.....leaf music

Yogis,
The leaves have begun to fall in earnest. Over the years it does seem to be happening later in the season, but one way or another, sooner or later, they will indeed come down.

For the next few weeks it will be the sound of leaves that fill the air. They will be crunched under foot. Scampering squirrels, sounding much bigger than they are, will stir them up. Cars crush them and the hum of leaf blowers pushing them toward the street. Brooms in the morning clear the walk.

There is no sneaking up on someone when the grass is leaf covered. Every step a melody.

Running on the bike path today I noticed something. This time of year, by looking down you can know what is above.

For a block my shoes land on maple leaves with their pointy ends. Bright oranges and yellows. Maple trees must be overhead. Then the large lobed oak leaves are underfoot, followed by bright red Japanese maple leaves and those of the pin oak. Tiny leaves of the newly planted and giant ones of the grandfathers. The leaves offer up a reflection.

A leaf landing on my front steps sounds different than one that lays itself gracefully on top of the bush. Hitting the metal air handler. On the wood of the picnic table. The roof. The deck. Each its own note.

Suddenly a clearing on a path. Ahhh, I must be under the evergreens.

Heading up the hill, a car passes by and a trail of leaves swirl in its wake as they brush the pavement. They rustle. They crunch. They pop. When burned they crackle. With my eyes to the ground, I am startled when one lands on my head. They glide. They twirl.

For now I watch out my window as one leaf quietly floats by at a time, knowing that when the next big winds arrive they will let go in droves and fill the fall air. Each variety singing a slightly different note as it brushes itself against the air. The lawn will then be blanketed and the rake will come out and be dusted off. One more sound will arise as I begin to find my raking rhythm.

Can you hear the leaf music?

Crunch,
SARAH

....a feast for all

Yogis,
After meditating in the mornings, I often lie back and drift into a dreamworld. Could be fifteen minutes. Or a half hour. Then something pulls me back. Maybe the brightening sky or an activity that is quickly approaching.

This morning it was the raucous calls of the crows. Caw……Caw…..Caw

First, they were woven into my dream, but eventually I sensed them outside my window. Several of them, by the sound of it, squawking as they swooped back and forth between low branches and the roof peak over my head. Something had them riled up.

Pushing back the covers I swing my feet around and gaze out. Ahhhhh, now I see. Mr fox stands beneath the feeder, filling up on seed knocked to the ground the previous day. This is by no means the first time he has wandered by on his way home from a night out.

He keeps an eye to the sky and subtly flinches when a crow dives yet seems to know they don’t have the courage to get close. His head goes back down.

In my fascination with the fox I haven’t noticed the doe standing off to the side. She watches the scene in front of her. Crows, fox and the bird feeder, which is where she would like to head.

The deer too, use my bird feeder as a rest stop. Sometimes lowering their heads to the ground, but more often, reaching their long tongues to lick seed from the tray. I can sense her indecision. A step forward. A few steps back. She stomps her hoof but neither the fox nor the crows care.

She finally tires of waiting her turn and vanishes into the woods.

Fox, now done, steps away from the feeder and watches the crows for a moment. Thoughts of lunch perhaps? He then too silently trots off into the trees.

At last, the crows have a clear approach. Four of them form a circle and proceed to feast. It is quiet once again. Squirrels should arrive any minute.

Each morning I fill the bird feeder with my gourmet blend. Some standard seeds for the sparrows and chickadees, sprinkled with a fruit and nut blend loved by cardinals and blue jays. Then all mixed with mealworms to keep my bluebirds happy and healthy.

As I hang it, I realize I will be feeding much more than the birds. And that makes me happy.

All are welcome,
SARAH

.....take for granted

Yogis,
Somehow, I dodged the bullet in 2020. Then again in 2021. I sailed through 2022 and was beginning to feel invincible! Until this past week…….

Now I can call myself a card carrying (or test carrying) member of the infamous covid club.

Creating a little ‘sick cave’ for myself, I dragged a comfortable mattress into my reiki room and surrounded myself with drinks, a thermometer, a portable heater, tissues and blankets. I crawled in, pulled the covers up and closed my eyes. Minutes turned into hours which then turned into days.

