Today I am sixty years and no days old. Yesterday I traveled two hours west and visited Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge (in Ottawa County, Ohio – not Canada!), Magee Marsh, and Howard Marsh. If you do the math you’ll realize I got up very early to have caught the sunrise when I arrived there! I made a playlist of songs-that-make-me-happy to listen to on the drive out, and downloaded a pre-curated Apple Music playlist of Broadway show tunes for the ride back. I thought a lot about the fact that if I’m lucky I have about 20 years or so left of this life, and the fact that ten years ago I fully expected not to see my 60th birthday. I thought about all the things I’ve done and places I’ve seen over the last ten years (started a new job; saw Sam through high school, college, and now young adulthood; went to London, the Cotswolds, Paris, Florence, New Zealand; survived cancer and a pandemic; started birdwatching and photography and blogging). My 50’s were incredibly full, with glorious highs and heartbreaking lows.
And now I’m in my 60’s. I know that I can only plan so much, that sometimes life does throw curveballs. I also know that we can create a life that makes us contented. We can seek out small daily joys, we can save and plan for travel and experiences, we can choose what we allow into our heads and souls and bodies, and how we spend our free time. I want my 60’s, and the rest of my life, to be more intentional. I want to never forget that each day is a gift, and I want to honor that gift, each and every day.
Thank you for being here, for being so kind in your feedback about this blog. Thank you also for all of the birthday greetings I’ve received from near and far.
I’ve stayed close to home the last couple of weekends, photographing the birds in my backyard or in the park at the end of the street. I’m doing a big clean-out of our garage and basement, giving away some things, throwing other things out. It is very satisfying, but time consuming. I’ve had to prioritize it over spending an entire weekend morning at a park 45 minutes away. Next weekend I will make up for it, as I’ve prioritized Nature Time over everything else on my 3-day 60th birthday weekend.
Here are some simple joys from last week:
Feeding my crows. They still fly away when I approach, and I don’t know if they will ever warm up to me, but I get such satisfaction from walking down to the park each morning with my little baggie of treats (some combination of dog food and unsalted nuts – hazelnuts, almonds, peanuts).
I’m in the office 5 days a week now, and it is a (highly) air conditioned environment. That moment when I get into my sun-warmed car to drive home at lunchtime or the end of the day, when the heat penetrates deep into my bones, is the loveliest feeling.
Deadheading our daisies
Notes and early birthday presents from friends
Getting caught in the rain with Sam and Pokey on a walk today. We were drenched, and I wished I had not brought my iPhone with me because my joy was slightly marred by my fear that my phone would be ruined (it wasn’t).
Finding out that I reached the front of the line for a book I’ve been waiting several weeks for (I would tell you the title and author of the book, but it’s very much a guilty pleasure, lol).
Seeing the first leaves turn color.
Watching a movie in a theater again. Last week Chris and I saw Mission Impossible, and the week before we saw Oppenheimer. After all the restrictions of Covid, what a joyful experience it is being able to sit in front of that big screen again, having a common experience with many other people.
A new coworker I’ve been training has brought such a fabulous positive energy to our team. She’s been with us for four weeks now; she and I have worked side-by-side for many hours and now she’s nearly completely independent. Having a coworker who makes you laugh, who takes the job seriously but doesn’t take herself too seriously – what a joy it has been and continues to be.
There are several hawks living in our neighborhood and in the park. When I go to feed my crows in the morning there are usually one or two hawks hanging out on top of a utility pole or on the fence behind home base. They aren’t terribly skittish, and let me get quite close before flying away. I don’t think it will ever get old for me, seeing a large bird of prey. They are so beautiful.
My favorite part of nature is how it surprises me over and over again. In my previous blog post there is a photo of a red-tailed hawk on the ground. I was walking along thinking that it had been a relatively slow day, when all of a sudden I saw something large about two feet away from the trail. She was feeding on some tasty morsel and was completely unconcerned with my presence. I have never been so close to a hawk before and most likely never will again. I was in such awe to be near such a beautiful, wild thing.
Last week I came home from work for lunch one afternoon and found this hummingbird clearwing moth enjoying its own tasty morsels in my hummingbird garden (which I have rebranded as my pollinator garden because the hummingbirds aren’t interested). I immediately went inside to retrieve my camera, hoping it wouldn’t be gone when I got back. I was so lucky to be able to snap the photos above. I had heard of hummingbird clearwing moths before, and had seen photos others have taken of them in this area, but the utter surprise of seeing one in my own garden – it made my day/week. I was only able to see its wings by taking these photos – these moths hover over flowers in the same way that hummingbirds do (hence the name), beating their wings at a speed so fast that they are just a blur to the naked eye.
