.....matriarchy

Yogis,
Spring clean up has begun on the community flower gardens along our town’s main street. Last week was our annual mulching event where those of us who garden and volunteers gather for a few hours of spreading.

During the event I became aware of something.

It started when one of the women showed up with her broom. An old-fashioned corn broom. She promptly positioned herself toward the back of the group. As we completed a section she would come behind, sweeping away what fell in the path and tidying up the garden edges.

Ah, I see. She is the ‘sweeper’ in the group. I am not the sweeper. It never occurred to me to bring a broom or take on that role.

A few other women brought straight metal rakes. They would ask for a pile of mulch to be dumped and they would smooth it out across the area. Again….not me. I am a ‘down on my knees, hands in the dirt’ mulching type. No gloves, of course.

The woman who organizes the event drives the small tractor that carries the cans of mulch from the truck to the gardens. With a no-nonsense approach, she bee lines back and forth and you better watch your toes. The perfect role for her that she returns to year after year.  She keeps things moving and points out issues. But is she in charge? No. No one is boss.

Were there men? Yes, of course. They instinctively took jobs of loading and unloading large cans and wheelbarrows of mulch. Always asking where and when to dump.

A well-oiled machine. I realized I was watching a matriarchy in process.

Another great example......

A matriarchy does not simply mean we put women in charge. That doesn’t change the triangle shape of patriarchy that our culture, society and economy are built on. A matriarchy is in the shape of a circle. All working together. To shift to this takes a deep structural change, not just a change in personnel.

And what is in the center of the circle? Children, elderly and vulnerable.

Mulching made this all so much clearer.

Craving a circle,
SARAH

....crow

Yogis,
When a crow flies over a large shadow is cast. That’s how I noticed them. It seemed that each time I looked out the window, a shadow was sweeping across my garden.

Now I have always had crows around. Typically they come in groups for any leftovers under the birdfeeder. They stay a bit and head out. But this was different, so I began to pay attention.

I noticed one would fly from my woods and over the house. A short time later it would return, disappearing into the treetops. The kind of rhythmic back and forth that indicates an impending addition to the family unit. I had never given much thought to nesting habits of crows.

Soon it began landing on my birdbath on its trips. Looking a bit silly perched with big talons on such a small bath, it would drink, dunk its head and even thrust its neck to send water down its back. That old birdbath has been a haven to many.

One morning I watch it bring a large hunk of bread and begin dunking it in and out. Soon the bread broke into smaller pieces. It ate a few and took the remaining chunk back to the woods. Ah, babies must have arrived. This became the new ritual. Arrive with food, wash and soften it and then head home.

This makes for a very dirty bird bath.

The other day I went out to clean it and saw an unusual gray pile in the center. Grabbing a stick I poke it. Yikes! It was the remains of a frog. I had no idea they ate frogs. Indeed they do, along with mice, bird eggs and of course, trash. Since that day I have found various, what I can only refer to as guts, of different creatures. Sometimes the crow returns to retrieve them. Other times it is me scooping them out.

Did you know crows are one of the few birds that understand and reciprocate with gift giving?  I have set up a stone with different trinkets on offer. While they keep getting knocked off, none have been taken. Perhaps once the babies fledge they will have more time on their hands.

Getting to know crows,
SARAH

.....a box

Yogis,

It’s about 6 inches by 6 inches with no top. Gray. A wood box I believe was the base for a gift I received. Once empty I decided it was one of those ‘boxes I have no idea what I will use it for, but too good to throw away’ kind. On to the metal gardening shelf in the garage it went.

That was two years ago.

Last year I walked in to discover an adorable nest built inside the box. Twigs, leaves, moss…..and one of my gardening gloves……all woven together in a perfect round. I kept my eye on it but nothing more happened. No eggs. No bird.

Two weeks ago, it caught my eye again for some reason and I took a couple pictures. It appeared to be at a slightly different angle. Didn’t give it much thought as I pulled down the garage door to head for the beach.

On Monday’s return the door is rolled up. Tuesday morning, I walk in to get my new gloves. Looking down I find two eyes peering out at me. Oh my! Hello! A Carolina wren is nestled deep in the hole, clearly sitting on eggs.  I guess the door will not be going down any longer.

This time of year I am knee deep in gardening chores. Cleaning beds, spreading compost, adding trellises, all which require numerous loud trips in and out of the garage and right past miss wren.

I let her know I am coming in a calm voice, often with the whistle I have used in the yard for years, hopeful she knows there is no danger. I check on her often with my binoculars through the back windows.

I look it up and their tendency is to nest in manmade objects like boots, jacket pockets, or wreathes on the front door. Perhaps they consider human movement another layer of protection in the precarious role of mothering baby birds. I will do my best.

There are an infinite number of things I love about spring. One is that a nondescript box can become a source of wonder and hope overnight.

