It's the Little Things

I was puttering in the kitchen a minute ago when a potted plant outside caught my eye.  The pesky squirrels have been busy gathering walnuts from the tree above and ground near by the plant.  In their frenzy they knocked the plant over.  Annoyed at the interruption I headed outside to set it right.  
As I turned back towards the house I was greeted by the darting and hovering of a tiny hummingbird visiting the patch of impatiens blooming at my feet. Had those squirrels, my arch nemisizes and declared enemies, not bumped into the plant and tipped it over I would not have stepped outside at the precise minute the hummingbird arrived.  I stood quietly for a matter of minutes while the hummingbird tasted the sweetness of each pink flower in the bed, flitted on to sample the plants filling the patio, and then headed out to the garden for a dessert of pumpkin blossom nectar before journeying on to brighten someone else's day.
I have to thank those dog-gone squirrels for helping me shift my focus from the annoyances I see in the distance to all the positive little things that surround me in abundance.

Ten Things of Thankful

Nature

Particularly the hummingbird

And the squirrels--though I recognize that they still believe they have squatters' rights to my garden, and we will tangle again

The anticipation of watching tomatoes grow riper on the vine (slowly) each day

The lesson of patience taught in a garden

Blessed rain that has fallen on our parched earth this week

The deep and restful sleep that can be had during a rainstorm

The tinges of orange beginning to show on the pumpkins

A break in the intense heat and humidity

And the delight found in a plant that unexpectedly blooms in hearts

Operation Apple Recovery

This summer I am engaged in war with the local squirrel population.  We are competing for the apples and tomatoes I am growing.  So,far I am not winning. Thinking of other gardens and epic battles with nature's creatures of the past, I went back in the archives to remind myself that occasionally I do win a battle.

Last Fall we enjoyed our first crop of apples.  We had planted the tree years ago and had grown several crops.  Every year we saw the branches fill with apples.  We watched as they got larger and closer to ripeness, our mouths watering at the thought of the yummy treats a tree full of apples could produce.  Every year just as we had begun counting down the days until harvest,  we would go to bed one night with the vision of  a luscious tree of fruit in our heads only to wake the next day to empty branches.  No sign that there had ever been apples remained.  Apple, core, stem,  all were gone along with our dreams of homemade apple sauce and the crunch of a sweet juicy apple.

This was an affront we could no longer tolerate.  So, we became detectives looking for clues.  Chief suspects?  A yard full of squirrels, the mama possum who brazenly scaled the back fence each and every night, and most likely the pair of raccoons that we fought to keep out of the chimney.

Each growing season saw a new plan of attack.  We researched natural repellents for each of the suspects.  We sprayed the tree with hot pepper spray which might as well have been pure water for all the repulsion it provided. We covered the tree from top to trunk in netting.  That became problematic when both a bird and squirrel found a way into the netting and we couldn't figure a way out for them without placing ourselves within striking distance.  We covered the trunk in an attempt to make it impossible to climb, but apparently our thief  used the fence to jump into the tree rather than climb.  Each growing season began with high hopes for our latest battle plan only to end with a stripped tree.

Last spring my husband had had enough.  He came home one night wild eyed a live trap in tow. When I asked what would happen if he actually caught anything, he grinned and said we would figure that out if and when we had success.  Up the trap went to the roof of the sleeping porch.  It was fortified with cat food which was reportedly irresistable to raccoons.  Every night my husband scaled a ladder to the rooftop and the trap was baited.  Every morning back up he went to find the trap sprung and the food missing.  This was our routine as the high school prom approached.

When my daughter and her date arrived home in the wee hours they startled a humongous raccoon who scurried away from them almost as quickly as they scurried from him.  The enormous creature attempted to shinny up the downspot but awkward and portly (apparently from eating trees full of fruit), he lost his balance somewhere near the roof.  He scraped along the uneven rocks of the second floor as he tumbled down the side of the stone house.  The kids hurried inside wide eyed as a thud sounded in the bushes.  The next morning there was no sign of the raccoon himself but the side of the house was covered in a trail of raccoon blood.  War is hell.

One villain down-literally-the trap and the battle moved to the back fence area.  To our surprise it captured not one but two opossums.   There is a trick to removing these unattractive creators from the trap as they really do "play possum" and convincingly so.  You can be completely convinced you are removing a corpse when you suddenly face a mouth filled with tiny spiky teeth and a spitty sounding hiss issuing forth.  The details on this stage of Operation Apple Recovery are too ugly to share.  Suffice it to say the opossum family no longer resides out back.

While Man vs. Wild played out on Westwood the tree silently produced its best crop yet.  Picking time approached.  We were optimistic but not overly confident.  The yard still teemed with dozens of squirrels who had not been eliminated as suspects themselves.  They seemed to taunt us with their chipper scampering around the tree, but each morning we awoke to branches still brimming with apples.  Although we still don't know who the real culprit was, when harvest came last fall the apples were ours for the picking.

