…Thus in each flower and simple bell,
That in our path untrodden lie,
Are sweet remembrancers who tell
How fast the winged moments fly.
Time will steal on with ceaseless pace,
Yet lose we not the fleeting hours,
Who still their fairy footsteps trace,
As light they dance among the flowers. — Charlotte Turner Smith
It was eight years and two days ago that Amy and I enjoyed an early spring day at Keukenhof in the Netherlands. The hours there passed all too quickly, but the memories have lingered on, enhanced by the hundreds of photos I took that day. That day, as I was snapping away with my camera, I didn’t even really know what a blog was, and certainly never dreamed of the events that would lead to my sharing so many of the photos with all of you.
I couldn’t remember which snapshots I have already used here, so I did a quick check and found that I have already published at least a dozen posts featuring photos I took that wonderful day. I hope they’re not getting boring.
How often thoughts of the dazzling colors and glorious greenery I saw that day have brought cheer to me in moments of sadness or exhaustion! I couldn’t let springtime pass without featuring at least one more picture I took then, because Keukenhof captures for me the heart and soul of the season’s beauty.
“Time will steal on with ceaseless pace, Yet lose we not the fleeting hours…” Wise words to keep in mind anytime, but especially so in spring, when nature brings us many reasons to rejoice. I hope you will make some time to gather memories outdoors that will “dance among the flowers” whenever you most need them.
“The Smithsonian is a great museum that annually attracts more than 20 million visitors, every single one of whom was there when we arrived…my suggestion for the Smithsonian is: If you really want to serve the public, you should put in an exhibit called: A Big Dark Room Filled With Mattresses.” – Dave Barry
Even if you love the Smithsonian as much as I do, you probably smiled when you read Dave Barry’s quote. Perhaps it’s no accident that Mr. Smithson himself never saw the museum he established, nor even visited the country where he had it built.
Seriously, the Smithsonian– actually not just one museum, but a whole collection of them– is enormous and amazing, with something for everyone. But good luck finding it. And be prepared to do a lot of walking.
I’ve often thought that one of the best things about living near DC is the chance to visit the Smithsonian for two or three hours at a time. More than that, and my brain goes on overload. Plus, it’s good to be able to visit alone sometimes. I’m the type of person who wants to stop and read all the signs and take pictures of almost everything, which drives some people crazy. (I’m not naming names here, but yours is likely one of them.)
If you live too far away to make short visits, I do recommend that you allocate at least one day to explore these museums, most of which are spread along a pedestrian-only expanse called the National Mall, conveniently located near all the most famous monuments. “Near” being a relative term, since they too require a lot of walking. Cars are obviously discouraged; the National Mall has no (that’s right, ZERO) parking facilities.
Luckily, although the Mattress exhibit is not yet open (nor even planned) there are a lot of lovely gardens and park benches for resting and taking in the beautiful spring weather. So even if you only want to see the Moon Rock, or the Hope Diamond, or Dorothy’s ruby slippers, or Seinfeld’s puffy shirt, you can still have a good time. Just wear comfortable shoes.
Today’s post is dedicated to all DC visitors, in anticipation of next week’s long-planned arrival of FOUR fellow bloggers, one of whom is coming all the way from New Zealand! Stay tuned…
“I’m lying in my room listening to the birds outside. I used to think they sang because they were happy. But then I learned on a nature show they’re really showing off.”
— Jo Knowles
So much for our romantic anthropomorphism. But for a bird, maybe showing off is a cheerful sort of thing to do. It takes energy, and energy is not something that tends to go with being depressed.
A couple of days after our big 8-inch snowfall earlier this month, Jeff called me to the kitchen window to point out two birds sitting together on the branch of a tree in the woods behind our home. Of course, I ran to get my camera. As I watched them through the telephoto lens, I was curious about their repetitive motions.
“I think they’re preening,” Jeff said, but after a few moments he added, “or maybe that’s some sort of mating ritual.”
“I didn’t know birds engaged in mating rituals in the dead of winter.”
“It’s NOT the dead of winter, it’s SPRING!”
Ah, so it was — though it was an easy mistake to make, with the dirty snow at the end of our street piled in drifts almost as tall as me. But even if I had my doubts as to whether spring was here, you can bet the birds didn’t. They were out there showing off, and we thoroughly enjoyed the show.