My own mothering instincts on high alert,
SARAH

....color

Yogis,

I think it began with an ad on my Facebook feed. Or maybe that is when I first noticed. A woman is setting a table. As she lifts a flowered tablecloth, it is caught by a breeze and spreads over the table. A nostalgic paisley print that could have been on my nana’s table at one time.

It caught my eye because it had color.

Then my 20^th Pottery Barn catalog of 2026 arrived. Typically, I fan the pages before heading to the bin. This one was different. The bedroom on the front cover had a floral duvet and curtains…..and green wallpaper! This time I sat down and went through page by page.

Upholstery, pillows and dinnerware in multiple hues of blues and greens. Flowers in vases and butterfly patterns on napkins. Be still my heart.

A reel on Instagram knew exactly what I was thinking (scary isn’t it?) and asked ‘when did the world lose its color.’

I looked it up and the aesthetics of palettes in beige, then gray and evolving to ‘greige’ in home décor began twenty years ago. New homes built are white and black. There are many theories. One is that our digital world is so bright, colorful and fast paced that we look for its absence in our refuge.

Yet everything changes if you give it time. Could it be happening?

My personal taste has always been for some color. When we moved into this house everyone expected me to paint the great room, with its expansive walls and sky high ceiling, a shade of white. No. I selected deep butterscotch. My architect rolled his eyes but I love it to this day. To me, walking into a room with a peaceful color is like getting a hug. Warm. Cozy.

My sister and I were reminiscing about the cars we learned to drive on. Funny stories surfaced about the navy blue Ford LTD we each got to have turns with. She was boat sized and had a ruby red interior. Pulling the front bench seat up made the back seat big enough for a party. So, of course, there was one.

Maybe in these times we need the return of color.

Om,
SARAH

.....the return

Yogis,
They are coming back! One by one they show up. A peek of green here… a flash of yellow there. Buds begin to swell on stems that have sat bare for months.

My plant friends are beginning to return. Friends? What makes someone or something a friend? 

For me friends should be dependable companions and good listeners. Check. I can count on echinacea to return year after year. I move a handful of leaves the third week of March, and there she is, waving up from the ground. She will be with me in the garden until I once again need a sweater.

Hi! Great to see you!

Friends should uplift you when you are low. So many of them come to mind here. Zinnias, lemon balm and snapdragon. Bright and cheerful yet never overbearing or taking themselves too seriously. 

They should bring calm when you are anxious. No one does this better than lavender. She is a quiet presence. Her soft leaves and simple flowers make life seem a bit easier. Less complicated. And her fragrance pulls me to bury my nose and take a full breath. Ahhhh.

And good friends are low maintenance and helpful. Great blue lobelia fits the bill nicely. As a native she shows up each spring. Her needs are low even on the driest days of summer and she spreads her seeds prolifically. Gifting me with more plants at no cost!

At the end of the day, the foundation of a solid friendship is when it is built on a reciprocal relationship. Everything about nature involves reciprocity, if you allow it. I help keep the soil healthy, remove invasives, offer water and give them my attention. In return I receive beauty, oxygen and butterflies. Herbs for my salts. Cuttings for my vases. The more I give, the more I get back……. Plants surprise me with an arrival. Mint offers to flavor my water after an hour of sweaty weeding.

I touch their leaves, talk to them openly and truly enjoy their company. Yes, they are friends and I am happy to see them again!

Don’t even get me going on my bug friends,
SARAH 

...it's not time

Yogis,
I really should practice what I preach.

Each March I share with anyone who will listen what I learned about what should be done in the yard/garden at this stage. In a nutshell, not a lot.

The bugs, butterflies and bees have their eggs buried beneath the fallen leaves, along dried plant stems and in wood piles. Many even overwinter themselves nestled into these areas. Rake and clean up too early and you are removing all of the biodiversity from your own little slice of nature.

This is also the time where birds and squirrels are feeding on the dried berries, nuts and seeds on last year’s growth to build strength and gathering dried leaves and brush to start preparing homes for their soon to arrive offspring. Taking it all away means they have no reason to settle there.

Yet on our first balmy day as I opened the windows to smell the earth the urge to ‘clean up’ hit hard. Well, I’ll just pull some of the invasives before they begin to grow again in earnest, I told myself.

Down on my knees I go as I pull the vinca I had planted in the early days before I knew of her desire to overreach. Reaching in I move the layer of fallen leaves and dig my fingernails beneath the dirt to be sure to get each section by the root. I’m almost done and feeling so productive when I feel a thorn in my finger. In a blink of an eye I know it isn’t a thorn. I pull my hand out to find a poor lethargic bee attached, doing her best to send me away.

It worked and my fingers felt like sausages in tight casings for several days. I apologized and tucked her back in.

