Ferida's Backyard

A Sheep Yarn

2012-01-30T12:55:00.000-08:00

Today I am writing about sheep. No, I do not own any sheep. I’m not a farmer or a shepherd. I haven’t even pet a sheep since the local petting farm turned into a shopping center decades ago. What has prompted my sudden interest, at least metaphorically, is a book I just finished reading called sheepish by Catherine Friend (Da Capo Press, 2011). Friend writes about how she got involved with sheep farming and what sheep have helped her to discover about herself and living. It also gives lots of information about the animals, shearing, and working with wool. It’s a fascinating study and as a former city girl (as was Friend) quite a revelation about sustainable farming, yarn, sheep, “middles” and spirit.

My backyard isn’t large enough for sheep nor is it zoned for it but the book reminded me that despite the drastic attrition of farms here during the 80s there are still places reasonably close by that are available to reconnect with our rural heritage. Our township bought and runs the last farm within our borders to preserve, literally, our roots. Last summer we found an organic blueberry farm. For many small farms to survive, though, the price of continuing becomes an admission price for customers for hayrides, corn mazes, petting access to goats, sheep, and cows, and mini-amusements like trains, planes and automobiles for kids to ride. At least it keeps the farms working. Each spring and summer we have several areas where (reasonably) local farmers bring their produce to small, neighborhood farm markets. I like to frequent those markets – it feels good and somehow right.

The book also brought me back to one of my “middles” when I was sewing most of our clothes, knitting, and baking bread. I still have a woolen blanket I knitted to snuggle up with on chilly nights watching TV. It was in the middle of my family’s growing years and very satisfying. I am doing other things now, mostly writing, but I have a fondness for that time of my life and it has led me to where I am now. As Friend so lovingly demonstrates, every day is new with the opportunity to reassess and grow.

For anyone who would like to connect with Catherine Friend (and I hope you will) check out her Farm Tales and Sheepish Stories at http://www.catherinefriend.com/ You’ll learn about farming and persevering in a very personal way. Thanks, Catherine for sharing so much of yourself.

Juncos Enjoying a Meal

2012-01-23T12:52:00.000-08:00

The Juncos have arrived – on masse. They are easily spotted against the thin coating of snow we had this weekend. They have dark upper feathers and white bellies and bustle about in search of seed. Sparrow-sized and sparrow related, these birds are often found in backyards nibbling under feeders. They prefer ground feeding but will hop up to a feeder if the pickings below are slim. Dark-eyed Junco is an overall designation for several forms that had been thought to be different species. The formerly called Slate-colored Junco is the one most seen in the east but Juncos range widely over Canada and all of North America. They are often called snowbirds down south because they appear in winter.

They scurry under the bare branches of the butterfly bush looking for a meal. They avoided the whole-grain cereal we had thrown out, leaving the crunchy nuggets for the squirrels, and discovered s stash of sunflower seeds that had been shaken free when the feeders were refilled. They are fairly common yet I find them appealing, with their lively movements and sweet chipping. I’m always glad when they show up.

Common doesn’t negate their beauty or value. Doesn’t everything/everyone have value and individuality? People are common but each one of the billions of us on earth is different, contributing in his or her own way to the energy of the planet. I read that Juncos eat ragweed seeds and as I am allergic to ragweed I am doubly happy to see them.

Their cousins, the sparrows, have come by, as have the finches. A lot of fluttering going on. Inside my warm kitchen I put on the teapot. The feeders will be refilled when we have all finished enjoying our afternoon snack.

Read up on Juncos here and for true bird enthusiasts sign up for their free monthly newsletter.

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/dark-eyed_junco/id/ac#at_content

Fences…Defenses

2012-01-16T16:38:00.000-08:00

Fences are made of lots of materials: wood, metal, plastic, trees, shrubs, roses, hedges, stones, pretty much whatever a person can think of to make a boundary. The boundary exists to define an area. The area may be one that is set apart to describe its contents (a garden, perhaps?) or to keep out strangers whether people or animals, or in the case of an electric fence, to keep pets inside. Sometimes a fence is more of a suggestion than a barrier, as are the trees here, but a fence always makes a visual statement – all within the enclosure is mine.

I find fences interesting. I understand the symbolism of both protection and avoidance, of keeping things in and warning things away, of maintaining control of an environment. Yet, as with physical fences, symbolic fences often have a way of getting rusty or overgrown or outliving their original purpose. We can trap ourselves behind our own emotional fences. Years ago I lost a friendship because I constructed a fence around a perception of hurt and did not allow a discussion to clarify the situation. Now I try to at least keep an open gate in any fences I construct. It’s kind of freeing. And it gives poignant meaning to the phrase “mending fences.”

Here is a history of fences and how they influenced cultural development and thought and possibly more than you ever thought about the subject: http://www.nyu.edu/pubs/counterblast/fence.htm

The Quiet of Snow

2012-01-10T09:15:00.000-08:00

The Quiet of Snow

We had a little bit of snow last week, nothing much, just a layer of flakes on the lawns and sidewalks. It was melted by mid-morning but it was enough to remind me that the season is winter in spite of the record high temperatures. More than that, though, it brought a pause to an ordinary day. I find that snow quiets its surroundings and brings an awareness of beauty with its soft, white voice. Therese Halscheid captured this in the photo, “Autumn Snow on the Wickecheoke, 2012.”

Therese Halscheid, a poet and photographer, has been chronicling her poetic journey for the past eighteen years. Housesitting has allowed her to live simply, write and photograph unusual and rustic settings. She is scheduled for a solo exhibit, The Stockton Natural series, in early February. Her photographs document weather and its effects on the Wickecheoke Creek ind its surroundings in Pennsylvania. In this photo the interplay of sun and shadow, snow, and early morning mists capture the place’s mystical elements.

The exhibition runs February 2 to February 29 at Carversville General Store, 6208 Fleecydale Road,Carversville, PA 18913. For a real treat come meet Therese at the Opening Reception, Friday February 3, at 6:30-8:30. Maybe I'll see you there.

www.ThereseHalscheid.com

thalscheid@cs.com

Spider Plant Reaching

2011-12-27T16:23:00.000-08:00

What busy days are holidays! Everyone seems occupied with the special things that make holidays so festive. With so much happening there is little time to notice when the ordinary things around us take on their own exceptional characteristics. And so my Spider plant grew and grew until I couldn’t ignore it any longer. When I finally gave it my attention I was surprised at how far it had reached despite my neglect or perhaps because of it.

Spider plants are easy to grow, beginner plants if you will, and almost foolproof for anyone to grow. They need little water and actually prefer dry soil. They also would rather not be in direct sunlight as their leaves are disposed to turn brown. As they mature they send out “babies” that can be clipped and repotted to make new plants. Spider plants do tend elongate so they need space to hang down. Hanging baskets are good places to grow them.

I appreciate houseplants that have a sense of self, that can thrive through their own strength and joie de vivre to what might be considered challenging conditions. My aloe plants, and there are several, have that same defining ability. They seem to laugh when I forget to water them and then put out new growth. The spider plant spreads its leaves and stretches further, calling for me to check its soil and give it what it needs.

Plants teach me stuff. I hope that I can be as resilient, as adaptable, should life require it of me.

Try growing a spider plant for yourself:

http://www.plant-care.com/spider-plant.html

Woodpecker Pecking Away

2011-12-12T07:04:00.000-08:00

Look who we found on the bird feeder! Quite a big guest compared to the usual denizens. And what a treat to see - a Red-bellied Woodpecker. That would explain the different kinds of bird voices I have been hearing lately. I think I saw both a male and female chowing down. Woodpeckers are common in Eastern woodlands but as more woodland is being used for human habitats, I guess my slightly wooded backyard may have drawn them in.

As the weather cools down the crowd on the feeders heats up. Often the feeders are packed with finches and sparrows but there are others that find a meal here, too. Cardinals are regular visitors and now that the leaves have fallen, the brilliant red of the male cardinal is like a beacon on the bare branches. We see goldfinches (New Jersey’s state bird), chickadees, and nuthatches on a regular basis. There are wrens and cowbirds and the occasional hawk. And I mustn’t forget to acknowledge the blue jays – there are currently several of them visiting the feeders. Right now I am listening to a finch symphony from the forsythia bush on the side of my house.

I love seeing the variety of colors and personalities on the feeders. I think it is important for people to be sensitive to other life forms. Birds are usually a pleasing connection for most of us (though a raid by grackles on the black oil seed can prove costly). I think being aware of others helps us to be more expansive within ourselves. So peck away, woodpecker, and thank you for dropping by.

For info, sounds, and photos, this site by Cornell University is terrific:

http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/browse_tax.aspx?family=45

Plum Tree Epiphany

2011-12-05T06:11:00.000-08:00

During the spring our flowering plum tree puts out beautiful leaves and buds, always a joy to see. In the summer the branches fill out and spread giving our front lawn shade and elegance. It is truly lovely to look at though its unbridled growth was beginning to cause problems. I have always had trouble pruning plants; it somehow seemed to be an assault on the plant’s natural development. But this tree was getting out of hand, reaching out over the lower roof and heading toward our neighbor’s house. We all had to duck to walk toward our backyards. So as autumn approached, we trimmed the tree hoping to keep the next spring’s growth away from both houses. I had to admit that it looked neater when the trimming was done.

Only now that winter is just about here, we discovered some other consequences of unbridled growth. The tree had created so much shade that the Japanese cutleaf maple growing several feet away was affected. It was hard to tell in the summer as both plants put out reddish leaves but in the bareness of fall it was startling. The maple was full and bushy on the right and sparse and pathetic on the left, nearest the plum tree. The growth of one inhibited the life expression of the other.

Oh, how I wish I had trimmed the plum years ago. It obviously had not hurt the tree and it would have prevented the asymmetrical growth of the maple, which was doing its best to survive. An example of unintended consequences. But even more than that, here is a reminder of how everything we do has an extended effect. If it is so dramatic with plum and maple trees, how much more so with people? I know it isn’t possible to be aware of the full impact we have through our actions but it gives me pause to realize that each of us has the power to change the world we live in one thought, one action, one child, one plant at a time.

Here is some info on Japanese cutleaf maple trees, truly a lovely garden feature:

http://www.qscaping.com/NetPS-Engine.asp?CCID=20000011&page=pdp&PID=5838

A Drive to Nowhere

2011-11-28T17:52:00.000-08:00

I like to take what my five-year-old grandson calls a drive to nowhere, to get in the car and discover what is out there. Recently my husband and I drove to Mt. Holly, NJ, an historic town that has a revolutionary war history. The old stone houses recall its glory days, though the town has seen some hard times since. As we drove around we found a wooded area tucked behind its busy Main Street. We got out to explore. There was a leafy, trodden path that led up a hill. It was a lovely day so we took our time to climb. Along the way a jogger appeared. “Quite a hill,” he said as he continued past us. Yes, it was, and quite a view from the top.

Was this a virgin forest? How come it hadn’t been developed? Hills usually are no impediment to a bulldozer. But I was glad it had been left alone. There were a few survey markers along the path but otherwise we had the world to ourselves. It was an exhilarating feeling, primal and beautiful. We finally wended our way back toward the road, skirting the houses on the edge of the woods. Our drive to nowhere led us to a grand place.

I can understand an explorer’s impetus to go beyond the accepted knowledge. The familiar often fades into the background. A drive or walk to nowhere brings out qualities of nature, not that they are hidden but rather they are overlooked. Busy lives leave little room for slow observation. Every now and then it is worth setting aside the known for the new. Something fresh, seen with open eyes and an inquisitive mind, expands the spirit. And that, to me, really makes it a drive to somewhere worthwhile.

Nature – The Painterly Way

2011-11-21T07:38:00.000-08:00

There are many ways to view the wonders of nature. I like to be plant myself in the middle of things – the woods, a garden, a bird sanctuary, an arboretum, my backyard. It is how I feel the energy of what I am observing. But there are other ways to appreciate what nature has to offer. One grand way is through the artist’s vision. This weekend I went to the James A. Michener Art Museum in Doylestown, PA for an exhibit called The Painterly Voice: Bucks County's Fertile Ground. What a treat.

Brian H. Peterson, the Gerry and Marguerite Lenfest Chief Curator, provides commentary about the work, the artists and Bucks County’s artistic progression. He takes the viewer behind the scenes with descriptions that allow us to feel the mystery of each artist’s voice. And the exhibit itself adds to the mystery with little doors that open to the comments about both the works and the artists.

The Painterly Voice is very people accessible. Other than the occasional DO NOT TOUCH sign, there are no ropes or barriers to getting up close to the paintings. I like to get near enough to see the individual brush strokes, to be able to see each color as it is applied, and to feel embraced by the minutia of the artist’s vision. Then I step back and let the fullness of the scene envelop and expand me. Here are hills and fields and water and flowers, long expanses and up close details.

And then there is Bucks County itself. A lovely ride through those same hills and fields. A nice way to spend a day.

The exhibit runs through April 1, 2012 but if you can’t get to see it in person, you can see some of it out here: http://www.michenermuseum.org/catalogue/painterly-voice/

An Autumn Invitation

2011-11-13T19:12:00.000-08:00

I was in Virginia last week. It was a treat walking through the different neighborhoods and seeing the trees in their autumn beauty. I wondered if the trees back home in my more northern state would have lost their color by time I returned. I imagined their brown remaining leaves clinging momentarily to the branches before, with a windblown sigh, they released them all to the claim of the season. So I was happily surprised to see the vivid red and gold lining the streets of my own neighborhood when I went home.

Even with the pending barrenness of the trees and the nip of the fall air, I appreciate autumn. It lifts my spirits in a way no other season does. There is drama all around. I can’t imagine anyone not being affected by the brilliance of the trees. I agree with Albert Camus: Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. I am also cheered by the tufts of mums adding bursts of yellow, purple, orange, and red to the crisp days.

But there is also a sense of wistfulness, a look back at the summer just past where the sun stayed high longer and invited us outdoors well into the night, when the sometimes baking heat would give way to the refreshing relief of a day at the shore or the embrace of the cooling indoors.

I think the change of seasons is the perfect time for rethinking. I know it shifts my awareness out of the usual and promotes a different state of mind. Autumn does this with an intensity that’s hard to ignore. It offers a door into imagination and each burst of beauty beckons, an invitation to enter.

The US Forest Service tells all about autumn:

http://www.na.fs.fed.us/fhp/pubs/leaves/leaves.shtm

Some quotes about autumn: http://www.quotegarden.com/autumn.html

Happy (early) Halloween

2011-10-31T11:14:00.000-07:00

Mother Nature got an early start on Halloween this year. She didn’t wait for treats and went right to the tricks. An October snowstorm hit the northeast leaving millions without power and, ironically, forcing the cancellation of lots of Halloween festivities. It wasn’t so much of a surprise as the weather people predicted the storm but it still had a quality of the unbelievable about it. We talked about putting away our patio chairs for the season but felt no rush to do it. I was startled to hear the sleet tapping against the window and stayed glued to the spot as I watched the hard pellets of ice slowly turn into the quiet softness of snowflakes. It didn’t stop us from doing morning chores but we did postpone our afternoon activities in preference for sipping cocktails before our first cozy fire.

I can’t say that I blame Mother Nature for playing tricks. In fact, she seems to have been doing it a lot this year with heat waves that stayed around, rain during what is traditionally a dry part of the year, and lack of rain when the crops were begging for moisture. She certainly gets our attention this way. But then we have been playing tricks on her for decades. We pollute her air and much of her water. We continue to cut down the trees in her virgin forests and decrease the supply of oxygen to our planet. We play around with her crops, altering their genetics and changing our definition of food. Is she trying to tell us something in the only way she can? Will we listen?

