Betrayal

Ok, I'm having a rough day. I know it's to be expected, and is allowed ... hell, even encouraged!  On the outside, it's a beautiful day. The sunshine through autumn's leaf mosaic is enchanted. Cool, crisp, clear skies and a breeze make the colors pop and dance in mid-air.  And yet I sit inside.

I got a new TV for my office/craft room.  We cleaned the closet and the room in preparation ~ with a cable (yet to be purchased), I can connect my computer to the 23" TV and have a more awesome internet experience (so the ads say) ... hubby says I won't ever want to leave the room!  Yeah, just what I want to do ... stay inside and watch the world turn.

 In the cleaning and de-cluttering, I found a sampler I had made when I was 10 years old. The cross-stitch is okay - the straight stitch sucks. I made it, and it took me a while to read what it said! (I did improve with age ♥).  But it got me to thinking back .... when I was 10 years old and so very naive, when vicarious adventures of pioneer women were a favorite pastime; when the world was an open book; when "old" was 40.  

Fast forward 50+ years, and I  am still mostly seeing the world through the eyes of the open book called Internet. I am grateful to be able to share the adventures of my friends and many strangers, but there are places I want to go, things I want to see. Goodness knows, I'd be happy on a mushroom hunt in the woods! But my aging body parts and pieces tell my brain of its limitations so I sit inside, forays delayed because I am being betrayed by myself. How did all this time pass so quickly?  Why now, when I need so much to feel inspired by something, ANYTHING, are my eyes, lungs, knees, & hips conspiring against me?  

Maybe it's that winter is just around the corner. Maybe it's just the circumstances of my life right now that are genuinely beyond my control.  Whatever the reason, I am coming to realize that I need to do some of what I WANT to do, and soon, before more circumstances make it even more difficult.  I'm so happy to see that my children and the younger generations are learning that lesson earlier in life than I did. And eternally grateful for what I can see from inside my Windows overlooking the world.

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"I think over again my small adventures

My fears, those small ones that seemed so big

For all the vital things I had to get and reach

And yet there is only one great thing

The only thing

To live to see the great day that dawns

And the light that fills the world."

 

- Unknown Inuit

To Be or not To Be...

In the wake of the passing of my Dad (as with any life-altering event), there was much to do.  Arrangements to be made, bills to be paid, finances to get in order, paperwork, paperwork, paperwork … breakfasts, lunches & dinners;  appointments, schedules, the “getting to” and “getting back” ~ people coming and going like an undercurrent in a river of emotion.  I’ve decided, in such situations, that the “TO DO” list takes priority, the “TO BE” waits its turn.  

          

I’ve been waiting for a chance for solitude with Mother Earth.  In recent tiny moments of that, I see the depth of my own sadness that has had to wait its turn.  The sadness is simply for me and my family, not for my Dad. He is finally free from the confines of his failing mortal body and soaring with his family, friends and beloved pets who have gone before.  Yet, I “BE” sad…

I have a few recent video clips to look back on to hear his voice and see his smiling face.  I know I’ll feel and sense his presence often.  So, I am also grateful.

I went to the National Cemetery where Daddy’s body was interred yesterday, to his gravesite. On the forest edge in a treetop overlooking the Cemetery, a bald eagle watched over the resting places of our National heroes including my Dad.  He was mine and my only regret is that I didn’t write down some of the stories he told about his own life experiences ~ he rarely spoke about his service in World War 2 and since it was always a shock when he related something, I was never prepared with a notepad or video camera!  But I have a brain full of memories and a ton of photographs, as did he.

I AM my father’s daughter.  I am proud.  And today, I am profoundly sad…..

Tomorrow, I’ll get back to “TO DO”-ing

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"So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart.
Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and
Demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life,
Beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and
Its purpose in the service of your people. 

Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.
Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend,
Even a stranger, when in a lonely place. Show respect to all people and
Bow to none. When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the food and
For the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks,
The fault lies only in yourself. Abuse no one and nothing,
For abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.

When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts
Are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes
They weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again
In a different way. Sing your death song and die like a hero going home."
~CHIEF TECUMSEH~

Mourning, Dove

There’s much to be said

For the roof o’er my head,

For the groceries, the skillets, the dishes

It’s not always fun

But when day is done

It’s a good life, being the Mrs.

No longer with rocks,

I’m washing his socks

And the rest of the laundry in style

While capturing frames

And looking up names

Some visit only once in a while.

