Tag Archive | joy

Fledging is imminent. It could be tomorrow, or it could be another week. Research says they fledge between 18-21 days after hatching. I don’t know exactly what day they hatched, but do know the parents were flying in and out sixteen days ago. The past few days the food deliveries have been increasing, and the chicks’ cries when the parents leave are now loud and clear.

I couldn’t be more grateful to see them fly in carrying one grasshopper after another to the nest. Sometimes they fly straight in from the top of a nearby juniper, or from the tip of the patio umbrella; more often, they land on their antler perch and look around before hopping up to the nest cavity.

In the past two days their deliveries have become so frequent they occasionally overlap, meeting in the doorway as one flies in with food and the other flies out with a fecal sac. Cornell Lab of Ornithology defines this as “a clean, tough mucous membrane containing the excrement of nestling birds.” You can see mama with it below.

They move so fast I can’t see their weightless ease without the camera. Above, he floats from the nest to the perch; then gathers himself for a few breaths, and takes off. Their wing-to-body length is almost falcon like, and the long wings give them the ability to hover and dive when hunting. I can’t get enough of watching them, and will be spending every possible minute on birdwatch until the babies emerge.

I think how my mother would have loved this unexpected delight. As a bird-lover and also a painter whose favorite color was blue, she was entranced with mountain bluebirds. When she visited and saw them dancing along the fenceposts, she wanted to name my driveway Bluebird Lane. Back then, I rarely saw one in the yarden. So in an interconnected accepting sort of way, I guess I’m kind of grateful for the grasshopper plagues that have brought the bluebirds to my front door.

Choose Beauty

How did I not notice this extraordinary pattern in Wren’s blue eye? This is one reason I love photography. I see better sometimes through a different lens. I can zoom in or out for a fresh perspective. My aging eyes can’t see this detail when she’s got her face in mine and we melt looking into each other. I’m grateful for this delightful surprise today.

I’ve looked back through images of her to see if this was just an artifact of the camera, or the light, or whether it’s been there all along—and it has! Even in one of first pictures I took of her (above) in May 2022 when I’d had her only a few weeks, you can see the starry darker blue in her iris, but not with the striking clarity of the new phone camera. I simply didn’t look closely enough back then.

Today was classic March in the mountains, windy, cold, with stinging snow flurries, and occasional fits of tepid sunshine. It was a great day to stay inside. Lunch was a grilled Havarti, mushroom, and shallot sandwich. On breaks I continued to puzzle in the sunshine. More about this one later, just a taste today.

I long for the halcyon days when there was nothing more urgent to do with my spare time than enjoy the beauty around me. The causes and conditions of this new era we’re in demand that we all participate in the fierce tapestry of resistance growing daily. I’m grateful to be among many who see clearly; and grateful for the many others who work to strengthen the warp and woof of the weave, the good lawyers and good politicians and good journalists who get paid to defend democracy. Our local Indivisible chapter met this afternoon on zoom and held the full range of each others emotions on this terrifying roller coaster.

Though tonight’s sunset was flat grey, last night’s was ethereally stunning. I’m grateful for a new tripod attachment that let me shoot some short timelapses, and anticipate much joy in coming months from acquiring this single implement. No matter what else you do, make time to do the things that bring you joy. Choose beauty wherever you can.

Contentment

A rare moment of peaceful contact in the kingdom this morning, Topaz and Wren together for a few seconds, almost a minute, on the stone bench beside me. Wren was so nervous she jumped down shortly after, and once Topaz had made her point she didn’t need to be up there anymore either. Oh well. I’m grateful for occasional signs that maybe these two will one day get along with sincere friendliness — but I’m not attached to that outcome.

Topaz continues to join me at the patio table during morning coffee. Her contentment with this new time together, while Wren chases grasshoppers or wasps or basks in the sun, seems to give her some reassurance that her place in my heart hasn’t been usurped by what she still thinks of as ‘that interloping puppy.’