And yet, Mother Nature still has a heart. Today, on Halloween proper, she sent a glorious, sunny day. It is just the right weather for little ones to come knocking on doors asking for treats. And when night arrives and the older goblins come around, there will only be a slight chill in the air, appropriate for October 31^st.

Check out the Oct.29^th storm: http://www.timesunion.com/photos/slideshow/October-East-Coast-snowstorm-31779.php

Turtle Crossroads

2011-10-24T11:03:00.000-07:00

Why did the chicken cross the road? Remember that old riddle? There should have been a chicken crossing sign to help it across. I pay attention to those signs. I have seen deer crossing, geese crossing, duck crossing though no chicken crossing signs along my local roads. It makes me aware of where I am, which I guess is the purpose of the signs, and since those on the sign cannot be counted on to watch out for me, I had better be responsible and watch out for them.

This sign was posted at the Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge in New Jersey. I did not see any turtles crossing that day though there were turtles lounging in the mud of the marshes. I have seen a number of turtles crossing the road over the years in a variety of places. The first one was when I lived in Queens, New York. I was driving and slowed down because a large rock was in the middle of the street – only this rock was moving! I got out of my car and saw a box turtle lumbering along. I picked it up before the next car came whizzing by and took it to my apartment. I soon learned that box turtles are protected and I could not harbor it. I couldn’t put it back where I found it so I released it on an expanse of wooded land near a water source, a few miles out of harm’s way. I worried, though, that perhaps I was separating it from its family. Would it be lost? Would it be able to forge a satisfactory life in its new surroundings? I wished it well and hoped for the best.

As people take over more land space, the creatures that call those spaces home will find themselves crossing man-made roads, pathways that cut through their natural environments. The chickens/geese/ducks/turtles just want to get to the other side. They are taking their chances with us. Have we forgotten that these crossroads used to be their crossroads? Surely we can suspend our need to rush about to let them get safely across. I expect there will be more crossing signs as our population grows and our need for land expands. I will be looking for them to remind me that we share this earth with many others and to be careful of all life.

The Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge is a beautiful place to visit. It has a variety of birds, expansive marshes, and opportunities to stop and connect with nature.

http://www.fws.gov/northeast/forsythe/

My Very Own Watermelon

2011-10-17T10:52:00.000-07:00

I was showing my city-girl roots this week when I found a watermelon had actually grown in my tiny garden. I got so excited I couldn’t stand myself. How could I have grown such a thing? Yes, we had planted it and watched the vine creep steadily out into the lawn. Small flowers blossomed along the vine and then a few gourd-like fruits started to develop. It was fun to watch but I never really expected a full, fat watermelon to form. Yet it did and I was thrilled to pieces.

This was a big event. I tested the melon for ripeness the way I do in the supermarket where I usually buy watermelon; I thumped it. It had a solid sound and felt heavy for its size, nine beautiful inches. It had a slight flat spot where it had been resting (garden-bed head?) that was yellowish. All the right signs for a ripe melon. I carried it into the house as if I had the queen’s crown in my hands.

My husband was just as excited. I cut it and I served it fresh and juicy. Our first taste was savored. A sweet offering from Mother Nature and a healthy one, too. It’s an amazing food with an abundance of nutrients: a great source of Vitamin C, has beta carotene, calcium, and more: http://www.whfoods.com/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=31

Watermelon has always been one of my favorite fruits and now I have had the privilege to grow one. My little foray into gardening was a treat; it allowed me to produce my very own watermelon! I will never be a farmer but I am grateful for the farmer’s gifts. All I can say is, with appreciation, Thank you.

Hosta Happy

2011-10-10T10:09:00.000-07:00

I am hosta happy. At last, a surviving, flowering hosta. This is not a criticism of the popular perrenial; this is a celebration. Of all the hostas we have planted, this is the only one that has made it to the flowering stage. How can that be? you might well ask. These are hardy plants. They tolerate shade, which we have a lot of in our backyard, though a little sun is welcome. Their leaves are their main attraction but they also flower with lily-like blossoms (appropriate as hostas are in the lily family). I see them all over the place. It seems that everyone can grow hostas.

We can, too, which is a fact not lost on the rabbits. They have been munching on our hostas for a few years, now. Each season the hostas send up leaves and as soon as the plants are full the rabbits take over. We see them bounding up to the hostas and suddenly the leaves are gone, whittled down to short, denuded stalks. I heard that fabric softener sheets keep mosquitoes away so I surrounded a couple of the plants with white, flapping sheets – a cocoon of sorts. It seemed to work, for a short while at least, and then it didn’t. I suspect the rabbits were just taking the measure of the sheets and, finding them non-threatening, continued on their hosta fiesta.

I rescued one tiny plant that was left lying on its side, abandoned for some unknowable reason, and stuck it on the back patio in a flowerpot that had lost its previous occupant. Frankly, I did not expect it to live. But then it did. And it flowered! The rabbits did no nibbling. The squirrels left it alone. The chipmunks bypassed it on their urgent scamperings. Good. Let them all ignore it. I pay attention to it because I so appreciate its survival. I may also buy a companion plant next spring and see if I can grow another undisturbed hosta. I love the wildlife in my backyard but I like my garden, too. Surely we can all find a way to co-exist.

Everything you ever wanted to know about hostas from the University of Minnesota Extension Service:http://www.extension.umn.edu/distribution/horticulture/m1241.html

Wildflowers!

2011-10-03T11:15:00.000-07:00

It has been several weeks since I last posted on my blog. Some of my readers and friends have asked if everything is okay. Thank you all for your concern. All is well though life got a little wild for a couple of months. And that leads me to…

Wildflowers! They appeared on the medians of some busy sections of one of my township’s major roads. At first the usually grassy strips looked neglected because they weren’t being mowed; there were actually signs telling workers not to mow the wildflowers though there weren’t any yet to be seen. Then they looked weedy because the plants were growing leafy and helter-skelter. But now they are glorious! Pink, yellow, orange, red, bursts of purple brighten up an ordinary functional road. Each time I pass I have to smile. There is a sense of freedom here that tickles me. It is unexpected beauty that can’t be ignored. It takes me from my runaway thoughts and helps me focus on the present, at least momentarily. What joy I feel in their wildness. It’s a feeling that remains with me as I continue through my day.

Flowers that grow on their own without cultivation are called wildflowers. Flowers that are natural to the environment where they are growing are called native, those brought in from other countries or environments are referred to as naturalized. They tend to be hardy, needing no help from gardeners. Sometimes they can be invasive and need to be controlled. Kudzu, anyone? But when they are contained and wanted, wildflowers can add something special to their surroundings. Like these do. I hope they last well into the fall when the leaves change color and add their own beauty to life.

So much to learn, so many plants to appreciate. This site has info and photos:

http://www.wildflowerinformation.org/

Heirlooms

2011-08-17T17:03:00.001-07:00

At the beginning of the season I bought some heirloom tomato plants. I watched the tomatoes as they went from green to less green to a soft yellow and got larger and plumper, full of the sun’s heat. On the day a large yellow beauty was just about ready for picking, I went outside but couldn’t find it. I couldn’t find two others, either, that were on the verge of ripeness. What could have happened to them?

My initial thought was those wascally wabbits or perhaps the ubiquitous squirrels were at it again (I didn’t have any peaches this year again!) but I didn’t see any evidence that they might leave – no half eaten tomatoes, no splotchy seeds on the ground, no broken stems. Besides, the tomatoes were growing fairly high off the ground. It would take a good jumper to get at them. Could a person have taken them? I recently read in the NY Times that urban gardens are the target of veggie thefts. But this is not a city garden. It is also pretty insignificant and in a secluded place. Who would have discovered it? Besides, if someone had asked I would have been happy to share.

There is something delightful about eating something picked moments before and I felt annoyed that I was deprived of this. My husband’s parents were wonderful gardeners. I remember how we all picked corn at the moment they were ready and ran to the kitchen to toss them into the pot of water that was already boiling and waiting. No corn ever tasted better.
I looked at the tomatoes I had picked yesterday and today. There were three sizes - a Papa tomato, a Mama tomato and a wee baby tomato, like the three bears. I put them on a silver tray that was handed down in the family; heirloom tomatoes on an heirloom tray. Ah. Perspective kicked in. How lucky I have been. I smiled. At last I could put aside my annoyance. I hoped that whoever/whatever took the heirlooms at least enjoyed them. And perhaps those tomatoes were shared with the family, whether animal or human.

Rose of Sharon

2011-08-08T10:36:00.000-07:00

I lived in the city when I was growing up. There wasn’t much room for growing things in the summer. My backyard consisted mainly of a paved driveway and a small slab of concrete, room enough for a couple of chairs that were never sat on. The tiny plot of grass was home to an outdoor clothes dryer. By contrast, the front of my house seemed almost lush. There were rows of white, purple and red portulacas on either side of the walkway leading to my house, a few hedges, and an exuberant Rose of Sharon shrub. Each time I left the house, the flowers would surprise me. They were so out there, bursts of pink that greeted the day and lasted until they closed and fell at night. They didn’t seem to mind that they were growing in a limited space or that they were far from their tropical roots. Each day was new and they made the most of it.

Now I have my own Rose of Sharon. It was a gift from my daughter’s in-laws who have a yardful at their home. They warned us, though, that it can take over. They were right. We remove any outcroppings we see around the bush but somehow the seeds made their way to the rear of our yard and they are now challenging the privets we have back there. It doesn’t seem to matter that they supposedly prefer full sun (they are in full shade) or that they like well-drained soil (we have marl that can be quite swampy). Sometimes they need reining in but I can’t help admiring them for their joie de vivre.

It is a boost to my spirit whenever I see them. There are so many reasons in our world to focus on the negative, to allow joy to withdraw or wither. These bushes thrive no matter what and express themselves in beauty and persistence. They are a vibrant life-force, as enticing as I remember. Seems like a good example to follow.

Being a member of the hibiscus family, Rose of Sharon is easy to grow. Take a look:
http://treesandshrubs.about.com/od/commonshrubs/p/RoseofSharon.htm

The Heat’s On

2011-08-02T13:58:00.000-07:00

Last week we had a tiny bit of rain. It was so welcome but it didn’t add up to much and the garden was still panting with the heat. I took a photo of the leaves on the Flowering Plum tree just to document that we had some rain, little though it was. And then there was yesterday. Out of the blue, literally as the sky had been cloudless and the sun brilliant, gray clouds started to gather. Low rumbles could be heard. And then – BOOM – a flash of lightening, a loud bang of thunder, and the sky became a waterfall. The rain overwhelmed the gutters and cascaded down along the perimeter of the house. The water slooshed over driveways, flooded the sidewalks, pounded hard on unsuspecting plants. Then it started to ping against the siding. The raindrops now alternated with hail, small, hard ice balls, which grew larger as the storm continued. Crack. Ping. Splat. The percussion section in a weather symphony.

We were standing by our front door watching the concert and noticed the neighbors across the street and some down the block were doing the same. One of our neighbors pulled up in his pickup and made a mad dash for his porch. When things started to calm down, he took an umbrella and splashed his way across the lawn to check on his plants. I wondered how our tomatoes had fared. Had they been squashed? One was almost ripe – I wished I had picked it and let it finish ripening on my kitchen counter.

All-in-all the rain, even with the unexpected hail, was welcome. The rain gauge registered 1 ½ inches. Yay. Today the grass that had not succumbed to during the various heat waves was smiling green. And the temperature went from the low nineties to the mid seventies and way less humid. Breathing weather.

Nature has been so different this year, all around the globe. Extreme. So has the world of humans. Revolutions, disagreements, political disputes, economic challenges pretty much everywhere. Is this a chicken and egg issue or coincidence? (I can here the shouts of those who believe there is no such thing as a coincidence.) Things certainly have heated up on a grand scale. I wonder how we can all find some breathing weather for life in general.

Trenton, NJ, set a record with 108 degrees, Alaska with 97 degrees. Wow.http://www.ouramazingplanet.com/50-states-set-july-hot-weather-records-1812/

I Kissed the Hibiscus

2011-07-26T12:57:00.000-07:00

It’s hibiscus season again. The plants in my backyard (and side yard as shown) are in full, incredible bloom! I have seen various flowering plants – I understand there are over 200 varieties – but each year these come up with blossoms that knock my socks off. It’s quite a display for a plant whose name means “delicate beauty.” Perhaps that refers less to the physical characteristics of the hibiscus than to its essence. Lots of benefits have been ascribed to the hibiscus.

Have you ever had hibiscus tea? I must have. It’s pretty hard not to have tasted it. Hibiscus is in lots of herbal teas and comes available with blueberry, coconut, vanilla, pineapple, even sangria flavors among others. Yogi Tea, Tazo, Republic of Tea, Stash, even Lipton all have hibiscus varieties.

Have you shampooed with the flower? I haven’t but it is tempting. It supposedly nourishes hair and slows premature graying (a little late for me, there). I wonder if it colors the hair. This might be something to experiment with.

Have you eaten hibiscus? No, not yet, though I have eaten nasturtiums. I’ve been reading that the flowers can be added to salads, is available as hibiscus honey and syrup, and can be made into tea at home.

Have you used hibiscus medicinally? Can’t say I have. This needs looking into. The plant has a long history of medical use. Claims have been made for its use as an antioxident, as a help in keeping the digestive tract functioning regularly, can help in weight loss, etc. There’s quite a long list of healthy possibilities.

Have you kissed a hibiscus flower? I did yesterday, in appreciation. What a pleasure to have this dazzling plant growing in my yard. I kissed the hibiscus not because of its useful values, which seem to be extensive, but because of its nature. It is what it is and can be appreciated on many levels. Even on the most obvious one – its delicate beauty.

What does hibiscus mean? http://www.flower-meaning.info/hibiscus.php

The Garden State

2011-07-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

Around this time of year I am really happy to be a resident of New Jersey. We have such incredible produce. New Jersey tomatoes, corn, and blueberries are abundant. Of course there are early asparagus and strawberries, and then lettuce, broccoli, garlic, eggplants, cucumbers, spinach, peaches, apples, cherries, pears, plums, and more. Later come the cranberries and pumpkins. There are lots of pick-your-own farms, some organic, for the freshest produce possible and even more farm markets for the next best thing. And more supermarkets are carrying local produce from farms around the state.

This year we planted tomatoes, three different Jersey varieties, in my side yard. Yesterday I harvested the first one! It was warm in my hand as I gently tugged it off its stem. It felt as if I was holding sunshine. The watermelon vine we planted at the same time is slowly snaking its way around the plot which already seems way too small for it; if it produces viable fruit, next year we will offer its successor more space. We are learning, going back to our roots, so to speak. After all, our house sits on what was once a potato field.

One of the state nicknames is The Garden State, well earned I believe. There are others to reflect different times in the state’s history and development, not always flattering. But then everything is flexible, even states. People change, society shifts, culture moves along. I seem to have as well, from former city girl to harvester of Jersey tomatoes, in my New Jersey garden. Nice.

