....girl power

Yogis,
It was just as I remembered. The buzz of excitement from finishers and families. The table with plain bagels, bananas and sweets. Lively music, booths with info and activities and of course the medals around the necks. The after event of a race.

This time though it wasn’t me wearing a medal or eating bananas (although I admit to sneaking a bite of bagel.)  I haven’t run a race in probably twenty years now. We were all there to cheer on my 7-year-old granddaughter.

This was her second mini kids’ triathlon.

I was shocked when we arrived at the school to see hundreds of people already there. This was a big, well-run event to raise funds supporting families of children with pediatric cancer. Kids from 6 to 14 were milling around in swimsuits waiting for their start time.  

We were welcomed by Abigail with a wide smile and big hugs. She was ready….and looked confident and adorable!

A few minutes later the skies opened up to pouring rain.

Abigail, though, did not blink an eye. Her group lined up and she walked through the rain with the other girls and jumped in the pool. And they were off….. A bike ride and a run later she ran past us and through the finish. Beaming.

Now she did not know any of the other kids. She had only seen the school once yesterday when they dropped off her bike. She wasn’t talking about winning or beating anyone. Abigail was simply ready to do her best. And she did with ease.

Women’s sports have been in the news a lot lately for many different reasons. Today I witnessed its importance and the power it offers these young girls. The inner strength and courage it can help to build.

I never had interest in team sports but picked up running in high school. I don’t remember it even being offered earlier back then. And it has stuck with me to this day. It is part of the sense of who I am and what I am capable of.

My heart was smiling watching her run through that finish line.

Girl power,
SARAH

....wasps

Yogis,
Do you have any idea how many different species of wasps there are? A conservative estimate has them at 100,000 but the belief is it could be many times that amount. And how about how many species are here in Maryland?

At this point in time there are 1,200 named and documented types. In early September I feel like all of them are in my garden!

This is goldenrod and late boneset season and I know from experience that those plants are pure wasp magnets. I spent time with the wasps this weekend to get to know them better.

We know a wasp when we see it. I think it is the way their long slender legs hang down as they fly. Yet there are many other differences between wasps and bees.

For one, a wasp is slender and has a cinch at the waist, as if they have on a tight belt. A bee on the other hand is more rotund. No waist in sight.

Bees are hairy. Wasps are smooth and hairless. More sleek. Bees are vegetarian, eating only nectar and pollen, while wasps are more predatory and as omnivores, will eat insects and human food. Some wasps, like yellow jackets, love sugary drinks which is why we refer to our town’s September crab feast as the bee (although it should be wasp) fest. Always check your drink before taking a sip.

 In the history of our world, wasps came long before bees.

And while a bee can only sting once, a wasp can sting several times in self-defense. I spent my time with them up close and personal with slow movements and calm energy and they were nothing but polite.

Wasps are a crucial part of our ecosystem. They serve as pollinators, act as nature’s pest control by eating aphids and flies, and are an important protein source for birds, spiders and other insects. A gardener’s friend. We need them and I noticed how beautiful they actually are when you look close.

Every time I spend time with one of earth’s creatures, I am awed.

Befriending the wasps,
SARAH

....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