I did a bit of research, and this site about the Mourning Dove seems to indicate that what we saw may indeed have been some sort of bonding ritual. But perhaps readers with more knowledge of birds can watch my (slightly shaky handheld) video and enlighten us:
Happy fourth day of spring!
“The richest person in the world – in fact, all the riches in the world – couldn’t provide you with anything like the endless, incredible loot available at your local library. You can measure the awareness, the breadth and the wisdom of a civilization, a nation, a people by the priority given to preserving these repositories…” — Malcolm Forbes
I’ve read that the public library is “the poor man’s university,” and I think that’s an apt description. However, it can also be a rich person’s playground, as Forbes attested. Are you enjoying this wonderfully accessible wealth? If not, I encourage you to check out your local library (no pun intended) and if it’s not to your liking, explore others within a reasonable drive until you find one that fits your idea of a fun place to browse, dream and relax.
Even if your closest library is somewhat lacking, most have resources that allow you to tap into online databases and inter-library loans to find whatever you most want to read or study. Many libraries offer free classes, music and movies, electronic readers for checkout, and other items. But the books are enough to draw many of us back again and again.
A rainy spring day is a great time to hunt for an absorbing book. You’ll want to have one or two on hand for those nice warm days that will be calling you outside to spend a few minutes relaxing in a lawn chair or on a park bench. Visit a library soon, and capture a bit of loot to treasure!
“As different as we are from one another, as unique as each one of us is, we are much more the same than we are different.” — Fred Rogers
Perhaps Mr. Rogers touched so many hearts because he understood this truth. All of us have fears, sorrows, flaws and deficits. Each of us has hopes, dreams, abilities and gifts. When I remember this, it’s easier to care about people, and harder to be angry with them.
It has been more than twelve years now since Mr. Rogers left the neighborhood he created for us, but his legacy lives on. A few months before he died, he recorded this beautiful message to us, which my nephew Ryan sent me recently when it was re-broadcast. I wanted to share it with you, along with some of my favorite words of wisdom from a man whose gentle strength continues to influence my life.
“In times of stress, the best thing we can do for our children (and for each other) is to listen with our ears and our hearts and to be assured that our questions are just as important as our answers.”
“Part of the problem with the word ‘disabilities’ is that it immediately suggests an inability to see or hear or walk or do other things that many of us take for granted. But what of people who can’t feel? Or talk about their feelings? Or manage their feelings in constructive ways? What of people who aren’t able to form close and strong relationships? And people who cannot find fulfillment in their lives, or those who have lost hope, who live in disappointment and bitterness and find in life no joy, no love? These, it seems to me, are the real disabilities.”
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.”
I wish you a beautiful day in your neighborhood!
“I have found that when you are deeply troubled, there are things you get from the silent devoted companionship of a dog that you can get from no other source.”
– Doris Day
If you’ve ever had a canine friend, you know what Day meant. There is something about the friendship between humans and dogs that defies comparison to anything else.
I’ve found that many of my fellow dog lovers are also fond of animals in general, but most of us will admit that our dogs fill a gap that can’t be filled by any other animal, or even any human. Their instinctive awareness of our moods, their unconditional devotion and their (mostly) silent presence in good times and bad quickly become part of our lives to the point that we can scarcely remember what our days were like without them.
Unlike a lot of people, dogs seem to be even more drawn to us in times when we are sad or distressed. They don’t offer solutions or advice, but they do communicate understanding and concern. They stay beside us, letting us know that whatever else is going on, their loyalty is unchanged and unchanging.
Many of you know that our beloved dog Pasha died less than a year after Jeff’s diagnosis. He had been with us more than sixteen years, and we still miss him. When our lives settle down enough to ensure that we will have the time and stamina required, we plan to adopt another puppy. Meanwhile, I enjoy other people’s dogs, who brighten my walks and make our neighborhoods fun places to be.
If you are “between dogs” as we are, or can’t have a pup for other reasons, I hope you are able to experience some of their benefits through friends and family whose households include a canine or two. To those of you whose homes are blessed with the cheerful chores that go with having a resident pooch, please accept my thanks for the vicarious joy I get from seeing and hearing about your furry friends.
Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness. ― Mary Oliver
I saw more snow last week than I’ve seen any week since we lived in Ohio, and maybe more than any week ever in March. It was hard to think of anything else. Something about being stuck at home inspired me to relax more than usual and give myself time off from everything except enjoying the lazy mornings and disrupted schedule.
I hope you are, like me, still awed by its beauty no matter how ready we all are for spring. I took these photos on a late afternoon walk after watching the snow fall all day. I only walked around our building, but the same scenes I see every day were transformed into lacy enchantment.
Oliver is right about the prettiness, but snow’s reason for being goes far beyond that, of course. Since Eric’s comments a couple of years back about the benefits of snow for the growth of plants, I’ve been experimenting with bringing snow inside to water my indoor plants, some of which I dug up to keep inside for the winter. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I was impressed by how the plants responded.
I decided to upcycle my empty club soda bottle to make this handy snow catcher to water my plants. All I had to do was open my door and scoop up some snow — no gloves or shoes or coats needed! — and then it would melt surprisingly slowly, gradually watering the plants. I don’t know whether this will be any better for them than pouring tap water into them, but it was a lot of fun to find a reason to play with snow inside.
As pretty and useful as it is, I hope this is the LAST post about snow I will be writing this year!
For one last shot of the beautiful snow, here’s a wonderful photo sent to me by a reader, Susan, who photographed her church building one recent evening after choir practice. Light shining in the darkness!
“The common animals, birds and insects that are found in a little yard in the city are as fascinating to watch, and as fruitful in affording the careful observer a glimpse into some of the mysteries of nature, as are the rare and uncommon creatures of some far-off land.” – Leonard Dubkin
While our tour group was walking from the entrance of Mexico’s Parque Nacional Tulum along the path to the ruins, our guide said something that made me laugh: “Don’t stop to take photos of the iguanas. You will see more iguanas than people when we get to the ruins.”
That turned out to be not much of an exaggeration. As promised, the iguanas were everywhere. I took almost as many photos of these beautifully ugly creatures as I did of the lovely excavated village perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. I was not the only one; I saw as many people stopping to watch these over-sized lizards as I saw admiring the expansive landscape. The guides, I’m sure, must have been fairly bored by the iguanas — and by our fascination with them.
I was reminded of a co-worker I knew many years ago, who was an immigrant from Egypt. She used to love watching the squirrels play in the park outside our office building. I assumed she was unaccustomed to seeing them, since most of us scarcely noticed them as we paced quickly past, lost inside our thoughts.
It has been said that familiarity breeds contempt, but that may be an overstatement, unless one defines contempt as unintentional disregard. When I stop to think about it, I’m quite fond of the familiar, as I think most of us are. We are proud of our towns, happy with our homes and lawns, fond of our neighbors and friends. The problem is, I don’t stop to think about it often enough.
One reason I love travel is that it helps me see the everyday through opened eyes. Given a choice, I would prefer my endearing local critters to the iguanas, though I thoroughly enjoyed the chance to see them up close.
When spring arrives, or maybe even before it does, I’m going to try seeing the birds and squirrels and butterflies as if I had never seen a single one of them before. Can you imagine how exciting it would be to see a butterfly for the first time? To hear the trilling of a cheerful bird in the morning and wonder where the sound came from? To watch the astounding agility of a squirrel as it flits about among the trees?
As the weather warms and we are able to be outside more often, I wish you many fruitful observations of our common animals. They always brighten my day, as I hope they do yours.
“It felt as though the whole globe was dressed in snow. Like it has pulled it on, the way you pull on a sweater. Next to the train line, footprints were sunken to their shins. Trees wore blankets of ice..” ― Markus Zusak
Just when I thought we were in for a fairly mild winter, February happened. And happened again, and again. Not just in the DC area, but also near our York home, near your home (probably) and near the homes of seemingly most of the people I know. Facebook was showered with “Winter Wonderland” collages, each more enchanting than the last. Currier and Ives had a digital update.
One great thing about this late-winter snow, at least in southeastern Virginia, is that it lingered so long that the kids had a chance to really have fun with it. Normally when we do get a snowfall, it’s gone in a day or two. This one was deep (around 8 inches) and the weather was cold enough to ensure that the snow didn’t disappear before yielding to the creativity of our neighbors.