More historic nicknames for New Jersey: http://www.netstate.com/states/intro/nj_intro.htm

Mama Mallard

2011-07-11T09:54:00.001-07:00

Meet Mama Mallard with two of her four beautiful ducklings. They live on a pond in the midst of a townhouse development, across from a shopping mall. They were strolling near a backyard patio oblivious to me and the others sitting there. Or rather unconcerned with us; I guess they are used to having people around. I spoke softly to her, complimenting her on her lovely family. She waddled over and looked at me. Then the ducklings came, too, and scrambled around the tile and pulled at the grasses on the edge. They settled in for a little nap on a tuft of grass about five feet away. Mama Mallard was vigilent while the babies slept. And then it was time to move on. Mama started walking and quietly quacked. The babies roused and followed her in single file. Papa Mallard joined them, his green head glistening with iridescence and his body language showed pride.

“Congratulations,” I called out. I got a “Quack” in response. “You’re the Duck Whisperer,” said one of my patio companions. “They were responding to you!”

It wasn’t the first time other beings have responded to soft talk: a llama in Machu Pichu, seagulls on the beach, a rabbit in my backyard. Why shouldn’t they? We talk to our pets and expect them to respond. I think all creatures respond to gentle intention. Babies certainly do, why not ducklings? The language may be foreign but the way something is said, the tone and spirit, we all can understand. Gentleness and respect work wonders. Wouldn’t it be great if we remember that when we speak to each other?

Fun notes about Mallards - for the kid in all of us:
http://www.ducksters.com/animals/mallardduck.php

Sunflowers - I Hope

2011-07-04T17:50:00.000-07:00

I guess it was inevitable that we have sunflowers in our backyard. We buy black oil sunflower seeds for our visiting birds. Their table manners are questionable and there is a carpet of shells and some discarded seeds underneath the feeders, which is where this little one is growing.

There is irony here. We have planted seeds in the past in various parts of the garden with all expectations of exuberant, large, enticing flower but they were always decimated by our local critters before we got one full blossom. So we stopped trying. Now, of its own accord, a sunflower is growing. It must like the soil better than that in our garden though it seems that sunflowers are not all that difficult to grow. And there are many varieties from giant to mini.

Perhaps it is better this way. We appreciate the flower all the more for its survival. The flower, with petals so cheery it’s hard not to smile when I see it, is a treat in itself. And then there are the seeds - who hasn’t crunched a seed or two or more (lots more)? I hope this one makes it to full, seed expression. But even if it doesn’t I know that it is helping to the backyard community. It has my good wishes for a healthy, seedful life.

Have any recipes to share?

All about sunflowers:
http://www.gardenersnet.com/vegetable/sunflowr.htm Some nutrition facts about the seeds: http://vegetarian.lovetoknow.com/Sunflower_Seeds_Nutrition

Blueberry Surprise

2011-06-26T17:56:00.001-07:00

We went to pick blueberries this weekend. New Jersey is known for its blueberries (also cranberries, corn, and tomatoes). The bushes were spread out in long rows and every row had its devotees. It’s easy for families to bring their children blueberry picking. The bushes are low enough for small hands to contribute to the gathering. And there were children galore, happily pointing out the best bushes. In truth, all the bushes were best.

We picked lots of fat, ripe berries, almost eight pounds, but not nearly as much as the family before us in line. They picked about thirty pounds. With two extra pairs of hands the picking really picked up. It reminded me of taking our own children blueberry picking; it was an adventure as much as a functional trip. You never could tell what would happen. My very first published article was about a local blueberry field we visited as a family. It was a surprise that jump-started my writing career. And this day, too, brought a surprise, though not as dramatic.

Take a close look through the leaves of the photo. There is a mommy sparrow nestled in the blueberry bush. She’s hard to see but there she is, sitting on her eggs. Even though people kept pointing to her and talking close by, she didn’t move. No one, not even the young children who were entranced by the nest, did anything to frighten her.

The farmer knew about the sparrow and said she was used to people. This was an organic farm so he wasn’t worried about the health of the birds. He also told us that he has no trouble with critters stealing his crop. Because he doesn’t use artificial chemicals the red tailed hawks found their way to the farm and established a nest. It didn’t take long for the squirrels and rabbits to size up the situation, being a hawk’s food source, and hightail it to safer places.

I like that no pesticides were used; I try to buy organic as much as possible. To me organic tastes better. And these berries were no different. So far they have been 1) cooked in a blueberry cobbler, 2) sprinkled on top of homemade granola, and 3) eaten by the handful all by themselves. They are terrific!

Are you interested in organic blueberries? If you live in New Jersey, here is the farm we picked at: http://www.emerysfarm.com/index.html There are many pick-your-own farms across the country. This site directs you (Organic PYOs are indicated in green) state-by-state http://www.pickyourown.org/

Sweer Basil, Delicious Herb

2011-06-20T18:48:00.000-07:00

Sweet Basil, yum. What a delicious herb. It is great in lots of dishes. It gives a mouth-pleasing taste when added to almost any sauce. Sautéed in cold pressed virgin olive with garlic and a variety of veggies (I love red peppers, onions, and zucchini) and mixed in with any kind of pasta, it makes a very satisfying meal. Toss some chopped basil onto a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich and see how it perks things up.

In researching the herb I discovered other wonderful things about it. I found out that, being a member of the mint family (who knew?), it is recommended for helping digestion. A cup of basil tea is very soothing. It seems that basil has a slight sedative property as well.

All this and a beautiful plant, too. The leaves are deep, vibrant green. Just gently touch them and you will release the sweet basil fragrance. Very pleasing. They are fairly resilient, too. If they wilt from too little water, just give them a drink and they’ll revive. During those 90 degree days my poor plant was panting for water. One morning when I went to check on it, I thought it was a goner. The leaves were completely wilted and the stems were bending and weak. Some diligent watering brought everything back to vibrant life.

Here’s a puzzler: Someone I know remembered his Italian grandmother telling him that it is best to pick the leaves toward the end of the day because that is when the oils have reached the leaves and the taste is strongest. Did anyone else hear that? Is it true?

Some basic basil info:http://ohioline.osu.edu/hyg-fact/1000/1644.html

Prickly Pear Beauty

2011-06-13T07:00:00.001-07:00

Several years ago I visited the shore house of one of my yoga students. She had a patch of prickly pear cactus growing on the side of her house. They were blossoming and I thought how exquisite the flowers were and how unexpected from such a harsh plant. She gave me a piece of the cactus, which I planted in my side yard. Over the years it grew slowly, putting out a few buds and a flower or two but this year…the cactus is in full bloom! I can only imagine what the desert must be like when the various cacti are blooming.

Besides the beauty of its flowers, though, this is a surprisingly beneficial plant. It is a complex carbohydrate food whose various parts may be eaten. The pads are vegetable-like with a green bean quality and okra texture, the flowers impart fruity tastes and can be made into candy or jelly, and when cooked down the nectar can provide an alcoholic kick (tequilas anyone?). It has medicinal qualities, too, that may in lower cholesterol and regulate glucose in diabetics; the sap is like aloe vera and can be used to soothe burned or irritated skin. But it is called prickly pear for a reason. The spines can hurt and can be hard to remove from unprotected skin.

I am not inclined toward anything except admiration right now so I’ll be careful and keep my distance. It is an interesting plant to ponder on, though. It’s beautiful but dangerous. It looks so plain until it flowers but what a wealth it is hiding. And one wouldn’t think that a cactus would survive in this northeastern environment yet here it is, bursting with life. A beautiful reminder of the mystery of nature.

Here are some more photos of prickly pears from the Google files:
Images for prickly pear cactus

African Violets

2011-06-06T07:29:00.000-07:00

My mother-in-law loved African violets. Over the years she propagated hundreds, if not thousands, of plants. She had grow lights above rows and rows of pots. The flowers glowed in various shades of pink, purple, lavender, and blue. Some plants had white flowers with purple ruffled edges, some had double pedaled blossoms. I was surprised at the variety of possibilities that existed. She insisted on keeping the plants small, though I have seen plants that bloomed in twelve-inch pots, diligently removing any stray outcroppings and paring the stems to keep them contained. She was a faithful member of the African violet Society where she lived in Arizona, attending their shows and displaying her plants. Raising the violets was less of a hobby than a passion.

I can’t say that I am as enamored of African Violets as she was, but I have come to appreciate their delicate beauty. I have one plant out of the many she gave me over the years that still survives. It was doing well and then I moved it to another space in the house that it didn’t seem to like as much. It drooped and I thought I would surely lose it. I took leaf cuttings and am trying to resurrect it. When roots sprout I will repot it and return it to its original location. In the meantime, I have a store-bought plant is flowering and makes me smile. I don’t think I will ever be as good an African violet cultivator as Mom was but I am grateful that she helped me to see the fine quality of this tiny bit of nature.

Here is just about everything you need to know about the care and cultivation of African violets. Feel free to share your experiences with this lovely plant. http://www.uri.edu/ce/factsheets/sheets/africanviolet.html http://www.extension.iastate.edu/publications/rg322.pdf

Geese at the Library

2011-05-30T09:56:00.000-07:00

Where are these geese going? There is no water available, no food. They are in a busy parking lot, a dangerous place for geese. And where is their flock?

Geese are all over lately. I see them walking across busy streets, exhibiting not a care in the world. It’s common to see a line of geese in spring – goslings in the middle, mom and dad front and back – taking strolls. Cars stop, fortunately, to let them pass. Sometimes a whole line of cars on both sides of the road will sit patiently to let them amble across. It has become a frequent site in my community as more geese are staying around. Geese Crossing signs have joined the signs that warn of ducks and deer.

Geese mate for life so this was probably a mating pair. Nesting time is March through May. It would make sense that they would be looking for a good place to raise their young. But in a parking lot? Surely there must be a better site for a nest.

But then - they are in the public library parking lot. I am, too, which is why I discovered them here. Maybe they came for a copy of Petunia by Roger Duvoisin or Gossie by Olivier Dunrea to read to the babies they plan to have. Or perhaps they are a young couple seeking a how-to on nest building. I’m sure the librarians will be able to help; they always help me when I have a question.

I came out of the library with an armful of books and looked around for the geese. They had gone. I hadn’t seen them in the fiction stacks but then they might have gone directly to the children’s section. I wished them well. I’ll remember to tell my grandchildren about the geese at the library the next time they visit.

Are you looking for a good children’s book about geese? Here are some fine choices:
http://www.librarything.com/tag/geese

and how about some info?http://www.veganpeace.com/animal_facts/Geese.htm

Smoke Tree

2011-05-23T11:46:00.001-07:00

A few years ago we were looking for a small tree for a particular spot in our backyard. We found a smoke tree in the nursery and chose it because of its deep, purple leaves. It had tiny flowers that grew in groups and added to its allure. We didn’t understand why it got the name smoke tree until the flowers matured; then it was obvious. The cluster of flowers looked like puffs of smoke. Quite an ethereal effect.

It is a versatile plant. It can be a tree that grows about 12 - 15 feet or trimmed to be a shrub – several make for a nice border hedge. It tolerates a variety of soils and actually prefers dry feet to being over-watered. The color of its leaves varies depending on the amount of sun it receives, although it thrives in full sun or partial shade. We liked it so much that this year we bought another one to plant on the other side of our yard.

I like the quality of illusion of the smoke tree. What you see is not really what is there. And what is there, your mind really doesn’t see. So much like life where things are hidden within plain sight. Even with this lovely tree, I found out that the seeds are poisonous to small animals and handling it can be an irritant to one’s skin. Beauty vs. the beast. It keeps things interesting.

Here’s a brief look at the smoke tree:http://www.rainyside.com/features/plant_gallery/shrubs/Cotinus_coggygriaRoyalPurple.html

Peter Rabbit's Relatives

2011-05-16T11:09:00.000-07:00

I thought I had it made. I bought a flat of organic broccoli plants and left it out back before planting the veggies in the side garden. My husband kindly watered it each morning and the leaves were flourishing. I was somewhat concerned that the squirrels would get to the plants before I did but I watched them sniff at the flat and then move on. They didn’t seem interested in broccoli at all. Was this, finally, something I could grow without interference?

Then one morning there were a only couple of munched leaves and then nothing. Just one skinny, leafless, truncated stem in an otherwise empty container. I was ready to vilify those squirrels when I saw one sniff the pathetic stem and leave it alone. Hmm. Maybe they weren’t the culprits. If the squirrels didn’t eat the plants, what did?

“The bunnies are back,” my husband said. “I saw a couple of them in the front yard.”

Aha. Peter Rabbit’s relatives. I usually love to see rabbits around. They are particularly charming animals. I remember the time when I was down on the lawn weeding and a young rabbit nibbled his way through the clover to within a few feet of where I was working. We looked at each other and peacefully continued our tasks. There we were, just two of nature’s creatures companionably doing our own things. But now…

I wouldn’t do anything harmful to rabbits though I would certainly like to have my vegetables able to grow. With fingers crossed, and a cage or two, we planted a watermelon vine and some tomatoes. I know rabbits have to eat, too, but I should think there is enough grass, clover, wild strawberries, and sunflower seeds to keep their tummies happy. I silently sent a message, Stay away bunnies. I would hate to have to call on Farmer McGregor for help. On second thought, maybe a fence will do.

The humane society is the best Farmer McGregor if you have rabbit problems:http://www.humanesociety.org/animals/rabbits/tips/solving_problems_rabbits.html

Tulips Today

2011-05-08T20:09:00.001-07:00

Today I was noticing that there is an abundance of tulips around here: deep purple (almost black) flowers down the street, red and yellow ones up the block, and a riotous display a short distance away. Tulips appear early in spring, sharing that distinction with crocuses and daffodils though there are later blooming varieties that come up in April and May. Most people associate tulips with Holland but the flowers originally came from Turkey where they were named “tulbend” or turban because they were thought to look like the traditional Turkish hats.

Tulips are welcome the world over, with more than enough varieties to satisfy any taste. The colors have been overlaid with meanings, mostly having to do with love and relationships: red for passionate love, yellow, once thought to signify hopeless love now represents cheerfulness, pink is for well wishes, white for forgiveness. And purple, of course, is for royalty. Even so, there are layers of meaning for each color and florists tend to be sensitive to them as tulips are popular holiday favorites.

I find tulips uplifting. They help announce the end of the cold and sometimes harsh winter, for one thing. There is nothing like their vivid splash of color to awaken the senses. They also remind me of the mystery of the hidden, their bulbs enfolding their essence to be appreciated upon flowering. And how fascinating to know that even when the earth is frosty there is life continuing. Tulips as metaphors? Why not? Inspiration is everywhere if we look for it.

http://tulipcaretips.com/cultivation/growing-tulips-life-cycle-facts-you-should-know

Glorious Goldfinch

2011-04-25T06:51:00.001-07:00

I saw my first goldfinch in the Berkshires hills in Massachusetts. How glorious it was – neon against the deep green pines. I think it helped awaken me to the joy of observing birds. Now I see goldfinches regularly on the feeders each spring; it is the New Jersey state bird. Familiarity does not diminish its impact, however. This is one beautiful bird! The male, of course, is the most brilliantly colored in it eye-catching golden yellow. It is hard for this bird to hide in the bushes. The female is less vibrantly colored though not without interest. She is a dusky yellow that requires a moment to define yet still is lovely.

They are seed eaters. I know they like thistle seeds but they seem pretty happy eating the black oil sunflower seeds that we provide all year round. Sometimes we have several goldfinch families vying for seed on the feeders. They are sociable birds and gather in groups. They hang out with the house finches, too.

Goldfinches build nests a little later than most birds because that’s when the seeds ripen. We discovered a nest about five feet off the ground, tucked into the branches of our forsythia bush. We kept a respectful distance until the nest was empty but then it was a welcome reminder all through the snowy winter that no matter the weather spring, and nests, will come again.