It is still winter.

I go back to doing what can be done now. Picking up fallen sticks on the lawn. Trimming back old leaves on the Lenten rose plants. My earliest bloomer. Walking around to remind myself who I have and where I spread seeds in fall. And visualizing what is to come.

It’s not time yet,
SARAH

....feed the soul

Yogis,
I’m floating on my back. Arms stretched wide and legs long. Sun shining on my face and belly. The water is warm and calm. So dense with salt that no effort is required on my part. I lie weightless.

My ears are submerged, muffling the outside world. I can hear voices in the distance but they are garbled, yet the sound of my own breath is strong and clear. A steady rhythm. I am at peace.

My annual trip to the Virgin Islands feeds my soul.

It isn’t just the beauty….although there is an abundance. It isn’t only the warmth that wraps its arms around me as I take that first step off the plane. Or the gentle breezes that brush my winter weary skin. It’s all of that and so much more.

Every single thing about the trip brings me inner joy. I declared on day three that even my hair was happy to be there! Sun kissed and filled with salt. My legs love the morning hikes up cactus laden hills. My toes rejoice in being sandy. My sleep deep as the sea sings her song.

And the stars. Oh the stars……  Reminding me how small I am but how wide and wonderful the world is.

The rainbows, strolling wild donkeys and cows, conches on the ocean floor, lobster and fresh caught fish at meals, Carib, hummingbirds and orchids. All of it.

We all have places or things that remind us of who we are and make our soul sing. Others for me are having my hands in the dirt, sitting on the porch watching an incoming storm, smelling a lavender plant, witnessing a sunrise.

It’s important that we know what ours are and make the time for them in this busy life. They make all the difference on us being fulfilled.

What nourishes your soul?

Feeling full,
SARAH

....the light

Yogis,
Winter is the darkest season. Right?

Yes, in some ways. It certainly has the least amount of daylight hours. With the sun hiding below the horizon until almost 7:30 and setting before 5 on the solstice we spend almost two thirds of our time in the dark. Add in all the cloudy gray days and it can feel quite bleak.

On the other hand, when the clouds part and the sun bursts through we have some of the brightest days of the year!

Our area is still packed in with snow and ice. A cold landscape where the air is crisp and incredibly clear. Throw in some sun beams and it is blinding as rays bounce off the white landscape. Almost dizzying. I am not a big sunglass wearer so I find myself squinting as I walk.

And since the sun moves low across the sky, her rays reach through windows into areas of my home that only receive direct light this time of year. My orchids are grateful.

The moon too shines brightly this time of year! This past week the big moon with no summer leaves and haze to filter her light, illuminated my backyard. Perfectly outlined shadows of bare tree branches painted on the snow. Even the slightest movement of fox or deer captured under her spotlight.

Yesterday robins returned to my yard. Flying in and out of our big holly they feasted on the bright red berries since the ground now offers nothing. In a colorless season, any shades that do arrive appear vibrant. The cardinal. The bluebird. Standouts with no surrounding competition.

In dark times we must seek the light. It is always there if we look.

Squinting,
SARAH

....gift of time

Yogis,
My youngest son gave me a certificate entitling me to a hike and lunch on the day of my choosing as a birthday gift. Knowing frigid weather was heading our way I quickly locked in on that Thursday. The forecast read partly cloudy with a high of 53. Perfect hiking weather.

He picked me up at 9:30 and off we went to hike the nearby Billy Goat trail. This trail follows along the Potomac River with much rock scrambling, climbs and descents.  I have done it many times, but it has been a while. Doing the entire loop takes between 2 and 2 ½ hours.

When you hike with someone you have each other’s undivided attention. Even phones are tucked away as hands are needed to grab rocks for the ups and downs. Moving together and finding a rhythm, we pass through incredible landscape. Sometimes talking but also in comfortable silence.

We pause at one of the high points to sit and take it all in. Yes, there was a lunch to follow but I was reminded of how the greatest gift is that of one’s time.

For those of you with adult children, you know what I mean. All we want is to spend time with them.

I have been visiting my very first hospice client weekly since the end of September. Each Wednesday I spend two hours by her side. Some weeks she is in a recliner and able to communicate a bit. It’s in those times that I learned about her and her life. Other times she is in bed and often cannot express her wishes.

For these two hours I sit regardless. No checking of the phone. No chatting with others in the house. My complete attention on her. Maybe reading poetry aloud or playing music that I discovered she liked. Chopin. Frankie Laine. Tony Stewart.

Other times I sit silently near her. Giving her the gift of my time.

In a world with so much attention on material items and experiences we can forget that even while the cost of giving time is nothing, the value is priceless.