I’m sure we’re all ready for springtime, but I must admit it was rather fun to have March come in like a lion this year. If the “out like a lamb” phase holds this much beauty, we have a real treat in store.
Nothing is Lost
by Noel Coward
Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told
Lie all our memories, lie all the notes
Of all the music we have ever heard
And all the phrases those we loved have spoken,
Sorrows and losses time has since consoled,
Family jokes, out-moded anecdotes
Each sentimental souvenir and token
Everything seen, experienced, each word
Addressed to us in infancy, before
Before we could even know or understand
The implications of our wonderland.
There they all are, the legendary lies
The birthday treats, the sights, the sounds, the tears
Forgotten debris of forgotten years
Waiting to be recalled, waiting to rise
Before our world dissolves before our eyes
Waiting for some small, intimate reminder,
A word, a tune, a known familiar scent
An echo from the past when, innocent
We looked upon the present with delight
And doubted not the future would be kinder
And never knew the loneliness of night.
“Everything is complicated; if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.” — Wallace Stevens
I’ve noticed that advertising and publishing increasingly use variations on the word “simple” to promote their content. Everyone, it seems, yearns for simplicity amid the overwhelming density of challenges with which our brains must deal every day. Neutral colors, sparse decoration, minimal sound and dim or shaded light become more appealing as our exhausted souls seek refuge.
While I am among those crying out for lower stimulation as a route to sanity, I must pause to say that I love the complexity of life. I delight in the overabundance of choices, the dazzling array of affordable food and clothing, even the techno toys that grow more amazing each year.
I love it that people are so different from one another; that each friendship brings unique gifts and insights; that family members I have known for decades continue to grow and surprise me with the new dimensions to their personalities.
So, even as I fly to the calm of my solitary retreats from diverse forms of wealth I could scarcely have imagined in childhood, I remain thankful to have such a rich existence to necessitate the times of respite. How very beautiful the world can be, and how blessed we are to be here!
“Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”
― L.M. Montgomery
If you’ve already lapsed on your New Year’s resolutions (or never had any) you have another chance to start the New Year today, on Lunar New Year. In fact, every day is a chance to start again. I hope the optimism inherent in new beginnings will stay with you daily during the year. Regardless of how you may hear it– Gong Xi Fa Cai (Mandarin) — Gong Hey Fat Choy (Cantonese) — or Happy New Year — that’s your cue to say, “May I have the envelope, please?” And you thought that was a line from the Academy Awards!
“It wouldn’t surprise me to know that there are science professors who mock all other types of knowledge as though they’re simply the fluffy, pretty, inconsequential bits around the edge, while (they say) the physical sciences are the solid, hard, no-nonsense things in the middle. Of course, nobody really lives like that for a single day. Music, laughter, grief, and imagination keep breaking in despite the best efforts of the left brain, just as the right-brain dreamers still have to do the laundry and pay their bills and catch the train to get to work on time.” — N. T. Wright
A botanist could give us a flawless scientific description of these orchids, and maybe even put the more esoteric details in terms we could understand. But could she convey their beauty
more effectively than a poet or musician or artist could? Somehow I doubt it.
What we think of as objective knowledge is important, even essential. Medicine, engineering, agriculture and other areas of study would collapse without respect for proven laws and peer-reviewed observations.
But our collective progress as humans will ultimately be impeded without appropriate humility. Science is an evolving discipline, and blind devotion to its accepted orthodoxy is no more desirable now than it was in the days of Galileo or Pasteur, among others who challenged the contemporary understanding of “facts” and were ultimately proven right.
Meanwhile, think twice when you hear people saying that math and science are more important subjects for our children to learn than art, history, theology, music or literature. One need only look at a beautiful flower to realize that there is a mystery to our existence that goes beyond what can be reduced to facts, experiments and numbers.
“I met one woman in Georgia who has been married to her husband for over 60 years. After being asked for her best relationship advice, she paused and then said, ‘Don’t be afraid to be the one who loves the most.’ ” – Nate Bagley
It seems to me this is the one piece of advice we don’t hear very much. We are warned repeatedly, and with some justification, to beware of being taken for granted, taken advantage of, hurt or mistreated. And all these things really do happen to people who love, far too often.
But the big truth is often overlooked: it is giving love, not receiving it, that makes us happiest. It’s true that loving brings great risk, but not loving is also risky, and miserable.