The male goldfinch is easy to spot if you want to interest kids in bird watching. Here is a free printable coloring page for the kids: http://www.friendsacrossamerica.com/colorstatenjbirdflower.html

Easter Cactus

2011-04-18T14:05:00.000-07:00

My Easter cactus is in bloom. It is a delight to see the bright pink flowers opening up on my windowsill. And it’s right on time, an April bloomer. As usual, I have been somewhat lackadaisical in my stewardship of the plant. Only after it sent out buds did I check it out. I learned it likes a loose, fairly coarse soil with dry feet so it doesn’t get root rot. It is advised that the plant be placed on a dish with pebbles and watered that way. The cactus thrives in indirect sunlight. It appreciates being fertilized once a month between spring and fall. After its growing period it is best to give it a winter rest in a cool place with minimal watering.

Okay, what did I do that was right? Well, not much. There was no pebble-dish for my plant – I watered it when the soil on top felt dry. But its feet were probably dry because the water must have been pretty much absorbed by the time it got down there. I fertilized it when I remembered rather than on a schedule. There was no official rest period for my cactus; it remained on the windowsill all year. It got the right kind of indirect sunlight, however, as my windowsill faces north. How, I wondered, did this poor plant survive no less put out such beautiful flowers?

I remember an experiment I did with a friend. We each potted two plants, put them in the same place, and watered them equally. The only difference was that we nurtured one plant more than the other, talking to it, caressing its leaves, sending it our best wishes. Both of us found the same results, the nurtured plant thrived while the other one just maintained itself. I realize that I have been doing the same kind of nurturing with my Easter cactus, appreciating it even as I didn’t follow the prescribed care. And it thrives.

Maybe rules don’t count as much as intention. Would all people thrive if we offered them basic needs and appreciation? In our contentious world there often isn’t room for nurturing or acceptance of differences. Common wisdom for the Easter cactus wasn’t what helped the plant grow but grow and flower it did. I wish every person, in every culture, in every country be giving the liberty to thrive. It’s a good time of year for us all to blossom.

For Eloise

2011-04-11T06:24:00.001-07:00

For Eloise I usually blog about what is going on around me – in my backyard, my neighborhood, places I visit and things I hear about. Today I have to blog closer to home. I may have mentioned my cockatiel Eloise. On April1, she turned twenty-two; on April 10 she passed into birdie heaven.

That is a long life for a cockatiel; most live 12-15 years though I did hear of a bird that lived to be twenty-six. We were aware that she was beginning to show signs of age. She hadn’t been flying as much lately and when she did, she often got lost and had to be rescued. Her food choices changed. She used to love vegetables (she preferred red-leaf lettuce to romaine) and fruits (she would dance back and forth on her perch when watermelon was being served) but she began to ignore anything wet or soft, favoring crunchy things. And she stopped wanting to do her usual things such as roosting on the railing of my chair in the kitchen to share my lunchtime crackers or keeping my husband company on his shoulder (she liked him best) while he read the morning newspaper. I always knew when my husband was about to come home because Eloise would chirp loudly and, sure enough, shortly thereafter he would pull into the driveway. I became aware recently that she stopped chirping at his approach.

We knew she was winding down but she was still pretty perky and interacted with us. Shortly after her birthday Eloise started to seriously decline. She was always free to leave her cage though she began to spend more time inside and when she left tried to fly, she went down to the floor and could not fly back up. My husband or I would gently lift her and she would scramble back on the bars. Eloise had always been a family-conscious bird. Even though I fed her first, she would wait until we were both seated at the table before she would dig into her own dish; suddenly she was eating before us or ignoring her food altogether. Then she started wanting to spend more time with me, a distinct shift from her fixation on my husband. She would let me gently pet her, a previous no-no, and lay her head against neck when I stood beside her cage. Her chirps changed, too. They became weaker and of a different quality, almost like a plea for me to come over and be with her, which I usually did.

On Saturday, Eloise made a sound that made me put aside what I was doing and rush over to her. She instantly stepped off the top of her cage and onto my shoulder. Then she snuggled against my neck and stayed there. It seemed to comfort her. If I moved, she moved – to get even closer. I spent much of the afternoon and all of the evening with her pressed tightly against me. At bedtime, we gently put her in her cage and said goodnight, wondering if she would be there to greet us the next day.

Eloise was down on the bottom of her cage in the morning. She had died in the wee hours by herself. I was feeling sad about her death but also about not being there when she died. But then I remembered that people often wait until they are alone before they depart. We buried her lovingly, already missing her. She had been a long-term companion. I hoped that we gave her as much as she gave us, that she felt loved and cherished during her life.

I am sure that many of ,you have loved animals or birds. Please feel free to share your stories.

Airplane in the Plum Tree

2011-04-04T17:57:00.001-07:00

Last fall a neighbor’s preteen son got his toy airplane tangled up in the ornamental flowering plum tree in our front yard. I came outside to see him and three friends on my lawn shouting and throwing sticks and stones into the branches. They succeeded in dislodging lots of leaves and a couple of twigs but the plane remained in place. I didn’t want them to be disappointed but I also didn’t want my poor tree harmed. One of the boys had been vigorously climbing among the branches and the wood was bending. I did some shouting myself, demanding that the boy get down before he got hurt. Although the tree is not a sapling, it is delicate and not used to holding that kind of weight. I assured them that when my husband came home we would get out our ladder and rescue the plane. By early evening we did get the plane down and I returned it. We had been very careful not to damage the toy though I wasn’t so sure about the state of the tree after its ordeal.

Now it’s spring and the tree is beginning to blossom. There are pink buds on all the branches but there are also snapped-off edges to some of the limbs that give evidence to the fall’s trauma. Trees must have hearty souls. The Bradford Pear in the yard next door lost half of itself, a large trunk’s worth, during a storm yet it is sealed off the damage and is flowering. The township cuts large gaps in the trees that grow around utility lines and the trees, even in their truncated state, continue to send out leaves.

I respect trees. Their variety is incredible and their strength inspiring. Trees feed us and shade us and provide beauty of form, color, and perseverance. They even support housing for lots of creatures and when they are harvested, housing for us as well. I guess I needn’t have worried about my little plum tree; it can take look out for itself. But I do hope it knows that I care.

The Robins are Back

2011-03-29T13:42:00.001-07:00

The robins are back! They are the traditional announcement of spring. A few of them have found my backyard where they gather to munch earthworms underneath the bird feeders. They scratch the ground and pluck the worms up with their beaks, a food they seem to relish though they get most of their diet from bugs and berries. I’m lucky there are only a few: robins because they often roost in great numbers. I remember seeing a stand of trees leading to my father’s apartment complex completely covered with robins.

This robin flew into my peach tree after a hearty lunch and seems to be scoping out the surroundings. I think it’s a male because of its darker red coloring. There is probably a female somewhere nearby; this is breeding season. I will carefully look for a nest, no doubt hidden in the branches of my overgrown forsythia bush. Robins can have two or three successful broods. Their blue eggs are vibrant and beautiful. But I say carefully because robins are known to dive-bomb a snooper to protect the nest.

I like the idea of nature’s yearly repetition - April showers, May flowers, and robins in the spring. There is something comforting in anticipating the cycle, in remembering that even as things change, they are also somewhat predictable. I know that not everyone has the same seasonal signals but they may have robins. These birds are prevalent all over America. Maybe that’s why the bird is called the American Robin.

For some quick facts, calls, and enchanting photos check out these sites: http://www.birdhouses101.com/robin-facts.asp http://identify.whatbird.com/obj/212/_/American_Robin.aspx http://depts.washington.edu/natmap/facts/american_robin_712.html

Daffy for Daffodils

2011-03-21T13:48:00.001-07:00

I’m daffy for daffodils. When their leaves peek through the crusty winter soil I am reminded that warmer weather is approaching, that spring is about to kiss the waiting bulbs and early blooming flowers into life, and the earth is renewing itself once more. The tall, spiky deep green leaves that defied snowflakes and sudden cold snaps are fuller and robust now. The buds, elongated hints of anticipated blossoms, tempt me to get out my gardening tools and play in the dirt. And now…voila! The daffodils are open. The corona reaches out like a trumpet to herald spring. There is nothing quite like that golden yellow to perk up the spirit.

Of course, there are other colors to delight us as well. There are even miniature daffys, if you prefer. According to the American Daffodil Society there are between 40 and 200 daffodil species and over 25,000 hybrids! The ADS puts out a lot of information about daffodils on their website http://www.daffodilusa.org/daffodils/faq.html and they also have a journal. I learned that narcissus is the Latin or biological name for daffodils but there is no difference.

But there are many things that excite me about daffodils. The color, yes. The early blooming, certainly. Then there is their persistence. I thought I had raised all the bulbs in my side yard to replant in another location but they are back through bulb division that I didn’t catch and I’m glad; they are so cheerful. And even better, the squirrels (I apologize for talking about them yet again) don’t seem to eat them! We don’t have tulips but we always have daffodils. How great is that?

Here is a picture of my daffodils. Feel free to post photos of your own.

Pick a Pack of Pansies

2011-03-14T10:55:00.001-07:00

I’m getting ready. I bought a pack of pansies. It was an impulse purchase at my local supermarket. How could I resist those smiling flowers? They made me forget that I had to run from my car through a chilling rain. They flaunted their colors: pink and purple, a dusky maroon and shy, dawning yellow. I chose purple, a regal color.

Pansies are interesting flowers that come full of meaning. The word pansy is from the French pensee, which means thoughts and remembrance. It is most often associated with loved ones, those currently in your heart and those who have passed away.

They are practical, too. They bloom prolifically from spring until fall, adding vibrant color and fun to a garden. Although they look delicate they are rather hardy and make great borders. Pansies, particularly the yellow and blue variety, have a pleasing perfume-y aroma and both the flowers and petals are edible.

For me they, like the crocuses that just came up in my front yard and the robins who made a brief appearance in my back yard, are harbingers of spring. I am looking forward to the rebirth of my perennials and to planting some new annual guests. They all remind me of the cycle of seasons, the renewal of life. Yes, I’m getting ready. For planting. For spring.

For history and cultivation of pansies visit http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/archives/parsons/flowers/pansies.html

You Lookin’ at Me?

2011-03-07T16:39:00.001-08:00

I haven’t written about squirrels in about, oh, four minutes. But they keep coming up with stuff I can’t ignore. This little guy was running up and down the pole beneath the baffle. Sometimes all we could see was his tail hanging out of the tube, sometimes his head would be poking down. He stopped midway with a “You lookin’ at me?” expression that made my husband run for his camera. This wasn’t the fearful “hide from the hawk” kind of action. Nor was it the “how can I get the seed?” dilemma. He was hanging on with attitude. Expressing entitlement. This baffle was his and we had better not challenge that!

Okay, then. We have lived with this kind of furry brazenness for quite a while now and it doesn’t intimidate us. (Hear that Squirrel?) Only it is coming up to spring and I start to browse the garden catalogs with, if not trepidation, a tad bit of nervousness. Squirrels have challenged everything I have planted. As I mentioned before, we have yet to enjoy one single peach from our lovely little tree. Once a squirrel sat munching on a beautifully formed green pepper while he stared me down. These guys don’t seem to like my basil plants but they dig them up anyway. I could almost imagine them snickering (“Heh, heh, this’ll get her!”) before I bolted out the back door yelling at them to leave those pots alone!

This year I am thinking of trying some patio gardening – blueberries, dwarf cherries, tomatoes. Maybe if I see the critters eyeing the goodies I can move the pots to another location to confuse them. (“As if!”) Did someone say something? Anyway, at the risk of my best laid plans going awry, I will be out there with springtime expectations and squirrel awareness. Those cherries look so darn delicious. This year, squirrels, I will have a harvest! (I hope.)

Any thoughts about squirrel-proofing a garden?

February? March? April?

2011-02-28T07:11:00.000-08:00

What a crazy month February has been! We had snow. There were temperatures in the teens. Then it warmed up. Friday the wind was whipping through with hurricane force. (Isn’t wind supposed to be a March feature?) Now the weatherpeople are telling us to expect, on the last February day, torrential rain. (April showers, anyone?) So on Sunday before the rain and after the wind and possibly in the middle of what is most likely a weather aberration, I am outside with no coat, enjoying the sunshine on a spring-like afternoon.

Punxatawney Phil, that famous groundhog predictor of when spring will arrive, came out of his burrow on Groundhog’s Day at Cobbler’s Knob in Punxatawney, PA and did not see his shadow. This supposedly means that we will have an early spring. My daffodils must believe it; they are sending up leaves. There are buds on the bushes and hints of greenery on most of the trees. They are taking their chances. I remember snowstorms as late as early April and surprise frosts when the calendar said it was officially spring. But I know that plants have their own timetable more dependent on the light and the earth’s axis than on the weather channel.

That doesn’t stop me from appreciating the day as it is, from being in my backyard, talking to the plants, pruning the dead wood, anticipating what I will do in the garden. It doesn’t stop my neighbors either. The kids across the street are shooting hoops, the girls next door are out in their leotards, back from dancing, without a coat in sight. I see strollers on the street and hear the joy of outdoor life. I think the variability of the weather adds awareness to our activities. I know it helps me focus on the present moment – and on this penultimate day in February it was delightful.

Green Acres

2011-02-21T16:15:00.001-08:00

This is a Green Acres site. Right now there isn’t much green to be seen; winter is still having its way with us, though it teases with an occasional spring-like day. But the trees will soon send out leaves, the wildflowers will bloom, and the bare land will be dressed in green again This particular acreage is situated along a busy roadway in Marlton, New Jersey.

Green Acres is a program that preserves natural spaces for public use or safeguards the natural environment from development. It depends upon both public and private partners. So far over 640,000 acres have been protected in New Jersey alone.

There has been so much development over the past decades that woodlands and farms now are likely to be housing developments or malls. So I love to see these signs that are popping up in many towns. Part of horse farm has been preserved and its flattened fields replanted with evergreens. A family farm continues to as a working farm though it is surrounded by housing developments. A field became a place for local teams to practice and compete. Small plots of land are sometimes donated and may end up as larger pieces as contiguous acreage is added.

I think it is important to maintain a mixture of land usages within a town. Parks for people to stroll in, jog though, or refresh themselves. Historical sites preserved for residents to have a sense of the history of their surroundings. Wild, natural, places to elevate our spirits and remind us of our connection with the rest of the natural world. Green Acres seems to me a good thing, something respectful in a world in which respect is often hard to come by.

Spring-Dreaming

2011-02-14T10:49:00.000-08:00

The snow seems to have stopped for now. Today is meant to be close to sixty. The layers of ice that coated the streets are reluctantly melting and the piles of icy white are pulling back from lawns and parking lots all around town. Spring daydreams are interrupting my work; I sense March in the gusts of wind that rattle against my office window.

But not to get too far ahead of myself, I saw this barren nest in the low branches of a tree not yet convinced that it is time to send out its foliage. A wise decision, I think, as I listen to the latest weather report. The temperature is going to drop down to the twenties tonight.

This time of year is fickle. Almost as if Mother Nature can’t decide what to wear. I can relate. Winter jacket or fleece? Corduroy or linen? Long sleeves, short sleeves, sweaters, or Tees? And the nest? Will it be occupied by the same mother bird for a new batch of feathered babies or is it truly abandoned, left to fray to pieces over the course of the year?

The shifting of seasons is a time for observation. Here in the northeast, because of being in a geographical place that experiences four seasons, we have plenty of opportunities to contemplate the vagaries of nature, indeed, of our own imaginings. When things stay the same our thoughts tend to as well. Throw in a little snow and the neighbors come out to play. Let spring showers drench the soil and we hunger to plant a vegetable garden. Summer heat sends us to the shore, fall leaves turn us inward.

