....beachfront

Yogis,
Big bold letters on the lease for the house we were going to rent on the NJ shore read ‘WE HIGHLY RECOMMEND PREVIEWING THE PROPERTY’. It goes on to talk about how opinions as to the condition of a property vary and are subjective.

The only reason we had to rent a different house was that the one we had been in was knocked down for a new build. In fact, I realized the only reason we ever switched houses in these past 40 years is because the current one was being bulldozed. We don’t like change and prices for newer homes are astronomical. This was going to be only our fifth house. I was a bit nervous.

It is an upside down house built in 1964 with pictures that do not impress. However……it is beachfront. We signed.

We pulled up last Saturday.  Older, yes. A bit tired, yes. Stains on the carpets, yes. In need of a paint job, yes. Sand in the window wells, yes. Old tiled bathrooms, yes. But as I walked in the door, I fell instantly in love!

The house was absolutely perfect for us. Up to six kids running a path through the living room at any one time. Twenty for buffet dinner served from formica kitchen counters with room for all on four 1980s’ couches. A 1964 full set of encyclopedias brought entertainment while the multitude of broken remotes kept the toddlers busy.

I love older houses. They have good bones and bring back memories from childhood. And they are hard to break……

And did I mention it was beachfront? Big old original windows framed views from all angles of the dunes and happenings of the beach. Birds swooped while bunnies hopped. A large pink moon popped up over the ocean one evening while a perfect sunrise greeted me on the final day.

It definitely wouldn’t be a house for everyone……thank goodness for us that ‘opinions vary.’ To me it was welcoming and relaxed. Two traits higher on my list than any bells and whistles.

Rumor is the house may be sold, and you know what that means. Until then though, you will know where to find us.

Made for family,
SARAH

....ode to birdbath

Yogis,
About a week before my next-door neighbor Danny became ill he nonchalantly asked if I wanted his bird bath. The old-fashioned type with a heavy-duty white concrete stand and a painted blue bowl. Knowing him, he probably was the painter.

Only a few weeks later he passed away. He clearly knew he was sick before any of us had a clue. I had not had time to get the bird bath. I knew that his intention was for me to carry on the watering of our feathered friends, of whom he had taught me so much. So, in the dark of night, we went and carried it over.

It has sat in the center of my medicine wheel garden ever since.

Friday evening in heavy 94-degree air I was cleaning and refilling the bowl with the hose. Once finished a wasp flew in and landed at the edge and dipped her face in for a quick drink.

Of course, the birds love it! Sparrows dip in and shake their feathers, becoming adorably round and fluffy. Bluebirds, cardinals, robins even crows take turns at the local watering hole. A rock I placed in the center gives even the hummingbird a chance for hydration.  

Yet the wasp reminded me all of us need water.

Over the summers I remember seeing bumble bees in there. Dragonflies and butterflies. Even Phoebe knows how dependable the bird bath is when we return from a steamy walk. The perfect height! The deer too know where to come when heat waves make water scarce.

In fact, the other day the mother deer brought her two fawns to check out the garden. All three munched away on my goldenrod and black eyed susans (oh well) until one of the babies worked up a thirst and found the birdbath. 

Again…..perfect height! Now she too will know where to come.

Recently birdbaths have gotten a bad rap from mosquitos. But throw in half a mosquito dunk and no eggs will hatch. Safe for all.

Birdbaths offer lifesaving water for all of earth’s creatures and provide great entertainment out my windows. Thanks Danny!

Thirsty,
SARAH

.....mercy

Yogis,
I’m sure you have noticed. The bugs are back!

Big ones, little ones and some so small we can’t see. They may fly, walk or slither, come in every color imaginable and make this life we live possible. Each has a unique role. I know many of you are grimacing right now saying ‘no thanks’, and wishing they hadn’t returned. But it is all in perspective.

As you know, I love to photograph insects. There are those that arrive with a flourish, like a butterfly and getting a quick shot is easy. Others appear like a spec of dirt on a leaf and unless you zoom in you don’t’ realize they are living beings. Yet to really get to know any of them takes patience.

