......rhododendron time

Yogis,
I expected the rhododendron to be blooming when I arrived last Friday, but the buds remained tightly closed. This bush was already here when we bought the beach house twenty years ago, sitting quietly to the left of the front steps. I don’t think I even noticed her to be honest. Fairly nondescript as it sat short of three feet tall. Fast forward and it now holds a prominent position in the front yard. She is my first and only rhododendron…so far.

I didn’t give it much thought until Monday morning while standing out front watering my newest plantings when something caught my eye. A small flash of fuchsia. Drawing closer I saw that indeed she was beginning her unfurling. Exposing her beauty for the rest of us to witness. When I drove home that afternoon, indeed my neighbor’s bush was blooming as well.

It’s rhododendron time!

I like to create and listen to playlists. Perhaps a throw back to growing up with albums where you knew the order of the songs by heart. As the last refrain of a song faded away you were already anticipating the beginning notes of the upcoming song in your head. There is something comforting in knowing exactly what is coming next. Spring to me is like a four-month long playlist.

The opening song is always my Lenten rose who dares to bloom in February. A late winter preview of what’s to come. The waltz of the early spring wildflowers follows with forsythia hymns and the ringing of bluebells close behind. Then the melody of dandelions and violets begin to dot the lawn leading into a crescendo of cherry blossoms.

Year after year the progression of songs doesn’t change. I listen for the first notes of the azaleas as April draws to her close and know the buzz of the bees that swoon over the early comfrey flowers is next on the list.

‘This is my favorite song!’ I think as the tulips open wide, but then I see the buds forming on the peonies and exclaim, ‘no this is my favorite song!’ not unlike what happens as I dance to my well listened to playlists. And we still have the summer and autumn playlists lined up ahead of us.

I learned something this year while being attentive. Rhododendrons and peonies bloom at the same time. Both old fashioned beauties. Together they weave a romantic melody that I will now hear in the years ahead.

Nature never disappoints…….

Rolling down the windows and turning up the music,
SARAH

.....horseshoe crabs

Yogis,
Did you know that horseshoe crabs are the oldest living animal? They have inhabited this earth for over 400 million years. Think about that for a moment. 400 million years. That means they were here even before dinosaurs and have changed very little in that time. That is some incredible staying power.

Although we call them crabs, they are an arthropod, more closely related to the spider and scorpion than the blue crabs we annually hit with mallets on a newspaper covered table at summer dinners under the stars. They can live to be twenty and find their nourishment in small creatures on the floor of the ocean and bays. They use their claws to crush the food and place it in their mouth which is found in the center of their ten legs.

I learned all this while participating in the annual Delaware Bay horseshoe crab survey……

When we signed up we had heard about the hundreds of thousands of horseshoe crabs that arrive in the Delaware bay and congregate at the edges of the water to spawn under the new and full moons of May and June. Arriving at 9:30 at night to a dark parking lot at the back of the state park we looked for the group and instead found only Rob, a science teacher who would be our leader. It took us a moment to realize that this was it, so with headlamps on, off we went.

Walking a kilometer along the shoreline to get to the starting point the full moon shone bright, lighting our path and making the water shimmer. The Chuck Will’s Widows, a relative of the whippoorwill bird, sang their songs loudly in the night marsh. No one else as far as the eye could see. As high tide arrived we began our counting.  Rob would walk six paces and we would all stop to look in the water. ‘Zero-zero’ was what he would announce most often. No females. No males.

Wait! There is a cluster. Two males holding onto a female, who is always much larger, with front claws shaped like boxing gloves. She, working hard to bury her bottom half in the sand to lay nearly 20,000 eggs, which the guys will then fertilize. These eggs then become a critical food source for the migrating birds who use the mid-Atlantic as a rest stop. Many other creatures, like slipper snails, depend on her shell to attach for shelter and egg laying. She is essential in the web of life.

Who is their main predator? Us, of course.

Fishermen cut them up as bait and their unique blue blood is widely used in our medical industry. Beach development is also shrinking their natural habitat. Now listed as ‘vulnerable’ on the endangered species list, work is underway to help protect these living fossils. Therefore…. the survey and bay events.

