......bird song

Yogis,
We are at a time in history where it’s more critical than ever that as a species we become closer to nature. Enjoying it, yes, but something much deeper. A relationship. With a two way friendship we are more willing to give back, be okay with being inconvenienced and at times, do with less so the other can flourish.  This week I discovered another fun way of connection, quite accidentally!

Last year when I had a set of bluebirds hoping to move into my yard it was my first experience with them. I knew nothing about bluebirds. I didn’t know their nesting habits, the timing of the eggs, or most importantly, their song. So I did what we all do…..I asked google.

I was directed to Youtube where there were plenty of options of videos that have recordings of the different calls they make. Most birds have several songs.  I listened to them many times until I was sure I would recognize them when they arrived. One of those times I happened to be sitting out in the backyard.

As soon as the video started, the bluebird couple flew up into the tree above me and listened. Was it coincidence? I soon forgot about the experience.

Fast forward to this year as I watch the mom selecting the perfect nest making materials from my garden and flying back and forth to the birdhouse. I remembered the videos. I turned one on, turned up the volume and waited. I didn’t have to wait long.

The two of them began flitting back and forth between the trees near me. Answering the calls. Swooping over me. Finally getting so excited they began mating. I believe babies were made to my innocent serenade.

So, if bluebirds respond this way, how about other birds?

Next, I tried cardinals. They loved it! So much that the next day when I was outside, I swear the mom was following me around. Even other species of birds seem to fly in for the show. Small woodpeckers and robins appear to appreciate everyone’s calls. Heads tilt to the side to listen.

I am also finding that the birds are more aware of me any time I am out in the garden now, and me of them. They sit closer and watch what I am doing. Sometimes I even feel like they are asking for an encore. And in the process, I am learning their language. A win-win. The beginnings of a lifelong conversation.

Give it a try! Select some birds that you know are probably nearby, turn up the volume and sit still. Be patient and try several times. 

Report back!

Interconnected,
SARAH

....a different perspective

Yogis,
Did you think you might make it through the month of April without a note from me about dandelions? I couldn’t possibly let that happen.

Easter brings with it visions of spring, sunshine, joy, yellow and all things rising. All qualities also shared by dandelion as they arrive together hand in hand.

I spent much of this past week with my sorely misunderstood friend. How could I not when each time I drive up to the house there she is in my gravel driveway welcoming me home. Many golden faces beaming at me from either side as I stroll up my walk. Hello, hello they yell. Even peeking out from a crack between my first and second brick steps.

As I rake the leaves and clean the garden, humble dandelion keeps me company. I fill a jar with her flowers and cover them in oil to be used in 6 weeks to make a healing skin balm. Her sunny disposition cheers me when I feel low and reminds me to always look on the bright side. Beautiful when you drop down to get close to her, leaving misconceptions behind and seeing her from a different perspective.

Let me share some fun facts about her that may shift your view…...

•          The dandelion symbolizes both the sun and moon and their everlasting connection. Her bright yellow flowers carry the energy and warmth of the sun and the puff ball she later becomes is a symbol of the moon. She opens her petals in the morning to greet the sun and closes them to sleep under the light of the moon.
•          Everyone has heard that dandelions are hard to remove. This is because of the incredible tap root they send down which at times can be several feet long. If any of it remains in the soil the dandelion will regrow. A reminder of our own potential for resilience and rebirth.
•         There are about 100 species of dandelion and all are beneficial! Every single part of her offers nutrition and healing and has been used in Chinese traditional medicine for centuries.
•          What appears to be a single flower head is actually made up of thousands of small ray flowers.
•          Dandelion is the most recognized flower in America. Everyone can point out a dandelion!
•          While we have been led to believe she is bad for our lawn, it is quite the opposite. Having dandelions keeps the soil aerated and the calcium she draws up with her long tap root fertilizes the grass.
•          And best of all, dandelions are fun! Who doesn’t remember blowing your wishes to the wind as a child?

We could learn a few things from dandelion. Strong, yet gentle. Never taking herself too seriously. Beautiful without being fussy. Dandelions are the ultimate masters of survival and they continue shining their light on us even when presented with the most hostile of environments.

Next time you see her……beam back!