They’re gold, shades of gray,

Red, brown and blue jay,

They soar on the winds with abandon.

Unconfined, in their space

Wings that beat, hearts that race

With a joy I can only imagine.

Signs of the Times

I wonder if things that are meaningful  to us – signs, if you will – change with time.  I can’t recall any recurring “things” in my early life but maybe I was too busy running and BEING, to have noticed them.  Maybe I just wasn’t in the right place.

When contemplating chucking our life on Long Island and starting over at age 40 I was uncertain, thus vulnerable.  And, open.  Standing at the screen door of our 20’ X 24’ cabin in the Pennsylvania woods, I considered  the right ‘move’; my heart  was at home in the woods but my brain questioned leaving what we had achieved and become in New York.  A strange buzzing noise greeted me from the other side of the screen. In the darkness of a wooded twilight, the green thing that flew towards me seemed like a crazy-big locust.  I came to learn, it was my first experience with a hummingbird.

Two years later in Pennsylvania, after job hunting without success for weeks, alone and wondering if our choice had been the right one, I set out to put in a garden. With a shovel and pick-ax, I tried to dig out a row.  The boulder-rich, glacial terra firma was impossible. My harvest of rocks would far exceed any vegetable harvest, I lamented.  The more I used that pick and shovel, the more my back hurt, the more I struggled with my choice.

 After two weeks at hard labor, I was gutted. Physically and emotionally spent, dirt and tears streaming down my face, I caved in to the doubt and fear. Nothing was going right. I shouldn’t have made this move.  And then, without having made a sound, a ruby-throated jade gem hovered at my side.  Just hovered … looking at me. 

My heart soared at the realization that it was a hummingbird, and only the second one I had ever seen. That initial sighting was my first such ‘sign’  I was on the right path.  I was supposed to be here!!  And so, I ordered a truckload of dirt for the garden area.  Yeah, I was supposed to be here, but I didn’t have to do battle with rocks (aside from those in my head) to get on with my new life.

It’s been over 20 years since then. I have embraced raised-bed gardening – increasing my yields, growing new things and learning new techniques with each season. The hummingbirds are a constant in my life, from April into September. I never grow tired of them and spend hours watching, feeding, photographing and talking to them. I know their ‘voice’ now, and the sound of the beating wings so that I often hear their presence before I see them.  I’ve only seen the ruby-throated hummers so it is on my bucket list, to travel enough to see other varieties.  But I am grateful that I have these jewels in my life –  I had spent over a score of years in Florida and another dozen+  in New York without ever having seen one. Their appearance signals Spring in full bloom in my neck of the woods.

January in Florida happened quite by accident this year.  My Dad took ill and I was compelled to go down to be with him and my Mother. It wasn’t an easy decision in the dead of winter, to leave my life in Pennsylvania.  It isn’t easy being with my Dad as his health fails, or intruding in the routine of my Mother’s everyday life.  I wondered if I had made a wise choice although I knew I was needed there.  Sitting on the porch outside their home, I heard the familiar chirp and the humming of the wings.  In 17 years living at that house, my folks had never seen a hummingbird.  In fact, they’d never seen one at all except on my own front porch in Pennsylvania some 10 years ago. 

Not wanting to move, I wished my Dad could see this little blessing. The door of the house opened, and Dad with his walker, pushed himself out to join me on the porch. I told him about the hummingbird, he was incredulous.  And then, she appeared again, visiting the hibiscus flowers.  

Dad saw and heard that second visit; he spent another ½ hour outside with me talking and laughing with a vitality I hadn’t seen in months.  I told him it was a sign.  Two weeks later, sitting alone back at home in the woods, I’ve had a chance to relive that moment. I have pictures to go with the memories … not the best photographs I’ve ever taken but some of the finest I will ever possess.  And in retrospect, I realize I was right, that hummer was a sign.  To me.  I was right where I was supposed to be. 

The Cat's Whisker

It's that time in my own life, when things are happening that are far beyond my capabilities to control. Not that I really am able to control anything except the choices I make, but I think we all hope to be able to exercise SOME control in situations that affect our hearts, our families, our own sense of what is right and wrong.  I have been turning to my crystals quite often, to help me steady my emotions, gain some strength and clarity, and channel my own energies towards the positive when so much around me is negative.  

