Morning Song

Nature has a morning song
So beautiful when it plays
That no one must listen for very long
Before peace takes heart and mind as stowaways.

The birds raise from their slumber and greet the rising sun,
They flit and flutter from here to there and across fences and rooftops they run.

The morning dew, it drips and drops from every leaf and limb,
Shining bright on the blades of grass, bringing life to each of them.

The stillness is the chorus, the light the melody,
And the warmth, as it spreads, from this nook to that sends away the nights elegy.

And the gentle breeze begins to move where the cloak of night has hung
Luring from the shadows all kinds of different life, from old to young.

And if you sit and listen, as the sun takes its place,
You'll hear the flutter of little wings, as bees and bugs busy round in haste.

At this time, if you close your eyes and draw a big, deep breath,
You'll almost be able to taste the dew that burns as the sun moves West.

Every single day, at the exact same place and time,
She will sing out her melody and woo you with her rhyme.
So, if you wake and are seeking something to draw on for your day's purpose,
Step outside, take a seat and join in with Nature's chorus.

Beauty + Life

Encapsulated in my love of nature is a love and appreciation for all things that speak to human nature and connection.  I remember starting to realize the power of this connection when I learned of the symbolism of the cross in Christianity.  The two most powerful relationships is between a person and the Creator (whatever that looks like to you) and his or her family, friends and humanity.

I have had the great joy recently of watching one of my best friends go through the birth of her first child.  This experience has touched me at my very core.  In the quiet moments of the day, my mind continues to wander back to all of the displays of beauty in this moment for her and her husband.  I spent a lot of my 20s and up until recently, living a very focused and independent life.  So, as my niece and nephews were born, I was hugely appreciative of those events, but I think my 30s have brought a very different perspective and appreciation for the process.  My friend, Julie, has been one of those friends who feel near a carbon copy of oneself.  Adventurous, always up for fun and in touch with all the things I love--music, art, nature--Julie has transformed over the past year into an amazing mom.  And this transformation was seamless.  She just added it to the portfolio of being a great human being.  Even more, watching her husband and her grow as a unit with the arrival of their son, has brought such insight into the dynamic and beautiful spirit of the human soul.  They have demonstrated, I think, what it's supposed to do when you share the great life experience of having a child together.  I feel so privileged to be a witness to it all.

In the world's current state, it can be difficult to sift through all of the horrible stories circulated in the media and come out at the other end still believing in good.  There is so much pain and disappointment to be witnessed.  However, we can counter that in our relationships with one another.  We can choose to believe in the good and allow the violent, critical and painful displays of the world to fall away.  As Mahatma Gandhi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world."  

The Day Everything Changed

A Tribute to Life did not exist on the fateful morning of September 11, 2001.  But, most of my memories are so clear, I can easily recall them and go back in time to recapture them here.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was a sophomore nursing student at Wheeling Jesuit University.  I was a few weeks into the fall semester, and it was a day I had calculus class during the morning time slot.  As I got ready that morning, I heard the first reports about planes crashing.  It wasn't long at all that the reports went from speculation that it was an aviation disaster/accident to speculation that terrorism was at work.

This day was like the day of the walking dead.  In every nook and cranny where normally life was buzzing about, instead, there were faces etched with concern and shallow gasps of air.  This vibe was in great contrast to the amazingly clear and beautiful day.  My mind had trouble shifting between the pristine and flawless blue sky and the images of death and destruction.  I have one visual memory that I cannot shake, and it came as a result of being stopped at a red light on my way back home from campus.  My position at the light was such that I looked up at the looming and protective hills, still very much green from summer's gifts, and the only other thing beyond was the amazing sky.  I remember sitting there in this moment and for the first time ever feeling overwhelmed with doubt and panic about the state of the world.  While irrational outside of the moment, that moment allowed me to deeply consider the question of, "Will more planes fall out of the air today?"  Every former comfort of being an American citizen had collapsed just as the honorable structures of the twin towers and portions of the Pentagon had.  Hours before, this question of planes falling out of the sky would have been absurd.  What a difference a few hours had made in history.  And then as the world gradually returned to normal--or perhaps the new normal--I hesitated because the moment felt too huge for the return, but then the option to stay behind was revoked.

The human resolve to survive has taken this unsettling anxiety and made it into an acceptable part of daily life.  While there are far worse circumstances withstood in all parts of the world on a daily basis, this moment--this day--taught me that there are no guarantees, except for one.  The world will continue on, and the world's people will almost mystically survive.  This amazing ability to do so will only be one of the many testaments of the strength and abilities attributed to the human race over time.  