Ode to dandelion,
SARAH

......the daily show

Yogis,
My eyes open and the sun is shining. A bright new day! Excited, I jump out of bed and head downstairs.  I can hear the birds so I know the show has begun and I don’t want to miss a moment.

Our house has a large great room comprised of an open kitchen, dining space and sitting area and the length is lined with a wall of windows looking out over the backyard. My gardens and the woods beyond create the view with nature as my everchanging artwork. There is always something to see out there, but this season is extra special.

A bird feeder sits in the middle of the grass and another hangs from a tree. A birdbath that was given to me by my neighbor Danny just before he passed away marks the middle of my medicine wheel. A couple of birdhouses adorn the deck posts and garage, and native plants are scattered about.  My attempt at creating a full-service resort for the wildlife that are kind enough to allow me to live here among them.

What is on the lineup for this morning?

The suspenseful drama this week is the return of the bluebirds. You may recall that last year they arrived as first-time guests.  Weeks were spent protecting their new home, building a nest and laying an egg before something (I believe a sparrow) went in and cracked the egg. Well, they are giving it another try…….selecting a different house this year. The sparrows, of course, think all the houses are theirs, even though they aren’t occupying them. Daily dive bombing, standing on top of a house all puffed up and squawking from both sides ensue. Each evening I am left hanging.

When I am in the mood for comedy I turn to the chipmunks. For years now they have lived inside the wall in our garage. To get out they chewed a small piece off the bottom of the garage door so they have easy access. They have begun venturing out this week. I see their small heads scoping the scene and then they dash across the yard to the wood pile and hide. There is nothing cuter than a chipmunk with its cheeks stuffed to capacity. Reminds me of when I was young and had round cheeks and my nickname at school was chipmunk (not quite as funny.)

Robins too can get me giggling. The way they hop, hop, hop…..stop……cock their head to listen and then boom. Down into the ground their beak goes. The worm never had a chance.

If chase scenes are your thing then you would love the squirrel show. The birds at the birdfeeder are messy. I watch as they push any seeds they personally don’t like out of the way and onto the ground much to the delight of the squirrels. If a squirrel who isn’t supposed to be there however swaggers in, watch out. Off they go. Zigzagging through the garden and up the tree with one in hot pursuit. Spirals up and down the tree. Out a limb. A giant leap into open air…….and barely grabbing the end of a branch with those small paws. Is it staged?

Finally there are those times when I need quiet. Peace. Tranquility. That would be the mourning dove episode. I think of them as the clean up crew. They never push. They wait their turn. And at day’s end they quietly and daintily eat whatever is left on the ground. Trusting there is enough for all. At dusk their song brings the world down a notch.

That’s just my backyard! I haven’t even touched on all the live streaming channels playing down at the river. Who needs tv?

Get still and watch nature for a half hour and notice what happens,
SARAH

......what do you see?

Yogis,
Spring is springing!

I love this time of year. Constant newness…… Each morning I stroll through the yard to see what appeared as I slept. Peonies pushing their heads through the dirt and leaves.  A dandelion bloom waving to me from a crack in the front walk. Leaves beginning to unfold on the hydrangea. I see them.

Only hours later I walk through again and already there is more. A spot of green here……purple flowers in the lawn. A bee has emerged and rests on the Lenten rose. As if the whole world is recreating itself moment by moment around me. Things aren’t there and suddenly they are……

Spring is a reminder that nothing stays the same. Nature lets go of the old and creates the new effortlessly. We have the same abilities but at times our skills get rusty. Spring is a great time to dust off those creative powers!

We are infinite creators, making our lives up as we go. Moment to moment, day to day. But sometimes it doesn’t feel like it. We get in a rut, as I have lately, and it seems that life is happening to us. But each of us is powerful beyond measure when we energetically shift into conscious creating.

For me, between a pandemic and a long cold winter, everything is seeming ‘same old same old’. Yet here we are emerging from winter and covid, with restaurants, gyms, movie theaters all open and expecting our return. As if we are supposed to jump back into what we were doing two years ago without skipping a beat. It all feels exhausting. I don’t necessarily want to do exactly what I was doing before.

It’s easy to see what we don’t want, but what is it that I do want? What is it that you want? The sky is the limit!

Uncovering our truest wants and desires is the first step in conscious creating and can often be the most challenging. Spring is here to help.

