I was thrilled to see the first little yellow tulips opening today, after another night in the teens. A welcome harbinger of warmer weather! Though we’ll have some more freezing nights, the two-week forecast promises seasonal spring days, and more time in the garden.
When I enlarged the first images to check for clarity I gasped, noticing only then the tiny grasshopper instar hiding in the petals. I took another shot with my fingertip for scale.
I don’t recall when I saw the first grasshopper last spring, but it was earlier than I’d ever seen one before, and we had The. Worst. Ever grasshopper infestation that summer. I think today is now the earliest I’ve seen a grasshopper in the garden. We had so hoped in this neighborhood that the extreme cold over the winter had killed them. One silver lining that occurred to me after losing the apricots was that an 8 degree night had surely wiped out any potential grasshoppers. Wrong!
Between this development, and having seen zero honeybees since February, I feel disheartened about food-growing success this year, and not just for me. I sure am grateful that I’m starting a Grateful Gathering next week, to support my practice in what feels like ever more dire circumstances.
I was looking for an image of a seesaw the other day to use in a slideshow about meditation. I ended up finding one on a free stock photo site that worked well for the idea I wanted to convey, but not before I recalled this picture that was taken more than forty years ago. In a very small world of perhaps three to five people, it’s iconic. I couldn’t imagine where my copy might be, so I texted my friend Doodles to see if she had “the seesaw picture” handy; she texted her daughter, the baby in the swing in the foreground. It took a few days, but the image was excavated and texted to me. Ah, technology!
None of us had recalled the baby in the swing. At the time it was taken, we had all marveled at the perfect balance Jerry and I had achieved on the seesaw. That had taken some time, and we sat there for quite awhile; long enough, maybe, for Doodles to run back upstairs to the apartment to get her camera. I’m fascinated looking at it now for so many reasons. And so grateful. Grateful for the friendships that it represents that have lasted lifetimes, grateful for the halcyon days it recalls of youth and optimism; grateful for the technology of the time that captured it on film, and the tech of today that enabled it to reach me in minutes after it was found. I’m grateful for joy it brought to the young adults in that moment, the spirit of play and perseverance, and for the symbol it became through the years of that perfect moment on the playground. How young we were! How red my hair was! I’m grateful that we are all four still alive!
And I’m fascinated by the trick of memory that none of us recalled the baby in the swing, but only the marvel of the balancing act. I’m fascinated to see Jerry’s perfect yogic posture and my even then asymmetry. Ever since the aches and pains of aging have made me aware of the imbalance of my skeletal structure, I guess I’ve imagined that at some point I might have had better alignment. But even then the stiff right hip couldn’t release the leg, even then the spine had no lumbar curve. I’m grateful for the compassionate perspective this realization gives on my past, present, and future.
Meanwhile, in the garden, there is another sort of balance: that sweet spot of spring when it’s still cold at night and flowers are blooming. Yesterday it snowed off and on; this morning I enjoyed a rare chorus of redwing blackbirds.
Apricot and forsythia are in bloom even as the wood rack is still stacked full. I planted three columbines in these cages this morning and deep-watered the tree.
These used oxygen cannulas might be perfect tree ties.
More tulips are opening in my own private Netherlands bed, and the bright morning face of this yellow tulip hides behind blushing petals at sundown.
Wren nibbles her favorite spring snack, the tender leaves and tiny buds of the mat daisies.
I continue to navigate balance between joy and grief, my small sanctuary and planetary chaos, and find myself grateful every day for the calming influence of mindfulness practice. The gift of equanimity is indeed immeasurable.
I’m grateful I got to spend a lot of time outside today, sitting quietly in the yarden, mowing grass and weeds, reading, watering, attending to the little vegetables, walking the little animals through the woods and admiring the little wildflowers. As I was pondering what specific gratitude to express about today, though, I took a long drink of cold tap water.
Everybody chokes on their own saliva once in a while, or has a sip of something go down the wrong pipe, but I’ve been aspirating a lot lately, as often as once a day sometimes, and that’s got me a little concerned. As I poured the water into my mouth tonight and swallowed gulp after gulp, I thought about my mother, and other people with multi-system atrophy diseases, and how one of the systems that goes is swallowing. They have to drink thickened liquids after awhile which is pretty awful–I tried my mother’s thickened water once. And so as that clear thin water went down my throat cleanly I felt keenly aware of my gratitude for swallowing a glassful effortlessly.
