Washed Out

So fellow travelers, last week the weather app on my phone pinged to alert me to a “continued precipitation and flood watch” forecast.

Relentless rainfall has washed away all my short and long term hiking plans for several weeks now. No fire tower challenges undertaken, no walks along park paths to look for spring visitors on the lake, even navigating my backyard requires rubber boots, which make for very poor footing when walking Delilah close to home.

Cold, wet, windy conditions meant scouting for migration hotspots was most unpleasant and unproductive. With the annual Birdathon this weekend (post pending)I’ve been in a deep funk about being so housebound. Checking my pond obe morning I noticed even the lilacs are holding back.

Buds wait holding tight

Wary of cold winds and rain

Needing sunlight’s hug

Like the lilacs I’ve felt pretty tightly bound. Good news is the forecast turned around just in time for the annual Birdathon, bringing me a much needed hug from the sun while out on the trails counting and tracking down my feathered Stay tuned for the final tally!


Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Mixed Messages

So fellow travelers, this has been quite the week of mixed messages.

A few decades ago, in my more pugnacious days I would have exerted tremendous effort in sorting the squabbles out. Presently, being in a transitional phase as work wanes towards retirement, I’m leaning towards an unusually benign state of letting the babble die down.

After all, when even the weather is befuddled, one might as well pour a cup of tea and wait for clarity to resurface.

Snow kissed blossoms fall

Fragile crystals glow then fade

April ends confused


Yes, those are tiny snow crystals with maple blossoms landing on my car .

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Eggs-istential Hunt

So fellow travelers, it seems this morning’s little haiku has opened a gateway to a lot more words and an awareness of what was missing.