Taught from birth to value equal rights and opportunities for all, we sometimes confuse this with thinking everything else should be equal, too. We prize getting a good bargain for what we pay, and investing our time and money in ways that are likely to bring equal or greater return. But that policy doesn’t work well for connecting with others.
In truth, it’s likely that very few relationships are completely reciprocal. Just as people differ in the ways they tend to show their love, they also differ in their capacity to love others, and that’s really okay. The important thing is that we all keep moving in the right direction– that of loving more, always more– and not stop to compare ourselves with others or keep some sort of emotional ledger that has to balance to the penny.
This Valentine’s Day, I invite you to celebrate the honor and privilege of loving more. Join Jeff and me and a cast of millions as we all go on, “Dancing in the Minefields.”
“All that the historians give us are little oases in the desert of time, and we linger fondly in these, forgetting the vast tracks between one and another that were trodden by the weary generations of men.” — John Alfred Spender
One of the most fascinating (and frustrating) aspects of visiting historic sites, especially ancient ones, is the way time becomes telescoped into a deceptively small package. There is no real way to grasp the magnitude of centuries, even when careful excavation reveals a wealth of solid clues.
Still, most of us do linger fondly at these little oases, as Spender has noted. Why? Aside from their frequently beautiful physical appearance and appealing climate, I think there’s something unseen there that draws us in. As the guides spin their truth-is-stranger-than-fiction tales of civilizations beset by warring neighbors, epidemic disease and grisly cultural practices such as human sacrifice, we feel a bit happier with the modern world than we were before.
It’s interesting to wonder how future centuries (assuming the world as we know it stands that long) will describe our societies, and how history will judge us. From my admittedly limited perspective, though, I think Now has a lot going for it. I hope that our weary generations will occasionally pause to dance as we tread the vast tracks.
“Print is predictable and impersonal, conveying information in a mechanical transaction with the reader’s eye. Handwriting, by contrast, resists the eye, reveals its meaning slowly, and is as intimate as skin.” — Ruth Ozeki
When I read this quote, I was flooded with mental images of the handwriting of so many people who live in my heart. I thought of the letters from my grandmothers, and how I cannot bear to part with them, a fragmented vision of them coming alive for me again at the sight of their words written to me many years ago.
Of all the items that accumulate in a life of nearly six decades, I find that letters and cards containing handwritten notes are the hardest for me to discard. I suppose that’s why I have so many of them, packed away randomly in boxes scattered in various locations, their contents seen by chance when I am looking for something specific.
Some are from people who will always be part of my life, and some are from those I knew only briefly, but each is unique, the words formed in loops or swirls or scrawls as personal as a fingerprint.
All of us who are blessed to know how to write legibly with a pen or pencil are in possession of a skill that is increasingly vanishing from everyday life. It’s understandable, of course; like many others, I prefer the keyboard to the pen because I can produce words much more quickly with it. And perhaps my initial difficulty with handwriting has left me with residual resistance to it. (I was traumatized to get the first “C” of my life in that subject in fifth grade, and to this day, I print rather than use cursive.)
Yet I love to write by hand. I love using different ink colors, and choosing stationery, and addressing and stamping a card. I love walking it to the mailbox or post office and dropping it into a slot from which it will take a journey I am unable to make, visiting on my behalf a home too far away for me to drop by casually in person.
Whether or not you share this love of correspondence, I encourage you to give the gift of a handwritten visit to someone who may be encouraged by having your presence in a tangible sense that the computer or telephone cannot quite duplicate. You may find, as I do, that it’s a rewarding and relaxing experience, an oasis of calm in a sea of demands and challenges.
“Recently I was visited by a very good friend who had just returned from a long walk in the woods, and I asked her what she had observed. ‘Nothing in particular,’ she replied. I might have been incredulous had I not been accustomed to such responses, for long ago I became convinced that the seeing see little. How was it possible, I asked myself, to walk for an hour through the woods and see nothing worthy of note? I who cannot see find hundreds of things to interest me through mere touch.” — Helen Keller
The quote above is longer than the ones I usually feature here, but I wish I could have included the entire article from which the quote was taken. When you have a few minutes, I suggest you read it and ponder what it says.
