Endearing Life Lessons

I can honestly say that I have a "true" and "meaningful" appreciation of all in nature. The seen and un-seen, the rare and the common. I can sit in my back yard and truly enjoy the comings and the goings of an American robin, a Northern cardinal, and a Blue jay. Very colorful birds to be sure, but still very common birds. Sometimes being "common" makes a creature too under appreciated by many. No fault to the critter, but out of habit by man we tend to take so much for granted the things we have much of~thinking that they will always be there. But is is actually amazing of what we can still learn by just observing the "most common". Take the Common grackle for instance...Here is a bird that is a bane to many people...why? Because it is so numerous? Because is is just a black and drab bird? Because it does not sing a pretty song? Well, open your eyes, your mind, and your heart~do some old fashioned observing of this bird-learn to appreciate some of the qualities that we hold in high esteem in the human world that are also found in the avian world.

Starting with looks...I do think the Common grackle is a pretty bird. A simple and elegant black~a high lustre black~with a purplish lustre sheen on its head. Check out its fashionable tail~a fine cut and nothing but style. And pride...note the pride in the stride of this bird. A strut if you will! Confidence! A shimmer of arrogance may seem to surface, but look deeper...you can actually find a truly caring and dedicated bird here~a bird that sometimes has worry but never gives up. I know-I am pretty anthropomorphic and John Burroughs would by cringing right now if he could read these words, BUT, there has to be more than just instinct here. Many unforseen tragedies occur in the lives of birds everyday. I just do not think they could hold all the "just instincts" within them to deal and face with each individual happening every day!

Over the years I have seen many things that have become endearing to me. One of these events just happened to involve a Common grackle.

On a night quite a few years ago a severe thunderstorm rolled through...a real toad strainer. The rain was intense, there was frequent lightning and thunder and the winds rocked the trees...a full fledged thunderstorm. By morning though the skies were clear and the sun shined. All was refreshed and re-newed. I opened my windows and let the fresh and clean air in. All that day I heard the squawking of baby birds--hungry baby birds. I did not think much of it because it was the time of year. This squawking was consistent though and went on the whole entire day. Several times when I walked past the window and looked out I did see a grackle pacing on the ground in the yard across the street. It was always there the several times that I looked out. I do not know how many trips past the window I took before I realized that this grackle was pacing around a nest that was on the ground. The nest had fallen from the large cedar tree the night before in the storm. I then realized that this was where all the squawking was coming from. I decided to take a closer look--I crossed the street and went to the nest and the calling was getting louder. I turned over the nest and was absolutely amazed when I found two half grown baby grackles calling out profusely and the third one lying dead. All day long these nestlings had been crying out with their hunger and all day long the parent bird listened to this, in distress, and tried with all it had to feed and care for its young, but not being able to get to them. It had paced around the nest all day! A devoted parent it was though-never giving up and calling back to reassure the young birds. I instantly, at that moment, found a whole new respect for this bird! I picked the nest up with the young and put it up in the highest crotch of the cedar tree that I could reach. Before I could even get back across the street the adult bird was already at the nest feeding these famished babies. It did not take long at all for this grackle to find the new placement of the nest after being on the ground all day with it. I kept up with the young for the next week and they did fledge from the nest okay.

This simple and small observation gave me a whole new appreciation for this bird that not many are fond of. It gave me a new perspective towards it and taught me some other simple lessons to apply in my own life. One of Gods simple beings--winged beings--a simple lesson indeed. We just need to be observant of all life around us, to take the time, and see through to the qualities...May we never take any of life for granted!

Seeking Ourselves

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It's always ourselves we find in the seas~

~E.E. Cummings~

~Beauty Seen and Un-Seen~

How absolutely amazing it is that in such an abrasive, rough and tumble world, such as the Atlantic ocean, that such beauty and elegance washes up upon its shores. The forms of beauty are endless and character abounds! There is also a bit of irony in this beauty. It is said that beauty is in the eye of the beholder...let me tell you what I see.