I think I saw a young cardinal on the feeder this morning. It seems a tad early for fledglings to be about but maybe not, maybe mommy birds are spring-dreaming, too. Are you?

Fog, Shmog

2011-02-07T14:54:00.000-08:00

Last week there was fog. Lots of it. Neighborhood after neighborhood peeked out from behind its curtain and traffic lights emitted radiant glows as the fog cast auras around them.

Yes, I know that fog causes a decrease in visibility and can make driving dangerous. I also know that it blurs everything into a colorless mass of gray. The composition of fog is ordinary – dewy water droplets, sometimes icy crystals, hanging in the air. Fog, shmog, you say. What is the big deal about fog? It’s only a cloud, after all, that’s close to the ground.

Ah, but that is exactly the big deal. Fog says, SlowDown! Certainly for safety when driving; I don’t want to minimize the need for caution. It is more than that, though. A cloud is something mysterious. Fog tends to slow down our automatic assessment of what we normally see and perhaps our judgments of those things. It makes us pay attention, to be alert to the unexpected, sometimes for our personal safety. Yet conversely, it feeds our often-repressed inner child’s imagination. What might be hidden in the haze? A castle, perhaps, with a princess in a lofty tower. A parade marching by with the sound of its drums and excitement muffled (are those children on the sidewalk holding red and yellow balloons and cheering?). Where is that unicorn going?

Then there is the sheer beauty of a foggy day. It’s hard not to be captivated by how a fog hints at things, begging us – daring us – to fill in the blanks. Here are some captivating photos: http://www.terragalleria.com/pictures-subjects/fog/fog.9.html and some fog info as well www.crh.noaa.gov/jkl/?n=fog_types

As Carl Sandburg wrote: The fog comes on little cat feet...

Intriguing, isn't it?

The Survival of the Cleverest

2011-01-31T14:10:00.000-08:00

Crash! Bam! I heard a lot of banging against the windows in my kitchen, dining room, and smack into the glass panel of my back door. It startled me the first time this happened but by now it is somewhat common and I know what it means: a hawk is on the prowl. The birds take off from the feeders and bushes, from their comfortable perches on the roof, and head into what looks like clear space in their panicked flight to escape. I am always surprised that they don’t give themselves concussions, they hit that hard, though I haven’t yet seen any bird lying zonked out on the ground.

As usual, I ran to the window to check out the drama. Creatures were scattering everywhere in mad disarray. What surprised me though, was what the squirrels were doing. One of them looked up at the sky, then dashed onto the bare limbs of the butterfly bush under a canopy of concealing snow. Another wiggled its way between the seed pails we keep on the patio and blended into the shadows. The most intriguing of all, however, was the squirrel who found an alternative use for the baffles we put up to keep exactly those critters off the bird feeders. This one shimmied up the pole and into the tube. Normally, if they are just investigating the possibility of getting up to the feeders that way, they soon see the futility of it and come right down. This time the squirrel stayed silent and hidden with all of its parts tucked tightly inside.

Sure enough, I saw the hawk whip through the backyard, its wings spread wide but nothing in its talons. It took off beyond the tulip tree to parts unknown. The squirrel in the baffle slowly peeked under the tube and looked around. No hawk. It slid down and started eating the seeds that had fallen from the feeders. And then everyone returned to resume what they had been doing before the alarm went off.

I thought of Darwin and the survival of the fittest theory. The scene I had just witnessed made me re-think what the fittest means. Is it the most physically fit, the strongest? Is it the most adaptable gene pool? Perhaps it refers to a superior mental agility. Maybe it’s all of the above. Certainly, in this case, survival was due to some very clever actions. It makes me wonder how over the years scientists could discount the thought process in animals. That seems to be changing. I hope so. This was an impressive display of individual problem solving and what clearly seems an example of the survival of the cleverest.
I am sure I’m not the only one to witness the actions of some very clever animals. If you have, too, share what you’ve seen with us.

The Legacy of Snow

2011-01-24T06:16:00.000-08:00

What a winter we’re having. Snow, on and off, and cold, cold, cold. Last week we had just a thin covering of the white stuff but it was still enough to play in. Or maybe not. Are the kids, are we, getting jaded? The major (so far) snowfall brought out the shovels, serious work for adults and fun help for kids. The big storm yielded snowmen on front lawns, with traditional carrot noses. The medium one was good for stomping through piles of slush. This little one, well, it seemed to be ignored. All it was good for was brushing off the car and watching it evaporate as the day wore on. This week a combination of rain and snow is predicted here; not much fun.

I remember the huge snowstorms of my childhood or maybe they just seemed big to me. My friends and I made snow forts and threw snowballs at each other. We took out our pails and constructed snow castles with turrets and protective snow walls. If the snow was high enough, we dug tunnels snaking through them from our house to the neighbor’s.

Then it was my children’s turn. They dragged their sleds, one yank at a time, up and down the street or found hills to roll down. Mugs of hot chocolate steamed in the kitchen impatiently waiting for them but it was too tempting to make one more snow angel before coming inside.

I hope the frequency and the inconsistent quality of the snow won’t ruin the joy of it for the kids this year. For an adult, it is often seen as a nuisance; it shouldn’t be for children. How wondrous to have the sky slowly drift down to change the landscape from everyday to magical, to blur the absolute with a delicate coating of possibility, to kiss a cheek with just a hint of a story and then disappear. Let’s awaken every purple pail from the pile of slumbering beach gear to join in the adventure and re-purpose each sled or pot lid or trash can cover to serve the cause of fun. And may we all appreciate, and delight in, the altered state of mind that is the legacy of snow.

The Joy of a Sunrise

2011-01-17T14:00:00.001-08:00

There are joys and challenges when returning from faraway, sometimes both at the same time. There is joy in the comfort of our usual routine but a challenge in that it is often what makes us need the vacation in the first place. Joy in being grateful for the kind of life we live but a challenge to our need to help others have a good life, too. And also joy in reconnecting with the people in our life despite the challenge of some more difficult relationships.

One of the challenges of coming home from a long-distance place is jet lag. It takes a body some time to readjust to the time zone it is used to. A twelve hour difference makes itself known. That became clear when I fell asleep at the computer while working on a book I’m writing, and when I thought I would take a twenty-minute nap and ended up sleeping over two hours instead. But then, there is the delight of waking early and seeing the sun rise into the day. Many days of sunrises does not dull the joy of such beauty.
Generally, morning is not my favorite time of day. It takes me a while to get going. Yet how could I not be awed by such a display? One day I watched the sky slowly spread fingers of pink between the bare winter branches. Another day gold lifted over the rooftops like a conductor’s arms raising a baton to begin the day’s concert. What a grand way to awaken. Maybe I will start appreciating morning now so as not to miss the joy of a sunrise.

A Broader Backyard

2011-01-10T11:30:00.000-08:00

Have you noticed that three weeks have passed without a post to Ferida’s Backyard? I was on vacation and taking a break from all things usual which, I believe, is the definition of vacation. Where was I? In Vietnam, a land I never expected to visit but I am so glad that I did.

I was concerned about how the Vietnamese people felt about Americans. What I found was a friendly welcome. There are museums and monuments that refer to our war involvement and some of that is hard to look at. Yet, for the most part, Vietnam is a country that is putting aside the past for a vibrant future. It is a communist country but one that is enjoying peace, a change from an often war-torn history.

I had imagined a land of flat fields and much of it is that, a countryside where rice fields abound. Rice is a staple in Vietnam, with several crops a year harvested. There are other parts, though; a UNESCO World Heritage site at Halong Bay where islands shift in and out of view in the morning mists and hide treasures like incredible caves, and the winding road through dense green hills to the city of Dalat. There are also fishing villages and fish farms and islands in the Mekong Delta where coconut and banana trees are plentiful.
It was a privilege to expand my backyard to this Asian land, to experience the terrain and its citizens, to share in the local foods and customs, and to remember about the commonality of all people in our desire to live joyful, peaceful, successful lives. A broader backyard encourages a larger global understanding and a fuller connection to all expressions of this earth.

Apples - 'Tis the Season

2010-12-13T16:56:00.000-08:00

'Tis the season – for apples! There are so many kinds of apples available now that we can treat our taste buds to a variety of flavors and textures. I have some personal favorites: Gala is pleasingly sweet with an undertone of tartness; Fuji is crisp and juicy, a good crunching apple; Jonagold is a cross between golden delicious and Jonathan apples with a slightly tart edge and good cooking characteristics.

Which leads me to another favorite of mine – baking. This year I made baked apples. I cut the tops off and cored out the apples, scraping some of the fruit away to form a bowl. I cooked unsweetened whole cranberries in a little butter, added a bit of agave nectar for sweetness, some chopped dates, a dash of cinnamon, and the zest and juice of one orange When the cranberries became soft and thickened, I added nuts and filled the apples with the mixture. Then I placed them in a baking dish with a layer of water in the bottom, and baked them at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes. They were warming and delicious, just right for a pre-winter dessert.

Homemade applesauce is easy to fix, too. Peel, core, and cube apples (I like to mix varieties and flavors). I do the same with a pear or two. Put the fruit in a saucepan, add apple juice, a tad nutmeg, and cinnamon to taste. Cook over medium heat until the fruit is soft. Then mash them together. A potato masher works fine. Leave some chunky pieces for interest.

Any apple recipes among your cooking favorites? Willing to share? Feel free to tell us about them.

For your info: there are lots and lots of apple varieties, enough for every letter of the alphabet according to this website http://www.allaboutapples.com/varieties/ Pretty terrific, for the apple lovers out there.

Happy apple-ing and a very Happy New Year!

Aloe for the Holidays

2010-12-06T06:48:00.000-08:00

Here we are in the midst of the holiday season, a time to connect with friends and family, to reaffirm customs, and perhaps give gifts. I like to give things I value to the people I care about. One of the things I value is my prolific aloe plant.

Aloe is a friendly plant, easy to care for, and beneficial as well. It looks like a cactus but is really part of the lily family. It grows well indoors with little care (my kind of plant) and actually thrives on under-watering. It reproduces with small shoots that can be replanted. I keep an aloe in the kitchen because it soothes burns. It also is good to apply on scratches, sunburns, and skin irritations. I love this plant and love to give it.

So this year I am sharing the bounty and my good wishes.

I have been giving aloe plants, nestled in mugs with the invitation to come and join me for a cup of tea. I have done this for other occasions, too – a birthday, Mother’s Day, a hostess gift, or for no reason at all. It’s fun to find a mug I think that person will like and I know that aloe will be appreciated.

The best part of this kind of gifting is that I get to enjoy the company of my favorite people as they take me up on my invitation during the rest of the year.

Are you an aloe lover, too? Here is some aloe info:
http://garden.lovetoknow.com/wiki/Aloe_Vera_Plants And do let me know if you have a particular plant that you really like. I am always happy to expand my windowsill garden.

Quite a Cat

2010-11-29T11:05:00.001-08:00

Thanksgiving is over but what fun it was. Family came in from far away places. Friends dropped by to say hello. And my grandcat kept me company.

This is my son’s special needs cat. He has what is called cerebellar hypoplasia, a condition that affects the balance part of the nervous system. An underdeveloped cerebellum means that the cat is uncoordinated and has problems walking. He zig-zags as he walks from one place to another and might end up in a different place entirely. He wobbles a lot and often falls, sometimes banging into a wall or landing on his back. He has trouble climbing up and tends to tumble, thunk, when he tries to go down. Whenever he is focused on something, like eating, his head bobs up and down involuntarily, which makes dining a messy proposition. If he feels insecure he will flop over on his side and reach out with his claws. Or if he is being petted and gets tired, since he can’t easily jump away, he will sometimes nip. It is his way of communicating. Our son has scars that testify to his cat’s communication skills.

When I first saw him as a kitten, I marveled at his beauty but wondered how he would survive. His disability did not stop him from exploring his world and relating to my son, however. He is now a senior citizen, somewhat slower but still active. When he visits he loves to sit in the chair in my home office and purr his contentment as the sun warms him, like any cat. I have come to love him and appreciate his courage. All in all, he is quite a cat.

I find it interesting how everyone, whatever the species, whatever the circumstance, finds a way to adapt to and engage in life.

If you want to know more about cerebellar hypoplasia check out this website: http://www.helium.com/items/1412679-cerebellar-hypoplasia-in-cats-causes-and-symptoms

My Sweet Potato

2010-11-22T14:40:00.000-08:00

One day, about a month ago, I discovered that a sweet potato I had overlooked in my pantry was beginning to sprout. I remembered how long ago my friend had put toothpicks into a potato she was trying to grow and placed it in a glass of water. I decided to see if this potato would grow. So I plunked it into water – no toothpicks, no fanfare - and put it on my kitchen windowsill.

Almost immediately it started putting out new shoots. The stems presented beautiful oak-like leaves. The roots, thin, white, and thready, circled the bottom of the glass. Each day more leaves came out and turned toward the light. The sweet potato soon became too cramped in its small container so I planted it in a pot with what soil I happened to have handy. And then it really took off! What exuberance!

Now I am getting ready for Thanksgiving and while in the store I bought sweet potatoes. I will cook them on the holiday and savor their delicious sweet taste. At the same time I will be taking delight in the potato I will not cook. One feeds the body, the other the spirit. I haven’t planted veggies in my yard for several years because of the squirrels but perhaps it is time to think about doing it again. Then I will have both kinds of sustenance. Meanwhile, I will enjoy my windowsill sweet potato as it expresses its joyful self.

If you would like to grow sweet potatoes this link should help: http://www.tropicalpermaculture.com/growing-sweet-potatoes.html

More Please

2010-11-15T13:35:00.001-08:00

We feed the birds but they are not the neatest eaters around so some of what goes into the feeders ends up on the ground. Nothing is wasted, however, because the squirrels make short work of the dropped seeds. Squirrels are hearty eaters though mostly vegetarian. They dine on seeds, nuts, fruits, and vegetation. I personally can attest to them liking green peppers, lettuce, green beans, herbs, and just about anything else I choose to plant in my garden. They also seem to be pleased with the uneaten dry cereal I toss out from my cockatiel’s food dishes.

This season has been warmer than usual so there has been more to munch on. The acorn crop has run its course but there were tons of them for the squirrels to bury and store away for the hard winter months.

So why is this chubby little critter peeking in my window like Oliver Twist with a pathetic “more, please” demeanor? It doesn’t look in the least malnourished. It is somewhat disconcerting to be stared at so pitiably while my husband and I eat our lunch. Hasn’t the word been passed along through the generations that I won’t forget him or his family or friends (birds included) when there is snow on the ground?
I guess it is instinctual to worry about where one’s next meal is coming from. There certainly are enough people in our world who can’t be sure of that. I push back my chair, gather the can where I keep the bird’s leftovers, and go out back. As soon as I open the door the squirrel hightails it across the yard and up the tulip tree. I spread the cereal beneath the feeders in case some birds would like to snack on something different, and go back inside. Before I resume lunch I look out and see a squirrel busily munching away. Is it the same one? Does it matter? As my grandmother used to say whenever anyone, expected or not, showed up at her door, “Come. Eat.”

The WOW Factor

2010-11-08T10:55:00.000-08:00

There are some times when words aren’t big enough to wrap around what you are feeling. So let me describe what I was seeing instead.

