....trick or treat

Yogis,
Our relationships to holidays change based on where we are at the time. Our views, thoughts and how we celebrate evolve as we pass through numerous life stages. Halloween is no exception to this evolution.

When I was little I loved Halloween! Everything about it. Figuring out what costume I was going to wear…….hobo, Indian, gypsy…..oh my. The school parades. And of course, running around the neighborhood at night with friends and lugging back my heavy pillowcase in the dark. Finally dumping it all out to sort, count and trade. I will give you two Mary Janes for a box of whoppers.

The teenage years were, well…….just awkward.

As I became a young adult I soured on the holiday a bit. I could never figure out a creative costume and the parties felt like drunk fests. Georgetown became a mob scene. Masks became scarier. And I didn’t like the idea of not being quite sure who I was talking to. I was relieved when no one invited me to an event.

Fast forward to being a mom. Suddenly Halloween had new life! Our house decorated with multiple live looking dummies sitting on the front porch. Dressing up the kids (I still was not very creative) and walking the street with them. Neighbors all out with wine in hand and firepits lit in front yards. Gathering after for a bowl of soup while the kids sorted, counted and traded. Festive and low pressure.

But then the kids became men and moved on. For several years we still put up the decorations, dummies and all, and waited for the kids to come. Some years in droves and many others…..in dribbles. The holiday beginning to feel like a lot of effort without the thrill.

Enter Sea Witch Festival as I enter my older years. A full weekend of Halloween activities in Rehoboth, the town where we have our beach house. The main event being the Sea Witch parade on Saturday afternoon. A two hour extravaganza of costumes, floats and marching bands. The sidewalks filled with spectators, almost all in full blown costume themselves. It’s like a daylong joyful block party where anything goes.

Rehoboth is a town where you always see things out of the ordinary, but this weekend it is on steroids. The bars are full with music spilling out onto the street. People waving from balconies. Dogs in tutus and witches galore. Broom throwing contests and dancing hippos. Everyone wearing the mask of exactly who they want to be. Smiles everywhere. I love it!

Sitting in the sun in late afternoon eating a delicious taco, the Little Mermaid, perched on a rainbow-colored float, rolls by and waves. Once again, I am excited for Halloween.

Trick or treat,
SARAH

.....arriving home

Yogis,
You know how there are places that when you arrive you feel you belong? As soon as you enter, your body relaxes, your senses awaken, and your heart lightens. Where it feels as if you have arrived home.

These places are different for all of us. For some it may be a specific country or city. For you it could be an art gallery or the theater. A place in nature……. the top of a mountain or sitting next to a running stream. It could be you spent time there as a child and it invokes warm memories. Or maybe you never spent time there at all, but yet, when you get there, it feels like it has been waiting for you all of this time.

Most of us also have more than one of these special sites. For me a garden is one of my homes. Any garden. The rest of the world falls away as I walk amongst my friends, the plants. Stepping into the hush of the woods also has this effect on me. My energy immediately syncs with that of the trees. I feel welcomed and hugged.

I have one other that I don’t think about much. A farm.

I have never lived on a farm, but I always say I would like to. I haven’t spent much time on farms but wish I could. There is something deep inside me that knows that on a farm I would feel a connection. I often thing that perhaps I lived there in some other life. I was reminded of this on Thursday.

A friend had recently mentioned a county owned agricultural history farm about a half hour north of me. I had to go get my vision test at a dmv location and looking at the map I realized the park was in that same geography. Field trip!

Heading up the long winding drive through freshly mowed rolling hills I start to get that tingle. Trees in bright oranges and yellows dot the landscape along side red barns and an old white farmhouse. I parked the car and began to explore. I was the only sole there. Around the first bend a large cornfield presented herself to me, the dried stalks waving in the breeze. I walked toward it and memories flood in.

When I was in 12 we lived in a house on a one block street that dead ended into a cornfield. After school one of our neighborhood activities was to play hide and seek within the rows of corn. I remember the sound. Stalks towering overhead making it easy to get lost. Not wanting to be found I sat quiet and still which gave me the gift of presence. Alone with the corn.

I walked along the field on Thursday to reconnect.

One of the small red barns was a chicken coop. I sat on the low bench watching two chickens grooming themselves. I talked to them. I sang to them. I took their pictures. I know it’s not for everyone, but I was completely content to sit there for a half hour. The sun shone and there was nowhere else I would rather have been. A bluebird flies by.

My heart was happy. I could live there.

Where is it that you feel you are arriving home? I would love to hear.

Farm girl at heart,
SARAH

.....messy

Yogis,
It’s an October morning and I’m sweeping the walk. Damp leaves, pine needles and cut grass matted on the entire length of the sidewalk from the rain last night. Side to side I move the broom. The swish of the broom against the flagstone creates a rhythm as I clear a path. Swish. Swish. Swish. I look back at my work and it is pleasing to the eye.

The lawn is littered with sticks from grandfather oak above. I grab a lawn bag and begin the first of this season’s many games of ‘pick up sticks.’ When the boys were young I would send them out this time of year and offer a dollar amount for every bag they filled. Now the bend, lean, reach and lift is up to me. I must be careful not to step in the piles of round pellets left behind by the deer who are currently ravaging my greenery.

I head to the car to run errands. Before getting in I pull out the dried leaves that are trapped under the windshield wipers and stuck in the crevices where the windows meet the car door. If not, I will have them flapping in the wind my whole way, like those cards we used to put in our bike spokes.  I notice the stains from the flocks who have passed through, pausing on grandfather oak to squawk and gorge themselves on nuts. A drumroll on the roof as I back up and hundreds of acorns spill off.