This spring season is governed by the element of water. Picture those spring rains which clear out the old and bring to life all that has patiently lay dormant beneath the earth for months. The water energy can help get us ‘unstuck’ too and into the flow.

What is it that you want to create?

I stand in front of my garden, with its old growth entwined with new sprouts. What do I want to create? Perhaps I will grow St Johns wort over there, move the bergamot to a new spot, clear space at the edge of woods, add a trellis, sow wildflowers out front. I can already imagine it!   

It seems easy in the garden. The trick is to remember that our life is like one enormous garden!

As you stroll your yard and see what nature is creating, ask yourself what it is you want to create and be quiet and listen. Take your time. The answers lie in your heart.

Once you know, see your life (like my garden) as if you have already created it. Visualize yourself having it, being it, doing it, living it……. Your thoughts become things so be clear. See your life blooming!

What you see in your mind, you can hold in your hand,
SARAH

.....reciprocity

Yogis,
You know how when you notice something, then you suddenly can’t stop noticing it? That has been ivy for me these last couple weeks.

English ivy or common ivy, the kind you picture climbing up the buildings of ivy league schools, was brought to the US as early as 1727 by the European settlers. Everyone loved it because it stays green all year, fills in bare areas and requires no care. But we loved it a bit too much and it is now invasive and threatens our forested areas.

I have plenty of experience with ivy since my old house, this house and our beach house all came with ivy included in the purchase price. Being young and naïve I thought it looked cool as it began covering the foundation and the base of trees, but as I and it matured, I learned the hard way how heavy a hand you have to use to rein it in. Ivy in the yard is not for the weak.

Each spring, I spend time removing ivy and other invasive vines (of which there are several new ones) from my trees. Cutting them back at the ground, pulling up roots when possible and cutting vines as high up as I can reach to make sure they don’t reconnect. I swear when I pulled the last vine off a small holly in my woods yesterday, she stood up straighter and shined. Trees appreciate our care.

Reciprocity.

Trees give to us every single day. Shade on those hottest summer days, warmth from the winter winds, fruit, nuts, wood for our firepits, the couch we sit on…….and the very air we breathe.  They provide shelter for birds, housing for insects and stability to our ground. They give and give and give. And what do we do other than take and take and take. That’s the question of reciprocity.

Lately as I walk through our town or along the river all I see are trees being smothered by ivy. All you have to do is look up!

Ivy starts to climb innocently enough offering greenery against brown bark. Soon it thickens. It continues to rise and engulf the trunk. When it finally reaches the branches it starts covering leaves blocking the process of photosynthesis. You begin to see limbs looking ragged. Branches begin falling. The tree is smothered if it isn’t first blown over by strong wind due to the weight of the ivy. It is a slow drawn out death.

I wasn’t going to write about this today. I know we don’t have the capacity to go in the woods and remove all the ivy and thought this would be like a yell into the dark. Then yesterday we went to visit the grandkids. As I walked in the door my grandson came running and grabbed my hand to show me their old raggedy pear tree in the back yard. It too, along with the ivy it is encased in, came with the house. It was in full bloom!

Then he points at the trunk.  Look what daddy and I did! There I see the lower 4 feet of trunk clear of ivy. He recounted how dad used the big sharp knife and he used the clippers to cut it off at the base and as high as they could reach. I knew then that yes! I was indeed supposed to write this today.

Take a walk around your property and neighborhood and notice. Mention it to neighbors who have ivy on their trees. Most people don’t know. Maybe lend a hand to a tree in the park who is just beginning to be climbed.  They will be most grateful.

Maybe you too won’t be able to stop noticing,
SARAH

.....memory lane

Yogis,
‘What do you think about taking a trip down memory lane today?’

It’s a gray dreary Thursday morning and that’s my mom as she comes down the steps. I had arrived at my parent’s house in NJ on Tuesday to spend a few days with them. I hadn’t seen them since Christmas, and it felt like it was time.

In many ways I already felt like I was on memory lane. Sleeping in my old house, being alone with my mom and dad, being cooked for, watching Jeopardy and laughing over old stories told one more time. No longer the one in charge I could lay back and go with the flow of whatever the new day offered.

‘Sure, I said. What do you have in mind?’