Who, by the way, could not be cuter, even when I ask her to please try. I’m grateful for living a quiet life with a fragile truce between cats and dogs, for the opportunities I have daily to give comfort, help, or support to others, and for the occasional feeling of being enough just as I am. Why is this such a challenging equilibrium for so many of us? Our culture conditions us to demand more of ourselves and of each other than is reasonably possible, and so we strive or suffer, robbing ourselves of the simple joy of contentment.

Simple Joys

I follow an entomologist on Instagram who posted yesterday about micro-moths, tiny beautiful creatures. When I let Wren out for midnight whiz last night and checked the high-low thermometer I spotted a micro-moth and took a picture. Nothing fancy, but tiny, and precious in its own lepidopteran way.

Where’s Wren? Hiding in the corner of the patio when the storm rolls in tonight. This morning, she spotted a young garter snake in this same location, and trembled with excitement as she sniffed and patted at it under the basket. It wasn’t her usual wasp/bee/grasshopper behavior, so I went over to check it out. I was grateful to see my first snake of the YEAR, and glad that she was so gentle in her curiosity.
First ever broccoli forest loaf (first of many) ready to go into the oven.

This morning a friend brought to mind the simple joys of an ordinary day, mentioning “pretty flowers blooming, colors that are harmonious together, birds singing.” It turned my day around. I had been lying in bed late, curled up tight like a pill bug, not wanting to get out of bed, not because I was overtly depressed, just that I didn’t want to get out of bed. Following Debi’s checkin, others mentioned a range of things that give them joy, from animal companions to functional limbs, and the brief virtual discussion stayed with me all day.

I’m grateful for the simple joys of being alive in any given moment. Today those included reading a novel, my work, a couple of meaningful conversations with family and friends, exercising, stretching, meditating, groceries, a light rain shower, Biko walking through the door and tucking himself inside as the storm approached, Buddha School, watching ‘Modern Family,’ and baking this amazing broccoli forest loaf. So simple, so delicious! And for once, my result resembles the online photo!

GLAAD

Image from GLAAD.org of some winners and honored allies

I stumbled upon the GLAAD Media Awards show this evening on Hulu. I’d heard of GLAAD but not seen the award show nor known the extent of the work they do. The show was a celebration of acceptance and love, courage and resilience, and queer joy. I was delighted to have seen a few of the many films and shows nominated, and interested to see the breadth of media recognized including graphic novels and video games. I immediately looked up the full list of nominees so I can check out those available on the platforms I stream and broaden my entertainment palette. I’m grateful for GLAAD and for LGBTQ+ people I’ve known and loved, and lost, in my life.

Making the Best

I’ve been feeling a little melancholy the past few days, despite so much to be grateful for. Been practicing turning my attention to what I want it to be on rather than the grumpy thoughts that are trying to claim it, and it’s working. Sometimes it’s an uphill slog, though. Mindfulness isn’t easy, but at least it helps make the mental afflictions less frequent, less intense, and less duration. Each challenge is an opportunity to practice, and practice eventually makes perfect, or close enough.

One thing I’m really thankful for is to have become reacquainted with an old college friend. For some years, I had been under the mistaken impression that he’d died, and was thrilled to stumble on his name when I was searching for another old friend. We’ve been emailing questions, answers, reminiscences… and he sent me this picture of us in his dorm room. I do remember this, but I do not remember how he or we exploded his beanbag chair. It was a great lesson for me in making the best of a bad situation, which I think became his mantra for life. I’m grateful for having this joyful image, and I’m more grateful for finding him alive and well.

When I’m Sixty-four…

Despite a concerted effort through most of my life to make sure this never happens, I believe that today there might be a few people who love me who have forgotten that it’s my birthday.

If there are, though, there aren’t many. I have been overwhelmed with birthday greetings and salutations from before I awoke til just now, via text, zoom, email, phone, and facebook. I am so incredibly grateful to be thought of kindly by so many people. It has truly been a day to receive love and celebrate my still being alive after sixty-four years. And yes, as only one friend asked, I’ve had that Beatles’ song going through my head all day.