I was out for a Fall day at the shore with my husband. Each shore has its own personality, its particular color of sand, the variety of things that wash up with the tide. This shore was at Gateway National Recreation Area in Staten Island, New York. It was mostly empty of people – except for a man and his son playing frisbee and the fisherman who caught something beautiful and large along the shoreline – and us. The beach had a jagged line of rocks and shells where the tide sweeps in and tumbles out again. It also had bits of glass that glinted against the flat, tan sand. I picked up green, white, and brown fragments that had been scoured smooth by the sea. It was hard to believe that they had once been bottles tossed away as trash and are now reclaimed as art by nature.

As we walked along the gulls toddled ahead of us. They seemed to have a definite space that they preferred not to have infringed upon. If we got too close, they would take off in a progressive flap of wings and land a little further along the beach.

The sky kept drawing my attention. It was incredibly big, not that it isn’t always, but the clouds dramatized the sense of its vastness. I couldn’t help gaping. It definitely had the WOW factor. Every now and then a single gull would fly off from the group and balance on the breeze. It looked small against that immense backdrop. Then, again, so did I; a valuable perspective to remember when I get too involved with myself. What a wonderful, enriching way to spend a day!

I would love to hear about are other exhilarating encounters with nature. Do you have any you'd like to share?

Meet the Mouse

2010-11-01T08:03:00.000-07:00

I was planning to write about something else today but so many people have contacted me about my mouse problem recently that I thought an update was needed. So…let me introduce you to the mouse. Actually, this is mouse number three. We have had four to date. Each got a personal ride to a field surrounded by woods. They all took off like a bullet train the second they realized they were free from the trap.

I found out that the word mouse comes from a Sanskrit word that means thief. Totally understandable. We found a hunk of bread that had fallen from our bird’s cage in a cabinet near the fireplace. There were droppings there, too. We could locate the traps along the droppings trail. As mice are known to return to their surroundings, following the same path, I asked my husband, the mouse releaser and photographer, if it were possible we were trapping the same mouse.

“No,” he said. “They all looked different.”

He said one was small, another bigger, one black another mottled. Even mice have their own individual physical characteristics.

There was no mouse in the house this morning. We aren’t removing the traps any time soon, though, not until we have lots of mouse-free days. Our experience has been educational, I must say, and productive. I had been meaning to reorganize that cabinet for some time but just hadn’t gotten to it. And the pantry got a good cleaning. Quite a motivational prompting for something that weighs barely an ounce.

If you feel motivated to know more, here are some mouse facts:
www.buzzle.com/articles/facts-about-mice.html
http://a-z-animals.com/animals/mouse/
http://www.humanemousetrap.info/mouse-facts/
Do you have any mouse stories you’d like to share?

Mouse in the House

2010-10-25T10:33:00.000-07:00

My husband and I were peacefully watching TV when he suddenly jumped up and shouted, “There it is!”

“What? What?”

“The mouse! It just peeked its little head out from behind the TV cabinet and then ducked back in.”

We have a mouse in the house that has been bedeviling us for the past week or so. We first found evidence of its visit in our bread drawer. When we took out anything edible there it moved on to the pantry. We learned that it likes crackers, cookies, cereal, and sunflower seeds – all organic and pesticide-free. The mouse has discerning taste.

We bought a new kind of plug-in trap that emits high frequency sound and claims to repel mice but it seemed to be having more of an effect, and not a good one, on our pet cockatiel so we bought a humane, catch-them-alive trap instead. We baited it with peanut butter and waited. The trap was sprung but the mouse remained free. We bought a different kind of trap and tried again. And then a third, with the same results. Was the mouse toying with us? I could imagine it laughing when we checked the traps in the morning and found them empty.

Now, I am all in favor of sharing and recycling, but there are some health issues here. I hope this critter realizes that its choices are limited. Either we catch it alive, and soon, and release it to run free in a field somewhere or it eventually will have to be (I hate to even think of it) captured in a conventional trap and sent on to mouse heaven.

Does anyone have a suggestion for how to entice a mouse into a trap for its own good?

NOTE: My friend Harriet May Savitz and I wrote a picture book called The Story Blanket, which deals with sharing and recycling, kindness and community. It was just reviewed by www.saffrontree.org , a lovely site with a positive outlook on children's books and reading. It's a great place to see what the young world community is reading. Here is the review if you would like to check it out.

Autumn is a Wondrous Time

2010-10-18T07:32:00.000-07:00

Autumn is a wondrous time. The trees come alive, ablaze with color. The leaves are suddenly free to express the beauty that they have kept inside through the rest of the year. The streets, literally, are lined with gold.

It is my favorite time of year. I love the brilliance of the reds and golds, the various shades of orange, even the rich browns that line the deciduous trees until the leaves fall. Then there is the delight of crunching through the piles of leaves on the ground. I grab handfuls and toss them into the air. I can’t help grinning as I watch them spin on their way back down. Yes, there is work to be done - raking can be quite a chore – but the joy is worth it.

Then there is the crisp air that awakens the spirit. After the heat of the summer, it is sweet to wrap up in a sweater; it’s like giving myself a hug. It is also a time of reflection. A mug of hot cider with a friend reminds me of my connection to others and the warmth that connection brings. A brisk walk leads to appreciation when I step back into my warm, welcoming home.

Living in the northeast of the US allows me to experience the fullness of the seasons. I know that lots of people prefer a consistently warmer climate; in the middle of winter I can certainly understand. But now, in the fall, I can only be grateful for this gift.

Sometimes It Takes a Tree

2010-10-11T16:15:00.000-07:00

I don’t deliberately look for metaphors but sometimes one is directly in front of me and hard to ignore. In walking through a local wooded area, I came across a large, fallen tree. The trunk was rotted out, the roots were almost non-existent, and the branches were bare. It was obvious that it had been a tall tree full of leafy expression and expansive presence at one time. I don’t know how long it had been on its side or what caused its demise but I could still feel its energy and power. It had a place in the woods among the other trees yet it was also an individual that added something to the whole.

It’s easy to think of age as the only reason for a fallen tree; perhaps that is the most acceptable though health and circumstance often play roles in a tree’s downfall. However, its death does nothing to diminish what it had been. For a while it will be there physically for people to see and critters to use for their various purposes but one day it will be gone, its traces hidden by newer trees and plants until its being is barely a memory. But that doesn’t mean its life was worthless. It had provided much to the environment and whether or not it is remembered it will have left a lasting imprint on this earth.

And so, looking at this incredible life form, how could I not be affected? How, also, could I miss how alike all of nature is, including our own often exalted status as people? Sometimes it takes a tree to help us feel the value of being truly human.

Chipmunk Bonanza

2010-10-04T12:51:00.001-07:00

The temperature was cooler today, a reminder of the change of seasons and what will be coming as fall turns to winter. It is time to lay in seed. We feed the birds throughout the year though it seems we also feed a host of others as well. Some of our regular other customers are squirrels, rabbits, and chipmunks. They tend to scavenge the seed that has been tossed off the feeders. The chipmunks (nicknamed munkers by our great-nephew when he was two years old) reside underneath the hose box beyond our back window and behind the arborvitae on the side of the house. They are cautious creatures generally, perhaps because they are so small, but not so much when my husband cleans out the feeders, clearing out the seeds that start to sprout. Then the munkers lose all reticence. This little one came out at just the right time for a seed bonanza. He stuffed his cheeks and ran back to his burrow. He refilled those cheeks three or four times before deciding he had enough. We watched his cheeks expand with each seed payload; obviously his mother never told him not to stuff his mouth. And that is a good thing. He was stockpiling food for the cold weather. Chipmunks hibernate during winter but will awaken several times to munch on their accumulated stash.

I tend to stockpile goods, too, in our freezer. I freeze nuts and seeds (my grandmother used to do that and I do now), flour, home baked cookies, sliced summer veggies and luscious berries. Even though I can buy my groceries at the supermarket whenever I choose, it is still a comfort having that extra supply in the background. Not so different from the munkers, I guess. It keeps a person humble.

Nature, Wherever

2010-09-27T16:27:00.001-07:00

On our way up to visit relatives in Massachusetts, my husband and I stopped for a rest. We found a pier not far from the Bruce Museum in Connecticut and got out to stretch. I was immediately entranced. What an ideal pier – an old construction at the end of a road that was developed on both sides. It almost seemed like a small defiance, a last stand. Some people were fishing. One man was just looking at the rocks with its mounds of seaweed slowly swaying. A couple of women had a brief brown-bag picnic as they stared out to sea. The ebb and flow of the water was meditative for me and I found my breathing imitating its rhythm. So peaceful. So wonderful.

And what has that to do with my backyard, I hear you say? I have come to value all of nature and see the concept of “my backyard” in a very broad sense. Sometimes my backyard does, indeed, refer to my local surroundings but I can’t turn off my connection with such incredible diversity just because I can’t see it out my back door. Whenever I step beyond my house the natural world is there, available to charm, challenge, worry, embrace, distress, amaze, amuse, teach, delight, impress me – if I stay open to it, wherever it may be, however minimal it is.

I am glad that we had that rest, at that particular place. It wasn’t easy to access. I hope more people find it.

Hole in a Tree

2010-09-20T15:32:00.000-07:00

One lazy day, my husband and I were in a mood to go into the less developed areas around our town. He knew of a local lake that might be the perfect place to spend some time so off we went. And sure enough, it was a soothing spot at which to refresh our spirits.

In browsing around the lake, I found this tree with a hole in its trunk. Ah, what a prompt to the imagination. Who lives in there? What will I find if I look down into the blackness? What if there is a rainbow inside the trunk or a bustling city of tiny people? What if someone hid a treasure map there that would lead to uncovering the riches of a lost civilization – right in the heart of the forest? I was having an “Alice down the rabbit hole” moment as I thought about what might be in such a place.

Of course there were other considerations of a more practical nature. Is the tree a willing host or is it in trouble? Is the hole a sign of rot or of an active occupant? Why did it start and how deep does it go?

I know I can find the scientific answers but sometimes it is more satisfying to ponder, at least for a while, the questions and the possibilities no matter how fanciful, to let the creative juices flow. Sort of like what we do every day but tend to forget that we blend the scientific with the creative as we go about our lives.

Mushrooms are Beautiful but Watch Out!

2010-09-13T10:56:00.000-07:00

I found these mushrooms growing in the middle of my neighbor’s grass. When plants and lawns all around have been withering from lack of rain, these guys seem to be thriving. It surprised me. I thought mushrooms, being fungi, needed dampness and shade to flourish; these had neither and were doing just fine.

My father-in-law used to identify mushrooms and actually eat them from the field near his vacation cabin in Massachusetts. That always scared me and not without cause. Many mushrooms are poisonous. The giant puffball mushrooms are considered safe, I understand, but are these those? “Wildman” Steve Brill says you need to be 100% sure of the mushroom you are about to eat. Eat the wrong one and you can find yourself with anything from a slight tummy ache to what the drug ads call a “fatal incident.”

They are interesting, though, and come in a large variety. Maybe the ones I have been seeing are the “skull-shaped puffballs,” which only refers to the way it grows not to any lethal qualities. Mushroom identification can be enticing. There are mushroom clubs and tours and identification courses and videos and books and…If you are serious about checking out mushrooms, here are a couple of sites to get you started:
http://www.mushroomthejournal.com/index.html
http://www.wildmanstevebrill.com/

I wouldn’t trust myself to correctly identify the safe from the dangerous mushrooms, at least not yet, so I think I’ll continue to buy mine at the market. But that doesn’t mean I am immune to their beauty, in all their unique shapes, colors, and sizes.

The Acorns are Ready

2010-09-06T17:14:00.001-07:00

There is a forty-year-old oak tree in front of my house. Its limbs spread out to create shade on these hot summer days and it is most appreciated. Sometimes I park my car under its branches instead of on the steamy driveway.

I feel the strength of this tree as it rises straight up, its roots extending deep into the earth and balancing outward at the same time. I imagine the yoga pose aptly named Tree pose was fashioned after the oak. It is also a compassionate tree that welcomes nests in the spring and a nurturing one as summer comes to an end; it is prolific with its seeds. There are acorns everywhere! Squirrels rush about burying them in preparation for the long winter ahead. My car crunches acorns whenever I pull out of my driveway. I imagine that helps break the hard shells and makes it easier to eat. The neighborhood kids exercise their throwing arms as they toss acorns down the street.

I gather some of them in a basket for a centerpiece. I love to look at their perfect form and think about how new oaks are hiding inside each one. There are so many from this one tree. Should the earth ever need to repopulate its oak forests, the acorns are ready.

Growing Up

2010-08-30T09:49:00.000-07:00

I always thought that Spring was the most fertile time of year for the outside creatures but there has been an outbreak of babies lately – tiny chipmunks, squirrels, and birds abound. It’s fun to watch their beginning interactions with the world as they grow. Just as with people babies, and then toddlers, everything is new. They have to figure things out. How can you balance on a feeder and get the seeds without falling off? It is okay to make friends with a hawk if you’re a squirrel? Should I worry about that cat who’s a lot bigger than my chipmunk brother and me? I keep telling my grandson, who is just four, that it isn’t safe to run into the street; sometimes I yell at a bunny who wanders innocently across. They will all get what they need to know one day. Growing up is developmental.

These birds have fledged out of their nests but have not come into their fullness yet. Young birds look particularly gawky. The scraggly cardinal will become a beautiful adult but right now feathers are all in disarray. The bluejay doesn’t have its wing colors in yet but it has its potential prominence. The finches are still speckled and despite their tentativeness are fast-winged.

This is a visual reminder of the growing process. We all are born needing to learn and adapt but we also bring with us the essence of who we are. It is a joint progression, the physical and elemental, the innate and the learned. Babies are all the same – cute, worrisome, full of incredible potential. A pretty grand progression, I think.

Catalpa Pros and Cons

2010-08-23T08:55:00.000-07:00

Catalpa Pros and Cons

When out on a walk I came upon a tree I had not seen before. It had seed pods that looked like elongated green beans. They were over a foot long! The neighbor who owned the tree said it was a catalpa. It produced loads of beautiful flowers in the spring and was very prolific. I was impressed with what seemed like an exotic tree growing so close to home. Was this something I should consider for my own yard? I did some research and found out there are pros and cons to the catalpa, sometimes for exactly the same features.

The pros: The catalpa grows pretty much anywhere with southern and northern varieties. It produces lovely, sweet-smelling flower clusters. It is a good shade tree that grows fast and thrives pretty much in any condition – poor soil, inadequate drainage, drought – a frequent choice for naturalizing. The wood is strong and has an interesting grain and is often used for fence posts. The tree attracts what are called catalpa worms, which are good fishing bait.

The cons: The flowers have a smell that may be overpowering. They also produce pollen that can be extremely irritating to those with respiratory allergies. When the flowers drop it is quite messy. The seeds scatter and plant themselves indiscriminately so it may be hard to control their spread and growth. The worms are actually the larvae of catalpa sphynx moths that can denude the tree.

Quite a mixed bag of characteristics. It makes me think of people, each of us with our own pros and cons both in relating to others and for our own development. We are strong but can be overpowering. We grow fast but we don’t always grow up. We can attract the right things to ourselves but may also crave them to excess.

I think I will pass on planting my own catalpa tree. My yard seems happy and mostly balanced. The catalpa feels like too much of a good thing.

Dragonflies Are Complicated

2010-08-17T18:31:00.001-07:00

Dragonflies are complicated. They look so delicate yet they are tough survivors. They’ve been around for about 300 million years but except for a decrease in size look pretty much the same. They seem ethereal but are predators, on the prowl for feed since the day they are born. Ever try to catch one? They are fast insects. Their wings can go at 30 beats per minute! Their four wings go in all directions independently so they can go up, down, backwards, and sideways. They can even hover like a helicopter. They have incredible compound eyes that enable them to see 360 degrees – there is no sneaking up on them.