We enjoyed apples in the fall until we could eat no more.  I made some simple syrup and added lemon juice to cover and freeze apple slices. Now from time to time I pull out a container of those apples and cook them on the stovetop with some cinnamon.  I run them through the blender and have yummy homemade applesauce for lunch and a house that smells absolutely wonderful.  Also, it is a healthy treat which is important.  We need to be in tip top shape because apple growing season is just around the corner.

April 2011

Snow Day Checklist

I woke this morning to discover schools all over the city had been cancelled.  Snow and ice were forecast throughout the morning.  I turned off the alarm, rolled over, and closed my eyes again.  Snow days have always been a gift of time to me.  Now that I am out of bed, I am spending this one in a house cleaning frenzy and re-posting a piece I wrote five years ago on the eve of a storm that was far more impressive than today's.

All week long meteorologists have taunted me with threats of a huge snowstorm, so it huge it apparently left them speechless because all their new name-the-snowstorm department could muster for this storm was a single letter.  Massive snowstorm Q was on its way and my life was about to be significantly disturbed.

For several years weather people went through a period of telling fish stories.  You should’a seen this storm.  It was THIS big! Their gift for exaggeration made them suspect in my mind.  So, when they got on this Q kick, I only half listened.

By yesterday the impending storm was all anyone could talk about.  Schools and organizations began canceling today’s events before the first flake fell.  I decided it was better to be safe than sorry, made my pre-storm list, and began putting our house in order.

First, I prepared the bunnies making sure we had a stockpile of bunny food and replenishing their bowls and feeders with water and fresh pellets. I cleared out the hutch and put in a big supply of new shredded paper for insulation.  I did a visual sweep of the path between hutch and the house looking for anything that might pose a safety hazard once snow covered and no longer visible.

I anticipated our needs for maintaining happiness while housebound.  We have amusements on hand: puzzles, games, books, music and movies.  We are set with outerwear for all.  All beds have been made with clean, warm sheets and cozy blankets. Throws and quilts are available on couches, and matches and a lighter wait by the fireplace.

I made a grocery run to stock up on hot chocolate supplies, popcorn, and foods that can still be served in case of power outage.  I triple-checked our tissue and toilet paper supplies.  When I arrived at the dairy I discovered that others were also preparing for a long haul.  They were sold out of butter, cream and 2% milk by 9:30 a.m.

I considered any health needs we might have, double checking prescriptions and over the counter cold medications.  I took a quick survey of the first-aid supplies on hand.

I decided to fill and run the washer, dryer and dishwasher in anticipation of a possible power outage. I checked the flashlight to make sure it is in working order with fresh batteries and put candles and matches where they are likely to be needed.  Then I charged my electronic devices.

I made a quick run through the garage to make sure that snow clearing supplies, shovels, sand or salt, are accessible and that the car was full of gas. Satisfied I was ready to face the storm, I lit the fire and brewed some tea.  So~Let it snow!

To all the meteorologists out there, I extend my apologies.

Snow Day

Several years ago I participated in a Christmas themed writing group: 'Twas the Write Before Christmas.  Dusting off those posts to share again this year.

The week before Christmas.  The pace has been frantic with places to go and lists to cross off.

Overnight a special holiday gift arrived.  The city is wrapped in sparkling white.

I stand at the window admiring the promise of something fresh and new as the radio announcer says the two words people all over town are hoping to hear, "Snow day".

I sigh and release tension I hadn't realized I was holding onto.  My focus narrows as my mind moves inward.

Today is for home, for family, for me.  Tomorrow the rush of the season and its obligations will resume; but today I have a snow day.

TToT: Change of Seasons

I made a pot of homemade applesauce today.  The air was redolent with the scent of apples and cinnamon, immediately ushering fall into the kitchen.  I was filled with anticipation.  I love the feeling of anticipation--the sense of wonder.  The feeling of untold potential.  The excitement of being on the cusp of something new.

Earlier in the week I was sitting at the desk in the sunroom writing.  All at once the light outdoors changed.  Wind started churning as a front blew in.  Huge drops of rain began to fall, pulling bright yellow leaves from the trees.  The leaves caught in the swirling air making it look as though a ticker-tape parade had begun outside the window.  Where had those golden leaves been hiding on trees still dressed in summer green?

Change sneaks up on me these days.  Time passes more quickly than it seems it has any right to.  2016 is growing old just as I have become comfortable thinking it is time for  a year that far removed from 2000 to arrive.  But I won't think in terms of 2016.  When I think in terms of passing years I feel old. I feel anxiety about time gone by and the limits on time yet to be.  Instead I will think of the change of seasons, each bringing its colors, smells, foods and traditions.  Each a reminder of all I love in life with fall being perhaps my favorite season of all.

TToT

Kansas View

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Favorite Summer View

On a lazy summer afternoon we drive back roads and study the open spaces of the Kansas countryside.  Somehow my senses become super charged in these spaces.  The grasses pop like individual brush strokes painting the land with golden highlights.  Vision is not interrupted by a single thing before my eye reaches the horizon line. The absolute stillness puts my ears on high alert.  The call of every bird or tiny insect can be heard with an intensity never realized in town.  The air carries the scent of grass and earth.  Even the sunshine has a scent I catch on the breeze.  Standing on a crest looking out over the gently rolling land I feel my heart rate slow, feel stress melt away.  I am reminded once more that though some might say there is nothing here, the opposite is true.  Everything lies in this space.  The answers to all of my questions can be found unadulterated by things and noise here in the Kansas countryside.