A few hours later we load into dad’s car and head down route 22 (a road I dreaded as a young driver) and turned off onto memory lane in Plainfield NJ. Our first destination……the apartment they moved into with me as a brand-new baby. It took a few times around the block and a couple of guesses to finally land on the big yellow house divided into individual apartments. Next stop…..the apartment we moved into not much later. It was the big front porch that let us know we had arrived in front of the right house. My parents were 25 and 28..

Next on the trip is the small cape cod they bought when I was two. This was the first single family house I ever lived in, the first one my mom ever lived in, and the first one my dad ever lived in. The cost was $17,000 and they had to lie a bit to get the mortgage. It looks even smaller than I imagined, but so cute.

We lived there a few years and I have some fleeting memories…..  Falling off my tricycle and skinning my knee. Getting bit on the nose by the dog next door when I got too close to the fence. Being chased by a squirrel as I tried to walk to the neighbor’s (you all heard that story when I recounted my second squirrel encounter last fall.) Why do we always remember the scariest moments?

We then stopped in front of the old brick house where my dad lived with my grandparents in the top floor apartment with a beautiful wood paneled ceiling and the master bedroom in a turret. I have wonderful memories of being there for family dinners and holiday gatherings. I remember watching Nixon resign on their large stand up B&W tv, my pop pop smoking a pipe in his armchair and my nana cutting up chicken livers for the cat Cleo.

Off we go, heading into downtown Plainfield to find the storefront where my mom and grandmother opened Glad Rags, a mod clothing store in 1965. While mom worked, I would play in the dressing room pretending it was a fort. She would give me money and I would walk down the street  alone to Texas Weiner to buy a Drakes coffee cake (remember them?) and an orange soda in a bottle with a straw. I was four. A different world back then.

We found them both! Glad Rags now empty but Texas Weiner alive and bustling. We went in and spoke with the current owner who has been there 35 years now. We told him stories from 56 years ago. My dad recounted stories from years even before that.

As I listened, standing in the exact same spot in front of the counter where I stood as a shy four-year-old little girl, I tried to remember how it felt. The same me looking through the same eyes but without decades of life layered on top. Memories flooded in.

My parents ordered two Texas weiners and brought them home for late lunch.

Nice to drive memory lane,
SARAH

.....march madness

Yogis,
The nearness of spring filled the air on Friday. A lightness. Mid 60s, blue skies and a gentle breeze. The sun, sitting a little higher in the sky, shone brightly on the newly bloomed daffodils and the puffy pink redbud blossoms. Everything about the day told me it was finally time to get my hands in the dirt……

I headed to the community garden I tend with lawn bag, shovel and scissors in hand dressed in a thin long sleeve shirt and light sweater. Within minutes of pulling the old black eyed susan stems, their dried buds still intact, the sweater comes off and hair goes up in a ponytail. With my hands smelling of rosemary from pulling matted leaves off her needles, if all felt like a new beginning. The start once more of a new life cycle.

The evening’s air was still warm. We sat on the front porch and had a beer. The fox ambled by.

Saturday morning, I wake to sideways rain pelting my window. I get up, brush my teeth, set up my blankets and sit on the bed to meditate. I listen to the rain on the roof. Before long I hear the tapping of ice pellets mixed in with the rain. Soon it is all ice. By the time I open my eyes a half hour later it is snowing and the wind is howling.

March madness.

I bundle up and head out into the world with Phoebe. The garden I had cleared of leaves only hours before now buried in snow. Daffodil heads heavy. The pink buds the trees had been proudly showing off now encased in white.  

A game of tug of war between winter and spring. Spring steps forward and is given a moment in the sun but is then forcefully pushed back by winter. One step forward and two steps back. Unpredictable. Changeable. Reminds me of the state of our world.

Whether its covid, the price at the pump, financial markets, or politics, I feel like we are stuck in an endless March with no clear end in sight. Up and down and all around. Then throw in the storm in Ukraine and the unfathomable images of a war that makes no sense to me, and it becomes hard to get your footing. Grass covered not with snow but pieces of buildings. Bombs falling from the sky. People fleeing their homes. Going to bed thinking the world is one way and waking up to pelting on the window.

One step forward…..two steps back. Is it just me, or does life feel so complicated right now?

I know with confidence that the calendar will turn its page and April will arrive, leaving March as only a memory. But will we as a human race find a way to do the same……

…..did I mention that time does not change but we change our clocks one hour?

March madness,
SARAH