Dragonflies inspired myths in many cultures. Although they are harmless to humans, some people believed that they sting. They were sometimes called “darning needles” for fear that if a person slept outside the insect would sew up the person’s eyes. They also inspired art, poetry, and symbolism. Perhaps because of their swiftness they are often considered the harbingers of change. Since they breed near or on water, they have been associated with being a symbol of water purity.
I delight in their beauty and marvel at their versatility. But I would welcome their presence in my backyard for a simple reason; my yard has become a mosquito haven. They are out at all times of the day despite the fact that they breed in water and we are having drought conditions. Dragonflies eat mosquitoes. They could have a feast if they came to my house. And, I admit it, my eyes would feast on the beauty of these complicated insects.

Hummingbird or Moth?

2010-08-09T08:16:00.001-07:00

The butterfly bush has been attracting lots of creatures this season: lots of butterflies, of course, but also bees, moths, birds, and a variety of the hummingbird category. We did see the occasional hummingbird but more of the Clearwing Hummingbird Moth. There actually is a see-through (clear) portion of it s wing. When I first saw it I thought it was a hummingbird as it has the same kind of wing action, the habit of hovering at a plant, and a proboscis like the hummingbird, plus I had never heard of hummingbird moths before. But it is a moth, not a bird, no matter how similar. Now I am on the lookout for this intriguing expression of nature. It seems to be a regular visitor. It isn’t easy to photograph, however, because its wings move so fast. I read that they beat seventy times a second! Quite a feat, beating at that speed and staying in place. They are common in the northeast and easy to attract. Summer is just fascinating with its variety!

For photos and info about hummingbird moths check out http://www.silkmoths.bizland.com/hthysbe.htmFor an extensive list of butterflies and moths go to http://www.njaudubon.org/SectionBackyardHabitat/RecommendedNectarPlants.aspx

Peach (Pipe) Dreams

2010-08-02T10:21:00.000-07:00

I love preaches – the smell of them, the color, even the fuzz. That’s why I planted a peach tree in my yard a few years back. It took a while before the tree established itself but then it started putting out tiny green fuzzballs. They were hard and as yet inedible but they were peaches! I was excited about the prospect of having fruit from my very own tree. I watched as they developed over the weeks. They started to change color, ever so slowly, and to grow. I checked on them each day and noticed that a few had what looked like bite marks. Oh, well, there were enough peaches growing to share with the wildlife that inhabited my backyard.

As they changed color, I planned for pies and cobblers and could already taste their drippy ripe goodness eaten plain. One day I knew that they would be ripe enough to pick, if not quite ready to eat, in a couple of days. I went out, with basket in hand, hoping that I would be able to reach all the peaches, even the ones at the top of my not so large tree. It was then that I discovered while I was willing to share, the squirrels were not. They had taken every single one of those peaches. “Hey,” I yelled to the creatures who scurried away at my approach. “You’re not being fair. You have to leave some fruit for the people!” That was my initiation into growing peaches. The squirrels never did get the message. I still love peaches and the ones I buy at the farmer’s market taste just the way I imagine mine would, if I ever had a chance to eat one.

Shoe Trees

2010-07-26T08:29:00.000-07:00

Summer is meant for getting out, gardening, having fun. Only the weather was been so hot the last few weeks that I couldn’t bear the thought of being outside no less working in the garden. So I spent some time indoors instead, cleaning out closets, trying (not too successfully because it was pretty hot in there, too) to organize the garage, gathering things to toss, donate, re-gift, and recycle. But that didn’t stop the yearning to get my hands into the dirt. What to do?

I was about to get rid of was a pair of old, formerly comfortable but now were pinch-my-toes shoes when I noticed that some of my houseplants needed separating. Hmmm. Why not combine my activities?

I am used to making unusual crafts out of ordinary things for the children’s activity books I write. So…my shoe trees were born. I put stones in the bottom of the shoes and poked some holes in the sides for drainage, laid in peat moss and potting soil, and tucked in offshoots of the plants on my windowsill. A tad quirky, I admit, but so satisfying. Recycle and garden, all in the convenience of my air-conditioned home. Ah yes, summer is fun.

Tigers in My Backyard

2010-07-19T10:00:00.000-07:00

The Tiger Swallowtails are back on my butterfly bush and they are exquisite! The butterfly is named that for obvious reasons: it is striped like a tiger and the base of its wings look like the tail of a swallow. It is stunning – large, dramatic, and brilliant yellow. I look for it/them each summer. Usually several are feeding on the bush. Last year I saw a brown butterfly on the bush and thought I had spotted a new kind of butterfly but I found out it was a female Tiger Swallowtail. Females aren’t always brown so it had confused me. I saw her again this season. I guess a family has taken up residence in my backyard. I read that one of the trees a swallowtail likes for egg-laying is the tulip tree and, luckily, I have one! I hope it means that there will be many more summers with these lovely insects flitting about. What a joy it is to have them flutter around me, almost touching, in such a familiar way. But then, we are all part of the same universal family.

I Believe

2010-07-12T07:19:00.000-07:00

Sunday was a lovely summer day. I was driving slowly along on my way home listening to The Lettermen, the early 60s group, being interviewed by Liane Hansen on Weekend Edition Sunday, NPR. Tony Butala, the only original member of the trio, talked about how the group started and why their sound is unique. He had once told the group that when the harmonies blended right, a fourth voice can be heard. The song they used to illustrate this was “I Believe (For Every Drop of Rain That Falls),” one of the songs they sing in concert. I was intently listening for that fourth voice and thought I could hear it just when they got to the part about hearing a newborn baby cry or touching a leaf or seeing the sky. I looked up toward my own blue sky, then, and gasped. A hawk flew out from a grove of trees and floated in the air with wings fully outstretched, outlined by a puff of billowy clouds. At that moment I heard them sing the words, “Then I know why I believe.” And seeing the grace and serenity of that flight, in that setting, it was hard not to believe in the harmony of nature, in our inter-connectedness, in the bigger picture of life. I couldn’t capture the bird as I was driving but later I could reconnect with the inner image I retained as I again looked up into the sky. What a day!

If you want to check out the interview go to http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=128366406 and click on Listen Now to hear some great harmonies.

Where is Everyone?

2010-07-05T13:21:00.001-07:00

I had to laugh when I looked outside and saw the squirrel sitting on the arm of the stacked patio chairs. It was July 4th and he seemed confused. Did I hear him say, “Where are the cushions? Where is everyone? What happened to the barbeque and the crumbs?” Well, the cushions were in the garage, we were in the air-conditioned house, and the party consisted of a brief outdoor stint before we scooted inside during this heat wave. We did venture out to see fireworks in the relatively cool (80 degrees at 9:00 PM) evening at a local high school. I love fireworks and these were wonderful. The show started out with a brilliant burst that often announces the ending but then went on to show some beautiful and different displays of color and sound. Although I had to hold my hands over my ears at a few points, it didn’t diminish my pleasure in the celebration.

What a great reminder of the energetic spark of America, no matter the current complications. Our nation began as a grand experiment and we continue to push the boundaries of tradition and limitations.

We all cheered when the program was over, wishing for more. Well, there will be more next year – more celebrating, more appreciation, more exuberance. But if it is as hot as this Fourth was, I will have to say, “Sorry, Squirrel, the cushions, and the tasty crumbs, will have to remain inside.”

Tractor Crossing

2010-06-28T10:39:00.000-07:00

Things have certainly changed around here. There were farms when my family moved here and orchards. We picked apples and peaches just up the road. If there wasn’t time to go out to the orchard we could stop at the packinghouse and pick out a half-bushel to take home. The neighborhood I live in used to be part of a farm. My friend’s house was built on the site of the old farmhouse. When part of the lawn sank a bit, the original well was discovered. It had to be filled in for safety, of course, but for a while it was a window into the past. Now we have serious traffic jams and housing developments. Our township rescued the last working farm as a tribute to the community’s heritage. The market where fresh produce was sold all through the growing season was spiffed up and expanded but the bones of it are still evident. I was on my way there the other day and saw the tractor-crossing sign. It isn’t new but it caught me in a nostalgic mood. I’m glad the farm was preserved as a working entity rather than an historic artifact. Our roots, literally, come from the land wherever we currently reside and it’s good to remember that.

Rabbit at Rest

2010-06-21T06:56:00.000-07:00

Oh, the bunnies. We have quite a few. They are adorable and pesky at the same time. One of them has been chowing down on our recently planted hostas. “Eat the wild strawberries instead!” I yelled when I saw it. “And the clover, why don’t you munch on that?” The creature paid no attention. The coral bells we planted last year are a beautiful memory and we gave up on a vegetable garden years ago. I can sympathize with Farmer Brown when he chased away Peter Rabbit. But just when I am feeling exasperated with them, they’ll do something that melts my heart. I watched this rabbit flop down in the middle of the yard and stretch out inch-by-hairy-inch without a care in the world. He (she?) was completely at rest. No fear at all. It made me glad that it felt so comfortable in our presence. And isn’t that how I like to live my life, non-threatening to other beings? How can I worry about a nibble here and there or a plant that ends up nourishing the bunnies rather than being pretty for us to see? Priorities, always priorities.

Red-winged Blackbird

2010-06-14T13:29:00.000-07:00

The red-winged blackbirds come each spring. I recognize the males from their red and yellow wing bands, spread on their shoulders like epaulets. They come before the females to stake out their claims for nesting areas. I thought they were marsh birds but I see them each year in my yard, often scattered amid the grackles. The ground is sometimes soggy because of the density of the marl but it’s certainly not marshland. Perhaps this is only a brief stop on their migration. I am glad to see them, whatever propels them to come. The red blazes when they spread their wings – quite a sight. If they feel comfortable or are not in display mode, the red may be tucked away with only the yellow showing. This bird has just fed on black oil sunflower seeds and seems quite at ease. Interesting that when he is relaxed he can keep his flashier aspects in check. It sounds like a reasonable plan. He knows who he is and doesn’t need to flaunt it all the time. Not a bad philosophy.

Clover All Over

2010-06-07T13:43:00.001-07:00

The clover this year is abundant. It pops up everywhere: in the schoolyard, on the road median, on obviously manicured lawns and on neglected ones. Clover is a member of the pea family, I discovered, and has nutritional value. It has been used as forage for cows as it contains macro and micro nutrients, which makes good milk and meat. It can be eaten in salads. The bees like it, too. As is evident on my lawn. The bees are flitting from flower to flower. I know because I am down there weeding, rather unsuccessfully, I might add, and see them close up. I wonder if I should be trying to get rid of the clover that is becoming more of the greenery than the grass. When I asked about the wild strawberries last week a friend suggested that I let nature take its course and enjoy the little bursts of red that peep out of the dense leaf clusters. Maybe I should do the same with clover and revel in the joy of the bees. Put in perspective, a lawn being taken over by clover isn't much of a problem. Something to think about as I spread clover honey on my multigrain bread.

Strawberries Are Driving Me Wild!

2010-06-01T11:24:00.000-07:00

Doesn’t this look idyllic? What’s better than a strawberry patch in spring? How can I complain but, well, here’s the problem. These are wild strawberries. The fruit is too tiny to pick and eat and the vines are everywhere! They started growing in the deep back of the yard where they went pretty much unnoticed. By the time we became aware of their presence, they had already spread. We like to keep a natural kind of setting, not too manicured but still controlled. Hah! The strawberries didn’t get the message. They squiggled around the existing plants, moved out in long lines into the lawn, skipped over unsuspecting patches of grass and are now invading the side and front grounds as well. I know that the birds are spreading the plants and I am glad that the avian crowd can enjoy the fresh berries; however, these vines do not share space well with others. I am not one for using chemical warfare so I have been pulling them out by hand, a rather tedious job and not particularly effective. The strawberries definitely have the advantage over my limited tolerance for weeding. So (deep breath) I think this may be the summer I learn acceptance – of my interconnectedness with nature, of my body’s physical limits, and of the value of releasing control. Until I fully embrace all of that, does anyone know of an effective, non-toxic way to get rid of wild strawberries?

So Much Promise

2010-05-24T08:27:00.001-07:00

Camellias are beautiful flowers. I saw this camellia bud at Planting Fields Arboretum on Long Island. It was just opening to the world and allowed a view into its perfect insides. I was transfixed by the depth of its promise. So many petals, every one a part of the glorious whole yet exquisite in its own unique loveliness. They hint of fragility and all the same are somehow eager. The outer petals seem protective, almost reluctant to share the internal innocence. Still, it is nature’s imperative to reveal itself in its myriad forms. Each day the flower will open a bit more until nothing further is hidden. And when it has dazzled us with its brilliance, it will leave. It makes me appreciate a person’s progression from infancy onward. A budding flower is another’s journey but in each of us is that same push toward individual expression.

Note: Are you getting your daily dose of DailyOm? The May 17th posting talks about letting your life unfold like a flower. The daily thoughts are interesting to ponder and often profound. www.dailyom.com

The Salvia Says...

2010-05-17T10:18:00.000-07:00

We planted some salvia bushes last spring just to fill out a bare spot where the defunct astilbe had been. The bushes were chosen for three reasons: they were perennial, they were already blooming, and they were purple, which meant they would look nice near our lilac bush. As you can see, we are not accomplished gardeners though we appreciate the results of gardening. Over the winter the bushes died down and drawing on prior experience, it was quite possible that they would never return regardless of their perennial status. But they did and this spring they are glorious! I love the exuberance of the outstretched flower stems. I can almost hear them saying, “Isn’t this a lovely day?” And when I see them, whatever my mood or the weather or what the day may bring, I am tempted to answer, “Yes, it is. Thank you for reminding me.”

Animal Rescue

2010-05-10T08:41:00.000-07:00

There are lots of things happening in my backyard. This weekend Dr. Jesse Liebman sponsored an event for Lilo’s Promise Animal Rescue at his Wellness Center in Marlton, NJ. Lilo’s Rescue is a no-kill rescue service run by dedicated volunteers who rescue, foster, and train dogs so that they can be placed in loving, permanent homes. The dog shown here with Anita is Jasmine. She was rescued when her family’s house was foreclosed and there was no way to care for her. Someone was coming to meet Jasmine later in the day and those at Lilo’s Promise were hopeful that this would be just the right family to adopt her. Other wonderful, trained dogs are waiting for homes. To learn more about Lilo’s Promise check out http://www.lilospromise.com/. Volunteers, foster homes, supplies and support are all welcome.

Note: Someone recently questioned what I mean by my backyard because I bring in photos and comments about a lot more than my immediate home turf. My backyard, to me, is the neighborhood I live in and the surrounding areas and more. I embrace the concept of community however small or large. In my book Missed Perceptions: Challenge Your Thoughts Change Your Thinking I discuss communities and how the larger our perception the greater our connection. Nature is nature and it is my pleasure to share my observations

They Hatched!

2010-05-03T11:38:00.000-07:00

They hatched! Four tiny birds with large, demanding beaks are snuggled in the nest on my friend’s entryway. The parents used to fly away whenever someone would be near but since the eggs hatched, they stay close to the nest. These little ones are as demanding as any infants. Cheep, cheep! could almost be translated as Eat, eat! They seem to be able to eat all day. There are lots of baby birds out, now. Sprightly cardinals with their vibrant reds, gawky grackles overshooting the feeders, totally confused mourning doves. They will grow quickly through toddlerhood and adolescence as this spring’s generation. As I watch their progress, I think of my own children’s awkwardness in the beginning years. It isn’t easy learning to walk/fly or eat solid foods/seeds. I wonder if the fledglings’ ineptitude frazzles their various bird mommies and daddies. My nest is empty, now, but I remember the growing years and empathize.