This weekend for me was all about horseshoe crabs but I realized it could be almost anything. As we spread ourselves wider and deeper we interrupt these natural cycles that in some cases have been going on for millions of years. We are seeing the evidence.

Diving in though can be a good first step. Taking the time to learn, understand and even hold each of the individual things which make this incredible universe work can make us want to protect them. Opening awareness. Building relationships. Seeing our interconnectedness.

We don’t want to be the ones who end a 400 million year streak……

We didn’t see thousands but saw enough to care,
SARAH

....disturb

Yogis,
When we moved into our current house the property had four dogwood trees. Three lined the gravel drive and one was in the backyard. These were the old-fashioned kind. Branches that were slightly gnarled and reached outward, layering themselves just so. The newer hybrid varieties, though lovely, differ from these originals which were most likely around sixty years old at move in time.

Over these last ten years, one by one they have slowly lost a branch at a time to the point where they no longer had any leaves to speak of. The one in the backyard is the only one still standing. She too is losing a branch a year but still manages to put on a beautiful spring show with what she has left.

A few weeks ago I noticed that she had developed another new dead branch. I mentally added cutting it off to my spring garden to do list……which is quite lengthy.

Days passed with other garden needs taking precedence. Picking the remaining dandelion flowers to make an oil. Spreading seeds. Putting together my new raised garden bed frame. Planting a hydrangea bush out front that I impulsively bought when all I was supposed to be getting was an herb plant. The only time I would be reminded of the branch was when I would see it from my bedroom window. Tomorrow, I would say to myself.

Tomorrow arrived and I sat on my bed for my morning meditation. At one point I opened my eyes and spotted a yellow goldfinch sitting on the bare branch. How cute! Eyes closed. A few moments later I peek to find a cardinal now perched there. Hmmmmm…….

I looked down at the yard, now with new eyes. Bird feeder hanging from a pole in the middle of the grass. Dogwood tree off to the right about fifteen feet. Dead branch pointing from the tree directly at the bird feeder. It was an ‘aha’ moment.

The dead branch was absolutely perfect! Close to the feeder but far enough away to give a bird a chance to check out the situation before committing. No leaves meant no obstruction. And here I was about to disturb what nature had so elegantly created. What my mind saw as wrong, was unquestionably right!

Life is stormy and in our desire to smooth the ride we tidy up. We move things, line them up, remove, trim and clean. Once I have my house and yard in order I will feel much better! More in control.

We disturb……

One thing we are great at is disturbing. Land, oceans and now even the sky. Is it possible for us to allow even a small part of nature to stay in its wild and messy (…..although the closer we look the more order we see) state? Time will tell.

I walked into the backyard to take a picture of the bare branch for this note. Approaching the bird feeder, as if on cue, the bluebird dad swooped in and landed right on it. He looked me in the eye to reconfirm that yes, nature had done her job beautifully.

He also took the time to let me know that the feeder was empty……..

The branch will stay,
SARAH

.....a day in the life

Yogis,
This weekend I received an incredible gift of twenty-four straight hours with my brand new granddaughter. My daughter in law stepped up to the plate and delivered on her promise to be the maid of honor for her close friend’s wedding in Charleston. Leaving behind a 19 day old baby with me and my son wasn’t easy (……now that’s an understatement), but we were up for the task.

I cleared my calendar and headed over early Friday morning. By the time I left the next morning after having held her, changed her, fed her, watched her sleep and walked the neighborhood several times, I realized how many lessons can be imbedded in one single day when you spend time with an infant.

First, but certainly not least, is their breath. All you notice when you lie with them quietly is breath. Audible conscious beautiful breath. With each breath the whole torso moves. Ribs expand. The belly becomes even rounder.  Sometimes the breath is slow. Other times rapid. The more I noticed, the more I felt my own breath. Breathing together. What is so new to her…..the ability to sustain life through drawing in and letting go…..becomes ho-hum to us. Spend time with a baby to reconnect to your own life force.  

