Empty Nest

I have a baby bunny nest in my backyard.  My dog “discovered” it.  I found her scratching at the ground, disturbing the tiny little rabbits.  Not old enough to hop and only distinguishable as rabbits by their tiny pink ears, two of the babies scrambled away to cower in a corner of my patio while I removed my dog.   After a speedy internet search to determine the best course of action, I went back to return the babies safely to their nest.  The rabbits, smaller than the palm of my hand, were unharmed. Warm and quivering, they kicked their tiny little legs against my hand when I lifted them. After carefully placing them inside the shallow space, I covered the opening to the with dry pine straw. See the video of the babies in their nest here.   Thereafter, my dog was banned from her own backyard.  Did I mention that she is a beagle – the breed specifically designed for rabbit hunting?  Henceforth, she objected audibly in the way only a beagle can and protested with vigorous door scratching on a daily basis.    In the coming days, the rabbits and their welfare were constantly on my mind.  I watched vigilantly out the back windows for the return of their mother and found out on a Toronto Wildlife website that she should return once at dawn and once at dusk to nourish the babies for 5 minutes before hopping off to munch on my neighbor’s hydrangeas. I felt like I was a surrogate mother. Those of you out there who have raised children know what it feels like when your babies are in danger.  There were nights when the thunder rumbled and the rain poured out of the sky that I didn't sleep.  One stormy evening, I put a red and white polka dot umbrella over the bush above their nest to keep the downpour from flooding it.  I worried about coyotes, cats, and the red-tailed hawk screeching menacingly nearby  Anxiety crept in when I didn’t see mama rabbit for days.  I prayed that she was simply coming at night.  I peeked at the little furry babies snuggled up together to make sure they were visibly breathing.  Neighbors put in their two cents offering suggestions and urging me to bring them inside.  But I knew this was out of my hands.  These were wild things living by the rules of nature.  They did not need my interference.  I could do more harm then good thinking I understood what they needed.  I needed to stand back and watch them grow and leave the nest and let go of any illusion of control. Still I looked for the mama to return and thought of the slight dry warm weight of the babies in my hand as I returned them to the nest.  One day a head with tiny ears poked out of the nest alertly when I neared, and I knew it was only a matter of time now before they moved on. The next day I found the nest empty.  I gazed with wonder and sweet sorrow at the empty nest. Would they be okay out in the big dangerous world?  What would become of them? I was telling a friend about the baby bunnies over the phone, and he mentioned that all of my babies were leaving the nest, referring to my youngest son who was soon to head off to the college,  I paused as the realization struck me, and the parallels became apparent - knowing how difficult it will be to let go and trust that he will make the right decisions and be okay - having the faith to believe that I have done my job and nature will take it’s course.   I haven’t seen the babies since.  They are off hopping around living their bunny lives somewhere out of sight.  I do see their mama still (photo above), munching clover in my yard.  My neighbor gave the mama bunny a name – she calls her Faith.   For tips on dealing with empty nest syndrome, I suggest this excellent article.

My Friend Wears Her Scars on the Outside

My Friend Wears Her Scars on the Outside

Scars.  Most people have them.  Some you can’t see.  I have a friend who wears her scars on the outside.  Four deep indentations running in a dashed line from hip bone to ankle – four incisions made by a surgeon in a last ditch effort to drain fluid and save her leg and her life after she ended up in septic shock from an infection. 

She wears her scars where everyone can see, and she cannot forget. People blatantly stare.  She survived the battle but she carriers these souvenirs and the chronic pain. She returned home from the hospital, but there was no victory celebration, no cheering crowds and waving flags. 

She just wants to know that it meant something.  Everyone says things happen for a reason.  Well, hell if she knows what the reason is.  Everyone says she is supposed to be grateful that she has her leg and her life.  She wants something good to have come of this. 

Now she is supposed to appreciate every precious moment.  She should be full of love, gratitude and faith.  She almost died, so now she should value life more than others.  She is supposed to have a lesson to teach the world.  She is supposed to turn her tragedy into triumph.  She should be over it by now.  But she is not.  She feels pain.  It is hard to shift her focus from this lingering reminder. 

She wants someone to listen and understand.  Sometimes she just wants to curl up and feel sorry for herself.  What she wants more than anything else is not to have to be the survivor, the warrior, and the inspiration.  She just wants to be the person she was before all of this.  She wants to be carefree; to feel like bad things can’t possibly happen to her, like death is a distant mystery. 

She survived the battle, but now she knows something she can never forget.  Every single moment of this life we are just hanging onto life by the most fragile of threads.  We are all vulnerable, and this knowledge is so scary. 

My friend with the scars on the outside, if you can find peace with your precarious mortality, maybe you will no longer struggle.  When you can leave the past where it needs to be and not let it taint your present moment with your loved ones, you can truly live again.  When you can tell your story in a way in which your triumph shows to people who truly listen and attempt to understand, maybe you can move one to the next chapter.