As more experiences in my daily life connect to my inner journey, it has become impossible to filter Spirit out of my writing. Close friends and fellow creatives tell me my writing has always been infused with spiritual perspectives yet I have often been hesitant to write about my direct relationship with Spirit, lest it be mistaken for religious sermonizing. Reflecting on my recent drought of creativity I’m aware this essential aspect of my experience has to be expressed if I am to write from my heart. Going forward I will tread carefully as if navigating a path through newly sprouted wildflowers. Light and Love are gentle, patient energies found in quiet spaces and I wish to be respectful of the beliefs others hold close.

~~~~~

I have a muddled relationship with religious observations.


Sacred altar in Luzerne Vally CA

Bear in mind I am that little girl in Sunday School who wanted to know why; for example, if Jesus had risen from death, why was he still dead on the cross in church. Fortunately Lutherans do not ex-communicate, but I did obey the directive to stop asking questions. One can say the most important lesson I learned in Sunday school was to keep my spiritual inquisitiveness in check at least until I was old enough to seek answers in my own. Meanwhile the Lutheran church has graciously adopted the Cross of Resurrection as its focal point in their churches.

Even as a very young child, the Christianity I was taught made no sense to me. How on earth could one put faith in a Father who would sacrifice his “only son” to save people who seemed bound and determined to keep acting in ways which required such an extreme measure in the first place. There was also quite a bit of conflict between what I was taught and what the Voice I heard in church told me. Yes, you read that right- in moments when focused on the beautiful music, mesmerized by the colors of the stained glass windows** there would sometimes be a Voice which spoke in my head.

Before we call for a psych eval know that this Voice did not “speak” in words so much as impressions or thoughts and always spoke of the importance of love and kindness. It was a Voice which, even at a very young age, I knew did not originate from my own mind. It is the Voice which, when I choose to listen, guides me to live from my heart, to choose compassion over judgment and continues to lead me to profound, if fleeting, experiences of the Presence of Light and permanence of Spirit.

Yeah, I know

Pretty wHeird.

And trust me, as an adult, for many years, I did everything I could to disprove the existence of this Voice. Except the more I did, the more the things this Voice told me proved to be true. Things like~

~ forgiveness releases you from the prison of holding others guilty

~ hatred is toxic and accomplishes nothing; it can and will kill you

~ most anger is self directed; letting it go brings healing

~ gratitude increases joy

~ peace is possible, see all of the above

So, in this season where tradition would have us reflect on the meaning of sacrifice and the concept of resurrection, I came back to those unanswered questions from my Sunday school days. The celebration of Easter itself has a complicated history, interlaced with pagan traditions of decorated eggs and an 18th century mystical egg laying “Osterhaus.” Much like the secular garb of Christmas, these are glittering distractions which we must go beyond to find deeper meaning.

In the spring season we grapple with resurrection and rebirth, two significantly different concepts. Rebirth is a new form of life, generated from something other than itself. Resurrection on the other hand is raising what was once dead to live again as itself. Easter, which always occurs after the Spring Equinox, is a time to be mindful of what we might resurrect in the annual cycle of rebirth. Awakening lost memories, buried wounds or guilt entombed long ago can create shock waves which unnerve our resolution to move forward. Yet, much like the contemporary “Easter eggs” of digital media and video games, these hidden elements can reveal new levels of awareness which help us live more fully in the present. To live our dreams, we must emerge from the shadows of the past and embrace the person we have become. In essence, while the past has shaped us it need not continue to define us. We can resurrect lost dreams infused with the energy of who we have become.

So fellow travelers, whatever beliefs you hold as truth, I wish blessings of this holy day to you . May the Easter eggs you find on the path bring gifts of joy as sweet as jelly beans .


Favorite Younger Daughter circa 2005

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready

**Photo Note: WordPress new block format randomly refuses to place some of my photo captions where I want them, so here is the caption for the window photo: The beautiful stained glass windows at Rupert United Methodist church. Several times a year I have the blessing of visiting this wonderful faith community where my friend Tom is minister. You can find his blog Two Tiny Churches at this link.

Easter Blossoms

So fellow travelers, today is Easter Sunday and it dawned appropriately shrouded in mist.

Being in a bit of a fog myself lately, this mood of ponderous mystery felt somewhat comforting, as if the gods and goddesses of earth and air had gently acknowledged my dispassionate sentiments. Unable to voice the emotions eddying within and around me, my writing has trickled into silence. So, Delilah and I have spent as much time on the trails as seasonal rains permitted. We’ve been blessed with relatively warm weather which has cleared most of the snow from our favorite trails. Although spring migration is in its earliest stage, we’ve had some excellent waterbird sightings and yesterday evening a small gathering of white throated sparrows singing close by our yard spoke of the promise of more warbling visitors soon to come.

