.....squirrels

Yogis,
If I were asked to paint a picture of what fall is to me, it would include bright colored leaves, swirling winds, pumpkins, caramel apples and fleece jackets. Acorns, pinecones and sweet potatoes. Also, squirrels.

This is their season. Squirrels darting about digging holes in my lawn and potted plants as they bury nuts and build nests, busily preparing for the cold of winter. Intent on their purpose they zigzag across the streets oblivious to traffic. Tails fluffy and coats thickening, they are fearless in their determination.

This week I will talk about squirrels…….

When I was 4 years old we lived in a small house next to a warm welcoming neighbor who would let me come over to help her bake cookies. One day as I was making my way over a squirrel began to approach me. I stomped my foot but it continued its path forward. This was clearly not right, so I yelled and my mom ran out and the two of us proceeded to scream and run for our house with the squirrel at our heels. We slammed and locked the door (as if a squirrel could leap up and turn a knob) and watched it from the window.

This is a memory we have both recounted many times over the years. Why on earth would a squirrel chase us? Fast forward more than 50 years later to this past Thursday.

In the morning my husband opened the hood of his car to clear off falling pine needles and was startled to find a small squirrel sitting in the engine. The squirrel too was surprised and slid down beneath the battery.

For the next half hour we tried to coax it out. Peanuts, cheerful voices, a little prodding with a stick but little success. At this point we needed the car and were considering the hose when the little guy made a move and we grabbed it with the multi-purpose barbecue tongs. Down onto the driveway he went and off into the brush. Thank goodness!

Off my husband goes and I proceed to my weeding, feeling good. I am leaning over tugging on a stubborn vine when out of the corner of my eye I see a blur and the next thing I know the squirrel is running up my back! I grab it and put it on the ground where it then runs around and crawls up the front of my pant leg. You can only imagine my body language as this all transpires. And lots of ‘Aaahhhs!’

I now have it pinned against my torso with both hands where it settles right in. Now what…..

I try placing it at the edge of the woods. No sooner has its feet hit the ground when it is back on my chest. Squirrels are quick. I put him on a small tree trunk. He hangs on, looking at me as if to say ‘you’re kidding right?’  I slowly back away and make it halfway across the lawn before he jumps down and literally bounds across the grass, leaping into my arms. Squirrels are determined. Oh my.

I can’t go in the house (Phoebe). I can’t use my phone (if I let go with one hand he wants to scurry up to my shoulder). No one is around. I accost a woman walking by, but she has no advice. Finally I find a neighbor who prepares a shoebox for me to use and I get him in, find an organization that rehabs wildlife and the squirrel and I head out for a car ride. He is now safe and being cared for. I kind of miss him.

I look at these two life experiences. The first time I ran away in fear. This time I stayed, in fear.

Going toward,
SARAH

.....visible change

Yogis,
I have an early January birthday.  Right around the time when the hoopla of Christmas and New Year’s has settled down. The house has been cleaned, the tree gone, and presents are all put away. Simplicity has returned and now I am being asked ‘What do you want for your birthday?’ Each year it’s a challenge as I yearn for less.  It was January 2020, and I was facing this yearly dilemma.

Can you remember how you felt that January? We had entered a new year and a new decade and there was hope in the air. A clean slate on which we could create whatever we wanted! So it was from that space that I asked my husband to go to the small crystals shop I had recently discovered to get a stone for my altar. ‘Tell the owner I am looking for a stone for change’ were the only instructions I yelled as he headed out the door. I then asked my parents to get me a book on crystals.

On my birthday I opened a box to find a large….and quite heavy….beautiful piece of Malachite. A deep emerald green filled with swirls that pull you in and make it appear different each time it’s near. Ok, now let me look Malachite up! I turn to the page and the very first thing I see is:

NOTE: This is a very powerful stone and should only be used under the guidance of a certified crystal therapist.

Yikes!

It went on to describe the stone’s qualities, healing properties and effects. Finally, it stated that Malachite is ‘the stone of transformation’. Onto my altar it went. ……Well, we all know what happened over those next 6 weeks. Not only my life, but the whole world was transformed. And even though we keep thinking we sense a finish line, eighteen months later the changes continue.