Requiem for a Circle

2010-04-26T18:07:00.000-07:00

There was something quaint about the circles that dotted the roads when I first moved to South Jersey. They slowed the traffic as cars merged around them and hinted of a time when farms and orchards were abundant in the area. Then suburbia spread and the circles became congested. Instead of a smooth flow of vehicles there were snarls and occasional accidents. But there was still a bit of the country feel while the circles remained; they were grassy patches that connected roads divided by medians which each spring blossomed with color from the flowers the township planted. Then the state decided that the circles had to go. One by one they have been disappearing, replaced by wide stretches of tar and lots of traffic lights. The latest circle to go is the Marlton Circle, to be replaced by an overpass. Residents from the local townships understood that the tremendous increase in traffic demanded a more efficient plan but preferred that the redevelopment be more low-key. They suggested a simple intersection with turning lanes and smart lights to monitor the traffic. The state didn’t listen. So now, when Mother Nature brings out her beautiful blooms, this is what we have to look at. I hope that when the project is finished there will be some sense of what once existed here, that someone thought to engineer in some green. It isn’t only hardscaping that eases the movement of a community. Isn’t the flow of a neighborhood just as important as that of machines?

Dandelions Call

2010-04-19T08:34:00.001-07:00

I know, I know, it is counterproductive to blow on the dandelion seeds. We spend a lot time digging up the plants to keep them from taking over the lawn so this is really not the smart thing to do. But they call to us. There is something compelling about those white puffballs. Maybe it brings us back to childhood when we had no thought of pristine lawns and manicured gardens. Perhaps we delight in the delicate explosion, watching the tiny helicopters take off to parts unknown, wishing that in an often difficult world we could do it, too. Possibly we think deeper, sensing the intelligence behind the dispersal of the seeds, how the plant finds ways through wind and passing creatures and, yes, us, to cultivate new territory and ensure survival. It could be for all those reasons or others. Then again perhaps we do it just because it’s fun.

Nest Eggs

2010-04-12T07:06:00.001-07:00

Mother Nature offers us delightful surprises if we are open to seeing them. My friend Claire found one literally on her doorstep. There, inside a planter at her front entrance is a nest. And in the nest are three eggs! The plant is artificial but it doesn’t seem to matter to the bird who made her nest in it. They may be house finch eggs but Claire can’t be sure. She says that the mother bird scoots away too fast to get a good look at her whenever anyone opens the door or approaches from another direction. She is eager to see the eggs hatch and can already imagine the hungry peeping of the baby birds. What a treat! Spring is full of surprises like this: a burst of daffodils in a barren city lot, pink petals snowing down from a budding cherry tree, a rabbit resting in a mid-lawn depression. They, and so many other delights, are there each spring for the finding like nest eggs for our spirit.

Rabbit Time

2010-03-29T18:51:00.000-07:00

It’s spring and that means rabbits. I know that rabbits can be troublesome, especially in regard to the bulbs I get snuckered into planting each year. I say snuckered because bulbs have such beautiful flowers that I can’t resist them even though I know that I will rarely see the blossoms. I have planted hundreds of tulips and harvested nearly none. As the flowers start to bud the rabbits snip them off the stems. So my strategy is to buy fully blossomed plants at the nursery, enjoy them inside for a while, then plant them in the garden. If the rabbits come out for lunch at least I have the pleasure, for a brief time, of seeing their full radiance. And somewhere in my heart of hearts I nurture the hope that maybe this time some of the bulbs will survive to show up again the following spring.

Faux Dogs

2010-03-22T11:17:00.000-07:00

I love spring but spring doesn’t always love me. It is the time when the flowers and my allergies awaken. Most of my sneezing and itching tends to come at the end of the season with the explosion of ragweed but I become more sensitive to other irritants like dust and animals as soon as the pollen develops. It isn’t too bad unless I actually pet an animal, which is almost impossible for me not to do. Even hamsters and guinea pigs will get the itches going but I can tolerate them. Dogs and cats, oh boy. If I pet and then touch my eyes I am in trouble. I might be able to pet if I wash right after, depending upon how much the animal sheds. If I ignore the warning signs and get too close for too long, labored breathing kicks in – not fun. So, depending on how susceptible I’m feeling, I may have to settle for faux dogs, those metal creatures that are supposed to scare away geese and ducks but don’t seem to be very effective. I can appreciate their cuteness without the consequences of the allergy. It isn’t a good substitute but we all make compromises in life. At any rate, I don’t know of any faux cats around so when my son and his family, including his hairy, shedding cat, visit I won’t have to phone anyone to announce their arrival – my sneezing will do it for me.

Le Deluge

2010-03-15T12:00:00.000-07:00

March is supposed to come in like a lion and go out like a lamb. I think March is confused. Here is mid-month and we did have some fierce winds but we also had rain, rain, rain. Isn’t that April’s job? How much rain have we had in the past week? The ground tells the tale. It is saturated, more puddles than dry earth. Of course, the marl that underlies the topsoil here does not allow the water to drain. Dig down about six inches and wham, the shovel hits rock-hard clay. Even so, the rain has been excessive, with each storm racking up inches in the rain gauge and causing flooding across the state. And the weather people are predicting more. Putting things in perspective, this is no big deal, what with the incredibly intense earthquakes in Haiti and Chile. Yet it is atypical, and coming on the heels of record snows this winter, I wonder what April has in store after this deluge...

What to Do?

2010-03-08T10:18:00.000-08:00

The snow, at last, is mostly gone though there are still clumps of it on lawn edges and plowed parking lots. As it pulled back from the side of my house, I noticed a trail going between my house and our neighbor’s. What is this? I wondered. It is the first time in thirty years that I have seen this kind of trail. What animal could have made it? Moles are too big to make that inch-or-two wide furrow. Squirrels depress the grass but they don’t dig a line into the ground. Chipmunks sprint across the grass from one hole to another. So when in doubt, check it out – on the web. What I found was this: I think we have voles. These are small, mice-like animals that make trails from one spot to another. It’s a mystery why they suddenly appeared. The vegetation hasn’t changed. What would attract them? The question now is, what to do? If they don’t proliferate I may not have to do anything but if they do…I will investigate non-harmful, to them and to us, ways of removing them. If anyone has experience with voles, please let me know.

The Icicles Have Melted

2010-03-01T06:54:00.000-08:00

The icicles have finally melted. For a while, there, I was wondering if we might be destined for a perpetual white world, though that would have its own beauty and charm. As the snow melted off the rooftops, it dripped into long fingers of ice creating a North Pole ambience. Very impressive and hard not to feel uplifted by the shimmering clarity that expanded with each drop. But the temperature has reached into the forties for the last several days so the icicles are gone. They have left an indelible image in my mind, however, to gleam in the sunlight and glisten at sunset and to provide a crystalline respite from less elevating thoughts.

Spring Anyone?

2010-02-22T18:05:00.000-08:00

I was working in my office when I heard a determined chip-chip-chip coming from the tree outside the window. There was a daddy cardinal calling for his mate. Later, on the bar above the bird feeders, a male titmouse was calling, too. The finches that flew in didn't interest him. His call was plaintive. When it didn't get the desired response, he flew off to find a more enticing venue. Several of my friends have spotted robins. Something is definitely in the air. The calendar says February but nature seems to be sensing spring's imminent arrival. It warms the spirit though the temperature hovers around freezing. The daffodils are working their way up through the snow. Lovely, this display of anticipation and hope. I expect the squirrels to be zipping about the yard any day now, in a boys chase the girls ritual. The buds are beginning to pop up on the trees, a crocus or two comes out of hibernation, and the wind is letting out its breath. What a time to be alive! Spring, anyone?

Winter Wonder-land

2010-02-15T06:40:00.000-08:00

This winter is teaching me about the hidden aspect of things. The snow covers so much of the familiar world that I find myself looking deeper and wondering about nature’s nuances. What kind of bush is under that mound of frigid white? Where are the squirrels when there are no footprints leading to the feeders? What is happening internally to the shrub that allows it to survive and return in the spring? The snow-covered hedges in my yard look lifeless and yet there are thriving communities within them. Sparrows flit in and out and back in again. But even though I know they are inside, I still can’t spot them. The forsythia on the side is packed with finches but until they take off, the bush seems uninhabited. This hidden quality keeps me alert to what I see and helps me stay open to what there is yet to discover – about nature, about others, about myself.

Winter Can Be Hard

2010-02-11T13:48:00.000-08:00

Winter can be hard for those who live outdoors. Ice and snow coat the feeders and limit the birds’ access to the goodies inside. The storms that walloped the east coast these past couple of weeks have made it even harder for the ground feeders. The squirrels have taken to diving into the snow trying to get at snow-buried seeds. Sometimes all that is visible is a tail – and then the squirrel will pop up, triumphant, with the coveted sunflower seed between its paws. I braved the last foot of snow, which came up to my knees, to toss out some extra food. Every creature should have enough to eat whatever the season. I wish that every person on earth did. I am grateful that I do.

BBQ in the Snow

2010-02-08T12:42:00.000-08:00

There’ll be no barbecueing for a while it seems. We had over 27 inches of snow this last storm and more is promised from another one gathering up speed for mid-week. This is a blow for a few of my friends who BBQ all year round. But I have to say that this past weekend was a very welcome respite from my usual frenetic activity. Most of Saturday was spent watching the snow accumulate while sipping tea in a cozy den. Even shoveling out was a break from the ordinary. Sunday I took a walk through the neighborhood, shifting in and out of the streets depending on the state of the sidewalks, and discovered some wonderful sights. The sky was incredibly blue with wisps of clouds that look like feathers. One tree had blobs of snow in its branches so that it looked as if it was getting ready for a snowball fight. The snow was so pristine that even the squirrels respected it and the backyard remained trackless for most of the day. Despite the work and the inconvenience, the storm felt like a gift.

Ducks on Ice

2010-02-01T13:22:00.001-08:00

These ducks have mastered the art of walking on water – at least when it is solid. This year they have had lots of practice on the ice. We are having an unusually cold winter with an abundance of snow. I know that the planet is experiencing the effects of global warming with ice caps shrinking and oceans rising but it is hard to think of now. Even Istanbul in Turkey had snow! Perhaps global changing would better describe what is happening with the weather.

Seagulls in Suburbia

2010-01-26T13:19:00.001-08:00

I have been pondering a minor mystery: Why are there seagulls in the middle of a suburb more than an hour away from the sea? I have seen them gathering at the local ShopRite and in the mall parking lot. They hang out at McDonald’s, scattering when cars pull up to the drive-in window. They sit atop lampposts as they do at the shore and strut near Dunkin’ Donuts right by a busy street. Are they turning into mallgulls? What intrigues them about this non-ocean community? They fly in, their distinctive wing shape signaling their arrival. I admit that I enjoy seeing them. They bring a touch of summer to whatever season it is. But why are they here?

A Poe Moment

2010-01-18T16:58:00.000-08:00

I was driving down my street the other day and came upon a bunch of crows smack in the middle between my house and my across-the-street neighbor’s. I have seen lots of different kinds of birds around here but this was the first time I saw crows. It was a Poe moment. They looked at me as I inched forward but took their sweet time getting out of the way. One of them perched on my neighbor’s roof and aww-awwed at me. It was pretty persistent before it flew to a nearby tree and was joined by more crows, all aww-ing in the branches. Then they took off, leaving me to wonder where they came from, where they were headed, and would I ever see them here again. It was an unusual occurence so perhaps nevermore.

A Question of Geese

2010-01-11T13:02:00.000-08:00

There is a love/hate relationship going on with geese in these parts. We are on a flyway so we get to see a lot of them. One road has a Geese Crossing sign to help drivers be aware of their presence and be careful, while another has a Do Not Feed the Geese sign to encourage people to dissuade them from staying. Geese are beautiful birds with a heft and dignity to them but then they are also rather messy in their bathroom habits. They are incredible to see migrating in their V formation but pretty noisy when they gather on ponds, in parks, and occasionally at a housing development. They are family oriented but not for human families; it is risky to get too close, as they will charge. So do we nurture, ignore, or discourage geese? I guess it depends on how much face-to-face contact with nature a community desires.

More Snow Coming

2010-01-04T14:03:00.000-08:00

We had a winter storm two weeks ago. Twenty-three inches of pristine, sparkling snow blanketed everything. Now the weather gurus are predicting more snow. So far we have been lucky and snow only seems to fall on the weekends. Very considerate of Mother Nature. Even so, there is a downside to all this beauty. Snow must be shoveled. It gets piled up in lumpy mounds, cars get blocked in by township snowplows, and eventually it all turns dirty as it slowly melts. Would I prefer not to have any? Not for anything. How would my neighbor’s children make snow angels without it? How else would time stop to be replaced by the briefest feeling of wonder?

Where Are the Deer?

2009-12-28T13:13:00.001-08:00

There are five Deer Crossing signs on the four miles to my father’s residence. They are along a main road as well as the roads that swivel through housing developments. It seems that the more land is developed the more signs are needed. If the sightings are any indication, the deer are flourishing. I have seen young deer grazing in a development swale. I had to stop short when a deer ran across the path of my car. I saw one disappear into the scant woods behind someone’s house. There have been dead deer on the roads, too, sometimes along the busy section of a street, three in one season. Where are they coming from? Where do they live? I hope people are paying attention to the signs. It is easy to forget that these beautiful creatures are sharing our living spaces when most of the motion we see comes from cars and trucks.

In the Storm

2009-12-21T08:40:00.000-08:00

We had a record-breaking snowstorm this weekend; almost two feet of the white stuff fell. It was exciting and beautiful though it caused problems. Our cars had to be excavated from the snow that completely surrounded them. The blowing wind swirled flakes into the bird feeders making it hard for the birds to grab the seeds. But the finches lined up anyway. There weren’t many choices for a meal. As soon as the storm stopped, I dug a trench toward the feeders to load them up again. The finches deserved that much. So did the juncos and the cardinals, the titmice and chickadees that waited in the bushes for a turn at the feeders.

Last of the Leaves

2009-12-14T13:41:00.000-08:00

The trees are mostly bare but the streets not so much. This is the last of the leaves that have been raked and piled at the curb for our township to pick up. The mass of them blocks the sewer drainage and at times we have mini-floods. Next week they will be gone so visitors will have places to park again. I have mixed feelings about their disappearance. Leaf piles speak to the child in me. I have to resist clopping through them to hear the crackling sound dry leaves make and it takes all my adult will not to kick them high into the air. If no one is looking, though, I may grab a handful and toss the leaves over my head for the simple pleasure of watching them float down over me.

The Body of a Tree

2009-12-07T16:34:00.000-08:00

Now that the leaves have fallen it is possible to see the skeletons of the trees and it is easy to see how much the tree resembles a body. The trunk is very like the core of our own bodies, supporting the thick branches that form the limbs and the offshoots remind me of the veins and arteries that run through our systems supplying them with nutrients. In the middle of one of the trees in my yard there was a nest, barely visible when the leaves coated the tree with their lush greenery. Positioned as it was, it looked like the heart of the tree. And perhaps it was, bringing movement and sound with the springtime birth of its occupants. What a glimpse into nature’s inner workings.