I made my Dad a string of healing and energy stones, and an amulet bag for Christmas. He asked my sister, if she believed in that stuff.  I think, he thinks I'm a little "out there"; his leather pouch and string of crystals and stones remains in the tin on the table by his recliner.  I wish he would get it out and just hold it, I think he would feel the vibrations and know the energies that are contained in that string of beads. In my heart, I KNOW he understands there is a power to the crystals, because he told me about his early use of crystals to receive radio waves and listen to the Grand Ole Opry! 

Daddy was always a 'mechanical engineer'.  He told stories of his early life in Bedford, Pennsylvania. A child of the 1920's, growing up in the Great Depression and in a family of little means, using one's intelligence and mechanical abilities helped make life a little better. They had no money for things like radios, but Daddy was always, it seemed, influenced by music. So he fabricated a receiver from crystals and wire, to pick up radio frequencies without benefit of a radio.  This early form of receiver, was called the "Cat's Whisker". So, Dad ... this 'thing' I have about crystals, energy & life forces --- it's really all your fault  ♥

from Wikipedia, "From the earliest wireless telegraphy days of radio, well into the age of commercial AM broadcasting, unamplified radio receivers were powered only by the radio energy they picked up through their antennas. The crystal radio was the most widely used of these. Manufactured and homemade by the millions, it helped introduce radio to the public, contributing to the development of radio from an experimental hobby to an entertainment medium around 1920. After about 1920, receivers using crystal detectors were largely superseded by the first amplifying receivers, which used vacuum tubes. These did not require the fussy adjustments that crystals required, were more sensitive, and also were powerful enough to drive loudspeakers. Nevertheless, the expense of the early vacuum tubes and the batteries needed to run them meant that the crystal detector remained in commercial and military use for almost a decade more. However, by the late 1920s, radios using crystal detectors were relegated to use by hobbyists and youth groups and have been used by them as educational devices to the present day.

The point-contact semiconductor detector was subsequently resurrected around World War II because of the military requirement for microwaveradar detectors. Vacuum-tube detectors do not work at microwave frequencies. The small area of the point contact minimized minority carrierstorage and capacitance, making these diodes fast enough to function at radar frequencies. Silicon and germanium point-contact diodes were developed. Wartime research on p-n junctions in crystals paved the way for the invention of the point-contact transistor in 1947.

The germanium diodes that became widely available after the war proved to be as sensitive as galena and did not require any adjustment, so they replaced cat's whisker detectors in the few crystal radios still being made, largely putting an end to the manufacture of this antique radio component. Although cat's whisker detectors are obsolete, modern point-contact silicon detectors are still commercially produced.^[ Thus, the point-contact method used to make these first semiconductor diodes 100 years ago is still being used today."

By leaps & boundaries

It seems like I've been waiting forever, like back when I was a kid and Christmas was "coming soon". Every day ... is it Christmas yet?? "No, it's coming soon".  At least we always KNEW when Christmas would actually be here ~ Dec, 25th. The arrival of the bears is always an unknown. Until 
yesterday♥  I can't yet determine just who Mama is, but if you recall, a pair mated in the yard last fall.  I wouldn't be surprised to learn this is the same female, with two (or three) cubs in tow.  They skirted the edges of the woods near the HRD, and I know at least one took refuge in the maple to the right rear of the trail cam range. Was the second pair of eyes Mama, or another cub? Time will tell!!
Meanwhile, as the local bears return where they are welcome, in Northern Minnesota someone shot one of the WRI collared research bears because it meandered into 'their' yard, presumably foraging on grass, and thistle seed from a bird feeder.  I don't understand, if one doesn't want wildlife in the yard, why would they attract it by placing feeders out, in one of the worst springs ever for supply of natural foods?  Jo the Bear has passed on, but her Spirit remains making ours all the more strong.  Until bears learn to read, it is the people who need to be aware of the signs Mother Earth provides and modify THEIR behavior accordingly.  Bears know no boundaries ~ they are driven by fear and food.  Food, in short supply,is the overwhelming urge in Minnesota, I don't know if that's the case in Northeastern Pennsylvania.