One of my “23 for 2023” projects is to compile a list of simple delights/joys. I know that Nature’s Surprises will be in the top ten. I’m still working on the others but they are coming to this space soon!
Last week was difficult. Work was overwhelming. I’m training a new worker in my department during one of our busy times, and I still really don’t know when I’m going to get my own work done. It seems mathematically impossible. On top of this, we had a plumbing crisis at home that needed professional assistance. That was the morning I did what I absolutely never want to do – I cried at work. Ugh. As someone who always wants to project a calm, professional image, crying in the workplace feels unprofessional and humiliating.
I spent this weekend clawing my way back from all that awfulness. Yesterday I did some garden therapy – I bought some edging and mulch at our local Ace Hardware and gave a makeover to a little garden patch by our front door. I pulled weeds in my hummingbird garden and between the stones of our patio.
Today I drove 45 minutes to a park that I also visited last weekend. It’s worth the drive – 500+ acres of wetland and wildlife preserve with an amazing variety of birds. Dozens of egrets. Sandpipers. Eagles. Great blue herons. Cormorants. In all, over 250 species have been observed there since the park opened in 1999. I spent about 3 hours there this morning and when I left to drive back home I felt…better. Not perfect, but better.
And better is better than worse. I’ll take it.
Before I go, I have to tell you about my crows. At the end of my street is a park with two baseball diamonds, an enormous play set for children, and a lovely nature trail. There is a gang of four crows (I know a group of crows is called a “murder” but I’m not a fan of that term) that hangs out by the baseball diamonds around 7:00 each morning. For the last week and a half I have been walking to the park every morning with a baggie of unsalted peanuts in the shell and hazelnuts. I make three small piles of nuts between 2nd and 3rd base, then I retreat and watch the crows eat from afar. This brings me great joy. 🙂
For the last several months I have been using a very convoluted process to make my blog posts, involving emailing my photos to Chris, accessing them on his old laptop, and uploading the photos and my blog copy to WordPress by logging in with this old laptop of his. This is because the operating system on my laptop was unable to be updated further, and the entire online world had moved beyond the capabilities of the old operating system, including WordPress.
As of last weekend, this has changed. I have a new laptop (MacBook Air 15) that does everything I need it to do with the greatest of ease, and then some. I am so thrilled with this new purchase.
We are in a state of flux here – Sam has plans to move to the East Coast. Chris and I are working on our own future plans. There’s a lot that needs to happen before any of us can proceed with our plans, and we are making baby steps in the right direction. The danger in times like these is to ignore or discount all that is good and important in the present situation, and to idealize the future situation. I’m reminded of the old saying, “Wherever you go, there you are.” Most of our problems are in our own heads, and we bring those problems with us on vacation, to a new job, to a new home.
I’m also reminded of a children’s book I used to read to my third graders, “The Three Questions” by Jon J. Muth, based on a short story by Leo Tolstoy. In the story, a young boy searches for the answers to three questions:
“When is the best time to do things?”
“Who is the most important one?”
“What is the right thing to do?”
Along the way he meets characters who need his help, and situations that need to be dealt with immediately. A wise turtle helps him learn the lessons of these experiences, “Remember then, that there is only one important time, and that time is now. The most important one is always the one you are with. And the most important thing is to do good for the one who is standing at your side.”
The one standing by my side at this moment (actually, sitting in my lap) is a 15-pound chihuahua terrier mix named Pokey. I think I’ll end this post now and scratch him behind the ear. 🙂
If you are reading this in the US, I hope you are having a wonderful 4th of July.
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.
January Joy Box – Done
Get a pair of high quality walking/hiking shoes – Done
Meatless February – Done
Send Valentines cards – Done
Baking lesson with Howard and Beth – Done
Trip to New Zealand – Done
See my mom – Done(and ongoing)
Buy a new, super-duper camera lens – Done
Photograph the entire nesting season of the great blue herons – Ongoing
Visit 12 different parts of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park (or other local park or nature preserve) – Ongoing
Use up the last of my massage gift cards – Not Yet
Find a way to celebrate my 60th birthday in a special way – Hmmmmm…
Spend a day at Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge – Maybe in the Fall…
Go thrifting – Not Yet
Find a signature scent – Ongoing!
Plant hummingbird friendly plants in the garden – Done
Go eagle watching until I actually see and can photograph an eagle – Done
Read 23 novels – 16 and counting…
Compile a list of simple joys/delights – Not yet
Celebrate Summer Solstice – Ooops!
Trip to NYC and Washington DC with Chloe – Not yet
Ruthlessly edit the basement, the loft, my wardrobe, and my desk – Ongoing
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.
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. 🙂
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.
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!