In the ocean are some of the worlds most beautiful life forms. Here you find grace, color, flowing movement and shape. Here you find elegance. The beauty is diverse. Jellyfish, anemones, corals, fish, sea pansies and the list goes on and on. There are beautiful shells with such eye shattering color, pattern, design, texture, and some of the inhabitants that live inside are just as colorful as the shells themselves. They are Gods artwork and sometimes it is hard to imagine why some of these beautiful creatures are hidden under the water, mostly hidden from our eyes. But beauty need not always be flaunted...with the glimpses of it that we get, with the conditions and forms that washes up...it is enough for our eyes. Sometimes it is just the knowing that is enough.

Here is where some of the irony comes in. A shell and its inhabitant--perfect and beautiful-- lives in its watery world. As time goes on it ages and ageing as we all do we get bumps, bruises, scars...we fade, we wrinkle, we get flawed. We get flawed from time and age, from experience, from our environment, we get flawed from living.

We die and so does the inhabitant in the shell. The shell remains. Although our "shell" is buried and never seen again--the inhabitants shell goes on a lot of times. It may get used by another critter--a crab in most cases. He adds more flawing and character to it. Then he also dies. This recycling and sharing could go on for any number of years and in between this shell gets tossed around, beaten up, eaten up and then spit out, the abrasive sand and sea water takes its toll on the shells beauty and at some point in time the ocean itself spits it out and tosses it up on a beach somewhere. Perhaps hundreds of miles from where it first started. A beach comber comes along and revels in finding this shell--not perfect by far--its color faded, it has a few holes and a couple of chips, but it was Gods gift and the oceans gift that at this very moment it washed up at the feet of this beach lover. A fortuitous meeting. It has character and beauty of time and use...you can still see a hint of its young and original beauty. In many ways comparable to how our own human bodies react to our environs. And such is life. One realizes that beauty can be much deeper than just outside appearances. We appreciate the unseen qualities.

Walking along a little further one might come across a piece of sea glass. It may be white, green, blue, or amber...If real lucky, ruby red. As I find a piece of this I walk along holding it in my hand, reveling at its beauty, curious of its age and origins, and awe-struck at how this piece of refuse was not an original inhabitant here, but claimed by the ocean after someone forced it upon it. The ocean took it in and gave to it the same treatment that it gives all of its inhabitants. But instead of it washing up all rough, tumbled, aged looking, and broken, it washed up in its most beautiful form ever--even more beautiful than what it originally was! Just opposite of us! It washed up frosted and smooth to the touch and one cannot help but to continually rub over this piece and caress it. Its colors are made subtle and soft--it gives off a romantic aura. God has taken in something unwanted by man--has loved it and caressed it~unconditionally~and gave it back to us in a form that we-mere humans- can now see through enough to appreciate. There is mystery and intrigue to sea glass also-we have no idea where this piece of glass came from--was it pitched over by some dis-respecting person on a boat or a ship? Was it at one time a message in a bottle? And from how far away and how long ago? No matter now...for now it has been turned into beauty..naturally.

I find it ironic how a natural and beautiful inhabitant of the sea goes through its life--rarely seen by human eyes--in its most glorious form. Then by the time we see it, after it washes up somewhere, its outer beauty has mostly faded. We are forced to seek inner beauty. And then you have an old, man-made glass bottle that some person left behind. The ocean claims it as her own~shapes and molds it and gives it back to us in its most beautiful and perfect form~now one of nature. There is much to be said here regarding inner and outer beauty, of nature, of how God takes care of us. Of what he is showing us and teaching us.

The pictures above are treasures, shells and sea glass, that we found on some of our forays to the outer banks.

~ Glorious Song ~

Spring is the time of year when the sun comes back into our lives. It warms our air, our hearts, our souls, and thoughts. It renews us. It gives us new spiritual growth and it is a time to feel blessed. Blessed to be facing and enjoying a new season.

