Every little thing

So fellow travelers,  if one could post background music for an entry, this one would have the song from Disney’s Little Mermaid that goes “Don’t’ worry ’bout a thing, cause every little things gonna be alright…”

view100dpi

This is my favorite picture from our daughter’s wedding.

Puzzled?  Mmmm I understand.  No bride and groom, no artsy flowers and rings image, no hint of any nuptial activity at all. There are however sailboats on the lake. Look closely.

There is of course a story to go with it.

The kids at Indian Head Lookout Adirondack Park, NY  just after Joe proposed to Kara.

engaged70dpi

Years before their engagement, we knew our daughter and son-in-law would choose an outdoor wedding. They took every chance they got to camp and hike  especially trails with a waterfall.  So it was no surprise when Stewart Park in Ithaca, New York emerged as the front runner for their pick of wedding locations.  It offered a beautiful lake view, free parking and was profoundly affordable.  It also featured a nice, if somewhat weathered pavillion with both hard wood floors and history:  it was once a location studio for Thomas Edison’s silent movie productions.  (Yes, that would be the Edison of light bulb fame.)

edison100dpi

Having an indoor location is an requirement if one is planning an outdoor wedding in Upstate New York, regardless of the time of year.  People who hold outdoor events inevitably rent one ( or more ) of those big white tents,  with sides (plastic “windows” optional).   As this story unfolds, it will be clear a tent would have been a major mistake.

The day before the wedding, we arrived in Ithaca with two truck loads of boxes containing everything from paper cranes to paper lanterns.

cranes100dpi

Shortly after our arrival, my husband received a call on his cell phone from the parks department.  “Yes, yes we have an outdoor event planned….” I hear him say,  ” Mmmm yes, we have heard that is a possibility…ok…yes we do have shelter in the area….ok… well thank you for calling to let us know.”    My husband says the parks department called to inform us of a severe weather alert, bands of heavy rain, possible hail, high winds, including a tornado watch, for tomorrow afternoon. He was not telling me anything I did not know already. There was a reason I brought my radio with the NOAA weather band along on this adventure.

I had been carefully monitoring the weather reports for over a week. By “weather reports”  I do not mean the typical forecasts from our local meteorologists.  Being an avid hiker and birder I learned quite awhile ago how to decipher NOAA’s radio and on line weather reports. I never travel without my weather radio.   What I knew at the moment of that phone call was the worst of the weather would hit midday and was expected to “blow through” by mid-late afternoon.  The key was how “late”, since the wedding was scheduled for 4pm.

“It’s ok.”  I said  ” If we have to, the ceremony can take place inside the pavillion on the area we are using for the dance floor.  We will leave the arbor indoors until the last possible minute.  Everything will be all right and DONT TELL KARA.”  That last phrase became a mantra as more and more people began to ask if we were aware of the weather forecast.  I took my daughter’s best friend who was the maid of honor aside. ” Keep her calm, if she finds out about the forecast, don’t let her worry. Everything will be all right.”

Somehow I knew it was more than mere words.  Somewhere deep inside my soul I knew beyond any doubt, regardless of any facts or weather reports, everything was going to be all right.  I held on tight to that belief  and drove to the closest hardware store where I bought every handheld flashlight they had;  I have faith but I am a realist.  They made for an interesting addition to the table decor.

Eventually my daughter caught news of the weather outlook.  “Honey,  it’s supposed to clear up in time for the ceremony, but  the weather is the one thing we cannot control. It is what it is. We will wait until the last possible minute to decide if we can have your ceremony by the lake.  Don’t worry. Everything is going to be all right.”

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

My husband and Joe’s dad along with a small army of helpful friends and relatives worked til nearly midnight transforming a humble rustic building into a beautiful venue. The next morning, our caters from Ithaca Bakery and Cafe ( they deserve a plug http://ithacabakery.com/ ) worked true magic making plain green picnic tables into elegant banquet seating. When the lights and lanterns were hung, the candles lit, delicate flowers floated in water, wow! even the emergency flashlights looked wonderful.

KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

Then at midday, the storm hit.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I had just arrived at the park to  be sure the cake and flowers had been delivered and to check on the set-up progress.  As the winds raged, the catering staff dashed around tightly bolting the french doors.  Lightning was  followed by a brief burst of hail;  walls of rain slammed against the windows. Realizing the girls would be leaving  the salon where I had left them in the final stages of preparation I had a brief moment of panic.  I called my younger daughter’s phone. She answered and assured me they were all safe and dry, sitting out the storm in their car and waiting to get some  lunch.  Yes, she said everyone’s hair was still nicely set.

Twenty minutes later the heaviest of winds passed, leaving behind ever weakening bands of  rain which lasted a few more hours.  The birch branch arbor,  made by Joe’s dad, remained safely inside the pavillion.

KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

The rain tapered off to a drizzle. Phone calls, text messages lit up my phone as people began to arrive at the park.  Hold tight, I said repeatedly,  yes everything will be all right. I took my daughter, already on the verge of tears all day even without weather concerns, aside and we discussed how to make the decision of indoors or lakeside for the ceremony.  She and Joe had their hearts set on an outdoor wedding, the ceremony was short no more than 15 or 20 minutes in all,  we  had a perfect spot between two willow trees right by the lake, yes it was drizzling, I said the rain would stop shortly, how could I be so sure?  I was following the NOAA weather reports, the sun was due to break through within the hour.  I sent the rest of the girls in the bridal party ahead; they called to report the pathways were damp, the ground a bit spongy but all walkable.

puddle100dpi

Minutes before ceremony time, I made the call.  Put down the runners, move the arbor,  we’re going lakeside.

KONICA MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

The sky brighten with every mile of the short fifteen minute drive from our hotel to the park. When we arrived at the pavilion, my daughter hesitated peering anxiously out the car windows at the sky, asking how can we be sure it wouldn’t start raining again?  I pointed towards the lake.  “See the sailboats on the water?  They would not be out on the lake unless the danger of storms has passed.  Everything will be all right.”

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Indeed it was all right.  The ceremony went well and the cloud cover granted us perfect lighting fantastic photos for shot like this, another of my nontraditional  favorites…

backlook70dpi

…as well as a spectacular sunset, another after effect of the storm.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

At one point the head caterer and DJ asked me how I had remained so calm in the face of  dire weather.  They were both in the pavilion with me when the storm hit.  “Well, the weather was beyond our control.  We had to just wait and see.  So when the bridal party called to tell me the boats were out on the lake, I knew everything would be all right.” Thus, the reason the photo is my favorite from the wedding.

As I compose this post, a year and a half later,  Kara and Joe are driving across country with their sweet rescue dog Coffee, stopping to see selected sights on their way to a new life together in Portland, Oregon.  Her sister is traveling with the high school orchestra on a week long trip to the Disney World Music Festival, where they will play in the parks and compete with groups from many locations. As my daughters grow into their own lives and I feel the tell tale tug at my heartstrings,  I often look at the large print I have of that lake view photo.  Everything  will be all right.

lanterns70dpi

The final moment of the wedding, as Joe and Kara, the bridal party and guests release sky lanterns.

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

riding earth

I have a kindred spirit in the Bedlam Creative group. We found each other sharing space for last years open house at the farm. Often her poetry speaks right from my own heart, so today in honor of Earth Day here is a post from the amazing Kate Rantilla

Renewal

In this time of many celebrations of renewal and hope, whatever source of faith is yours these beautiful words from a fellow Bedlam Creative Group member, my friend Jackie Campbell are a blessing for all. Have an inspired and peace filled weekend everyone.

Crossroads of the heart

So fellow travelers,  life’s passage has brought me to a bittersweet moment, as our daughter and son-in-law set out for their new life across the country.  This is a good beginning, one they have diligently saved for and worked hard to reach.  They are excited to be setting out on a trip of a lifetime, seeing many sights as they drive across the countr  to reach the city where they have wanted to go since their visit last year. A life long traveler myself, I am happy their adventure has begun and of course my heart is filled with joy to see them pursuing their dreams.  And yet, somehow  even with a year of preparation, the heart strings have not been easy to cut.