Those dots are various water birds like mergansers and scaups visiting Onondaga Lake

When I cannot write, I seek solace in the wild. Often my experiences on the trails open up the block and words begin to resonate, but even my usually reliable haiku companions seem to have gone on hiatus. I have a dozen or so incongruous attempts and several narrative blog pieces which read flat and worse still, miss the mark of my intended reflection.

This morning I sat in deep meditation by my pond; finally, overnight temps are consistently above freezing so we can safely run the waterfall filter. As far back as I can remember, that sound of gently flowing water has always created joy in my heart. A handful of juncos and chickadees trilled their thank you’s for the fresh seed  just placed in the feeders. One perched on the branches of a quince bush full of newly emerged pinkish buds. Among them, at last, were words which sang true.

Peace waits silently

Seeking but an open heart

Joy ready to bloom

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

April Fools

So fellow travelers, thanks to daylight savings push forward in time earlier this month, it was still dark when I got up to get ready for work this morning, but not too dark for me to catch the signature white glimmer of new snowfall.

Ah Well ! At least the snow brought a bit of poetry with it !

Phone message early

Spring is cancelled winter’s back

Not just April Fools

The phone message informed me school was on a one hour delay; time enough to enjoy an extra cup of coffee.

The photo of the spring blossoms were taken this past weekend on my visit to Philadelphia, a bit of hopeful forecast of warmer days to come.

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Season’s Edge

So fellow travelers, this haiku showed up on a chilly walk the day before the vernal equinox.

Time frozen in waves

Thaw at season’s edge reveals

Sleeping memories

What looks like waves along the shore are actually frozen layers of water

Delilah and I have been walking the East Lakeshore Trail at Onondaga Lake Park, training for the upcoming 6legged5k event. We participate in this event most years as it’s a fund raiser for local dog rescues, including Helping Hounds. As Delilah is an HHDR alumni, it’s only fitting we put our best footandpaw forward to do our best.

To hit our stride on race day, we start training early in March by walking the trail a few times a week, gradually increasing our distance from one to three miles. At least that’s our goal, but some years the weather throws things off with either late season snowstorms (both April 2013 and 2016 had snowstorms the week before) or flooding which almost postponed the event two years ago.

20170409_091703

In 2017, lake levels came right up to the pavillion near the 5K trail

This year, March has been blustery with at least one day of heavy (8-10 inches) snow but the county parks crew has done a fantastic job of keeping the walking trail clear and we are on track to finish with a respectable time.

One side benefit to walking the East shore trail is catching a view of incoming migrants resting on the lake. The ice has not fully receded, so our seasonal visitors are clustered along the edge where open water meets the slowly receding ice shelf.

Those smaller dark specks in the distance are a variety of ducks

Delilah does not mind when I stop to scan the water with my binoculars. It gives her a chance to track the scents of a variety of critters, including foxes, opossum and an occasional mink often seen skirting the shoreline.

Soon those frozen waves will thaw and spotting the various waterbirds will become more challenging. One afternoon, there will come a warbling trill from the trees. I will turn my binoculars to catch a glimpse of migrating songbird and memories of so many grand adventures will break free as the icy grip of winter finally thaws.

 

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Birds Doing New Things

While I head out to clear snow (yes it’s still snowing on and off in March- ah Spring in Upstate NY) from my own backyard birdfeeders to keep the early spring migrants well fueled against the return of Winter-like temperatures I thought my Fellow Travelers might enjoy a trip to a bird sanctuary in warmer climates. Sylvia’s blog keeps my birding dreams alive through our long cold season.

Tonji and Sylvia's Wildlife Refuge

Sometimes we see birds as predictable creatures of habit. They have favorite perches that they return to day after day. Their behavior becomes familiar and part of the flow of the day.

This has become a familiar early morning sight. 5 White Breasted Woodswallows perched on top of this Agoho tree.

Other times we get to witness entirely new behavior. I thought it was unusual to see a Philippine Bulbul perched on the round pen. They usually hide inside the trees. What was it doing?

This looks to me like a young Philippine Bulbul. Based on the sounds, I think there was a nest inside the aratiles and this bird is one of the young from the nest.

The Philippine Bulbul was carefully, drop by drop, picking up dew from the fence posts.

I’ve never seen other birds do that on the fence posts before.

Soon there was a second…

View original post 153 more words

Whereing of the Green