Whenever she was handed to me, I would unconsciously place my left hand under her butt and lean her into my left chest with my right hand on her back.  Instinctively laying her on my heart. I assume I did the same with my own sons, but memories blur. Placing her ear close to my heartbeat. When I lay back and she fell asleep that way I found myself turning on the energy around the heart and pointing it toward her. Sending love. Radiating me into her. Allowing the heart do the talking.

I was also reminded that when you need something…..speak up. Infants are not shy about having needs and expressing them.  Not wants……yet. Needs. Those things that will bring them safety, nourishment and love. Constant communication. I need milk, she shares by fussing. I need a new diaper. I need to be held. We say infants are demanding, but are they? Shouldn’t we all be as clear and direct when we need help?

Finally, life is made up of moment to moment change and there is no better demonstration of this principle than following the day of a 2 week old with attention. We attempted a schedule, with little success. Something would work well, until it didn’t. I was quickly reminded that when it’s time to rest, take a rest. When there is an opening to eat, eat. Go to the bathroom when there is a quiet moment,,,, clearly don’t wait for the ‘next’ opportunity. It could be hours.

In the company of an infant there is no choice but to be fully present. Attentive to each action. And in this presence, you are a witness to change. By the time I was leaving she was already doing things she couldn’t do only hours earlier.

And I swear she grew.

Breath in….breath out,
SARAH

.....blurred

Yogis,
I recently listened to an interview with Ada Limon. To be honest I didn’t know who she was, but she became our 24^th Poet Laureate in July of 2022. (How did I not know that?) There was discussion of her childhood, her personal life, her professional life, and of course, the reading of many of her poems. Her almost conversational way of stringing together words and the soul level connection to nature she weaves throughout have won me over.

One of the questions asked was how she goes about writing a poem. The mechanics. She referred to one of her poems entitled ‘The Quiet Machine’ which I have included at the end of this note. In it she speaks of silence. All the ways we can be silent. All the places we can find silence. How silence creates the space from which the words take form and spew forth.

When Ada was asked what originally drew her to poetry, again she spoke to silence, but this time in its way of creating spaces. The space on the page surrounding the poem. The spaces between the words. How at the end of each line there is an unconscious knowing in all of us to pause. To be still…..if only for a moment. Poems leave us hanging.

I too am asked how I go about writing these weekly missives. This morning I had one of those ‘aha’ moments while running along the shoreline.

Coming over the dune I saw the fog. Thick. I stepped in and it became denser with each step toward the ocean until I was shrouded in mist. No longer able to see what was ahead or behind it was as if I was suddenly alone. The world around me had blurred. Silence.

Hearing only my breath as I ran, I would startle the birds who too could not see from a distance. They took flight and were quickly swallowed by fog. The early morning sun damped down by haze. Boardwalk buildings no more than a mirage.

It was in this silence that I knew what I was going to write about today. There was no thought involved. Words formed effortlessly.

My mind went back to the interview. Yes! Only when I let the outer world become blurry does the inner world clear. I’ve known this all along but today it became sharper. When we find ourselves trying too hard, the answers will always arise in the quiet.

All it takes is remembering. Remembering to step back. To be alone. To allow the world to blur. Remembering that each and every time I enter silence, I leave with a gift.

Running up the path which would thrust me back into civilization, my eyelashes were heavy with dew, but my heart was floating. Thank you, Universe! Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The pictures are blurry but my inner lens is crystal clear,
SARAH

....stuff

Yogis,
Yet again I am at the beach house for three days. Something we now try to do every two weeks from September through the June week when we hand over the keys to summer renters. The frequency and consistency of the visits were one of the positive developments of covid. We were fortunate to have an escape and we took full advantage and became accustomed.

It really is a cottage. Built in 1927 it welcomes you with its old screened porch which runs the width of house, well-worn pine floors, a small galley kitchen and bedrooms that have room only for a bed, a dresser and night stands. There is no ‘master’ bath. No pantry, or island, or foyer, or family room. And being a cottage…..virtually no storage.

A small suitcase of clothes, food for the weekend, the book I am reading and my laptop are what travel in the back of my car with Phoebe. Left behind is an entire house filled with stuff. Where did it all come from? Why do I have it? The going back and forth these past few years has given me this thought to ponder.