Giving and receiving,
SARAH

....joy

Yogis,
I’m sitting here late Sunday afternoon watching the world turn pink as the sun sinks below the horizon. Low clouds make the blush in the air linger and mix with the smell of smoke from a fire burning in our family room. The closing curtain of a joy filled weekend.

The world is difficult right now. Yet if we are open to receiving it, joy can unexpectedly slide in. Often in the simplest of ways.

Saturday night I went to a friend’s dance party. After some mingling and yummy food, the music was turned up. Couches and dining table were pushed to the end of the room so the the old wood floors could act as a dance floor. Colored strobes lit the space as one by one people joined in. For the next hour and a half we stood in a circle and danced. No agenda. Not self-conscious. Twirling with flowy scarves in hand, swiveling hips with arms thrown in the air. Letting go.

Joy arrived.

Sunday I threw out an invitation to my sons and their families for brunch here at the house for whoever could make it. My sons showed up with three of my grandkids. Two of my son’s friends heard they were here and came by with their own children.

Watching the little ones dive into my toy closet for the same match box cars and figurines that their fathers had played with warmed my heart. Hearing ‘Nana’ yelled from another room when they wanted to show me something. Realizing how comfortable they have become in my home.

I hike through the woods with my oldest son and granddaughter to visit the hill he grew up sledding down. My granddaughter, with our shared love for nature, not wanting the hike to end.

Beams of joy turned on.

It is said that happiness and joy are different. Happiness measures how good we feel over time. Joy though is a bright light in this very moment.

Since it is only this moment that exists, let’s find simple ways to invite joy. I believe the more of these moments, the happier we are.

The simple things.

Glowing with joy,
SARAH

.....tribe

Yogis,
“Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m 64’…….I am about to find out.

It was my birthday Friday. Driving to the beach I got a call from my parents who sang a slightly out of tune Happy Birthday (a family tradition).  

My sister and husband were also coming to host a birthday dinner for me on Saturday night.My sisters-in-law now live there and over the years we have become close with their two friends, and more recently with another who migrated east. The group of us often get together when we are down so Saturday was no exception.

Some time ago we realized we needed a text group to make it easier to keep in touch, share news and arrange details. My sister created it and named it ‘tribe.’ The label has stuck. Now it not only pertains to the way we communicate but also names a deeper level of connection we have developed.  

I looked up the definition of tribe. I took snippets from some to create one that fits the sense we have of each other. ‘A human social group that shares common language and core values, has a common sense of identity and feels a sense of belonging.’

Last night as we gathered around the table for the incredible feast my sister cooked with love, I realized how much we have all shared. The laughter. The caring. There for each other during some difficult times. Celebrating each other’s accomplishments. Knowing we can count on each other. No matter what.

We are always told how important community is to our wellbeing. At times I wonder exactly what that looks like. Then I think of the tribe.

Tribes come in a variety of forms, and often we have several. They can be family or friend groups. Women’s circles. Others who share a passion. A running  group. Yoga class.

I was given a birthday badge and headband to wear. Thoughtful gifts. A delicious cake. Plenty of hugs. Yet it is the warmth and sense of connection we feel at the end of the evening that I realize is the gift of community we seek.   

I belong,
SARAH

....word

Yogis,
How would I describe the energy of 2025?

What comes to mind is a carnival ride. Like a roller coaster where you never know what sharp turn is ahead. A steep climb and just as things level out a hurtling freefall. Or maybe the ride which spins so fast you become stuck to the wall with a frozen smile while the floor drops out from under your feet. Far from center…..

I don’t think we were designed for a life so fast paced and unpredictable.

After Christmas I began to open to what my ‘Word of the Year’ would be. Again this year it wasn’t easy for me. One word kept showing up though. Stillness. Yet I wasn’t ready to take that one on.

In the meantime, I had signed up to receive a daily email quote from Sadhguru, an Indian spiritual teacher my father had found to be down to earth, wise and thought provoking. In his free time, Sadhguru rides his motorcycle, long beard blowing in the wind, at times uses salty language and is sure to dance daily. I get the connection…..

On December 30 I open the  email to this quote, ‘In stillness, there is no time”.  Well, ok then.

As I try on the energy of stillness, I realize what I yearn for is a return to a stiller mind. One that is more present and centered, not pasted to the spinning walls of the world. And only by slowing body and breath will I find it again.

But as you visualize, you must also do. Otherwise the word is merely a passing wish.

I dig out and spread all of my painting supplies on the coffee table where I will sit often. I fill the bird feeder and watch the blue birds return to check out the home rentals. Unloading groceries I stop and peer into my bare oak tree.

I looked back thinking last year’s word was simple. That was actually 2 years ago, but I had kept it and added quiet on top. I am sensing a thread here that clearly must continue to be pulled through the fabric of my day to day life.

The world makes it challenging, but I intend to find stillness.

What’s yours?
SARAH

So long Santas!