A delight to see snow still on the mountains this late in May
The wild plum in full bloom with snow on the mountains, a welcome juxtaposition not seen for years.
As Buddha teaches us the truth of impermanence, so does the garden. Tulip bloom is fleeting, and I savor it while it lasts.
I was grateful today to get a long talk with my cousin, who just returned from two weeks in Thailand. She noticed that the Thai people seemed invariably peaceful and kind, and mentioned that maybe it had something to do with the Buddha. I agreed that was a savvy surmise. I’m grateful that I was introduced to the Buddha, and to the idea of Buddha nature within all beings, more than forty years ago, even though it took another few decades before I really began to look into it, and even more years before I began to take Buddhist philosophy fully to heart. I’m grateful for all the wisdom and clarity that the Buddhist worldview has brought to my interdependent life.
I’m grateful for other Asian contributions to the world also, including Hoisin sauce and rice paper wrappers. Last night was my first foray into making crispy spring rolls. The first attempt at soaking the delicate wrappers was a colossal failure and wound up in the compost but I only lost one roll worth of filling. My second attempt yielded a reasonably successful ten rolls, which I opted to bake instead of fry. I enjoyed half of them for dinner, but they weren’t exactly crispy. To reheat the remainder for lunch today, I fried them, and they were much better. No recipe, I just looked up a few online and mixed up what I had, shredded cabbage, carrots and green onions, finely diced mushrooms, some mashed chickpeas, and some chopped bean noodles, with a splash of soy sauce, and rolled it up. Simple, once I got the hang of it, and delicious.
After the flamboyance of tulips, the first native phlox out in the woods proclaimed its understated elegance.
And at the end of a busy couple of days, Wren took a little stretch on my lap.
I love how tulips close up at night, and open with the sun. I was up and out early enough to catch these gorgeous tulips before they opened, and back out later to enjoy their sunny insides. Wish I could remember what variety they are, but maybe I’ll find the receipt for them one day.
Of all the jonquils I’ve planted only one has bloomed so far.
I’m grateful for a full day of gratitude practice. For the nice internet repair guy who came and fixed my connection for real, finally; he said there’s still a lot of trouble since the lightning strike more than two weeks ago, but he thinks he got my system squared away. For the kind personnel at the clinic where I spent the early afternoon getting my second shingles shot (for shingles shots), and annual physical. For coming home to a good little dog who leapt and bounced for a few minutes then quickly calmed down. For a hot shower, and a talk and meditation with one of the Dalai Lama’s right hand monks, Thupten Jinpa: Connecting with Purpose & Joy in Everyday Life. For a wonderful zoom with a bunch of women exploring sustainable end-of-life options, hosted by Natural Transitions and featuring Mallory McDuff, author of Our Last Best Act discussing her reasons for and research into alternatives to standard burial.
And I’m grateful for a quiet evening savoring the sky, birdsong, and flowering trees. I got lucky with this shot of the clouds to the north, and this of the apricot sky south beyond the apricot tree.
because we can all use some spring color about now…
It’s been cold and grey and windy for so long. And snowing off and on. I am grateful for the water, yes, and I am really looking forward to some spring color. Right before that first big snow a few weeks ago, the crocus leaves had pushed through the ground just a couple of millimeters. They’re drinking up snowmelt again and again under their late winter blanket. I really am grateful for that.
The does are hungry though. And my soul hungers for the sun. And it’s all fine, because each morning I wake grateful for a roof over my head, running water, coffee beans from foreign lands, fresh bread, cheese in the refrigerator. I cannot complain. And still, my soul hungers for the sun, snowmelt, green growing things outside and not just inside.
In Buddhism, there is the concept of ‘the ten thousand joys and the ten thousand sorrows.’ A skillful life includes the ability to hold both sorrow and joy, pleasure and suffering, loss and gain, with equanimity. I’m grateful that this winter is giving me so much practice cultivating equanimity.