Five of us stayed at the beach house this weekend. Saturday’s Easter dinner was cooked, served and enjoyed by nine of us around a long simple dining room (which is part of the living room) table. We laughed, shared stories and hugged. Somehow Thanksgivings are celebrated here where we have hosted delicious home cooked meals for up to 20, all in a kitchen that can comfortably hold 2 at a time. Never is there a mention of not enough stuff.

Here is where my mind keeps going.

I love my house at home. When I am there, I enjoy and feel that I need everything that is contained within it. Each time I try to clear out or give away, each item seems necessary. Yet when I come down here for three days at a time, or even a week, I don’t miss or need any of it. Why?

I am happy at home. I am happy here. Clearly the stuff is not the deciding factor, yet I continue acquiring more of it. The more space we have, the more we fill it…….

Looking ahead we begin to visualize our later years, with one of the options to make Rehoboth home base with something small back home. This leads to discussions of having to sell the cottage to get something bigger. Or putting on a big addition. But why? To bring down our stuff, of course.

What is it that we actually need? What is essential?

There is a freedom in being in a space with only the essentials. I can clean the whole place in under an hour and there in nothing that I feel I must protect. It is simpler. Less to become attached to.

There are times in my meditation practice where I touch that place in my inner world. Those moments sitting in silence and arriving in the quiet still spot where desire falls away.  Where nothing needs to be added in. Empty. Yet ‘enough’ is the word that comes to mind. And it is blissful.

I can taste it in my practice, but will I ever be willing to live it in my life? Is there even a need to? Time will tell.

Om,
SARAH

....spring in dc

Yogis,
Each city and town has its own time of year where it reaches its peak. Many New England towns boast of their fall colors. Winter sun in Florida is a respite for the soul and summer is when beach towns come alive. For the DC metropolitan area, spring is its time to shine.

It was this time of year that I came to the mid-Atlantic area on spring break for college visits. We weren’t even supposed to see Georgetown U, but on our drive back from Charlottesville my parents suggested a stop. I vividly remember driving down the GW parkway and seeing the school  for the first time across the river, framed by blooms and the green of spring.

Arriving on campus, it was one of those perfect warm spring days. Bright blue sky and the feeling of anticipation in the air. The kind of day where every college student sits out on the lawn in shorts, beers in hand (drinking age was 18) and playing frisbee with their Irish setters (when Irish Setters were in vogue…..before everyone realized how unbelievably high energy they are.) The campus was blooming and I was sold.

Every year I get that same feeling.

Let’s begin with what DC is known for. Cherry blossoms. They hit their peak this week with flowers so fluffy the trees overhead resemble pink clouds. Everyone knows the ones down by the tidal basin of course, but there are also neighborhoods lined with them that get so many cars and walkers that the county has to be involved. Even individual trees sitting in a lawn grab your attention and cause a flutter in the heart. When the breeze blows you are showered in petals.

Then there are the Virginia Bluebells which shared the stage this week. A path near me has thousands of them, turning the woods into a fairyland. Every year I take dozens of pictures trying to capture the feeling of being amongst them……but fall short every time. It is one of those things that has to be experienced. They never disappoint.

At the same time the spring wildflowers dot the forest floor with color. The dainty trout lily who bows a yellow head from her slender stem. Bloodroot, whose individual white daisy like flower brings a smile to my lips. Dutchman breeches. Mayapples. And this year the trillium have been spectacular. Her three leaves encircle a burgundy single flower on her top. To know all of these you must get low and be quick. As soon as the leaves on the trees begin to unfurl they will vanish.

Redbud tree limbs are covered now with small purple buds. The daffodils, which have also been incredible this year in their variety, color and quantity,  are still all watching from the sidelines. Is it possible to ever be cross with a daffodil?

And we still have so much to come!!

Washington azalea season is something to behold. The heady scent of lilacs that I know will arrive soon. Dogwoods. Peonies……..

It all happens so quickly that I find myself wishing I could slow time and have the chance to enjoy each one individually. To sit with them and hear their messages. But that isn’t how spring works, is it?

So, I will continue to be outside. To go for hikes, walk the woods, head to the river and even enjoy driving the neighborhood on errands with my sunroof open.

Thank you spring,
SARAH