So fellow travelers, its St. Patrick’s Day which here in the United States translates to

parades

The rescue’s float entry celebrates HHDR’s 10th anniversary

pints

And a plethora of green garb and deco everywhere but not in my garden.

After a brief 24 hour stop over, Spring appears to have moved on to greener pastures and Old Man Winter is gleefully reclaiming his turf.

Spring flies briefly by

Snowy Saint Patrick ponders

Whereing of the green

“Hey Mom ! Look! I found green!”

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

Spring Ahead

So fellow travelers, Delilah and I just returned home from a quick walk.

It is a luxurious 58 ° , the air smells like spring and the sun managed to sneak in a brief but brilliant appearance before the incoming front from the west shrouded the golden light in deep grey storm clouds.

High over head, wave after wave of migrating geese called out as small lines merged again and again into ever larger formations. A distant chatter grew suddenly louder as a massive mixed flock of smaller birds filled the sky with hundreds of black specks. The sound was almost deafening but I stood absolutely still, mesmerized by the vibrant urgency of this annual push for survival. I have seen these migrating bird clouds before but always far above me on the trails. Today I was engulfed in the sight and sound of this tsunami of flight a few dozen feet overhead. Even Delilah seemed intrigued, sitting still on a patch of newly recovered grass by a not quite thawed snow pile. She looked at me, then up at the noisy intruders, scanning the trees where dozens of birds were landing for brief respites.

The wave seemed endless, although I am sure we stood and watched for only a few minutes before all but a few stragglers flew off towards the tree lined river nearby. Ears still ringing from the high pitched cacophony, I started walking towards home. As we picked our way around patches of snow along the edge of our yard, I heard bright and clear, for the first time this year, a familiar call.

Cackling V flies

Cloud of black specks darts and chirps

Robin sings at last

Yes, there in my neighbor’s chinaberry tree sat a robin calling out between pecking at dinner. Finally! The Vernal equinox does not occur until next week, but I will gratefully take this sign that spring is on it’s way.

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready

Where Eagles Soar

So fellow travelers, one soul stirring, rock your heart out concert later

and back home, plowing (yes I mean it quite literally) through the effects of a very stubborn winter season. A few nasty tumbles on icy patches in our driveway had me sidelined for the past few weeks and the doldrums of inactivity left my spirits and creativity flat as the frozen landscape around me.

It’s rare for me to go more than a few days without getting in a good walk, even in winter. Walking clears my head and lets me cast off the little frustrations which come from working within the public education system. The simple joys of catching a bit of light cast just so on new snow, hearing a woodpecker chatter from the bare limbs of a favorite tree, feeling the warmth of sun as it slides towards the horizon a bit later each day, all these little moments of zen which renew my soul are sorely missed when I am housebound.

This morning I had reason to get up early to drive into the city

Yep, donuts!

And trust me these are donuts worth getting up early for because this local donut shop, known for their imaginative creations, has been featuring Girl Scout Cookie themed donuts all week and they saved the best for last-

Behold the Holy Grail of DonutmeetsCookie-  a Thin Mint Donut. (cue Hallelujah chorus) I know right? Who wouldn’t rise with the sun on a Saturday morning to have a chance to get one (or two) before these treasures sold out? Nevermind the frigid temperatures registering just barely in the teens- the kind of still cold air which drives even droplets of water vapor to huddle together in tightly wound plumes spiraling slowly into the ice blue morning sky.

My pilgrimage must have been sanctioned by Divine Grace for not only was I blessed with a parking spot close to the shop, but on the drive home, I caught glimpses of several bald eagles soaring over Onondaga Lake. A quick stop at an overlook along the lakeshore allowed me to watch them, too distant for photos, but within reach of my birding binoculars.

Onondaga Lake frozen over from the lookout point

Bald Eagles have been gathering in increasing numbers to winter over at the south end of the lake, where they can easily hunt for fish in an expanse of open water created by a sewage treatment plant. Aerial majesty made possible from crap* ~

There’s a life lesson woven into that thought.

Incoming Bald Eagle taken a few weeks earlier from a different vantage point on the lake. Look closely to spot it’s hunting partner in the tree. Its a “goodasitgets” cell phone shot but you can find great photos at this link to the Onondaga Audubon photog page on Facebook.

Walk gently on the path my friends and may adventure find you ready.

*for the record, the open water is created from warm filtered water which flows back into the lake. The warmth and residual nutrients draw fish (mostly carp) to that end of the lake.  Pollution from raw sewage in no longer a primary concern in the overall balance of the lake, once listed as one of the most polluted fresh water bodies in the United States. The lake’s well being continues to improve after a ten year restoration project to abate contamination accumulated from decades of municipal and industrial dumping.