Today, I invite you to join me in giving thanks for the gift of sight. As far as I am aware, all of those who read my blog can see. In my entire life, I have had only a few friends who could not see at all. This amazing gift of eyesight is shared by more than 99% of the people I know, yet I seldom hear any of us voicing gratitude for it.
Those of you who have shared photos with me through your blogs and emails have given me priceless glimpses into your lives, windows that allow me to know you better even if we have never met in person. In seeing your homes, your dogs and cats and birds, your gardens and hometowns, the crafts you create and the cakes you bake, I am able to share the ways you have added joy and beauty to your own sphere of influence.
I’m grateful we are able to easily read each other’s words, and those of countless wise authors who have lived in years past, including the thought-provokingly candid words of Keller in the article linked above. I’m thankful to have shared together reflections on the beauty of a sunset, or a snow-covered field, or an exquisite flower. I’m happy that no matter where you live or what your personal circumstances, I can wish you a day of joy at seeing daybreak, or a sunny afternoon, or a cozy room filled with photos or plants or pets or people dear to your heart.
At times I complain about my eyeglasses or contact lenses. How foolish of me, to complain of having something my ancestors would have been overjoyed to have! When I stop to think about it, I so appreciate the gift of a relatively simple device that sharpens my vision and allows me extended years to fully enjoy the visual treats I have described.
Whatever mood you are in as you read these words, I hope you will feel happier just thinking about the amazing gift of eyesight. Let’s take Keller’s challenge, and look at our worlds as if our sight would soon be gone. We may never see things quite the same again.
“Trouble is part of your life, and if you don’t share it, you don’t give the person who loves you a chance to love you enough.” — Dinah Shore
Jeff is a pretty tough guy. In more than 25 years of Air Force service, I don’t recall him ever taking a single sick day until he was diagnosed with cancer in late 2012. Sometimes I think that the physical suffering he has endured, as mind-boggling as it has been, is less burdensome to him than the psychological need to be well and working and taking care of everyone else.
As crazy as it will sound to people who haven’t been through something like this themselves, there have been many special moments in the past two years, even in the hardest of times. I am thankful for every minute we have been able to be together through everything, thankful I could sleep in his hospital room and be with him at home as he recovered from surgery and sit through chemotherapy sessions and doctor’s appointments. In many ways, I feel closer to him than ever before because of what he has shared with me.
Sometimes one of the best ways to defeat despair is to allow others to walk with us through pain or sorrow. It doesn’t come naturally for most of us, in a world that is often shallow and uncomfortable with the less appealing truths about the universal human condition. But masking grief and suffering only makes it worse.
If you are struggling with trouble of any sort, I hope you will be willing to talk openly about it with a kind and trustworthy loved one. None of us wishes illness or grief on anyone, least of all those we love dearly, but it is a privilege to walk beside someone who needs our companionship and values our support. May we all have the heart to give and receive this very special form of love.
“Children especially need solitude. Solitude is the precondition for having a conversation with yourself. This capacity to be with yourself and discover yourself is the bedrock of development.” – Sherry Turkle
Much has been written about the changes technology is bringing to the way we relate to each other. Does it connect us more closely, or paradoxically isolate us by decreasing our experience of being physically present and face-to-face with another person? It’s a difficult question to answer, but one aspect of the debate I have yet to see mentioned much is the effect technology has had on solitude.
Have you ever known anyone who had to have the radio or television playing when they were alone? Do you know people who feel uneasy if they are not within easy reach of a cell phone? Have we bought into the idea that it is our responsibility to be available to others every waking minute of every day?
During the brief time we spent with Grady recently, I was impressed that he seems to have an innate sense (as his father did) that quiet time alone is of utmost value. Many of his waking hours were spent in rowdy play or curious exploration, but also, he seemed almost contemplative at times.
One afternoon Drew and Megan left to explore Mount Vernon while MeMe and PaPa happily stayed with Grady. After the usual staged protests that vanished literally before they had gotten five feet from the front door, he quite happily returned to the living room with us, obviously not distressed.
Jeff had gone to retrieve several stuffed toys for him to play with. To our surprise, he lined them up in a sort of circle and lay down in the middle of them, using one as a pillow. Thinking he must be ready for a nap (though it was not yet time) I covered him with a soft throw. But he did not sleep.