As many have proclaimed, I will never forget this day.  I will not forget the evil that prevailed on those flights and the precious and autonomous lives lost or the lasting effects of that evil in the wars and ways of the world.  While the tragic day came and went, that towering hillside still haunts me each time I pass it.  It gently reminds me that nothing can be taken for granted and also of the fragility of even the most powerful structures--be them literal or abstract.  It reminds me that life can only be measured in moments and seconds and anything beyond that is simply not guaranteed.  

Habitat for Humanity, Garden-Style

Last week, I posted some thoughts on the general differences in ecosystems between my old and new neighborhoods.  Since then, it's like the ecosystem gods have taken up residence in my flower gardens and yard.

When I moved into my new neighborhood, Tucker and I came across what turned out to be a Japanese willow (aka Hakuro Nishiki or dappled willow).  Nevermind the lady's yard it was in is a garden oasis, but I could not help but fall in love with this tree with every single loop past it that we took.  By chance, I drove past a local nursery and saw that they had some in stock, and after lots of thought (probably too much), I finally caved and bought two for in front of my home.  I'm in love with my new baby trees just as much as I am the beautiful mature one a block over.  In addition to my willows, I also planted a pink flowering dogwood tree in my backyard, and there's a large assortment of flowers in front of my house that were planted not long after I moved in.  They include several hydrangeas, knockout roses, dahlias, phlox and a few other types of groundcover.  I've also cycled through some different annuals along the way as well, with the current being some pretty orange and red mums.

This collective group of flowers and trees has brought out some really cool (and sometimes creepy) creatures.  This weekend, after planting the willows, I was inspecting the leaves and branches on one of the two.  I had to look really close to spot a super cool caterpillar that had a bright green body and a robust blanket of white hair/pricklies (to use a very technical term).  The awesome part of this little creature was that it completely mimicked the leaves of the tree.  These are the small things that leave me super humbled by nature's greatness.  Unfortunately, I'm afraid the caterpillar's extensive camouflage failed it because I walked around the corner of the house a bit later to a bird in the tree--and the caterpillar could not be found.  Another fascinating tree creature was this little caterpillar that was the exact color of the brown shoots off of the branches.  I had to tap it to ensure it was not the actual branch, and sure enough it arched its little back and confirmed my suspicion.

In the flower gardens, the initial assortment of creatures was limited to toads, potato bugs and spiders.  Throughout summer, though, there have been several other visitors, including the praying mantis and many many grasshoppers and crickets.  More recently, when things cooled down, there were so many leaping visitors, I was dancing around the front yard with my hose in hand and surely bringing entertainment to the neighbors.  Tonight, as I watered, a large toad very slowly emerged from underneath one hydrangea--I took this to mean that word had spread among the garden creatures that they big woman with the hose gets dangerous and quick if they emerge too quickly.

Overall, nature has humbled me with its return offerings since my flowers and trees have been planted.  I really look forward to seeing what else will join us!

Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?

Ryan with his son, Hunter,  @ Ocean City, MD

I grew up with two siblings--both older, one sister--Erin--and one brother--Ryan.  My sister was the oldest, I was the youngest, and my brother got the lucky middle spot.  I was envious from the beginning because with bookends like my sister and I, he was able to pretty much breeze through adolescence and all of that ugly stuff that goes along with it.  We provided amazing camouflage (you're welcome, brother).  Despite a lot of haggling and tears, I always adored and looked up to him.  Even when we were going 90 mph on I-470 in the car, albeit a bit terrified for my life, I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.

One of my favorite parts of growing older has been watching Ryan build his family, becoming a husband and then father.  There's something particularly amazing in watching a boy become a man and most especially after being witness to the shenanigans of the teen years.  In fact, at Ryan's recent birthday, a few of his friends from high school showed up with their kids and without their wives.  That's right, these guys who used to pour out of Ryan's bedroom across the hall from mine, smelling like boys and acting like boys, showed up and were in charge of children.  The great part?  All of them, including my brother, have become super loving and attentive fathers.  Had you asked me to predict that a couple of decades ago, I probably would have had a good laugh.  Even more, Ryan and his wife have provided the brightest lights of my life--my niece, Sydni, and nephew, Hunter.  This family descends and suddenly life, and my heart, grow very full.

Reminiscing about the now "way back" years and remembering how terribly we fought, it's endearing to me that with age we've both naturally grown to deeply care about one another and one another's well being.  I would have never imagined I would be able to include my brother in the "who to call if something goes wrong" circle.  But, the truth is, he's the first I think of and becoming the one I call more and more often.  Now that I'm a homeowner, he also gets more project calls--like the most recent request to be my tree hole digging co-pilot (my "pilot" role consisted of standing close and tossing loose dirt back into said hole).

Life has an extremely funny way of reminding us what it's all about.  So, the next time you're bickering with a family member, thinking it's your way or the highway, just remember that they're meant to be part of your beauty.  That's their purpose, and they were gifted to you.  This is a powerful thought and a good one on which to hold tight.