....clouds

Yogis,
I had gotten out of the habit.

For several years when I was at the beach I made it a point to head down for sunrise often. Set the alarm and hop out of bed. This trip though I have been sleeping in. Maybe I needed the sleep. Maybe it was because we had guests most of the week. Maybe I am being lazy. Who knows. Last night though someone mentioned sunrise.

At 4:30 I woke to use the bathroom and remembered the mention. Rolled over and set the alarm for 5:30. Looked like it was supposed to rain at 5 but then clear out.

Alarm went off and I checked the weather. Now the rain was moved to 5:45. ‘You should go back to sleep’ my mind suggested.  No, it should still end in time. Got dressed, brushed my teeth and fed Phoebe. At 6:10 as the sky was beginning to lighten she and I headed out the door…..to the first large drops of rain.

Again, my mind eagerly gave me every reason I should turn around and snuggle back into bed. I am going to get wet. I won’t see the sun actually rise. I am tired.

We headed to the car anyway, umbrella in hand.

Driving I can see the gray sky and how thick the clouds have become. Windshield wipers going. This is silly I think. Yet I parked, lifting her out and the raindrops lessen.

We head over the dune and then I see it. The clouds are covering the entire sky except for a thin slice they left right along the horizon. The perfect window formed from which to see the sun’s grand entrance into this new day.

And a grand entrance it was indeed. Colors, swirls, bright light, warmth and to top it all off…..a rainbow forming over the dune.

Life has clouds and this period of time seems to have more than its share. I was reminded this morning though that even with clouds I should always get up, move forward with purpose and trust, and be open to the beauty of the unexpected.

We never know what the day will bring but most often I find it to be quite miraculous.

Hello sun,
SARAH

....next

Yogis,
As I sit here, a light breeze causes the oak tree above to release a bucket of acorns on our metal roof. Ding…Ding…Ding. Squirrels scurry through the holly tree leaping from branch to branch. The morning light looks a little different than a couple of weeks ago. Not something I can put words to, but I notice.

The shift is happening.

At this time of year many of the plants are winding down. Perhaps one pink echinacea flower peeks out from behind the many that are now dried and filled with the seeds which delight gold finches. Joe Pye weed no longer as vibrant and my hydrangea petals becoming paper thin. Endings.

Yet, as a gardener, I am reminded that there is always something coming next.

This week I was rewarded for my efforts with three plump figs from my tree out front. That is only the beginning. She is packed with green balls which must be checked daily as they will swell and change color overnight. If not picked, the crows will help themselves….as will my mailman. I always leave some for both.

By the time I get back from the beach the goldenrod will have painted a yellow wave across my medicine wheel. Followed soon by smiling faces of purple asters below. Yellow and purple, two colors often intertwined by nature.

Berries are just now beginning to appear on tree branches and if figs are here, then paw paws are ripening on trees through the woods opening up the season to forage. Late boneset draws new insects to the garden.

And so it goes. Late August is bittersweet indeed but as I spread seeds from the July spent flowers, I visualize them nestling down under winter snow to prepare. To get ready for what is next.

In the garden the cycles never end. Life is no different. There is always something coming next and the effort is to invite it in.

Endings lead to beginnings,
SARAH

....one hundred

Yogis,
It was May 2020 when two neighborhood women showed me the space along our main street that was to become my gardening responsibility. I had to look it up because if you asked, I would have said I have been doing this four or five years. A symptom of aging. Yet this was my seventh summer of transforming a stubborn weed filled area into a space of bee filled color and joy for our community.

I have loved doing it and it has given me much in return.

In those early days I was told an older woman named Mrs. Cable lived in the house which the garden edges. When there I would keep an eye out for her in hopes we would meet.

Soon enough she began coming out to her front porch and calling me over to thank me, offer water and place a couple personal requests. I learned she loves pinks and purples and is not a fan of gold. Noted.

One day as we stood chatting, she asked if I would like to sit with her on the front porch for a bit. This became a new routine. Through these conversations I learned more about her and her ever expanding family…..and that she was 94.

Although walking was beginning to require some assistance, she was as sharp as they come. She can tell you the names of all of her grandchildren, great grandchildren and great great grandchildren (of which there are a lot!), their ages, where they live and birthdays!

Impressive.

Sometimes she would ask me to walk her along the garden while I heard stories of old Cabin John. And when I brought my grandchildren to help me, she would come out with ice cream treats and we would all sit. We became friends.

Last week she turned 100.

I attended a large celebration hosted by her family in our community center with close to 100 guests. As she sat beaming in a chair a line formed. All lives in which she played a role.

She is truly an inspiration on aging and I am grateful that she was yet another gift the garden bestowed on my life.

 At the party she told me the name of her first-grade teacher,
SARAH

....a way in

Yogis,
I can’t pinpoint when Nana Camp began but I believe this was at least year five. I know it started with only my oldest grandson and then four years ago my granddaughter joined in. A summer week spent at my house.

I have been seeing research pointing to benefits children gain from relationships with grandparents. Better emotional stability, a sense of unconditional love and deeper understanding and empathy for family roots. The relationships can be live or even digital, but like any relationship, they must be lovingly built.

I always feel like Nana Camp is fertile ground for this construction.

Last week was as always….. fun filled, busy, loud, messy, funny, exhausting and filled with an incredible amount of food. How do they eat so much? But what was new this year was the add of my four year old grandson Ben, who was deemed old enough to attend.

Here was my opportunity to make my way in.

We did it all. Swimming, creek visits, puppet show, aquarium, carousel and lots of arts and crafts. We even slept out in tents again, with not nearly enough actual sleep. Yet where a foundation begins to form is in the quiet moments in between.