TToT: Rainy Morning

I woke this morning to the low rumble of thunder.  A long, slow rain is refreshing all the plant life in the yard.  The quiet rhythm of the rain falling down punctuated by occasional low, far-off thunder lulls me into deep relaxation.  I snuggle deeper into the sheets.
Outside the streets shine in their wetness.  The bird bath fills and an energetic cardinal sends a spray of water into the air as he takes an enthusiastic bath.  The rain makes all things appear clean and new.
The temperatures last week climbed too far up the thermometer making me hide inside the air conditioned house all day by mid-week.  The heat and humidity cause me to feel anxious.  The forecast is promising more rain and cooler days for the rest of the week.
Later I will work in the garden.  Yesterday I saw how badly I needed to do some weeding, but knew the earth was dry enough it would hold onto the roots.  The damp earth will give up the weeds much more easily after the storm.
For now I am happy tucked into my bed listening.  I feel calm and content.  There is no place I have to be and at this particular moment no place I would rather be.  Let it rain!

More thankful...

TToT: Rainy Morning

I woke this morning to the low rumble of thunder.  A long, slow rain is refreshing all the plant life in the yard.  The quiet rhythm of the rain falling down punctuated by occasional low, far-off thunder lulls me into deep relaxation.  I snuggle deeper into the sheets.
Outside the streets shine in their wetness.  The bird bath fills and an energetic cardinal sends a spray of water into the air as he takes an enthusiastic bath.  The rain makes all things appear clean and new.
The temperatures last week climbed too far up the thermometer making me hide inside the air conditioned house all day by mid-week.  The heat and humidity cause me to feel anxious.  The forecast is promising more rain and cooler days for the rest of the week.
Later I will work in the garden.  Yesterday I saw how badly I needed to do some weeding, but knew the earth was dry enough it would hold onto the roots.  The damp earth will give up the weeds much more easily after the storm.
For now I am happy tucked into my bed listening.  I feel calm and content.  There is no place I have to be and at this particular moment no place I would rather be.  Let it rain!

More thankful...

June Roses in Rain

Still trying to salvage posts from the old blog, I came across this from 2013...

It seems like June arrives each year just as I am completely spent from the demands of May.  It is ushered in on the cool front of a shower.  The sun is not far behind, but it is a gentle sun that brings cheer without the withering heat that will arrive later in the summer.

Refreshing drops of rain fall from the sky, restoring all that is parched and encouraging us to let go of what no longer serves useful.  That which falls away leaves a beautiful reminder of all the goodness that life has offered us.

June is the mentor of months, that older woman friend who shares wisdom without judgement.  Her gentle touch both soothes the ragged edges of your soul and girds your strength before sending you out into the world to face the realities presented throughout the other months.

Welcome, June.  I am so glad to see you.

Spying on the New Neighbors

Something that brought you joy today...

http://ltsqldb.com/v2_thumbnail_linky_enter.aspx?id=269332

Our sunroom is one of my favorite places in the house.  Windows fill three sides.  A bird feeder provides constant entertainment to the east.  The west looks out on the patio.  The southern exposure is the longest.  The span of windows is broken in two places by matching trellises covered in clematis.  Nestled amid the tangled vines my husband discovered a nest.  Working at the computer in the sunroom, his attention was drawn to a flurry of activity.  A mother and father cardinal beat a continuous flight pattern from the bird feeder around the corner to the trellis to where three fluffy baby birds were tucked deeply into the nest.

Each time a parent neared the nest, three wide opened beaks reached high anxiously awaiting the deposit of food.

We wanted to be part of what was going on with this sweet little family.  The parent birds wanted to make sure we knew they were highly aware of our presence on the other side of the windows.  They flitted around attempting to make a diversion.  Finally, they decided we weren't too threatening, but gave us angry bird looks just to make their point.  We were not to get too close.

Once we decided we could all coexist, an amazing thing happened.  One by one the babies took their first shaky, tentative steps outside the nest.

Harry, The First and Most Brave ( His faux-hawk is evidence of his confident air.)

Beaker, The Middle Child (Note the look on his face.  So much attitude.)

And Russell,  The Baby Bird (Devil may care attitude shown in his half smile and sleepy eyes.)

It was incredible watching the babies work up the courage to leave the safety of the nest.  The parents fluttered back and forth in front of the trellis letting out occasional chirps of encouragement.  They remained nearby, but back far enough for each baby to be responsible for himself.  Nature's wisdom.

And every once in a while they would shoot us a look making sure we remembered we were only there with their permission.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers  

That perches in the soul  

And sings the tune without the words 

And never stops - at all  

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard  

And sore must be the storm  

That could abash the little Bird 

That kept so many warm  

I’ve heard it in the chillest land  

And on the strangest Sea  

Yet - never - in Extremity, 

It asked a crumb - of me.

Emily Dickenson