Lately it feels like one of those flights where you begin the final descent, all buckled up with tray tables in their upright and locked position, when the plane unexpectedly changes course and heads back up. Circling with no clear message from the captain on exactly when or even where you will finally land.

I am finding it hard to make plans. Should I move forward with changes to the beach house? Should I hold classes in person? Is a warm winter vacation in the cards this year? Will I be able to get toilet paper?............. Where do I even want to land? The uncertainty that comes hand in hand with change. Feeling stuck.

We are always living with change, but usually it is more subtle, happening under the radar and seeming to sneak up on us. Like those new wrinkles we catch in the mirror as we rub our eyes open on a Monday morning or the glance at a wall that suddenly makes it clear a new coat of paint is way overdue. But what we have all experienced as a collective this last year and a half is so visible. Affecting every part of life. Does the stone need to go outside for a while?

Visible change next door

What would it feel like to let go and ride the change without a clear destination? To trust the pilot to land us safely, exactly where we are supposed to be? To not have to have a plan. To not know and be ok with that.

I take a conscious exhale, spread my heart open and take the next baby step forward.

I am paying more attention to my Malachite,
SARAH

.....destination dinner

Yogis,
Last week I took a break from writing while visiting Denver Colorado. This was only my second visit to the Mile High city, but like the first time, I loved it. Beautiful weather with autumn leaves gold against a deep blue sky. Pleasant temperatures with clear air, low humidity and a light breeze.

This trip I got the opportunity to experience Boulder where we did some hiking, walked the town and ate wood grilled pizzas in an outdoor café. We visited Red Rocks the next day where both the scenery and people watching were incredible. Good draft beers, fresh local food and spectacular mountain views made for a great getaway.

Then add in the reason for the visit and the long weekend turns into a special event. ‘Lobsterfest’, as we have all coined it, is an annual event among ten of us. I have written about it over the years recounting the rituals we have created, the dedication each year to making it happen and the bat that swooped into the dining room one time after dinner, causing shrieks and cowering in the bathroom for many.

About 10 years ago one of the couples moved to Denver and we have all toyed with the idea of someday having it there, and that someday was last week…….

You have heard of a destination wedding…..this was a destination dinner.

Now in a typical year, Lobsterfest is a six hour event. Everyone arrives promptly at 6 pm. Appetizers are followed by lobster, tenderloin, potatoes and Caesar salad, which is then followed by loud music, wild dancing and finally dessert. Someone then glances at their watch, announces it is almost midnight and we wrap it up. This year however it was a three day extravaganza!

Our hosts had made it clear that three days was the limit back when the idea was floated. We could come to Denver for more days, but their involvement had limits. Yet for those three days they invited us all into their lovely home for meals, football watching, walks through town and a signature cocktail……the poisoned apple. We laughed and told old stories. Shared pictures of family. Talked about where we are and where we are heading. Old friends.

How long have we been doing this? The annual discussion and debate while cracking our lobster claws and passing the potatoes had us settled on 33 years by the end of the evening. Or was it 34? It matters not because we will discuss again next year. And the year after that.

On the last evening our hostess shared a teaching she had received at a young age from her beloved Nona. ‘Bern,’ she said,’ whenever you visit any family or friends you only stay three days. After that you begin to smell like a fish.’

It is a true gift to have friends like these that you are not only able, but excited to spend three days with. The fact that we made this Lobsterfest West happen, speaks volumes of our long lasting bond which began so many years ago in a sales bullpen at Xerox.

The table setting was gorgeous. The food amazing. We ate. We danced. We hugged. And as one friend said…..I think we made it out of there just in time to not leave a stink.

Friends.

This will not be our last time there,
SARAH 

Good Friends

....time to let go

Yogis,
This year the first day of fall on the calendar and the first day of fall in the air held hands. It was as if fall had been waiting for the green light to blow in. The on switch was flipped and cool nights, clear skies and light breezes arrived in our lives.

It also seems like once fall crosses your threshold, there is no ushering her back out. She is here to stay. Even the eighty-degree days that have been sprinkled in, while warm, do not resemble summer days in the least. Spend a few minutes in the shade and that short-sleeved shirt you pulled out of the drawer in the morning no longer seems like the wisest choice. An undercurrent of cool sits below the surface.

