So Much Promise

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...

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

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!

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

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

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

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.