Happy New Year 2010

"We simply need that wild country available to us, even if we never do more than drive to its edge and look in. For it can be a means of reassuring ourselves of our sanity of creatures, a part of the geography of hope." Wallace Stegner

Have a happy, healthy and beautiful New Year. Drive to your edge and look in....

Winter: Deadly Serious

You have heard about the blizzard in the northeast by now and how the roads, transit systems, airports and emergency service vehicles are mostly still stranded. Ken and I have spent the better part of today digging ourselves out with a weak-willed snow blower and great determination. MUCH gratitude goes to a neighbor who drilled through the icy mountain left by the snowplows that everyone wants to see working if only they would not plug the driveway.   I shoveled the snow off the deck as quickly as possible, both to refill the bird feeders and to relieve the added weight from the structure. As anyone who shovels snow will advise, it’s best to ladle it off while the stuff is new and soft; otherwise, it ices up and makes it impossible to remove.

 

When almost done, I felt an odd aura around, so paused to glance at the patch of woods behind the house. Six crows crouched in the tall oaks. Below them, an immature Cooper’s Hawk was eying me and the bird feeders. Cooper’s Hawks are known raiders of small birds at house feeders but my noisy presence kept the chickadees, titmice, Carolina Wrens and starlings away. Fifteen minutes later, the hawk dipped, shot toward the snow-laden forsythia shrubs bordering the woods and flushed a White-throated Sparrow, who made the deadly mistake of trying to escape over open ground. The hawk lofted back to its perch and fed. Frantically.

Two hours later, I was setting the table for dinner and glanced out the door to the cleared deck. Two squirrels were jiggling around in the hemlocks shading the south side. They sprang from branch to branch and back to the deck rail while staring at one spot and vibrating their tails as if shaking a naughty finger at someone.

 

That someone was the immature Cooper’s Hawk. It had flown into the hemlocks to escape the fierce winds while it digested its sparrow supper.

The two squirrels were frantic and alternated bouncing back and forth through the waving hemlock branches while the hawk clung to its perch, only once lunging at one when it teased too close.

These photos were taken at an angle, through a glass door and a screen which may have shielded the hawk's sight from me. More likely, it was too exhausted to fly off.

The squirrels, undeterred but tiring, kept jumping into the branches at the hawk, staring and pointing but this was stealing valuable energy from them as well, so finally, like hungry football fans, they grabbed some peanuts left on the deck earlier for the jays, and resumed their vigil.

 

No kidding around. Winter survival is deadly, deadly serious.

Make good decisions. Be safe.

Christmas Eve: A Time of Waiting

It is Christmas Eve. My thoughts turn to the demands of this annual social and shopping tsunami that is more focused on the economic crisis than with a child of God being born. Several of my friends have unburdened themselves to me as they anticipate the gathering of family and the ritual of traditional food and hostility. “I’ll just keep my mouth shut,” they say while wrapping their gifts. I know of only one family who happily anticipates this annual gathering but since they get together several times a year because they enjoy each other’s company anyway, they don’t count.

Sad to say, but for me, the holiday season is a time to get through without collateral damage. But Christmas Eve is different. It’s the promise that something beautiful is about to occur. Perhaps it’s a projection from past Christmas Eves still bolstering my joy, the eager anticipation of Christmas morning when my three sisters (my brother was still an infant) and I perched at the top of the stairs where our bedrooms were located and waited for the clock to strike 6am, which is when our exhausted parents told us we were allowed to come down to see what Santa had left us. We were usually up by 4am and during our long wait invariably had to use the loo, which involved going downstairs PAST THE CHRISTMAS TREE to get to the single bathroom in the house. We had to solemnly promise to cover our eyes with our hands and NOT LOOK AT THE TREE NO CHEATING but of course, when it was my turn, I was overwhelmed with breathless temptation and told myself that glimpses through my spread fingers wasn’t really LOOKING and therefore wasn’t cheating. The dazzling silver tinsel sparkling from the reflected light of the stairwell and the stacks of wrapped gifts always took my breath away as I scampered past on my way to the bathroom, which happened to be opposite my parents’ bedroom so there was no yelling out SANTA CLAUS WAS HERE!   

Mom and Dad had no idea we tortured ourselves every year or how many agonizing hours the four of us spent together at the top of the stairs. Now they tell us we could have come down sooner. Frankly, I am glad we never thought to ask and waited until 6 o’clock. It has become the memory over which I warm my heart.

To promises....

I'll Be Home for Christmas

After a great debate with my lower and higher Self, I decided not to travel to Vermont for Christmas, not because I do not want to be part of the fun and frolic of family gatherings but because…hear my confession: It MIGHT snow in Vermont, which is like saying a bear might "you-know-what" in the woods.

You would think that having grown up in the northeast and driving on some of the most dangerous highways in the United States during snowstorms that I would be used to it by now, or at least take a ho-hum attitude. But nooooooo. It’s as if we were all born with a Snow Driving Courage Account, and I have not only depleted mine but have plowed through the interest as well. Having motored through washboard conditions, scraped ice off the INSIDE of my windshield, maneuvered through whiteouts, I have no nerve left to drive almost 300 miles by myself in winter, a third of the trip through rural and beautiful farmland.