I have run in long pants and even seen my breath. My jeans, pulled from the bottom of the closet, are washed and seeing the light of day. I have been resisting socks but my feet are having moments where they long for warmth as I watch the house temperature drop one degree each day. The change is upon us whether we are ready or not.

Fall does not ask our permission. She arrives, taps us on the shoulder and reminds us it’s time to let go…..

The leaves have begun their initial descent. Few enough in numbers now that when one lands on my head while gardening, I am startled, but the wave is clearly on its way. Pinecones, acorns, helicopter seeds from the oak. The trees will let them all go……

The farmers are busy in the fields again, not planting or tending, but taking down. Corn stalks mowed, shredded and given back to the earth. Fields turned over. The farmers know they must let them go…..

My suntan, a cloak I have worn all summer, sewn from the sun’s rays, begins to fade. Let it go……

The garden dries into a beautiful hue of yellow. Birds begin to flock overhead signaling their departure time is close. They will leave us. Let them go…..

The sun now slow to lift over the horizon at daybreak seems almost chased down by the night sky as daylight hours shorten in a hurry. Peaches, plums and tomatoes disappearing from the market.  Students have left their homes and are settled back in dorms. Butterflies, ice cream cones and bare feet……. Let them go.

It can be hard to let go. Nature makes it look so easy.

I have set the intention to follow nature’s lead over these next few months in preparation for the barren simplicity of winter. This week I have gone through dresser drawers and retried on all of my pants. Watching as I put something in the ‘give away’ pile only to second guess the decision moments later. Standing my inner ground and leaving it there. Let it go…..

I have cleaned out a mud room area, an activity which has hung over my head for months. I moved quickly, holding on to only what I need and use. Releasing attachments. An hour later, space and a lightness look back at me. Freedom. Let them go…..

I will go drawer, by drawer. Room by room. My books will challenge me. Items soaked in memories will demand to stay. Why am I so attached to my things….  

Can I let them go?

Let go, have less, be free,
SARAH

.....a wonderful world

Yogis,
On a picture perfect day under a brilliantly blue sky, my son Patrick placed a ring on the finger of my newest daughter-in-law Bridget. Last Sunday they said ‘I do’ while a butterfly fluttered by.

‘I see trees of green, red roses too. I see them bloom, for me and you. And I think to myself….What a wonderful world.’

The wedding was held in Dewey Beach at a hotel which backs to the bay. With our toes in the sand and tears trickling down from beneath our sunglasses, we witnessed love in action. My sister officiated the ceremony with words that were personal and touching, so eloquently sharing her love for them, their love for each other and our collective love for not only them, but all those seated around us. We wore freshly pressed dresses and suits, but love was the fabric of the day.

 ‘I see skies of blue, and clouds of white. The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.’

If you were to describe the weather you want for a wedding you would have described last Sunday. Seventy-seven degrees, low humidity with a cloudless sky. The groomsman’s sand colored suits and the bridesmaids muted sunset colors were set aglow by the rays of the sun. Dinner was served on an open deck while the air turned crisp and the sun began her slow descent, painting the sky with the hues of the table settings. Candles were lit and toasts were shared. And while we danced the full moon paused over our heads to smile.

‘The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky, are also on the faces of the people going by. I see friends shaking hands, Saying, “How do you do?” They’re really saying “I love you”

As mother of the groom, one of the traditions is the dance with your son. We had gone back and forth on a song selection. None of them seeming quite right for the emotions we both were experiencing. Then I remembered the song I had danced with my eldest. We agreed that it was perfect, so it is now a Cahill tradition. And as I held my son’s hands and felt his heartbeat, the north star shone brightly.

‘I hear babies cry, I watch them grow. They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.’

Patrick has always been an amazing human. Honest, warm, kind, generous and grounded. He is a gentle soul and was drawn toward someone who is his perfect complement. We are blessed to have beautiful Bridget joining the Cahill clan…..and of course their dog Ralph who himself shined in the ceremony with his sporty bow tie. I am excited to witness their journey forward which I know will be filled with adventure, laughter and of course, love.

‘Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world…..Oh yeah’

I told my youngest son that he can check off choosing our song from his to-do list when he is getting married, as that has already been decided.

I am still floating,
SARAH

'What A Wonderful World' by Louis Armstrong

A Fairytale......