I brush the cobwebs from between the front porch wood rails. They stick to the brush. I pull them off the brush and they are now stuck to my fingers. I rub my hands through the grass.

The gardens need trimming as goldenrods heavy heads have her bowing down across the path. Dried brown zinnia heads create a jarring juxtaposition to the vivid Mexican sunflower just now opening. A late arrival to a party that is clearly winding down. I pick up berries that have fallen from the honeysuckle to deter her spread and find my fingers stained red. Every seed in the garden wants to hitchhike a ride on my sweater.

I will do all of this today and tomorrow there will be no evidence of my efforts. Fall is messy.

The messiness on the outside is also reflected on the inside. On colder mornings my bones feel like those sticks as I wake up a bit creakier. My body yearning to stretch. My hands suddenly drying like the leaves as I try to remember what I use to moisten them.

Emotions too are messy in fall. Like the temperatures they lift high one day only to drop the next. Do I go for a walk or cuddle on the couch with a book? Joy and sadness both holding residence in this form I call a body. Daily practices to sweep out the cobwebs and clear a path, which very well may be covered again tomorrow.

There is nothing to ‘fix.’ It simply is.

Fall is gloriously messy. Life is gloriously messy.

Stepping over the broken walnut shells,
SARAH

.....hugs

Yogis,
I am a hugger by nature. Come in for a hug and you will get the real deal. Not the lean in with the body held back at a safe distance kind, but a chest to chest, heart to heart, full on connection. A good hug feels awesome and I hadn’t realized how much I missed them.

Last week we had a big 85^th birthday party for my mom. A luncheon at a country club near them which we have now used on four occasions. After avoiding close indoor contact for the past few years we decided it felt ‘safe enough’ and that it was time to start marking the important milestones once again. Turning 85 is definitely one of those milestones.

Almost everyone came. My mom’s sisters, my dad’s sisters and all of my sons and grandchildren. Cousins I hadn’t seen in years who drove many hours or even flew from California. Close friends of my moms from various places we have lived over the years. One by one, we hugged. And hugged some more.  Reconnecting.

We hugged when everyone arrived. We hugged at the end of the party. We hugged again at the after party at my parent’s house and one more time at the brunch. We all couldn’t get enough.

A hug lets the other know that you feel them. That the space between you doesn’t really exist. That the time we have been separated can vanish in an instant. A good bear hug shares your love. It shares you.

I looked up the power of a hug and here is what I found:
When we are hugged we receive a jolt of oxytocin, the love hormone. There is a transfer of positive energy from one human to another, creating feelings of calm, closeness and trust. Hugs also lower cortisol which is the stress hormone.

Hugging is free medicine with no negative side effects. Be sure to share it!

That night as I lay in bed I felt as if my heart was bursting out of my chest. Like flowers may begin to bloom out of me. Smiling ear to ear I replayed each of the moments of the day in my mind. Still feeling the hugs.

The next morning as I ran around the kitchen cleaning up and getting packed for the trip home, my mom came down from bed and asked me to come over to her. ‘I’ll be there in a minute’, I said as I had a few more things to do. ‘No, put those down and come over here now’, she said. Huh. So I did. Laying everything on the counter I turned to walk toward her. She opened her arms as wide as she possibly could and I walked into one of the biggest hugs ever.

She too was feeling the medicine.

Want a hug?
SARAH

.....the perfect gift

Yogis,
This story begins back in late July. I noticed something growing along the edge of our long gravel driveway. Getting close I found those tell-tale gigantic ear shaped leaves attached to a running vine underneath. No question, it was definitely a plant in the squash family.

Now mind you I certainly didn’t plant any squash seeds next to a driveway that is in constant use. It is an area that is not tended, underneath a honeysuckle bush and doesn’t get much direct sunlight. Must be the handiwork of a squirrel or bird. How fun!

But what kind of a squash is it? Zucchini, yellow squash, pumpkins, gourds and watermelon all belong to the squash family. Each time I tried to ID it with my phone, the app would get only as far and announcing it was a squash. Hmmmmm…….

Beautiful orange flowers began to emerge, one a day, as the vine lengthened, but always on tall skinny stems. No fruit would come from those as the skinny stem indicates they are male. Each day I checked. As she tried to meander into the center of the driveway, I would gently guide her tendrils back to the edge.

Leaving for ten days at the beach at the end of August, I checked on her one last time. There it was! A flower about to bloom that was attached to the vine by a swollen node. A fruit! I was sure that when I returned there would be a huge zucchini waiting for me.

Ten days later……nothing. Not all fruits make it. The wait continued.

Finally, I saw another. Every day it grew bigger. I started noticing though that it wasn’t growing oblong, but instead was getting rounder. Definitely not zucchini. I kept watching. A week later grooves became visible running from the stem to the bottom all the way around. A pumpkin!

I have never tried to grow pumpkins on my own. For some reason I felt that would be too difficult. And here was the universe giving me a lesson on just how easy it can be. Reminding me that nature does the work. I am only the assistant.

I waited for it to begin turning orange, but oh no. That wasn’t her plan. A gorgeous pearl white began to spread across her surface. I picked her this week before the busy squirrels had a chance.

What a gift! A perfectly shaped white pumpkin now sits in my house bringing me joy each time I walk by. I love her.

I didn’t ask for a white pumpkin. I wasn’t expecting it. It is simple. It cost nothing. It brings me joy. Isn’t that the definition of the perfect gift? And nothing was expected in return, yet I am sending  gratitude…..which I have in abundance.

What a magical world we live in.

Gifts are all around us,
SARAH