Sitting to build blocks. Reading him a book he picked from the little free library (Spiderman, of course). Holding his hand while crossing the street, hugging him when hurt and giving him a bath. Most importantly, introducing him to my lavender head massages at bedtime.

He would lie on his back with bright blue eyes wide open to watch. By the third night he leapt into bed knowing what was coming. Deep sleep would follow.

By day four I felt him unconsciously lean up against me while watching a show. Figuring out who I am and how I fit into his life.

I was cooking the same chicken I made for my own boys. As I got Ben out of the tub I told him he would smell the chicken. He looked at me and said, ‘Nana I like the smell of your chicken……Nana, I like all of the things in your house.’

Yes!

I’m in,
SARAH

....an empty space

Yogis,
My mom was one of three Cardoni girls. As the oldest she picked up a lot of responsibility as a teenager (like quickly learning to drive to become the family’s transportation) when her father died suddenly. Her middle sister Gloria was six years younger and the youngest a toddler.

This week Gloria died peacefully during the night…..leaving behind an empty space, not only for that family, but all of us.

Whenever we hear of a death of someone close there is that moment when time stands still. There is the time before and then the after. I still remember those moments for other passings.

As my mom's Maid of Honor

Then what follows is the flood of memories. All of them. The good and the difficult.

Gloria was larger than life with a big personality. Perhaps it was her middle child position. When in it, she commanded a room, with a big smile while she told you what to do. She laughed a lot and had her opinions. She was both my godmother and confirmation sponsor and though she gave me a bible, I can’t say we had any talks on religion, but spirituality …yes.

There was one three-year period when we lived in Atlanta at the same time as her family.  This was during my formative years of 9 to 12. Those memories run deep.

Like how she and my mom took tap dancing lessons and practiced on our stone floor in the foyer. Or the baked Alaska she would make when we were over. The time her dachshund ate my hamster, and we all lay on the couch crying, or mom watching soap operas with her when I returned from school each day. She was generous.

As a high-spirited high school English teacher she changed many young lives. I always wish I had been in her class.

But my lifelong memory is how at every opportunity, she and my mom would take the mic to sing ‘Tonight you Belong to me’ in harmony. I know, I know, you…..

At my wedding

Memories lead us to photo albums, family texts, phone calls and ultimately, peering into our own lives. Changed once again with this new empty space.

Om,
SARAH

....rain, rain, go away

Yogis,
When you go to the same spot, on the same week every year for 39 years, you are going to experience every kind of summer weather the beach has on offer.

There have been years of intense heat when everyone spends the days under umbrellas and in the water. Times when the rip currents were so bad that the red flags and watchful lifeguards kept us ankle deep all week. Thunderstorms and wind that shook the house and eight years ago when flooding was so intense  the town was pumping water out of our streets.

This year was wet.

Not all the time, but we got drenched upon arrival with buckets of rain pouring out of a lightning filled sky as we unloaded the car. At least the sand was all washed off, we didn’t need a shower…..and a rainbow framed the sky once the storm passed.

We would have a beautiful day, followed by a not so nice one. Or a windy wet morning with the clouds suddenly parting and the sun shining warm and bright all afternoon. Within minutes of the sun’s appearance the beach would fill as families poured out of houses.

Yet weather does not dampen the spirits of the 60 of us there! How could it…….

The hot tub was a crowd favorite during downpours and umbrellas allowed us to visit the turtle lake. On nice days the big hole was dug for the twenty kids to play in, the candy lady (as my friend is known) opened shop, handing out candy necklaces, crafts were made and bocce games were won and lost.   

We played group games, watched movies and took rainy beach walks. The guys fished. And there was no shortage of laughter.

We have all been doing this together for so long that that the fun comes with us regardless of the external circumstances. Isn’t that true of all of life? We can choose to either let the outer world determine our joy or we can always carry the light within us.

On Friday, like clockwork, Tim came around with the frozen pineapple pieces that had been soaking in rum all week.

A rainbow framed the sky again our last night,
SARAH

....preferences

 Yogis,
Plants have more in common with us then we often give credit for. They breathe, need water, pass down traits through DNA and have a communication network. They also have preferences, as we do, to where they want to set down roots.

For humans, there are those who prefer to settle in the sunny south while others are much more at home in the cold. Some want desert and some feel naked without the cover of trees. Plants too have likes and dislikes and as a gardener it sometimes takes them showing me time after time before I finally get it!

Let’s take mullein as an example. I wanted mullein when I formed my medicine wheel garden since she was used medicinally by native Americans. I spread seeds. I transplanted seedlings from friends. Over and over without luck.

This year one showed up with no effort or fanfare in my gravel driveway. She is a beauty. Clearly, she likes rocky soil. Got it.

The exact same thing happened with Queen Anne’s Lace. Once I finally recognized her coming up each summer, I allowed a small patch to develop in an area we don’t park. She reminds me of my NJ childhood. I remember picking them to put in vases (some things never change……)

Then there are tomatoes. Several years ago I grew cherry tomatoes from seed. Every year since then I have multiple volunteers that come up around my garden to produce fruit. I never have to plant new ones. I even transplant one to a pot on my deck. Thank you, Universe!

One though always ends up surprising me somewhere in the driveway. This year she selected a spot next to the recycle bin.  She is looking quite happy and I expect to be picking tomatoes soon.

Now that’s recycling.

Others, like forget-me-nots, prefer edges. I start them in the garden, but as they reseed, they inch closer and closer to the edge, eventually spilling over the rocks that make my border. Like wild spirited people, they don’t want to be contained.

Plants help me understand humans better too.

Om,
SARAH