....beauty

Yogis,
I’m not sure if it’s because of the time of year. Or how the sun is now sitting a bit lower in the sky. Maybe it’s the cooler nights or it could be the change in the air, but something has the word ‘beauty’ coming to me over and over this week.

Making my way through my days,  I keep finding something that will suddenly catch my eye and my breath, and all I want to do is tell it how beautiful it is. It started me wondering what is beauty.

Here is how the Oxford dictionary defines it. “A combination of qualities, such as shape, color or form that pleases the aesthetic senses, especially sight.” Ok, but seems a bit dry. Too superficial. Beauty feels deeper to me than simply being pleased. I check another source. The Webster dictionary starts with this definition. “The quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses.” About the same, but then it goes on…….

“or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit.” Exalts the spirit. Yes! Now that gets more to the depth of what I have been experiencing. An inner stirring. More of an emotion than a thought.

I started consciously watching for beauty as I walked yesterday. I was heading down a street that had suffered major tree damage in the woods along the walkway. Trees and branches, with leaves all now brittle and brown, snapped and twisted, laying crisscrossed over each other in a pile. But right in the middle something bright catches my eye and my heart. A patch of vivid orange flowers sitting on tall stalks amongst the devastation. The type of flower that would typically be found in someone’s well-tended landscape, blooming here in the destruction.

My next door neighbor’s house that was sold when he died last year sits sold but vacant. The grasses now as tall as me, as the house is slowly being consumed by the ivy. The earth will eventually take back what we borrowed from her. But amidst it all rises a plume of pink. His crape myrtle bush surrounded and almost buried, yet sharing her beauty with all that walk by. Beauty cannot be held down.

The way the sun catches the flowers in a flower pot a few doors down. How my neighbor installed a memorial bench in her yard for our lost friend. Beauty.

Its everywhere. Birds flying in perfect formation. The coo of the morning doves. How details of trees appear traced against a blue sky. Dark cloud formations of an incoming storm.

Even in death there is beauty…… Driving to the beach I passed mile after mile of cornfields. Thousands of dried brown stalks sitting in perfect rows, their tops being blown in unison by the breeze. Beauty.

What exalts your spirit? The more you look for beauty, the more she rolls to your feet.

Being stirred,
SARAH

....the giving season

Yogis,
It is subtle but unmistakable. Another full earth transformation has been set in motion. Impermanence. The dense moist tree cover which for months lay like a blanket overhead protecting us from the harsh side of summer is thinning. Turning a corner, you catch a glimpse of leaves tinged with yellow. Grasses all going to seed. The downhill march of fall is underway.

Many plants in my garden are now dotted with dried brown leaves. They too have started the slow process of withdrawal. Decline. Yet at the same time another opposing energy is at play. One of plenty, as it is now harvest season.

On my return from the beach, I visited with my garden to see how everyone was doing. When I came to cucumber she was heavy with fruit. ‘Here,’ she said as I removed four and counted the other eight growing. Pickles will soon be on the menu.

  

Arriving at fig, she too was ready to share. A small bush that I received as a clipping from a friend finally took off this year, quadrupling in size with a glorious display of figs. ‘Climb in’ she says as I duck beneath her branches to find the ones turning red and come out with six figs and sticky fingers. I’ve received more every day. She has become a matriarch standing proud at the edge of my front yard.

Each year at this time I hunt for paw paw fruit without much success. Before leaving for the beach I had spotted my very first one though, high in a tree while hiking.  I go back with a friend on Friday to see how it was doing. We look up as we walk. ‘Look below me’ she says with a smile. An hour later we are driving home with five paw paws in a bag! They sit on my counter to soften. She gives, and gives and gives……

Basil gathered and blended into pesto. Rosemary and sage chopped into salt for seasoning that will nourish me until next summer. Plantain cut and soaking in oil for salves to soothe dry winter skin. The zinnias which continue blooming in every color, but on legs that are getting shaky, I give as gifts. Plump pumpkins make their first appearance in farm stands.

The gifts of late summer.

It’s as if nature is saying ‘I am going to be leaving you soon, so I am working hard on your behalf now. Please, please take all that I offer before I must lay down to rest’. Her final surge of energy used to give and give and give.  

Before we know it the earth will be quiet once again. The landscape barren. But for now, I welcome her offerings with open arms and a deep humble gratitude.

Thank you,
SARAH