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We are very nearly at the half-way point for 2023, and since I am having a tremendously hard time coming up with anything meaningful to write today I thought I would update you on my “23 for 2023” progress!

I have only one “oopsie” – I meant to mark the Summer Solstice in some way, but I completely blanked on it. Oh, well. Thankfully I only have three goals on the list that are date-specific: Solstice, Valentine’s Day, and my 60th birthday. Seeing as my birthday is seven weeks away, I’d better get cracking on that one. Whatever I do, I want it to be small in scale yet significant to me.

I must say that I’m pretty pleased with all I’ve accomplished on the list, especially my goal to read 23 novels. So far in 2023, I’ve read nineteen books – sixteen novels, two memoirs, and one book of essays. My favorite book so far was “Bel Canto” by Ann Patchett.

1. January Joy Box – Done
2. Get a pair of high quality walking/hiking shoes – Done
3. Meatless February – Done
4. Send Valentines cards – Done
5. Baking lesson with Howard and Beth – Done
6. Trip to New Zealand – Done
7. See my mom – Done (and ongoing)
8. Buy a new, super-duper camera lens – Done
9. Photograph the entire nesting season of the great blue herons – Ongoing
10. Visit 12 different parts of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park (or other local park or nature preserve) – Ongoing
11. Use up the last of my massage gift cards – Not Yet
12. Find a way to celebrate my 60th birthday in a special way – Hmmmmm…
13. Spend a day at Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge – Maybe in the Fall…
14. Go thrifting – Not Yet
15. Find a signature scent – Ongoing!
16. Plant hummingbird friendly plants in the garden – Done
17. Go eagle watching until I actually see and can photograph an eagle – Done
18. Read 23 novels – 16 and counting…
19. Compile a list of simple joys/delights – Not yet
20. Celebrate Summer Solstice – Ooops!
21. Trip to NYC and Washington DC with Chloe – Not yet
22. Ruthlessly edit the basement, the loft, my wardrobe, and my desk – Ongoing
23. Review my 23 for 2023 list on the 23rd of each month – Ongoing

I haven’t seen any hummingbirds enjoying my hummingbird garden yet, but it seems to be a favorite location for pollinators of all kinds, which makes me very happy.

Have a wonderful week, friends!

Love,

Michelle xoxo

I’ve been spending a lot of time outdoors lately. I crave it. No, crave is the wrong word. We often crave things that we don’t really need, and would probably be much better without. No, I need the outdoors the way I need oxygen. I need the grass under my bare feet in my backyard, the slight chill of the 6 o’clock air against my skin on my morning walk, the smell of last autumn’s leaves decomposing on the forest floor, the multitude of creatures and the sounds they make, their innate grace and elegance. Without a steady supply of the above, I feel myself withering on the vine.

I joked to Chris this morning that the only thing wrong about Earth is the presence of human beings. Only it wasn’t a joke. And yes, I include myself in that sweeping judgement. I’ve also (not) joked to people that if reincarnation is a thing, the only creature I wouldn’t want to come back as is a human. “Even if you come back as a mayfly that only lives a day?” Yes, even if. “Even if you come back as a stink bug?” Yes, even if. 

It seems to be human nature to complicate things, to not accept things as they are, to constantly be “improving” upon things, including ourselves. Nothing, and no one, least of all ourselves, is ever enough. And as I say above – I am as guilty of this as the next person. No other creature on earth burdens themselves in this way, or creates such chaos in the world. Humans are our own worst enemies, and certainly the only enemy of the natural world. In short, we are the most fucked up of any species here on earth.

And yet. Poetry. Music, Art. There are some saving graces, I will admit.

I’m in very real danger of over-quoting the great poet Mary Oliver in this blog, but one of my favorite poems of hers is called “I Go Down To The Shore.” Because I still have problems with formatting things on this blog I will write it out here in prose form:

 “I go down to the shore in the morning and depending on the hour the waves are rolling in or moving out, and I say, oh, I am miserable, what shall – what should I do? And the sea says in its lovely voice: Excuse me, I have work to do.”

I’ve never had really great success with meditation. I’ve tried several apps, guided meditations, walking meditations, mantra-based meditations. When I try to meditate, I find it very difficult. My mind wanders (and yes, I know that bringing the wandering mind back to the moment is part of meditation) and it just really honestly has always felt like hard work. But when I am out in nature, like magic my sense of my self and my thoughts and my problems and anxieties recede to a place way in the background. Instead of churning out a constant stream of thoughts, my mind shifts to receive-only mode. I become alert to movement and sound and changes in my immediate environment. There is a sense of awe and wonder that I have not found anywhere else in all my life. 

But that’s not even the best part of it. When I am in nature, I remember that I am nature. No matter how we try to separate ourselves from the natural world, to shape it to our desires – we are no more important than the bluejay, or the muskrat, or the sycamore tree. And the human situations and problems that seem so pressing to us – they are no more important than the virginia rail sitting on her eggs or the brown mink scouting out its next meal. I think that when we decided that we were in charge of the world instead of just another part of the world, our problems began.