I notice things with all of this time on my hands.

When you are sick your world becomes very small. With classes, hair appointments and tutoring taken off the schedule my biggest concerns switch to when to take advil and making sure I am staying hydrated. It’s amazing how quickly the frenzy of everyday life, which appears unstoppable, can indeed be stopped in its tracks. Life suddenly quiet.

I can hear the ticking of the second hand on the clock across the room.

When sick there is the body and there is the one noticing. Watching as layers go on for chills and then get ripped right back off. Wanting something from the other room but deciding it isn’t worth the burst of energy required. Wanting to read but finding the eyes can’t focus. Feeling your own heartbeat.

Each morning as my eyes opened, I would lie still to notice if I felt like ‘me’ yet. Not remembering exactly what that feels like, but knowing I would recognize it upon arrival…..which it did on Friday.

That wonderful healthy feeling of ‘me’ which I take for granted. Yes, I am mentally grateful for my health when I stop to think about it, but it isn’t until I am sick and come out the other end that I truly feel the gratitude. It always takes a contrast for us to put things in perspective.

Grateful that my body knows how to control its own temperature moment to moment. Grateful for the hunger mechanism that tells me its time to eat. Grateful to draw in breath through a clear nose. For a body without pain. For energy to do as I choose. To be able to walk outside.

I know this will again wear off, but while I am aware………thank you!

I walked Phoebe late last night. We moved slowly in the cool night air, thick with mist. A breeze brushed my face. I looked up and suddenly the world was large once again.

The colors even seem brighter,
SARAH

......intimacy with nature

Yogis,
There are many places right here in the United States that I have never been with Maine being one of them. With that in mind we flew to Bangor to meet up with friends who also hadn’t experienced Maine. A quick four-day trip to begin the process of getting to know our northern neighbor.

An old third floor walkup space converted to an Airbnb apartment became our Bar Harbor home base. The aroma of freshly baked croissants, scones and good strong Maine coffee wafted up to greet us each morning from the charming bakery below. Teeth brushed, backpacks loaded, water bottles filled and off we went. Nature…..here we come!

Acadia National Park is only minutes away by car or boat and we tried both.

As we motor across the water to the next peninsula, the first thing I notice is the abundance of stately evergreens against foggy shores. Scents of spruce, pine and cedar fill the air. Once on land my feet gradually become accustomed to the hard granite surfaces, interrupted by soft interwoven layers of moss and pine needles.

Eagles, seagulls and cormorants who hold their wings wide to dry. Pods of porpoises diving near harbor seals lazily lounging on nearby rocks.

Violet colored asters with their bright golden centers blend seamlessly with stalks of goldenrod draped over them, acting as cheerful greeters wherever we wandered. Lichens create abstracts with various hues on rock faces. Mosses I have never encountered dripping from branches and mushrooms sprouting from long ago fallen logs.

By day four I feel I am getting to know this place.

One final stop was the old Stanwood homestead laced with nature trails and a bird sanctuary. Established in the 1850’s, the oldest daughter Cordelia spent the last fifty years of her life wandering the property, photographing and taking meticulous and often poetic field notes. A keen observer of nature. As we followed the trails established by the placement of her feet, wood planks on trees held quotes from her journal. All spoke to me, but a particular one held my attention.

'Intimacy with nature is acquired slowly. It comes not with one year out of doors or with two. You look and listen, beware your stupidity, feel that you have acquired little new information; yet are determined never to despair or give up. All at once you know what you never dreamed you knew before.’
      ~ CJS fieldnotes

Yes. Yes. I myself have wandered the woods, trails and river paths of my town for close to forty years and yet I discover new every time I enter that space of not-knowing. Of curiosity. Of childlike wonder. Intimacy, whether with nature or in relationships, follows a meandering trail of footsteps taken with patience, reverence and awe. To be intimate is a gift slowly unveiled.

Maine….I now know I have only taken the first baby steps toward intimacy.  I hope to take many more.

Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished. ~Laozi
SARAH