Also, in an act of shameless self-promotion, my podcast is now available on Apple Podcasts. It even showed up fifth in the search when I typed in ‘Suffer Less,’ which is a wonder for which I am also grateful. Please give it a listen there, or on Spotify or most other podcast platforms, and follow if you like it. You can also subscribe to my newsletter, ‘Fruits of the Practice,’ but I haven’t yet figured out how to link that to this blog, so just comment or email me and I’ll add you to the list if you want to receive that monthly. Yippee! I am making my dreams come true. This may be another gift of the long, grey winter.
I’m grateful to have gotten phone service back today after more than a week without; and to get a call from dermatology that it was a basal cell and it’s all gone; and to have had stamina and strength to start playing with a rough draft of the rock garden; and for the first iris to bloom, and the last tulips, and the first lilacs, and for the Fuji apple blossoms. I’m grateful that Stellar was happy today: happy to eat, happy to walk, happy to nap, happy just to hang out with me all day.
Playing with rocks and plants for awhile this morning, just to get some ideas.Always grateful for my constant companion, eager helper, and quality control inspector.
I’m grateful for the green leaves of tulips, and for these gorgeous orange tulips some of which are throwing more than one bloom.
Today I’m grateful for green things, and not just the usual like lettuce, kale, spinach; spring leaves on the Amur maple or apple or crabapple tree, or any newly leafing tree; or fleetingly lush green fields; but the unusual, like the green pond goo that nearly camouflages the green and brown spotted back of a big fat lady northern leopard frog who hops into the pond when I startle her from the wet green grass at the edge – and the green on her back as well, and grateful that my choices provide habitat for this precious native amphibian.
And I’m grateful for green limes, and the green glass that holds the first margarita I’ve made in a decade. I used a ‘new’ recipe: 2 oz. tequila, 1 oz. Grand Marnier, 1 oz. fresh lime juice, and a half ounce Agave syrup, shaken hard over ice and poured over ice in a salt-rimmed glass. Drink by the pond with the leopard frogs.
I’m grateful for all the green of early May in the high desert, much of which will fade to brown or tan within a month or two in this extraordinary drought, and grateful that I ‘own’ water enough to keep this little oasis somewhat green and moist and fruitful enough to support a little ecosystem through the year.
I’m grateful for another full day of life on this marvelous planet. Grateful to wake up and walk with my big old dog, grateful for a productive morning at home, grateful to make it out of the dermatologist’s office with only six freezes on my face and one biopsy that he thinks is a superficial basal cell and not melanoma (but god, why did he even have to mention that word?) He didn’t seem worried so I won’t. I’m grateful for a good relationship with a kind and competent dermatologist and his assistant. Glad I didn’t fall asleep on that long drive up there, and plenty of sensation to keep me awake on the drive home. And then, I was grateful for a long hot shower and a martini at the pond.
I’m so grateful every time I come home after being away, even for just a few hours. Anything can happen out there. Of course, anything can happen here too, but it just feels better to be home than out on the highway, especially with all the extra traffic detoured from the US 50 closure. Once I’d rinsed the city trip off and out of me, we took our evening walk.
Sun sets beyond the Ancient One.I love watching Stellar sniff the air, or anything else; I love watching his nose at work.Grateful for a bowl of bright tulips lit just so through the west window as we came in for the night, home safe home.
I’m grateful this old man had another exciting morning ramble through the ancient juniper forest.
Grateful this intrepid little kitty kept pace the whole way.
Grateful to see Indian Paintbrush in bloom, which consistently signals the arrival of the first hummingbirds.Grateful for the gorgeous, joyful colors of tulips in bloom. Aprés walk, a perfect breakfast: latté, cardamom cake, and a good read. I’m grateful for this day of rest between two busy weeks, and for all the perfect little pieces of connection, story, nature and wonder that filled it.
Today, I’m grateful for the fullness of Sunday morning, all this beauty and adventure in the first hour awake. I’m grateful the day unfolded in peaceful ease, a little yarden work here, a little homework there, some housework mixed in, and a couple of zoom visits, including cocktails with Miss Sarah Belle: I’m grateful that the universe threw us together by chance 32 years ago and that she opted to open her great heart and mind to me. And, I’m grateful that I finally saw the mama phoebe pop her head up out of their fortified nest after he sang to her from the top of the birch tree. Life’s simple pleasures.