Sometimes it takes our hearts time to pass through an inevitable crossroad of life.

There are moments when we would give a great deal to slow the flow of time, to have the gift of just a few more hours on this side of change.  Our hearts ache at the end of those days knowing as the sun sinks below the horizon, darkness is inevitable.

For awhile we wait in darkness,  restless and more than a little fearful of the voice which cannot be ignored in the silence. It asks unspeakable questions until the throbbing of our hearts grows loud enough to remind us there is life still to be lived.

Just when the ache becomes unbearable, a lone bird sings,  soon joined by others.  A sliver of light peers above the dark horizon and a new day begins.  It is then we realize there is no turning back.  If we remain in the past, we have no future.  Yesterday is gone and when tomorrow arrives it becomes today.

Today  the crossroad is here. To hold back gains nothing. Love does not clip wings.  Love is the wind that carries others to their dreams. If it means a few heart strings must give then so be it.

Godspeed Takara and Joe.  May adventure find you ready, may your days ahead be filled with the joy of discovery and may love guide you safely to your new home together.

IMG_0710

 

 

Dawn

So fellow travelers,  there’s a post brewing which requires cutting a few heart strings. Needless to say it’s one worth taking time to craft carefully.  As that process unfolds I find poems awakening, asking to be heard.  Often they require a photo expedition to create the appropriate images.  Here is the latest.

dawnedit180dpi

 

A thread of color

seeps into stormy darkness

hope grows stronger

Unspoken

So fellow travelers,  recently in both my online and “inlife” communities people have shared some deep feelings driven by major events beyond their control.  The responses of support have been a moving reminder we are not alone; if we reach out there are many hands are extended to help.  I strive always in my life to be one of those hands yet I am grateful to know those hands are there for me as well ( a post in progress, coming soon I promise.)

 

Karahandmatted

There are words we dare not speak

secrets too sharp to set free

kept sheathed lest they cut those closest

 

Wild comes the storm

tearing at the walls

thunderous and earth shattering

shaking our resolve

 

Cracks form

wisps of light seep in

voices pierce the silence

 

No longer alone

we rise cautiously

to face the journey.

 

 

I draw much inspiration and encouragement from a fellow Bedlam Creative Group member Tom Atkins, whose amazing poetry speaks to me every time.  Here is a link to his poem of the day http://quarryhouse.wordpress.com/2014/04/12/poem-the-gentle-warrior/

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spring Migration

So fellow travelers, I am always writing in my head and taking mental snapshots, even when I cannot take a physical photo (for example when driving on a major interstate highway in a torrential downpour.)  When it pleases the whimsy of the gods, the words stick in my mind long enough to record.   Today I was so blessed.

migration100dpi

 

Strands of geese flying

weaving wide nets to hold all

hopes for springs return.

 

 

 

Sanctuary rules

So fellow travelers,  sometimes the best response is to meet a challenge head on, as it is presented. My response came as a poem. ( Progress for me, not long ago it would have been a angry rant.)

 

Those Not Welcomed

 

There were little girls in rocking chairs

nursing bruises, crying silent tears

hiding in fear of being found.

 

There were bigger girls in dark tunnels

filled with monstrous noise, scarcely breathing

for fear of what might be found.

 

There were creative muses who crashed

and nearly burned

scorched by fears unnamed.

 

There were daughters whose pain

rang loud and threatened to loosen

vital grip of precious, loving hands.

 

There were mothers, who had to face

what all mother’s fear most and

let go of children loved no less for having four legs.

 

There were voices raised with promises

to push fear aside with hope and prayer

words of genuine comfort.

 

These voices were gentler yet stronger,

kinder yet more powerful

loving and more enduring than fear.

 

They filled a sanctuary made for beautiful creations

with an authentic spirit beyond beauty

and they would not be silenced.

