be because we have had so much heavy rain for over a week now and her little home might have sprung a leak. It could also be because the flock of grackles that have been trying to move in and take over the old homestead had proven to be more than she could handle alone. Whatever the reason, she did what she had to do to protect her baby regardless of how hard it was on herself. But, after all, isn't that what Moms do?

I think the most important lessons I've learned about parenting have come from watching animals. Animals have no agendas. They don't worry about keeping up with the latest ideas about child rearing. They don't worry that their kid isn't dressed as well the kid next door. All she cares about is loving them, feeding them, protecting them, and raising them to be responsible parents when they grow up. This idea becomes even more impressive when you consider all the stories we find on social media about the female of one species adopting the little ones of another species who have lost their own mothers. Just within the last week I've seen videos and stories about cats who have adopted orphaned baby squirrels, a dog that adopted kittens, a cow that cared for piglets whose mom died, and countless other examples. This would suggest that mothering is an instinct that we all have even if those we are mothering aren't our own.

I can recall several women in my life who were not related by blood or marriage, but who mothered me just the same. Some were teachers, others were older women in my church, while others were total strangers who passed into my life for a brief moment - one for just a few hours in one day - but who gave me the love and attention I needed at that moment. Mothers come in all sizes, shapes, colors, and species. 

As we approach another Mother's Day this Sunday, take some time to think about all those who have been like a mother to you besides your own mother. Remember how it felt to be singled out and treated with love, attention, and motherly concern. Then take that feeling and pass it on. Find a child in your own life that can benefit from being singled out and taken under your wing. Perhaps it's a friend of one of your own children or grandchildren. Maybe it's someone you meet while volunteering or at your church. Never miss an opportunity to let that child know that they are loved by someone. They will remember and treasure it for the rest of their lives. I know I did.

To all the mothers out there, and all the surrogate moms as well, I wish you a blessed Mother's Day. We couldn't get along without you!

And so it is. 

What's Your Agenda

"Nature has no agenda."

I can't remember where I first read the above quote, or who it is attributed to, but it's one that I like to return to whenever I become overwhelmed by the verbal tug of war that seems to be continually going on around me every day. One cannot turn on the news or log on to social media without being bombarded by the us vs them, right/wrong, good/bad mentality. It's as if everyone has forgotten that, for better or worse, we're all in this together. How much easier would it be if we had no personal agendas? What if we just all rowed in the same direction for a change and did what we were put here to do?

Nature, indeed, has no agenda. You only have to spend a little time in it, watching it, from one season to another, to realize that by just being who and what it is, nature goes on . It was here long before we got here and, if we were to all disappear tomorrow, it would rejuvenate itself and keep right on going after we're gone. That's a pretty big pill to swallow when you stop to think about it: nature can get along very well without us. In fact, it could get along much better without us. 

The tree pictured above was my oldest granddaughter's favorite tree when she was little. She called it Grandma Willow after a character in the Disney version of "Pocahontas." It isn't a willow, but she didn't care. She loved it and brought it presents all the time. Years later most of it came down in a winter storm. Even though she was an adult when it happened, she was saddened when she saw it, as if she had lost a dear friend. As you can see, Grandma Willow is doing what she needs to do be who she is. As soon as spring arrived after that awful winter had passed, she started sending out new shoots and branches. By the time my great-grandson, the child of that little girl who brought presents to a tree, is grown, Grandma Willow will be providing love to another generation. She's just being who she is. 

Grass doesn't have an agenda - it just grows. Trees take their cues from the seasons, blooming in the spring, producing fruit, nuts, seeds, and shade in the summer, dropping its leaves and mulching the ground in the fall, pulling itself in to rest and nurture itself in the winter, all to start the journey again in the spring. Animals go through life eating, breathing, and raising their young. Some hibernate or migrate in the winter, some hunker down and ride it out. For all species of every kind, it would seem that spring is the one factor that is featured in everyones story. When spring comes, it's as if they all follow the same message: just be who you are. 

So how about we take a cue from Mother Nature and find a way to just be who we are?. What better time than spring to follow the birds and the trees, and just live without agendas, only a commitment to be who and what we were made to be: love and happiness.

And so it is. 

Buds, Bees, And New Beginnings

When I looked out of my window yesterday, it was hard to believe that just 10 days ago I woke up to a dusting of snow on the rooftops and lawns of the houses all up and down the block. Yesterday, after a long overdue string of 65+ degree days, I woke up instead to ... green! All the trees that had been wearing their winter scarves just last week were now decked out in a sweet profusion of green buds and the beginnings of leaves and flowers. Just to make it a perfect Easter morning, I spied my very first bee of the season as well. The little guy was buzzing around the windows of my apartment complex. I think he was trying to figure out how to get inside to feast on the tempting Easter plants that were gracing every one's window sills ... alas, behind glass. He even made a pass at my window but if he had gotten in, he would have been disappointed - the flowers on my desk aew made of silk and paper, not sweet, new nectar (with two cats who like to feast on my plants a.k.a. the Kitty Salad Bar, I've learned my lesson about cats and plants sunning on the window sills). Off flew my little stripped friend to search for his Easter breakfast!

There is something about the arrival of spring, especially if it was long overdue, that incites me to think about new beginnings. Like the new buds on the trees promising a whole new season of leaves, flowers and fruits, spring is a time for us to throw open our windows - and our minds - let in the fresh air, and let new ideas flow in on the warmer breezes of the season. It's time to put away our snow boots, get out our sneakers, and put a spring into our steps. It's a time to say, "what's next?"

This week I get to start a new part-time job that I never would have dreamed I'd be doing at this season of my life. For me it is a new, fresh, and exciting time to be out and about, to join with others to make the world a little bit better one step, and one child, at a time. It could not have come at a better time, when the trees, the bees, and all of nature is waking up to a brand new day and a brand new start. May your own spring be filled with the wonders of nature and the joys of new beginnings. 

And so it is.

I've Got The Whole World In My Hands

There are two things I like to do on rainy days. One is to curl up with a good book, a pot of tea, and a cat on my lap. The other is to cook. I love it when my apartment fills with the good smells of something simmering on the stove while the rain beats away outside. 

Yesterday after church, I turned on a DIY show on TV and hunted through my veggie bin to see what I could stir up while the rain came down in sheets outside. At this time of year, the veggie of the moment is asparagus. I know not everyone is a fan of this little green tree, but I am always determined to find new ways to make it work. As I stood at my counter chopping away, I felt that satisfaction I always experience whenever I am handling fruits and vegetables. Ever since I've had to give up full-scale gardening, chopping and cooking foods fresh from from the ground is the next best thing to connect me with the natural world. When I wash the earth off mushrooms, or slice up an apple, or grab a handful of fresh spinach to put in my morning smoothie, I feel as if I have the whole world in my hands. If you think about it, everything on this earth needs to eat, and many, many species, including humans, eat off the land. It's all connected ... we're all connected. The sun, the plants, and, yes, even the rain, are all connected. Sometimes just standing there slicing veggies while the rain falls over my head is enough to remind me to give thanks for that connection. 

I ended up steaming some of the asparagus to serve with a drizzle of lemon juice, the the rest as part of an Asian-themed stir fry with mushrooms for another meal. That's what's so great about this world - all of the interesting and nourishing diversity, with people as well as with veggies!

And so it is.