For at least an hour he lay there, eyes wide open, apparently content with the silence and inactivity. Jeff was nearby reading, and that seemed enough for him. From time to time I would come in and check on him, and he would smile, but wouldn’t budge. He was right where he wanted to be, doing what he wanted to do.
How intelligent that seemed to me! How I envied his ability to simply lie quietly, free of entertainment or amusement, happy to do nothing but enjoy a respite from the nonstop excitement of the Christmas holidays. I started to wonder how many of us, especially young people, ever have such time to recharge and renew our souls.
Justifiably fearful of children’s safety, we increasingly guard them from exploring alone in the neighborhood, or outdoors, and equip them with cell phones so that we can feel connected to them at all times. We may over-schedule them (not to mention ourselves) to the point that they never experience the rich atmosphere of time spent by oneself. But I believe Turkle is right; solitude is the bedrock of development, and quiet time alone rightly deserves to be a priority not only for them, but for us too, no matter our age.
So, in keeping with the theme of today’s post, I am going unplug from my computer this week. Please keep those comments coming in if you have anything to say — I love reading your comments, and will read and respond to each one on Saturday or maybe Sunday evening, depending on when I can get back to it.
I don’t want anyone to worry about us or how we are doing this week. I assure you that “no news is good news.” I will miss hearing from you and exchanging ideas, but that will make it all the more fun when I do plug back in. Thursday’s post has been scheduled and will appear as usual, unless there is some sort of WordPress glitch.
If you feel increasingly stretched thin by the continual intrusion of ringing phones, pinging email, mock-urgent news broadcasts, and mind-numbing commercials everywhere we turn, don’t be afraid to just unplug everything for awhile and be with yourself. If possible, take a walk in the park, or the woods, or a nearby garden or meadow. Listen to the sound of the wind in the trees, or the birds calling to each other. Tune in to the conversation in your mind.
“Enduring winter is only a start– embracing winter is what you should strive for. Winter gives a sense of purpose and saves one from a life of hedonistic self-gratification, lying around on a palm-shaded patio nibbling ladyfingers and posting selfies on Facebook. You have promises to keep. Miles to go before you sleep. Also, a sidewalk to shovel.” — Garrison Keillor
Keillor speaks of winter with an authority that could come only from a native of someplace such as Minnesota. I will gladly defer to his expertise, but take it from a southern girl: embracing winter is overrated. Icy weather is totally optional for coziness. You can enjoy tea, coffee, hot cocoa and a toasty warm fire in forty-degree weather!
We all have our sidewalks to shovel, though, figuratively or literally. I appreciate Keillor’s not-so-subtle reminder that life has seasons, and few of them are easy. If you’re facing snowstorms, ice, gloomy drizzle or a to-do list that would overwhelm Martha Stewart, I wish you the fortitude and courage to embrace this January day. I’ll close with another quote from Keillor: “Most important, keep repeating the words: It could be worse.”
Pass me the ladyfingers!
“Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.”
— Martin Luther King, Jr.
Dr. King’s words continue to inspire us because his message was timeless. In the face of centuries of oppression and injustice, he urged his listeners toward the higher ground of perseverance, nonviolence, determination, faith and hope.
“Dogs are my favorite role models. I want to work like a dog, doing what I was born to do with joy and purpose. I want to play like a dog, with total, jolly abandon. I want to love like a dog, with unabashed devotion and complete lack of concern about what people do for a living, how much money they have, or how much they weigh. The fact that we still live with dogs, even when we don’t have to herd or hunt our dinner, gives me hope for humans and canines alike.” ― Oprah Winfrey
I loved this quote from Oprah, so I went hunting on Wikimedia Commons, looking for some good images of dogs. WOW, what a fun way to spend a few minutes. Advance warning: you will probably be seeing lots more photos of dogs in upcoming weeks, because there were so many good ones it was hard to choose which to use here.
This one made the cut, though, partly because I just love Jack Russell Terriers, and partly because it seemed to capture many of the things mentioned in the quote. I have learned much from animals, and dogs head my personal list of favorites. It would be hard to overestimate the therapeutic benefit dogs have added to my life.
Whether you favor dogs, cats, birds, all of the above, or some other furry, feathered or scaled companion, I wish for you the joy, contentment, laughter and reassurance that friendship with animals can give us. If you are blessed to have an animal living in your home, give him or her (or them) a friendly greeting from me, along with thanks for making life more fun.
