....newer isn't better

Yogis,
One of my favorite ways to prepare vegetables is to roast them. Many kinds. Peppers, onions, broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, beets…… often with small potatoes. Spread on a cookie sheet, massaged with a little olive oil and sprinkled with salt and any herbs or flavorings that feel right. Perfect for this time of year. Easy and delicious.

I like to cook mine pretty well. To that point where their texture changes and they begin to crystallize a bit. Sweeten. Often seeming like a different vegetable from when I slid them in to cook.

Recently I opened up the pan drawer of my oven. In there lies a stack of baking sheets in a variety of sizes. And a variety of ages. The new ones sit shiny and clear of any stains. They look so pretty. Others are now dark and splotchy. At first glance you would think I hadn’t cleaned them, but I know I always do.

For a while I tended to grab the new ones. I prepared the veggies the same way and cooked at the same temperature but for some reason they weren’t quite as tasty. Hhmmm…… Then one time I grabbed one of the oldies but goodies. An aha moment ensued. They cooked better!

Of course. It makes sense. Like my cast iron pans the more they are used, seasoned and loved, the better meals they produce. New isn’t necessarily better.

I was given some wooden salad tossers a couple years ago. I love their look and as an avid salad maker, I use them many times a week. During clean up I would give them a good scrub with soap. I started noticing though they felt a little dried out when I held them. I began lightly rinsing them off with warm water, allowing some of the oils to stay intact.  They too now feel more alive and loved. Cleaner isn’t always better.

Applying the same principles now to my wooden salad bowl, I can see the colors deepening. Aging to perfection.

Our grandmothers knew this.

The earth could benefit from us all falling back in love with what we already have,
SARAH

.....harvest

Yogis,
Each morning I walk out the front door, and each morning there is a little pile of dirt next to the potted plant on the steps. I sweep it up and scoop it back into the planter. I can barely see the walnut that has been buried there.

The flagstone path leading to the driveway is littered with acorns from the old oak above. They crunch as I walk. I startle the mother deer and her two little ones resting in the front grass. I imagine they ate so many nuts overnight that they have an acorn hangover and had decided it was easier to sleep where they were then to stagger home.

Chipmunks scurry across the yard with cheeks filled. Oblivious to my footsteps as their focus has shifted to food storage. Collect and unload. Collect and unload. Newly flocking birds land in the trees creating a raucous as they feast. They all know.

It is harvest season. Seeds, fruits, nuts.  A bounty literally falling on us from above.

My garden knows it too. The herbs are experiencing their last blast of growth and asking to be used. This week I will make my herbed salts with the now dense sage and aromatic rosemary. It’s time to dry some oregano and put thyme in vinegar. I take seeds from the drying flowers and scatter them in other parts of the yard.

Using this time of harvest to prepare for winter.

My CSA veggie share is moving back into dark greens, eggplant, squash, garlic and potatoes. Foods that nourish. I had my first acorn squash of the season for dinner the other night. Amazing. No additions needed.

This harvest season reminds me each year of the magnificent abundance of our world. That we are all already rich.

I wrote this while sitting on the front porch. The entire time I was surrounded by the sounds of various critters scampering through dried leaves…..which will later be used to reinforce their nests. All reveling in the gifts that have been bestowed.

Grateful for the bounty,
SARAH

....catchy

Yogis,
Friday was dreary as we drove to the Chesapeake Bay. Humid, soggy and drizzling. Saturday morning was more of the same. In fact, the whole week had followed this exact same pattern. Frizzy hair and damp shoes the look of the day.

Yet the Universe delivered! A parting of the clouds exposed brilliant blue skies and warm rays of sunshine just in time for the main event. An outdoor wedding I was officiating of a young woman I have known her whole life and her fiancé I’ve had the immense pleasure of connecting to. These two were so clearly in love and I was given the honor of joining their lives together.

With grass as our carpet and trees the décor we began the ceremony in a gazebo. By the end there were not many dry eyes in the crowd. We could all feel it. Love.

Love is the most universal, the most tremendous and the most mysterious of the cosmic forces.
~ Teilhard de Chardin

These two love each other profoundly. The heartfelt vows they wrote and read publicly were a gift to us all. They emanated love. And love is catchy.

Cocktails in a boat shed let us all begin to know each other better which then drifted to a tent on the bay. The setting ……stunning. By now we were giddy. Couples holding hands. Hugs and toasts abounding.

Then the band started….. Now we are dancing together, caring not if we knew the person in front of us, forming circles, letting go into the joy permeating the night air. But it didn’t stop there.

The newlyweds have their own band and took to the stage. Looking around, the crowd was standing shoulder to shoulder singing and cheering as the bride and groom glowed. Everyone’s heart a size larger than when the afternoon had begun.

Weddings are special. A day to step out of the world and soak in a deep pool of love. And boy does it feel good!

They love each other. We love them. Through this we are all now joined.

Sunday morning as my eyes opened, the clouds had returned. Mist back in the air.

Love though, remained,
SARAH

.....pearls

Yogis,
Every one of us is unique. Each with special gifts we offer the world. Gifts that impact other’s lives and will one day leave a legacy when we no longer walk this earth. My father is no exception.

This weekend we all convened in NJ to celebrate the accomplishment of a 90^th birthday with him. Wow. Ninety years is a long time and he and the rest of us were ready to party. An afternoon event at our usual spot for big milestones with over sixty in attendance.

Also as usual, he made a grand entrance.  Walking in on my sister’s arm wearing a robe and hat, hobbling with a cane. A Kiss is Just a Kiss playing softly. The song suddenly changes to Stayin Alive, the volume escalates, the cane tossed, robe thrown off, his signature yellow lens glasses go on and a dance ensues. Those of you who know him can instantly imagine it.

