....community

Yogis,
Our gardening committee got together Thursday to discuss what went well, what didn’t, and changes we want next year in our gardens along the main street. We only see each other as a group on spring mulching day, and this end of season debrief. Otherwise, it is quick emails or texts.

It was nice sitting together to talk plants and get to know the newbies better. I left with a lightness in my chest. Community.

Friday night my husband and I walked down to one of the restaurants a few blocks away. We sat at the bar and had at least five different people we know come over to chat. We always see someone we know.

We joke because every time we try to even take a quick walk around the block we bump into people and end up in lengthy conversations. Community.

On Saturday there was a celebration of life for a neighbor held at our community center. We have known him for the 40 years we have lived here. A nice event with sandwiches and a slideshow with pictures of him in his youth looking like a movie star. People from our street were there and we retold stories of our shared histories. Community.

It feels good. Belonging. Safe.

There are many different types of community. The one I speak of here is based on a common geography. Our lives brought us to this 1.2 square mile piece of earth that we share. Yet we are different from each other. Different interests, personalities and ages.

I am realizing that community is not automatic. It is a choice and takes attention. Not everyone in our town knows the people around them or eats at our town restaurants or wants to. And in today’s world building community is even tougher.

I know I want to be part of the town. I make a point of getting to know my neighbors. Of getting involved. Of lending an ear or a hand. I receive so much in return.

Real community requires that people know each other, care about one another's welfare, and feel a sense of shared responsibility.

Glad to belong,
SARAH

....nor'easter

Yogis,
We were watching the weather forecast as the weekend approached. The chances of a nor’easter storming through Rehoboth looked solid. As we packed rain jackets, sweaters and boots to head down the outlook for home looked pretty nice. Hhmmmm…..Why exactly are we going?

Because I love a good storm!

As we arrived Friday afternoon it was cloudy, warm and breezy but by evening the winds were picking up steam and the rain started to fall….and never stopped. It rained morning, noon and night. Puddled streets littered with sticks, leaves and pinecones. Very grateful for my rain boots.

Saturday morning, I headed to the beach first thing. I wanted to get close to the ocean and feel her power. She was so fierce that yellow tape was put across the entrances to keep you from standing on dune edges that could collapse at any moment. Even there the upswells landed close.

The waves were spectacular. One after another, thundering on impact and sending spray skyward. Picking up fence posts with ease and drawing them in like toothpicks. Winds howling and rain pelting as I tried to capture her fury in pictures. Impossible. It is an experience that you must be present to witness.

I went back down for evening high tide, knowing the full moon was watching from behind the clouds. One more time on Sunday morning. Every time in rain gear and every time coming back soaked and chilled. But so worth it. Exhilarating. Alive.

I asked myself why I have always loved when nature gives us glimpses of the intensity she is capable of. It’s because she reminds me that we are clearly not in charge, which based on how we are acting these days is probably a good thing. That our best course of action is to relax, listen and learn. This weekend she had a lot to say.

Will we listen?

Bowing to mother nature,
SARAH

....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