A friend saw her first butterfly recently and wanted to get a picture. She told me it let her get very close and wasn’t afraid. Yes!! When approached with an energy of curiosity and kindness, most will stay or keep returning. The beginning of a relationship. A connection.

Even the tiniest ones when I get soooo close have faces, with eyes, mouths, antennae that will all turn my way as I steady my phone inches away. I watch them chew, wipe their mouths, reach with a leg and even in their most intimate of activities. Sorry!

 

What has developed over the years of getting close to bugs is a deeper sense of compassion. An understanding that anytime I purposely step on or squash one…..especially when it is out in it’s own home, I am extinguishing a life. Regardless of how small.

I was reminded this week of ‘Mercy’ by Rudy Francisco.

She asks me to kill the spider.
Instead, I get the most peaceful weapons I can find.

I take a cup and a napkin.
I catch the spider, put it outside and allow it to walk away.

If I am ever caught in the wrong place at the wrong time,
just being alive and not bothering anyone,

I hope I am greeted with the same kind of mercy.

Do bugs ever have to be killed? Yes I suppose, but even a mindful pause to consider options opens a door to mercy.

Hello beetle,
SARAH

....trickster

Yogis,
Running down my street I spot some bright yellow in middle of the road. Getting closer I see it is a small stuffed duck. It is a little worn but intact so I place it on a big rock on the side of the street so that whoever lost it may spot it. A few days later it was gone.

Next I am running down and in almost the same spot something red catches my eye. A small rope tie. The kind a dog would love to tug on. Again, I shake it off and put it to the side. Now I am getting suspicious.

A few days go by and the red rope is still there but now on the other side lies a small stuffed lamb. I recognize it as lambchop since Phoebe has one which she adores. I am now putting two and two together.

We are in fox kit season and they are now big enough to be wandering out of the den and are eager to play. Therefore, like any good mom would do, toys found around town are brought home for the youngsters. I have often seen the parents crossing in this area. Mystery solved!

It reminds me of the shoes. A couple years ago while cleaning out debris that had fallen in the firepit I uncovered a kid’s sneaker. I mention it to our next-door neighbor and she exclaims that things had been missing from their front porch. Having blamed the kids for being forgetful, we now decide fox is the culprit.

Just last week I found a pink flip flop in our wood pile and a blue croc in the woods. The trickster has been up to its wily ways again.

I love fox.

The way they stop when you are approaching, often sitting to assess the situation before scampering off. Sometimes coming back once you pass and following for a bit. Curious.

And even how they leave a small single poop in a conspicuous place where you spend time to announce their presence. On the front walk, on the rock in the center of my garden and even on a straining bag I had forgotten outside. Really?

They are beautiful, clever, nimble and smart. Do you have fox stories?

Thankful for fox,
SARAH

....the you channel

Yogis,
Are you old enough to remember the knob that was used to find a station on the radio? When looking for a particular channel, you would turn the knob until you found the music or show you wanted to listen to. Called a tuning knob, as you turned it in different directions it would pick up the different frequencies that each of the radio stations were broadcasting on.

It required some precision. Turn a tiny bit too far to the right and there would be static. A little too far left and a different station would come on. Often it would take patiently turning it back and forth several times to finally land right on it. It would then become crystal clear.

You had tuned in…….

Like radio stations, each one of us has our own inner channel. A frequency unique to us. And also like the radio, tuning in to our channel can be challenging.

Your unique frequency is the true you. That you that lays far under the clatter of the outer world. Deep below the noisy layer of thoughts. Below the constant static of that inner chatter. Beneath the distraction of ever shifting emotions. Under the worry and the fear. A part of you that is always there. Never changes. Completely at peace.

How do we tune in?

It’s a practice. In order to tune a radio you have to stop everything else you are doing, get quiet and place your focus on what you are trying to connect to. It is no different for us. This is what is called meditation.

It doesn’t have to be an hour. It doesn’t have to be sitting in lotus in a quiet room. It can be even a few minutes a day, but it does require stillness. A time when doing and movement stops and where focus is shifted to what it is you want to connect to. Searching inward for the channel you know is there.

When you land on it, you will know. It will come in crystal clear. For a moment the rest of the world fades away and you feel complete.

The more times you tune in the easier it is to find,
SARAH