This awakening comes around to me with the sunshine. Seeing the suns rays and feeling its warmth - It is like a hug from God. The birds feel this hug also as they start tuning up and singing. Although there are several birds that are tuning up, there is one that shines out more loudly than the rest...and I think this is simply from it singing so loudly, triumphantly, consistantly, first and last.

Yes, first and last. This is the time of year when I can open my bedroom window and sleep with the new spring air covering me like a blanket. It is soothing, soft, and relaxing. Early in the morning --before the sun has visibly risen to us it has already risen in the heart of the robin. And the rejoicing starts slowly. It is as if there is a leader. You will hear a clip-it of song in the dark, then silence. Then another clip-it will break in and then another. After a time robin after robin follows suit and it is soon a cacaphony of song. To lay there and just listen puts one in a wonderland -- not sure if this is the real world or heaven. It is refreshing to the mind and heart. The way every day should begin...

And then evening comes. The sun begins to set lower and lower in the sky. And as this occurs the myriad of songsters goes down with it...one at a time. In the end there is but one who is reluctant to let the day go and that is the robin. And as they ushered the sun in, they usher it out...with song. The cacaphony of song starts out at its peak and slowly one robin at a time drops out for the night until there is but one lone singer left. And he too will finally stop and rest. This cacaphony is just the opposite of the morning glory. But whether its the morning cacaphony or the evening cacaphony it is all so glorious. And so the day ends just as it began. Full of song...full of glorious song. Full of glory....

~~An Angel in the Form of an Owl ~~

My daddy loved the birds~he had a special fondness for Bobwhite quail (hence my moms nickname of squab) and Northern cardinals. As a kid I was able to whistle loudly and he used to coax me often into "whistling like a red-bird". And he would get a big kick out of hearing me and another cardinal duet back and forth. I remember well a day when we took him with us to the forest to check our bluebird boxes and seeing his eyes light up and that smile on his face when he seen those baby bluebirds! This came at a point near the end of his life when he found it hard to find things to smile about.

My daddy loved the birds~and quite a few years before he even got sick I asked my daddy to build me a screech owl box for my yard. I supplied all the plans. He lovingly and eagerly built that box for me and proud of it he was. After checking into the proper placement of a screech owl box I realized that I did not have the adequate requirements in my yard. Although in years past we did see Screech owls in the neighborhood. So there the nest box sat--in a corner in my garage. Years went by and still it sat. Every now and then he would ask me if I ever got it up. Shamefully I would tell him no.

Two years had gone by since my dad passed away and still that box sat in my garage. It was fast becoming one of those sentimental items that sits on a shelf and builds memories. Some good, but other feelings were of guilt for never getting the box up before he died. He would have loved to have seen his box up. It was something that he was proud of. And then one day~~ he spoke to me. My sister-in-law, Sue, told me about her and her husband, Dave, coming home one evening to see a small screech owl just sitting in the middle of their rock lane. They sat there looking at this tiny red owl in the glowing beam of their head lights until it flew off. As they enjoyed watching this little denizen it did not dawn on them until the next day that this little owl could possibly be a homeless owl after they had a dead and hollow snag removed from their wooded yard. They continued seeing the owl for the next couple of days. We decided then that this owl was indeed in need of a home. And I just happened to have one.

I explained to Sue the story of the owl box--of how it came about, why it did not get used, how guilty I felt about it, how it became a sentimental item, and now, NOW it was time to GIVE this box up and GET it up and give this owl a home!

The little red Screech owl did not waste much time in settling in to its new home! Within a few days the little red owl could be seen at certain times of the day sitting in the opening of its new home--sunning itself and checking out the neighbors. All was right with this owls world!

My dad spoke to me through this little creature of Gods~the Screech owl. I think he understood why it did not get put up and he showed me the way, the area, and the little owl that needed this home. He sent this little Screech owl to me! He helped me to heal a wound and make things right. He showed me the way through a medium we both loved~the birds. The birds have been a bond between us for years~in the living years. And even now through the spiritual world we maintain this bond. He has now been gone for three years.