If you wear your scars on the outside, if you hide them on the inside, if something or someone has knocked you to the ground so hard you thought you could not get back up: pick yourself up, dust yourself off, spit that dirt out of your mouth and stand tall and ready to fight another day.  You have become one of the beautiful people whose courage shines from your eyes - who looks out at the world with the audacity to say, “What else you got? Bring it on.”  You no longer put up with pettiness, injustice, and cruelty.  You have no time to beat around the bush.  And if someone is rude enough to stare blatantly at your scars, you can say, “You see these scars?  Go ahead and take a good look.  I fought death and won.  I learned something.  Time on this earth is precious and I don’t have time for this bull****.”. 

Unexpected (and Short-Lived) Beauty

The park was a mess after a night of Spring storms with muddy puddles and tree litter covering the walkways and raindrops still falling from the tree canopy.  I was tired, and my brain was also littered with unfinished projects, worries, and the seeds of potential ideas.  The world was gray and gloomy.  Then I turned a corner and was startled by the sight of the fallen pink and white azalea blossoms in piles of petals on the pavement brightening the world with their unexpected beauty.  

The weight of the water had knocked the flowers from the bushes where they were carelessly scattered by the morning breeze before settling in heaps against curbs and retaining walls.  Their fragrance lingered on the breeze along with the scent of damp earth.  I was sad that they would quickly turn brown and wither, but thrilled with the unexpected sight of their fallen glory.

I was reminded of the 75 tulip bulbs I planted in the first year of my marriage in my very first home, full of hope and promise.  I carefully buried them in the soil like tiny treasures.  I awaited their blossoming with eager anticipation.  I watched their progress daily.  When they bloomed, I was thrilled with the brilliant red petals and couldn't wait to get home to them at the end of a work day.  For two days, I enjoyed their perfection.  On the third day, a windstorm blew in during the day.  When I returned home from work, all that was left were the green stems.  The red petals were strewn across the green grass like remnants of a bloody battle.  I enjoyed them for only two days.  

Beauty and wonder is often fleeting, and maybe that's what makes it prized.  It is not something we can hang onto.  It will surely pass, but something unexpected is waiting around the next corner.  Just remember to keep looking and expecting the unexpected.  

I Can't Draw

"I can’t draw." 

I can’t tell you how many times I've heard this comment.  First of all, everyone can draw.  You just don't think you draw well - whatever that means. Second, feeling like you can't is all the more reason to try! Isn't that what we teach our kids?  Set an example for them.  

The problem is that most beginning artists are hung up on realism and accurate reproductions of objects, landscapes, and people. Realism is only one style of art. If I wanted to look at a cup, I could get one out of my cupboard. I don’t need to look at an exact replica of a cup rendered in paint hanging on my wall. 

While the skill of realistic reproduction is impressive, I would much rather see someone’s impression of a cup, no matter how wonky. If I’m teaching a class with a cup as the subject, I would love to see twelve very different interpretations, and I love that one funky cup painting that stands out with it's originality. 

So you think you are a terrible artist?  I don’t believe it. Come out to one of my classes and show me. Then I’ll show you an exoressionist or abstract masterpiece worth more than a hundred thousand dollars that isn’t all that different. Besides, if we only do the things we are good at and don’t challenge our assumptions, we will never grow. You might have a hidden talent to reveal. It is better to paint flowers that look "flower-ish" than not to try to paint at all.  

Need more convincing? Check out the book, ish. It is disguised as a book for children but it shares a valuable lesson for all ages about appreciating your own artistic impression. If you're pressed for time, just watch to the video of the book. And do share it with your kids, so they never say, "I can't draw".  

Rock Painting

“If I can’t have magic, I’ll take the improbable.” – Arianne

When I was in kindergarten I rode the bus to school.   One morning my mom announced there was no need to wait for the bus; she was walking me the short half mile to school.  I was thrilled to have her all to myself.  As we walked, she pointed out the smooth white pebbles among the gray gravel and debris along the side of the road.  “These,” she said, “are lucky stones. If you gather them up and keep them in your pocket you will have good luck through the day”.  Of course, I did as she instructed and rolled them around between my fingers in my pockets like happy little hidden secrets all day long.

This special walk with my mom planted a seed which grew into a lifelong belief that the world is filled with beautiful, magical objects just waiting to be discovered if you just take the time to look.  I still look carefully  in search of treasure on my walks and often fill my pockets with bird feathers, shiny stones, and colorful leaves. Magic may not actually exist in objects but magic is still out there. Magic is the ability to bestow kindness and love and change a person’s day.  It is recognizing beauty.  It is appreciating the improbable and unexpected.