Here, I am finding wild strawberries much earlier than usual, and much larger than usual.  I picked and ate a few as I strolled around the pond, tossing stale bread to the fish.  Smokey and Bear The Kitty accompanied me ... well, they languished on the picnic table as I walked, barefoot, on the berm. I became engrossed in the berries, paying no attention to the kitties back behind. I chose my steps carefully so as not to disturb the delicate morsels; the wildlife will be enjoying them tonight.  As I slowly walked back towards the table, I was surprised to see 

Smokey... but wait, that's not Smokey, that's one of the raccoon family!!! We shocked one another, being about 10' away when we saw each other.  I said hello, he ran off into the woods... keeping the burn barrel between us. By the way, we have the most amazing group of co*existing critters I've ever seen, or maybe not all animals are the sworn enemies we've been led to believe. Now, Bear The Kitty, in particular, does NOT like the fox, but he has no problems hanging out with a raccoon, turkey, or deer.  However, 
hanging out with Smokey ... well, that's a horse ...errrr... cat of a different color.  They do get along much, much better, but Bear never passes up an opportunity to stalk his only-slightly-larger roommate ~ leading to some spectacular aerial feats and amazingly blood-curdling screams of surprise. And a really cool photograph once in a while... :-)
Well, it's about time to bring in the bird feeders and the suet for the night.  It would be irresponsible of me to leave them outdoors, possibly attracting the bears and raccoon up here nearer the house where they could get into trouble. But, there's an extra ration of corn out for the deer and other takers at the hard Rock Diner tonight. I can't wait to see what tomorrow brings. Is it Christmas yet?♥

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"No human older than an adolescent would wantonly murder any creature which reveres its own life as much as the killer."  

Henry David Thoreau

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The squirt bottle

I laid awake in bed for a while this morning, reflecting on the past couple of months. It's amazing what one might learn from a 'quadre' of cats, if you allow yourself to see, and comprehend.....
Smokey had been the undisputed King of the feline family, Shadow is his underling.  But with Shadow, Smokey is a compassionate and sharing boy. More often than not, he will 'allow' Shadow to eat his portion of canned food.  I suspect, in all honesty, Smokey doesn't really care so much about the canned food as he prefers dry kibble (and won't go near the canned food anyway unless it's accompanied by a few catnip treats, which he devours while Shadow eats from his own bowl!).  But Smokey is large; quiet and regal, and his stature seems to designate his place in the hierarchy.

Enter Bear and Tiki.

Bear is nearly as large as Smokey, and even more quiet. Well, he doesn't make his intentions public, let's say. With me, he's a 'talker' ~ someday I'll capture a little of the adorable sounds he makes when he's communicating with me. As to the other boys, though, he doesn't growl or grumble; he doesn't initiate any pushing or shoving, no confrontations to claim the King's spot, or Shadow's favorite place on the afghan.  But if the King isn't on the thrown, it's just another perch, right??  

If Shadow isn't sleeping on the afghan on the couch, it's open space. Free for the taking... and once there, Bear will not relinquish his position.  No fighting, no nastiness. Just a calm stare that says "hey, I'm here now... wait your turn".  Three boys, all asserting themselves in their own ways.  As they relate to me, if they do something they really shouldn't, all I have to do is pick up the green squirt bottle, and they cease the unwelcome behavior often without so much as a mini-misting.  The King and his Princes, in control. Until the Queen says otherwise.

Tiki has hardly ever endured the wrath of the squirt bottle. I think I allow her to get away with a bit more because, up until she arrived, I was the only female in this family.  She doesn't jump on the counter and head butt her way into the can of food I'm trying to serve up like Shadow does; she calmly watches me from a few feet away purring so loudly that I can hardly take offensive action.  More and more, lately, she is playing with the squeeky and catnip toys; she also loves the fresh growing catnip in the garden window but will patiently wait her turn if someone else is nibbling there.  Just don't enter 'her' realm, or try to move in on her position... that girl is so quick and nimble, she has the boys on their heels running for dear life in an instant, far too quickly for me to invoke the squirter to dissuade her.  In the middle of the day, she has no issues with sharing my bed with Bear, but if I'm in the bed, beware!  I'm hers and hers alone, and any cat who tries to enter our domain is quickly chased ...down the stairs, under the table, out the door ~ wherever they 'chose' to go, as long as it is NOT in "our" room.  Funny thing is, on those few occasions that I have chastised her, all I have to say is "go to your room", and she heads down the hallway into the bedroom. For a few minutes anyway.  In short order, she is at my heels, looking up at me with those adoring eyes and I melt.  We girls have to stick together. :-)  And though the the males with whom we co-exist may think THEY are the alphas, we know better . Our strength and leadership positions are not necessarily boisterous, but we set the tone and cadence for this pack.


So, what's the lesson I've realized today?  When hubby starts barking, whining, growling or behaving badly, I think I'll keep my mouth shut from now on. 


And pick up the squirt bottle.....

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Way down deep, we're all motivated by the same urges. Cats have the courage to live by them. - Jim Davis

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