“Trapped by reality, freed by imagination.” — Nicolas Manetta*
Okay, the holidays are history now. The winter has set in, and it has been pretty COLD lately for most of us. Time for a quick getaway. Come with me a lovely little spot on Captiva Island, Florida. I’ll set the scene for you.
Everyone is invited. Bring your seashore wardrobe and towels. We’re all enjoying a day at the beach this sunny, warm afternoon. What beach, you ask? This one:
It’s fairly deserted as usual, except for us, of course. We’ve been diligent with the sunscreen, so we can spend several hours out here, chatting and beach combing and dozing and reading some great novels. If you get thirsty, head back up to the house just over the dunes. I’ve got iced tea waiting. Plus lemonade and fruit punch, if you don’t like tea.
No, not THAT house! Go a few doors down…
Yes! THIS one.
You can spread the seashells you collected out to dry on the table on the screened porch.
Then we can stroll into town and pick a spot to eat.
After dinner, we can go outside and watch the sunset. Bring a jacket…it’s cool on January nights, even here!
Time to head back home now. Thank you for flying with us on Imaginary Airlines, where we go anywhere you want to go, for free, and there are never any delays! See you again soon.
*I was unable to find any information about Nicholas Manetta, only several places that attributed this quote to him. Maybe he is a figment of someone’s imagination.
Welcome, winter. Your late dawns and chilled breath make me lazy, but I love you nonetheless. — Terri Guillemets
Even in summer, I love sleeping late. My aversion to getting up in the morning is much greater in the winter, when the cold weather makes a snug warm bed all the more appealing.
Despite this, I’m learning to appreciate rising early, even when I don’t enjoy it. While winter brings a lazy streak, it also sparks my inner drive to get organized, set goals and form good habits. Those winter resolutions, along with the beauty of the snowfalls such as the one I’m seeing right now, are reasons why I love winter despite the discomfort and inconvenience of inclement weather.
I hope you are enjoying January too, whatever kinds of weather it brings to where you are. If you are in the midst of your summer, or live in a tropical climate, enjoy it! Sip an iced tea for me, and go barefoot in the sand of a seashore whenever you have the chance.
If you, like me, are in “cozy hibernation” mode, keep that kettle on and lots of tea, coffee or cocoa handy. Check out some of the many self-improvement articles that proliferate in January via magazines and websites, and dream of springtime. As I keep reminding myself, it will be here before we know it!
“Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.” — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Oddly enough, it’s my belief in the sentiment expressed here by Longfellow that underlies my enjoyment of visiting graveyards and cemeteries. When one believes in the immortality of the soul, the sadness or fear often associated with burial grounds is lifted, and the wonder of each human life is seen with sharpened focus.
Nowhere is this more true than at Arlington National Cemetery. I did my walking there one beautiful sunny day last week, because I wanted to see the wreaths on display. Over 300,000 people are buried at Arlington, and beautiful fresh evergreen wreaths with large red bows adorn most of the graves. This yearly practice is quite an accomplishment. I walked several miles inside Arlington that day and did not see a single headstone without a wreath.
Something about the sight of so much evergreen amid the winter landscape is a fitting reminder that death is a universal threshold we all must approach, and we need not fear it. Faith and hope are well represented by the bright red and green amid the subdued winter landscape.
The headstones at Arlington recall the lives of citizens of all ages and stations; those who were born two hundred years ago, and infants who died in recent years; supreme court justices and statesmen, two U. S. Presidents, soldiers of every rank, and their families. Some tell poignant stories, and some give us only the name and life span of the person buried there, leaving the details to our imaginations.
The beauty of the hills, trees and quiet pathways, and the monuments stretching as far as the eye can see are a reassuring sight for grieving families, as well as a refreshing break from the clamor of the city for tourists visiting from all over the world. Walking through the well-kept grounds, I was happy that Jeff has decided he wants to be buried there, which will mean that Matt and I, too, will be laid to rest beside him.
I hope this doesn’t seem like an odd meditation with which to begin the year. Remembering the brevity of earthly life is a great way to strengthen our resolve to live fully and well for whatever time remains for us. As the old quote says, today is the first day of the rest of our lives. Let’s recognize each day as a real and earnest gift, one we receive with gratitude and celebration.