So, starting today, I am home and on vacation until next year and would love to repeat that sentence. I don’t have to go back to work until next year.  Yes, I am overwhelming grateful to have a job, especially a job I like, but oh boy, I don’t have to go back to work until next year! But what to do now that my trip has been canceled?

Here is my amended to do list for Christmas week:

1. Work at the animal shelter. Walk dogs. Play with cats.
2. Write. Blog. Read. Meditate.
3. Play with my camera. Download the free 30-day version of Photoshop and see if I can make any sense out of it.
4. Go for walks. Every day.
5. Take naps. Every day.
6. Cook great food.
7. Eat great food.
8. Wrap presents.
9. Open presents.
10. Visit with my family of friends.
11. Enjoy our great library.
12. Smile and laugh.
13. Buy a Subaru.

Merry Christmas!

Out Walkin' the Dog

Thank you to everyone who has inquired whether we have adopted a dog yet! The answer is: "No, but the door is open if the right one comes along." In the meantime, I am getting my "dog fix" by volunteering at a local "no kill" animal shelter. ("No kill" meaning they do not euthanize for space. Like other "no kill shelters," an animal will be euthanized if suffering from an incurable disease or injury or is too dangerous to adopt out. These difficult decisions are made by the Board).

From my first orientation meeting, I have been impressed with how organized the place is and how careful they are in matching the experience and abilities of the volunteers with the jobs needed to be done. The dogs are categorized according to behavior. Green dogs are the puppies or animals with no behavior issues to speak of. They are easy to leash, easy to walk and great to build the self confidence of new volunteers who are learning to enter or exit a dog kennel without letting the animal escape, which is trickier than you'd think. New volunteers are only allowed to walk these dogs, so every Sunday for the past 6 weeks, I have been checking the information board to see who's who and making note of any issues to be aware of before taking one out. Last week, I was eligible to attend the training to walk the "blue" dogs, those with behavioral issues or who need work to keep them from dragging you into next week. After supervised practice, we are tested before being cut loose to take these dogs out on our own.

I have some experience in training dogs so was familiar with their procedures. The only difference is that dog treats are used to reinforce good behavior, so now I walk around with pieces of Bacon Strips in my coat pocket. Unfortunately, since both hands have to be on the leash, there are no photos to offer you. But today I walked RingDing, a shepherd/hound cross who is learning to walk next to you without leaping out in front; Bailey, a shy but eager-to-please collie cross with the most adorable fuzzy face; Mikey, a Maltipoo who is a "blue" dog because of his extreme timidity; and Laney, a senior animal and the most gentle Irish Setter/cross giant (and a "green" dog) whose owners surrendered him when they had to move away.

Working with these dogs is going a long way to satisfy my desire for a canine companion. The added benefit is that anything I can help them learn will make them more adoptable, as each of these animals wants nothing more than to be a beloved part of a family. If I can help them learn how to do that, I am grateful to know both their needs are being met, as well as my own.

A Child's Christmas Toy

Every year I pretend we are not approaching the holiday season, when everyone seems to be either in good cheer or suicidal.  I fight off the approaching season like a bad cold, preferring to avoid the extra work, expectations, financial burden and the ache of happier Christmases past when my family was closer in every way.

But a day arrives when I give up my resistance and throw my arms open to embrace Christmas present. I cook up a vat of spaghetti sauce with lots of garlic and while it simmers the day away on the back of the stove, 'O Come All Ye Faithful' floats through the rooms, Ken lugs the decorations down from the attic and the house is slowly transformed with ribbons and bows, reindeer and wreaths, lights and stars that sparkle. We pull out our favorite ornaments and settle them in their traditional spots. (They are the ones with stories attached: the little stuffed Santa we found in the mud on our front lawn the first Christmas we lived here, the porcelain Bluebird, the rocking horse with red reins). The highlight decoration; however, is a child’s toy.

Several years ago, while finishing up some last minute shopping, I heard a little girl begging her mother for a musical toy she had discovered on the bottom shelf of a rack. There were three cats sitting on a pillow, each wearing a night hat with a bell on the end. When she pressed a button on the paw of one of the cats, all three sprang to life with a loud “Meow!” and sang, all the while smiling and looking at each other, flipping their hats and making the little bells ring in time to the music. It was so cute.

The little girl dragged her exhausted mother to the display, “It’s the last one, Mommy! Can we buy it?” She pushed the button. The little cats sang, the bells tinkled and when the song was finished, the mother was smiling too. Then she looked at the price tag.

“Too expensive,” she announced, and took her daughter’s hand and walked away.

I glanced around the store to see if anyone was watching, then pressed the paw.  The cats sang “Meow! The heads swiveled, the bells rang and they sang their song for the third time. I looked at the price tag.

I put it back on the shelf. It was absurd to waste that much money on a toy when we don’t even have children.

I glanced at the stuffed dogs, ponies, mice, reindeer and Santas still on the shelf. They were all smiling at me. I picked up a set of Christmas towels and passed my hand over the soft terrycloth, and then put them down and picked up the toy again to check the price one more time in case it had suddenly gone down, or maybe I had read it incorrectly.

The head voices started up:

"You’ll be sorry if you don’t buy it."

"It’s too much money. Remember those bills coming in next month?"

"That’s next month. Worry about that then. Buy yourself a toy, for chrissakes."

"I can live without it."

"Ken would like it."

!!!

And we have all lived happily ever after.

Go ahead: press the paw. You know you want to....