Nature

A Sense of Wonder

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

Chickadee2Some might also call this a sense of awe. Today, as I’m sure you’re aware, one of the most commonly used word to describe what someone really likes is awesome. I use it myself. But nowadays everything is awesome. When everything is awesome, then really, nothing is awesome.

But semantics aside, how wonderful is it to find that sense of awe, of true wonder, much like a child. It’s a gift. I stumbled across it just the other morning. I was sitting by the front windows journaling and I happened to look up to see a flutter of chickadees and a male cardinal hopping about the porch railing and in and out of an adjacent yew. The chickadees were puffed up to keep warm and quite busy with whatever they were doing.

Without moving, I just watched them, yes, in awe, of their singular beauty. I became aware that I was smiling and just sending that reverential feeling to them. And then they stopped, cardinal included, and looked directly at me. I don’t know quite what a bird can perceive through glass, but I have no doubt that it was my energy that spoke to them. And for brief moments we all seemed as one, just being, time suspended. Now that … was truly awesome.  Then time and motion resumed, them hopping, me watching.

I believe we have far too few moments like this in our lives. We are too busy, too fractured, too distracted, but the moments are there, waiting. Ask any child. And all it takes is being still, stopping and looking. Really looking.

Waiting for Sandy

/ still a dreamer / 6 Comments

I looked out the window into the thick darkness, the only illumination a blue sensor light by my neighbor’s pond below. A thick cloud cover obscured even the idea of a star. I knelt on the Lane cedar chest that was my Mom’s hope chest, now vintage, I suppose, and was soon joined by my two cats. They purred amiably seeing as little in the dark as I did, but happy to join my watch. It was 4:30 a.m.

It’s never my intention to be up at this hour and it only happens on two occasions. One, Claude goes to down to the kitchen and begins caterwauling for whatever his reasons are, (and it’s never lack of food or water.) Or, two, I have something on my mind. This time it was the latter; I was contemplating the arrival of Sandy, the variously named hurricane, nor`easter, tropical storm that is working its way up the East coast, and the implications it may have on our lives.

10′ surges already pound the southern shore of my state, and landfall, wind speeds, rainfall are being ever more accurately predicted. It becomes apparent that we can choose to fill ourselves with the minutiae of every changing twist and turn of the storm or gather the information we need and return to our lives. Clearly, the latter offers a more calming result.

I was reading Mark Nepo this morning. I opened the book to where I’d last left off, and his daily reflection was perfect for today. He wrote, ” It can’t be helped. We return through different questions to the same central issue: How do we live fully? How do we live in such a way that the wonder of feeling outfuels the pain of breaking?”

Perhaps waiting for a storm, living through a storm, is exactly a return to that question. Shall we live the next few days in enjoyment, in fulfilling whatever tasks we have planned despite the rage of a storm or curl inward in fear and anxiety of what may be? Shall we try and believe in our strengths or succumb to unnecessary defeat? Shall we search for the wonder or break?

Twelve hours after the 4:30 a.m. vigil, there is one unavoidable conclusion: whatever Sandy brings, she brings. We’ve gotten everything in place that we can, and now we wait, knowing we can do no more. Is there still wonder in life? Yes … in every moment. The challenge, to hold on and believe.

Here’s Looking at You, Kid!

/ still a dreamer / 6 Comments

Finally! Work subsided sufficiently that my blogging brain returned and I knew what I was going to write for a post as soon as I got the chance. But in the meantime, something else happened.

 

In the afternoon, the western sun bathes my office and upstairs bedrooms in warmth and light. Great in cooler weather, not so much in the summer. Anyway, about noon or so each day I go upstairs and open all the windows facing that way so as to soak up as much heat as possible to stave off the chill of the cooler autumn evenings and nights. In the back bedroom, Claude was soaking up that sun on top of a piece of furniture, too, but seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was being closely watched!

Then he realized … it moved! As I moved with my camera, the praying mantis got into prayer/attack position and rotated his head to keep an eye on me. Claude was interested only when he moved, which I suspect has something to do with an animal’s depth perception or ability to comprehend something on the other side of both screen and glass.

These creatures are so bizarre looking, but so fascinating. If they are symbols of good luck, which has been said to me, then I ought to be in for one big bucket-o-luck anytime soon!