Wouldn’t it be nice to share and spread that feeling of wonder at finding something marvelous, unexpected, and possibly lucky by joining in on the rock painting craze and painting your own special treasure? Join me at the Downtown Cary Food and Flea on Sunday, March 11 from 12-4pm or at The Wake Zone Espresso on Saturday, March 17 from 10-11am. Paint a rock to keep and one to leave somewhere for someone to find.  If you travel, take your rock with you, and leave it on some far off street corner in a bustling city, on the seat of a subway car, or on a high mountain trail.  Leave your little surprise for someone to find, and they will look at it in wonder, smile, and think, “How improbable.”

If  you can't make either of these events, buy a few bottles of craft paint and a cheap paintbrush, find a rock in your yard, and do it yourself.  If you have limited artistic ability, trying dotting the paint on the surface in a pattern as in the photo above.  

These events are for all ages.  Leave some love and bring a smile to someone’s face.

Happy Painting,

Arianne

How to Climb a Tree

"One of the best ways to see tree flowers is to climb one of the tallest trees and to get into close, tingling touch with them, and then look broad." John Muir

"With ideas it is like with dizzy heights you climb: At first they cause you discomfort and you are anxious to get down, distrustful of your own powers; but soon the remoteness of the turmoil of life and the inspiring influence of the altitude calm your blood; your step gets firm and sure and you begin to look" - for dizzier heights. Nikola Tesla

The hardest part is reaching the lowest branch to pull yourself up.  Sometimes you have to shimmy up the trunk using your feet for leverage to even reach that branch. You can do this.   The fact that it is outside your reach is no reason to give up.  As you ascend,  you must test every successive branch to make sure it is strong and sturdy enough to hold your weight.  Climb high enough to settle in a crook between the branch and the trunk and gaze down upon the world like a minor deity.  From this vantage point, you will gain a different perspective than you can upon the ground.  

Go high enough to feel the movement of the tree and to have an unobstructed view.  Hopefully a fall from this height will not kill or maim you, but that is a risk you take when you dare.  It is unlikely that you will fall if you take your time, hold on tight, test each branch, and pay attention to what you are doing.  The view from the top is worth the climb.  

When I was a kid, I couldn't wait to get out of school to go home and climb the tall poplar next to my house.  I did this almost every day.  I might be a bit old to climb trees now, so I do the next big thing: I hike up mountains.  I'm not talking about Everest or Kilimanjaro here - nothing that requires oxygen and sherpas.  There is something about looking out at the wide expanse of the world from a high viewpoint. A reminder of the vastness has a way of resetting priorities.

If you have never tried to reach the lowest branch or never walked the first mile to begin the climb, you cannot comprehend the view from the top: how everything looks so small and manageable.  It does no good for someone to describe it to you.  You have to see it for yourself. Once you have made the climb, you can see the bigger picture: how it all ties together.  Reach for the bottom branch. 

Thanks for reading,

Arianne

Signs of Spring to Cheer Your Day

“Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'” Robin Williams

“Never cut a tree down in the wintertime. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst moods. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The spring will come.” Robert H. Schuller

The weather has been pretty crummy lately, for want of a better word.  We’re pretty spoiled for sunshine here in North Carolina, so several consecutive overcast days leave me feeling a little gray inside.  When I feel the February blahs, I start looking for signs of spring to lift my spirits.  Take a little walk and look, listen, and smell for these…

Birds singing more than usual

Birds can sense the change in season by the increased amount of daylight. It apparently makes them happy, because there is an absolutely riotous bird chorus happening outside my house every morning.  I like to open the window for a few minutes just to listen to their joyous songs.  

Spring Peepers peeping away

I first heard them on a walk along a quiet trail by an abandoned swimming hole a week ago, chirping loud and proud. You’ve probably heard their song announcing the coming of spring, but may have been unaware of the origin.  These little frogs can be found from coast to coast in all sorts of wetlands.

Buds and blooms emerging

I always feel a touch of happiness and hope when I see the fresh green tips of my bulbs emerging through the soil each and every year.  Little bitty blooms decorate the tips of budding branches. Look for them! These early spring flowers are a reminder of the faithful cycle of nature as their scents fill the air.

The smell of spring

Surely, you know the smell.  It is a scent of dampness, worms, rain, and moist soil.  It holds the promise of new growth and fertility.  One day you step outside and there it is.  Then you know warm days and green growth are right around the corner.  Interestingly, I just learned in this article, that warring bacteria are responsible for the smell.  If you are at all interested in the science it’s worth a read.  

In many cultures and traditions, spring is welcomed as an opportunity for regeneration after a period of dormancy.  I can’t help but feel energized when I see the signs of seasonal change.  I think of it as a great time to reevaluate, discard the old, and move on to new challenges.  Spring-cleaning is a great ritual for starting with a clean slate.  I’ll talk more about that in my next post, A Tidy Exterior is Necessary for a Tidy Interior, about a friend of mine who learned this maxim during his years in the Merchant Marine.  

Thanks for reading,

Arianne