But what struck me most from the afternoon was the ‘entertainment’ while we ate salads. Figuring everyone was sick of always hearing from my sister and I, the five grandchildren took over. Each stood and shared a few of Pop pop’s pearls of wisdom, while wearing yellow lens glasses of course. We all know and love his pearls. They are part of what make him….him.

‘Good enough’ my niece shared. Good enough is most often enough. No need for perfection.

‘Do good and avoid evil……..Everything in moderation…….Two must haves when considering a spouse – shared humor and political party….. When you go to college always go to class (even with a hangover, even if you don’t listen) and don’t ever sleep in your clothes…..Don’t EVER look at the dinner menu until you have received your drink.’

And the one I have taken to heart and try to live my life by is ‘Everyone is doing their best.’

They go on and on. All of us know them. All of us think of him each time we are in a situation where his words play in our head. All of us affected by his wisdom.

In his speech he announced he won’t pass…. He will die. Sooooo dad.

My dad is awesome,
SARAH

....roots

Yogis,
As a certified tree hugger (yes, I actually hug them at times), I have always been in awe of their roots. Certain trees allow us a view of them spreading above ground, giving a glimpse into what lies below. The fact that roots burrowing into dirt can feed and hold up trees that seem to touch the sky, through wind, rainstorms and drought for hundreds of years is incredible. And no two sets are exactly alike.

There are skinny roots and those grown thick and gnarly. Some that spread far and wide and ones that quickly disappear from view. Others crisscross along paths giving me a place to plant each foot as I hike through. The ones along the creek and river remind me of ballerinas dancing on the tips of their toes.

They are all intricate and beautiful in their own right.

Imagine my surprise when this ad crossed my feed:  How to hide unsightly tree roots in your yard.

Unsightly? What? Could this be serious? I looked it up and found that yes, it is a thing with many options from landscapers on how to get them out of view so your lawn can look neater. Tidier.

Yikes. Please don’t cover up your tree roots. Putting even a couple of inches of soil on them can suffocate the tree. Instead, sit with them, listen and take a good look. See them with new eyes.

Children know this. We have an enormous oak tree out front at the base of which my boys created little forts among the roots. My granddaughter recently commented on how intertwining roots under two river trees made the perfect nest area for a nap. She was right. They invite you in.

They weave and bend, intertwine and reach. A complex network creating stability in a shaky world.

My hope is we will not allow our world of marketing to do to tree roots what it did in the past to our precious dandelions and clover. Nature knows what she is doing and if we allow her to paint the world her way, we will be surrounded by beauty…..and nourished by her roots.

Nature as sculptor,
SARAH 

....the skipper

Yogis,
While working in the garden I develop relationships. Relationships with plants, each with their own personality. Relationships with birds as I watch them raise new families. Relationships with dragonflies, bees, swallowtails and the occasional turtle, snake or frog. I talk to them, observe them and of course, photograph them. A lot. I make sure they have clean water, nesting materials, cover and their native food.

They in turn give me joy and companionship.

There are some though that develop a special place in my heart and one of those is the Skipper.

Skippers are a group of butterflies with over 3500 species that are named for their quickness with speeds up to 20mph. One minute they are on the leaf in front of you, the next across the garden, before darting behind you. Here I am, they say!

They come in a variety of colors. Most of the ones in my garden are clothed in golds and browns, some with a white spot. They are quite small, yet stocky and sturdy with a body covered in hairs causing them to be confused as moths. You can tell they are butterflies though by the little clubs at the top of their antennae. Many believe they live in a world between butterflies and moths.

And they love flowers! I find them most often skipping from my bright colored zinnias to echinacea, sunflowers and bergamot. They use their long tubelike proboscis to suck up nectar before curling and retracting it back in like a hose. Important daytime pollinators, I am grateful to have them around.

If you spend time with a skipper they will become comfortable and let you approach. Once close you can see their big bulging eyes which will turn to look right at you, and I swear at times it appears that they break into a smile. They do not shy from attention.

They will even land on your arm and stay for a spell as you continue trimming and weeding. A gentle presence. I like that.

What a big personality packed into such a small creature!

Relationships,
SARAH

.....synchronicities

Yogis,
I had the joy of spending this past week with my almost six-year-old granddaughter. Leisurely days with no set agenda where I could give her my full attention. Who doesn’t like having someone’s full attention!

The first day we picked oracle cards from my spirit animal deck. Each animal offers a message. I picked one that spoke to the power of synchronicities.

“What are synchronicities?” asked Abigail. I paused to find the right words to describe something that isn’t easy to put in six-year-old terms. I gave examples and felt she had some sense of what I was trying to explain.

Synchronicities. I later looked up the definition. ‘The simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernable causal connection.’  See what I mean?

We both forgot as we moved through the week doing things girls like to do. Yoga and playing with stuffies. Putting hair sparkles in our hair. Riding the carousel, hiking the creek and of course, a dance party. On Thursday I painted our toenails. I chose an orangey color for the beach and she selected a pretty pink.

Friday morning, I asked what she wanted to wear. Holding up a short set with stripes she at first said no. But then she shared that when she put it on for the first time her mother said she looked as cute as a button. Yes, she would wear it after all.

An image flashed on my inner screen. Downstairs I went right to our nail polishes. I called her over to show her the pink bottle. ‘Cute as a button’ it read. She looked at me with surprise and asked where I got the sticker.  No, I told her. That was the name of the polish. Her eyes grew wide!

THAT is a synchronicity. We can define them all day, but it is the inner jolt that can never be fully explained.

Pay attention. The more in the flow of life you are, the more synchronicities appear. Each one like a neon sign indicating you are heading the right way.

And she was indeed cute as a button,
SARAH