And that’s about as philosophical as I’m going to get today. 🙂

Have a wonderful week, friends.

Love,

Michelle xoxo

The top photo on today’s blog is of a juvenile American robin. Adults have a uniform dull red/brown breast. Juveniles, as you can see, are speckled and so lovely. There are hundreds of robins in our neighborhood. Dozens come to our back yard to eat the army worms and other gruesome tidbits lying just below the soil. But I can honestly say I never noticed the young robins until this year, even with my habit of sitting at the kitchen counter, looking at the birds. I said to my friend Beth, “I wonder what else I’m missing, right in front of my eyes?”

Mary Oliver, my favorite poet, has a lot to say about paying attention:

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.” 

“Instructions for living a life. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.”

“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”

I spent the entire morning in nature today. I drove down to see the fledgling great blue herons – the chattering of all the fledglings was so loud! Then I drove to a trail that traverses some wetlands (with boardwalks). I was amazed to see all the water lilies that had grown over most of the water since I had been there last. I saw a bird I had never seen before; it was quite small, with a white neck and breast and an iridescent blue head and back/wings. I learned later it was a tree swallow, apparently quite common in Ohio. 

I hope the young robin and the tree swallow are signs that I am learning to pay better attention. 

Have a wonderful week!

Love,

Michelle xoxo

One of my “23 for 2023” goals was to plant hummingbird-friendly flowers in my garden. When I say “my garden”, that’s a bit of a stretch. I’m not a natural gardener, and this garden of which I speak is a patch of soil toward a back corner of the house that up until this year mainly consisted of hostas (that would be eaten to a ragged nub by the middle of June), and weeds. 

I’m always very enthusiastic every spring. I pull weeds. I mulch. I’ve been known to plant a perennial or two. My greatest success has been with some daisies that have actually seemed to thrive with neglect, because they have grown so dense that the weeds don’t really stand a chance. But my gardening downfall has been my lack of staying power. By mid-summer I’ve mostly been a no-show. 

This year will be different! Why? Because this year I have visions of myself taking photos of hummingbirds drinking nectar from the flowers I have planted, and photos of hummingbirds bathing in the little solar-powered bubbling fountain I’ve bought. I am so motivated to create a beautiful hummingbird garden that will provide tasty blooms all summer long for “my” hummingbirds. I can’t let them down.

About four weeks ago I started by digging up and tossing everything that had been growing in the intended hummingbird garden. I amended the soil and turned it over several times, mixing all the good stuff with the tired, dense, clay soil. Then the weather got cold and we woke up several mornings to frost, so I bided my time. I consulted with my buddy Beth (who is a Master Gardener) on the hows/whens/wheres/whats of this project during several of our FaceTime calls. On Mother’s Day I spent an enjoyable morning in an enormous nursery about a half hour from here, carefully choosing some perennials that a) do well in full sun, b) attract hummingbirds, and c) are deer resistant. This weekend I found a couple different types of annuals that fit the bill as well. Everything is planted, the mulch has been spread. Now the magic (and the maintenance) begins. 

All this time spent in the garden, and the bad weather up until recently, means that I haven’t gone very far afield photography-wise. Mainly I’ve stayed in the neighborhood and my backyard. I’ve spent a lot of time with camera in hand waiting for hummingbirds to show up at the feeders, and have been inconsistently rewarded for my efforts. It can be difficult to wait so patiently, staring at the feeder, not knowing when one will show up, but this week I figured out that I can listen to audio books while I wait. That has been a game changer. 

Speaking of books, I’m on schedule to exceed my goal of reading 23 novels in 2023. Lately I’ve been reading the works of Ann Patchett – I just finished Bel Canto, which I enjoyed so much. Before that I read Commonwealth and The Dutch House. I love the characters she creates – I care so much about them that I’m sorry to leave them at the end of the book. On the audiobook side of things, I am listening to David Sedaris, who makes me laugh until I’m breathless. 

As it’s past my bedtime, I will end this post here and catch up with you soon. Have a great week!

Love,

Michelle xoxo

I returned from Connecticut on April 8 and proceeded to kind of flounder for about four weeks. I just could not get back into my normal groove of exercise and healthy eating. Sure, I have been walking most mornings – but not at the intensity or duration as I had been. Eating, well – one thing I know about myself is that when I find it hard to find comfort in the outside world, I am in danger of turning to food for that comfort. 

I returned from my CT visit to the beginning of a quarterly busy period at work. At the very beginning of this busy period, when we usually hit the ground running and get a lot done, we were hit with 2 and a half days of mandatory meetings. Then my boss announced he was quitting. Then a member of my team gave her two-week notice (and we had lost two more people earlier in the year that management decided to “pause” on backfilling), so we were told that we could put in some overtime hours to get the work done. Not mandatory, you understand. Just subtly encouraged.