A gentle snow fell off and on all day, and I started a fire first thing because when it’s cold and grey outside, it’s pretty chilly inside. The cake I was so proud of not un-panning last night was impossible to get out this morning. All that butter had congealed and glued it to the bundt pan. So I set it on top of the woodstove for a few minutes, and it popped right out. It is delicious. Here’s the recipe for any NYT Cooking subscribers. I can see all kinds of variations on this in the future, like using lemon extract instead of vanilla, and making a lemon syrup to saturate it… or maple syrup syrup… I’m grateful I have a few neighbors to share it with.

I’m grateful that I received a few gifts–and doubly grateful that there were only a few. I have been trying desperately for years to once and for all finally declutter my house, which got out of hand long ago when I brought home so much of the ancestral stuff after mom, and later dad, died. Please friends, when your parents go, relinquish attachment to their stuff! I’ve prolonged a sorry task that’s become a real burden. Attachment creates suffering. See something you want in my house? Please take it! Except for my birthday presents. And for some reason, every single one of them was kitchen related.

I’m grateful that the Bad Dogs lent me Norma’s Solstice puzzle, “Carmel by the Sea,” which I started last night. In two sittings I completed the two easy parts. Now, as they warned me, comes the hard part.

I’m grateful that the universe granted me this precious day that will never come again, to relax, and receive love, and enjoy the gifts of this particular life in this precise moment. Everything changes all the time. I may not live to see another birthday. Death is certain, time of death uncertain. We each have our unique way of seizing the day, and mine, this day, was to relax into and allow the simple quiet joy of contentment and gratitude.

Intangibles

Zoom cocktails with Amy on Saturday, which I tried to upload from my phone but didn’t realize it hadn’t worked. I’m grateful for a spectacular fall color display on Mendicant Ridge and all the mountains around, whether or not I make it up into the high country to drive or walk among the brilliant aspens. I’m content to witness it from the plateau looking up, knowing and recollecting the feel, the scent, the ambience of an aspen forest in fall.
I’m grateful for this little imp, and grateful that she didn’t fall off the edge of the deck. Look at that face!
I’m grateful to watch the full moon sidle up behind the mountains on a balmy October evening, sharing the moment with my dear friend across the country.

I’m grateful for the intangibles in a day; not to be confused with the immeasurables, but including them. I’m grateful for the feeling of joy of just waking up alive, for the excitement and potential I feel at the end of pranayama class with a beloved teacher and the sense of understanding that passes between us even on zoom; for the joy of teaching and the sincere caring for the students in my classes (and graduates) to whom I can offer some help and guidance in navigating challenging lives; for the sense of humility I experience knowing that I’m just a step or two ahead of them on this journey to peace and contentment in a culture that demands more of us than we can realistically expect to render. I’m grateful for the facets of my life that I experience and treasure every day which cannot be captured in a photograph. Also, I’m grateful for those moments that can be.

I’m grateful for quotidian moments of levity like this Marine cut mullein top.

Today winterizing began in earnest, deep-cleaning the sunroom in preparation for bringing in all the cacti, geranii, potted herbs, and a few peppers that I can’t bear to lose to colder nights. Above, one of the two Datil peppers, which I dug up and potted to bring in so that I can at least have a chance of some ripening. These hot peppers are native to St. Augustine, Florida, and apparently need a much longer season than I could give them here. Below, I also potted up the single Tabasco pepper plant, which took so long to produce blossoms, then flourished; but alas, it hails from Mexico and the US gulf coast states, and also wants a longer season than I could provide. Hoping these two pepper plants, and a little Scorpion that hasn’t even flowered yet, plus one of the Jigsaw peppers, will all thrive in the sunroom for a month or two more, without spawning aphids.

The bounty of unripe peppers on this Tabasco plant made it feel worthwhile to bring in before nights get too cold. Biko will also be coming in regularly at night now, until he decides it’s time to hibernate in the laundry room.