Yes, my daddy loved the birds~and still does....

Musings in the Sand

Walking along the beach with my mind and body completely at ease and with peace many thoughts, wanderings, and musings come to mind.

I see and meet many people here. We have all been drawn to this same place by the same special love of the sea--for its healing, peace of mind, and for its beauty. It is a place that is etched in our souls for our eternity. We not only take the ocean home with us, we also leave a part of ourselves with the ocean. We, in turn, become a part of the oceans eternity.

Walking along and seeing the many footprints in the sand I am drawn to notice the many shapes and sizes of the prints, some deep in the sand and others shallow--a mark left no doubt though. I walk in these same foot steps trying them on for size and noting how many paths and different walks of life are crossing here.

We have each left our mark here. We have all converged here together on this beach just as each and every grain of sand here has also converged here from many places. And as we all part again to go our separate ways--so too shall the grains of sand part and go their separate ways also, only to end up maybe on the ocean floor and again, at some point in time to wash back up on an ocean beach somewhere. The foot prints that we have left in the sand may remain there for hours or for days depending on wind and tide. Others are short lived as they meet the ocean waves immediately and all visible traces of them are erased. As the grains of sand are ancient, and they part and come back together again, so too will our foot prints will always remain somewhere in these sands of time. One wonders about the early seafarers and if perhaps their feet have also sifted through these same sands. In some far fetched way in my mind we are all seafarers traveling with the current in the form of a grain of sand that we have touched. Amazing that so many of us can all touch the same single grain of sand.

My minds wandering is doubly intrigued by the foot prints of the birds. Many of these birds are migrants at points throughout the year. As they lift off for points unknown to us how many of their own foot prints must they pass over--taking the short circuit through the skies and over the gyre and then meeting up with them again on some other distant beach.

My musings might be far fetched and theories never proven but I figure in a lot of faith in here also.

The prints you see here and the prints you see being made here were done in September 2009. They were placed at my "soul place" on the point of Cape Hatteras, North Carolina. The time we spent here together is forever imprinted on our hearts and well as on the sand.

Elegance in Flight

All birds are beautiful! They each and every one have their very own character and personality--some are bold and loud, some are secretive and recluse, others are adorned in loud and vibrant colors--almost reaching gaudy in some, there are those who are more subtle in color, and then there are those who are simply elegant. I think that one of the most elegant birds that there is, is the tree swallow. It even reaches over to the romantic side. The white on its breast is pure and the metallic blue on its back is deep, its startling, and it never fails to bedazzle me! And when the sunlight bounces off its back it is even more startling! I have never been able to single out a particular bird for a favorite, but the tree swallow would definitely be in the running!

I have several "spring" birds--birds which signal spring to ME. The tree swallow is but one of them. I anxiously await to see my first of year or hear reports of them heading my way. My earliest date ever for spring arrival in my county is March 1st. On this particular March 1st I was birding in a mixed bag of weather. One minute the sun was shining--the next minute snow was spitting from the skies. The battle of winter ending and spring beginning was on! And I was shivering! Amidst several shivers and a bout of snow and blow a tree swallow zipped by, over the lake, and circled! I knew then that spring was on the winning end, winter was losing its grip fast, and my shivers were fading with it! These hardy birds always seem to be the first swallows to arrive in spring and the last to leave in fall.

On May Day counts I love to be standing on the beach at the Ferdinand State Forest right before day breaks. It is intriguing to hear them twitter and chatter in the dark flying out over the lake. It lends to their personality an air of pure happiness--Thankful to be ushering in another day--another day of zipping and sailing through the spring air, of the freedom of flight, and of just being! And this thankfulness is contagious as I breathe in the same morning air and my heart swells as I go through all of the emotions!

There is but one who could ever replicate the color of this bird...GOD. This bird is a God-given jewel! When the sunlight reflects off of its back it is heaven shining. This is not only elegance in flight, it is also heart rendering elegance!