I have a love/hate relationship with overtime. It used to bend more toward love – extra money! Now it leans more toward hate. I put in 5 hours of overtime last weekend, then worked an extra hour each day during the week. By Friday afternoon, I seriously wanted to quit. I was completely burned out. I realized that I need my entire weekend to recharge my batteries. And that one hour of overtime a day not only uses up that hour, but diminishes the quality of subsequent hours in the day. 

Life is short- I should know that more than most. I don’t know how I let myself get caught up again (again!) in things that really don’t matter at the end of the day. 

I told my supervisor on Friday that I couldn’t work any overtime this weekend. I decided today that I am not going to work any more overtime hours until our true “busy season” in December (if then).

This, my friends, is called self care.

Yesterday, I had my weekly Zoom call with Beth. I worked the soil in my flower garden. I took a nap. Today I went to the park at the end of the street. I watched and listened and waited. I heard an owl. A hawk flew and perched on a branch soooo close to me – after I had put away my camera. Two hours went by in the blink of an eye. I saw a yellow warbler, some very loud gray catbirds, a nuthatch feeding its young, a Carolina wren, a rabbit munching on dandelions.  My batteries, and my heart, are full. And I feel like I am waking up from a month-long torpor. It helps that the weather is finally spring-like, but I know that it is mostly due to remembering my priorities. 

Oh, and guess what? We spotted our first hummingbird yesterday – a tiny male who stopped at both of our feeders. He may have been on his way to his final location, as I haven’t seen him today. 

I’m so looking forward to getting back into nature, to long morning walks, to taking more photos and writing more here. 

Have a wonderful week!

Love,

Michelle xoxo

On March 10th, Chris and took a ferry from Wellington on the North Island to the port of Picton on the South Island. It was a 3 and a half hour trip that took us through the Marlborough Sounds (Wikipedia article here, and an explanation of the difference between fjords and sounds here). The ferry was enormous! I had to share some photos here, as the only ferry I’ve ever been on is the ferry to Block Island in Rhode Island. I was fascinated by the entire process of boarding with our rental car.

Upon landing in Picton, Chris drove us to Cloudy Bay, one of the many vineyards to be found on the South Island, and we had a loooooooovely charcuterie/cheese board/glass of wine lunch outside in the most perfect-summer-day weather. We then drove another two hours to our destination for the day, Mapua. Chris’ sister Clare has a house in Mapua and graciously let us stay there for a few days. I wish I had taken some photos of Mapua itself instead of just the hundreds of photos of birds that I took. It’s a sleepy beach town, and Clare’s house is within easy walking distance of a developed wharf area that has several restaurants and a coffee shop. A day or so into our stay in Mapua, Chris and I drove to Nelson airport to pick up our fellow traveler and co-conspirator for the rest of our trip, my step-daughter Chloe. To say that Chloe is fun and always up for an adventure is like saying that New York City is busy – from the moment we met her in Arrivals we knew that the Fun Dial was turned up to Eleven. 

After a couple of days exploring the area around Mapua, the three of us embarked on a road trip down the western coast and then inland to Queenstown (where Chloe lives). 

The photos here are from Split Apple Rock, Paparoa National Park, Lake Wanaka (and the Instagram-famous Lake Wanaka Tree) Lake Hawea, and Glenorchy (featuring Banjo and Yogi, Chris’ sister Clare’s sons). I know it’s a big mishmash and photo-dump, but I’ve been having such a hard time getting to this blog lately and I do so want to share these photos with you. I hope you enjoy them!

Love,

Michelle xoxo

PS – my photo-sizing is all over the place here – something I’m working on!

On March 4 I drove to Cleveland airport, left my car in long-term parking, and boarded the first of three flights that would eventually take me to Wellington, New Zealand. The first flight, Cleveland to San Francisco, was just over 5 hours long. I then had a twelve hour layover in San Francisco (one of my original flights had been cancelled) before taking the 14-hour flight between SF and Auckland, New Zealand. I amazed myself by sleeping about 10 hours of that flight (I give a lot of credit to both the agonizingly long wait in SF and this light blocking sleep mask). In Auckland, the very long customs and border control lines caused me to miss my flight to Wellington, but I was able to be booked onto another flight only two hours later. 

Wellington is the southern-most city on the north island of New Zealand. Chris and I spent half of my two weeks on the western coast of the north island, within commuting distance of Wellington. Chris had rented a snug, lovely Airbnb apartment that not only was right across the street from beach access, but came with its own visiting cat, Milo. 

We spent our days walking the beach, exploring the area, and asking ourselves the question, “Is this where we want to live the next chapter of our lives?” We spent a day on a terrifying hike (now I know that when the brief states, “This hike is not for those with vertigo” I should also bow out gracefully). We met with builders. I walked down to the beach to bird watch.

The areas surrounding Wellington reminded me so much of Northern California, both the landscape and the vibe. At one point in my life I lived in Fresno, California with Sam’s dad and we would often drive to the coast to visit my in-laws in the Monterey area for the weekend. Driving around New Zealand that first week, if someone had told me this was that part of California and I didn’t know any better, I would have believed them. 

Tomorrow I will post about the second half of my adventure!

Love,

Michelle xoxo