I’ve created a monster! My goal in spring was to have Wren trained by fall to race around the yard and find Biko quickly and consistently. She is doing an excellent job of that, when she can tear herself away from nibbling on the lush green grasses brought up by an extra rainy September. She runs ahead of me checking under sagebrush, rabbitbrush, juniper, and sits down when she finds him. However, when I pull him from his burrow each evening to bring him inside, she jumps at him and follows me, dancing around as I set him down in his indoor spot, then barks and sits down beside him to tell me she’s found him again! In the mornings, she yips and prances until I follow her into the laundry nook where she finds him yet again; each time expecting a treat, of course. And of course she gets one.

Loving Photography

Nuff said.
My friend Sean made this picture tonight in eastern Washington as it was just beginning to rain. He lay down on the flagstone and called me as he waited for the ground around him to get just wet enough to leave a dry impression of his body. How we met is a funny story for another time, perhaps. But we have a lot of the same interests and photography is one of them. This is not a great photograph. Nor are the images that follow that I shot tonight. But the beauty of loving photography is that it’s not necessarily the resulting image that matters; it’s the making of the image in the moments it’s created that carries the significance and fills the heart.
Early, I wondered if we’d get to see the eclipse here. But clouds cleared as night deepened.

The total lunar eclipse of the full flower supermoon tonight has been captured with super fancy cameras the world over and there’s no image I can add to those that will appear in the news tomorrow. But the joy I derived this evening from sharing life with my friend, then sitting on my deck for hours with a cold martini slowly warming as it waned, and a warm little dog zipped into my sweatshirt and my dear departed mother’s little Audubon Nikon binoculars, acquainting myself with my new husband-camera and his super special lens, at one with crickets and the universe, well… that’s priceless.

Art

Before I returned Sarah’s puzzle, “Matisse’s Studio” (from artwork by Damian Elwes), I wanted to do it again. My strategy on this round was to pull all the pieces easily identified as the paintings on the studio walls and quickly assemble as much as I could of those little gems.

Having only looked at the box lid once, using Seymour’s Rule, I couldn’t recall which paintings went where in the scheme of things. The flat edges of most of them are designed to trick the puzzler into sorting out more edge pieces than are really puzzle edges.

Having wrapped up the paintings and determined that they did include actual puzzle edges and two corners, I then assembled the sea, with its near beach and far city shore, followed by the balcony. These steps were pretty easy, with the distinctive color of the sea and two key whimsy pieces including a mermaid, and the balcony’s definitive railing.

Assembling the remaining components took more time. Colors and shapes are key, but in true Matisse fashion, Elwes splashed mixed up colors all over the place. Then the brilliant puzzle designer created intricate cuts with flimsy connections.

I persevered, soaking up the bright colors on a couple of grey days, delighting in the details that emerged as each little section revealed itself. So many separate little scenes!

And the precious edges, the flat-edged pieces providing only a skeletal framework, sitting in place awaiting the filler pieces which don’t look like edges at all. Then finally, the delight of completion. I like to save a special piece for last; in this case, a special multi-piece.

Naturally, after finishing the puzzle again, I had to explore more Matisse. He was one of my mom’s favorites, along with Cézanne, and I’m just beginning to understand why. It was fun to see where Elwes got his inspiration. And then to ponder how art evolves over time, from one artist finding inspiration in others, and whole trends, movements, schools, developing through time and space. I loved Art History in college. I’m grateful to have grown up with Art as a value and activity in our home; grateful to have lived near and frequently visited the world-class art museums of downtown Washington, DC, including the Smithsonian galleries; grateful to have seen, felt, absorbed in real life the magnificent works of Van Gogh, Matisse, Cézanne, Picasso, Rubens, Rembrandt, Munch–I’m kind of hating in this moment that the names which come readily to mind are all males, and am grateful to be learning recently of equally talented female artists who were shamefully underrepresented in the art lessons of my youth.

But setting aside that can of worms, here are some random paintings chosen from the many Matisse images available online, which may have been among those which influenced Elwes’ delightful rendering of “Matisse’s Studio.”

Then there was this absolutely irresistible cat, which I’d gladly hang on my wall.
Wallowing in all this Matisse reminded me that I have another Matisse puzzle to immerse myself in again, “Red Room.” It’s been a few years since I’ve done it. Perhaps I’ll pull it out on the next rainy day.