Claude, below, not quite knowing what to make of this slow-moving creature. (I’ll get to that other post real soon. This was too good to pass up!)

 

The Spot that Must Be Had

/ still a dreamer

If you have pets or children in the amount of two or more, you will know exactly what I’m talking about. There is an item in your home. It could be a bed, a toy, a bone, a blankie … whatever it is, no one has expressed one iota of interest in it for eons. Suddenly, it becomes THE hot item and everybody must have it. Scuffles, fights, crying ensue … MINE!

Gypsy Rose, above, claiming The Spot for her own.

In the world of my cats, there is a particular bed in a particular spot in my office. No cat has lain there for so long I can’t even remember. I thought of putting it away, but you never know. Suddenly, it is the most desirable spot in my house. If one is on it, the other wants on and vice-versa. There is posturing, some occasional swatting, and that’s it. Usually Claude gives it up to Gypsy Rose. Sound like a familiar scenario?

Easygoing Claude just moves to another spot.

In this case, it’s probably a good thing, because after Gypsy’s last emergency trip to the vet, the dose of prednisone she needed to be on for a month left her quasi-comatose. She ate, went around the house a bit, upstairs to the litter, but was for the most part, a sad lump, and a lump who was gaining more weight which she didn’t need. It worried me; this was no life. After the month, we cut back the dosage to half for the next two weeks. With that, we saw her begin to brighten up. At the end of that two weeks, she gets that dose every other evening. And here’s where it gets tricky.

We, my vet and I, are trying to find the balance between the lowest dose possible she can take and her not having another horrible episode like last time. Her frightening symptoms are caused by inflammation which is in response to something in her brain – very likely cancer, a tumor, etc. So it’s a constant appraisal of how wobbly – or not – she is on her feet. Does her head shake more when she takes her treats from my hands? Such surveillance is not a job I enjoy, but it is how we’re going to keep her going as long as we can.

The bottom line is that Gypsy Rose – also known, BTW, as Bitchy Rose and Miss Bossy Boots – has brightened sufficiently to being back to her old pushy, dominant self. She’s alert and coordinated enough again to be jumping up on the sofa … even the window sill … without falling. I’ve assured Claude that her desiring that spot is actually a good thing. And he seems OK with it.

Me, too.

The Guest on My Porch

/ still a dreamer / 10 Comments

As I opened my front door this morning, I noticed a visitor between the door and the porch railing. At first I didn’t see him as he was camouflaged against the naturally weathered wood of the decking. He turned to look at me.

“Never mind,” I said. “You keep going and I’ll water the plants a little later. No rush.”

He took that quite literally. It was about an hour or so later that he finally made it to this side of the railing. I knew if I’d gone out when I planned, he would have been stampeded by next door’s two cats who would be eager to see me. The plants could wait.

My neighbor came over to gift me with three gorgeous peppers from her garden, and then, having gotten my camera, we admired the mantis. While we were talking, Pumpkin, one of the cats, came over to see me, brushing by the praying mantis without even seeing him. The poor guy was in total defensive position, front legs straight out and apart and trembling all over. What amazes me about praying mantises is that they don’t get out of harm’s way; they face it head on. Considering their size, that’s pretty brave.

After being petted, Pumpkin went back to lie in the sun and the mantis continued to watch me. I sent him good energy and assured him he had nothing to be concerned about. He soon tucked himself under the railing and began stalking some insect, his front legs in the prayer position, and moving so slowly it was barely perceptible. I went around to the outside of the porch for another photo. He turned that triangular head to me and resumed the defensive position.

“Bring it on,” he said.

“Only with my camera, little dude,” I replied. So after a couple shots I turned away and so did he. I’m sure he calmed down and resumed his hunt.

Here’s why the praying mantis is so fascinating –

  • The strike for their food happens in 1/20th of a second. You only see a brief blur.
  • They have exceptionally keen eyesight and can rotate their heads 180˚!
  • They catch and hold their prey with their sharply serrated front legs and usually eat them head first
  • They are carnivores, and in addition to a staple diet of insects, also eat small frogs, lizards and even small birds
  • There are 1800 species of praying mantids around the world; 20 of them live in North America
  • They are very beneficial in that they keep the insect population down, so if you see one, admire, appreciate, and leave him there.