 

 

Harlequin Duck

And now for something completely different.

trailmarker70dpi

First a new greeting.  While I hope my readers are indeed blessed and it is always my intention to be a blessing, I have come to feel we travel this path together and so a new greeting for the trails ahead.

So fellow travelers, in times of better weather I am an amateur bird nerd.  Now I know the creative group administrators prohibition on the use of self deprecating terms such as “amateur,”  but trust me I am no expert.  I could go the route of calling myself a would-be birder, but birding is not something I would do, it is something I actually do, albeit with less precision than those who post the Bird Alerts which I subscribe to.  Hence the title of this post.

“Harlequin Duck…still at lock 6 Oswego”  6:55am  Oneida Birds.

This is the cryptic message that pops up on my email alerts. Cryptic unless one birds, which I do although generally in better weather. Another reason why I consider myself an “amateur”  because had the sender been the recipient of this alert, the Birdman of Bville, as he is known, would never let a silly thing like sub zero windchills and slick Lake Effect covered roads prevent him from dashing out to Lock 6 Oswego  to locate the harlequin duck.

birdingdeb80dpi

This began innocently enough about a decade ago when I made a spontaneous decision to go on a guided walk at a nearby nature center.  It was a chilly spring morning, a small but eager group had gathered in the community room where a naturalist gave us some simple guidelines and helpful tips for the trails we would be walking.  As we set out it was clear from the quiet conversation that most of the group were fairly knowledgeable about the birds we might encounter.  One friendly grey haired woman seemed startled at my revelation this was my first birding expedition.

Conditions were nearly perfect for birding.  It was a windless, sunny morning, the trees not yet leafed out, allowing easy viewing of any feathered denizens.  While it was easily a month before peak migration, our guide and many group members were keenly focused on searching out any FOS sightings.  (Like many pursuits, birding has its own set of acronyms;  FOS  stands for first of season.)  At various points along the trail, the group would stop and listen intently, training their binoculars in the direct of each call.  “Tree sparrows in the birch tree, about 2’oclock,” someone would whisper quietly and one by one others would quietly chime in “Got it,  about a third of the branch out from the trunk,”  “Yes, oh,  just hopped one branch down.”

I managed to sight about half of the birds before they retreated out of range. At one point we were treated to the graceful swoop of a Great Blue Heron as it arced directly overhead towards a dead tree in the nearby bog.  ” Sometimes they nest here,” my greyhaired friend  spoke so reverently,  I simply nodded respectfully.

rookery80dpi

As we headed back towards the main trail,  a clear but distant call stopped everyone in their tracks.  Binoculars scanned the trees.  The call came again and from the murmured comments it was evident this was one too tough to claim without an actual sighting. “Anyone have it yet?” our naturalist asked.  I had managed to sight a bird  in a tree although it appeared closer than the call seemed to be coming from. Having only a handful of birds I knew by sight, all I knew was it did not match any of the birds I knew and it was not one we had seen yet that morning.  “Is it the brown one in the small tree next to the birch?”  After some redirecting, several other people sighted the bird. “That’s a Northern Waterthrush!”  “You sure?”  “That’s not what we heard, but this is closer than…” and the call came again from a further distance.  No matter, the bird at hand was worth two of the distant callers.  No one turned their scopes away from my finding. A brief discussion and the team confirmed the identity.  “Great spotting,” the naturalist complimented me.  I nodded and smiled a little.  Pure chance I thought, I had never even heard of the Northern Waterthrush.

Back at the center we encountered a group of birders coming in from another trail.  As everyone exchanged notes, the other birders were clearly excited at the news of the Waterthrush sighting.  Taking careful note of its location they headed out, one of them asked “Who had the eagle eye this morning?”  ” Our new birder did,” the naturalist pointed me out. “Nice find for a first trip, keep it up.”  Suddenly I knew this first sighting would not be my last.  Far from it, within a few years I would find myself on a 24 hour adventure I had never even known was possible.  But that is the making of another post.

Northern Waterthrush

Travel well my friends and remember “if you come to a fork in the road, take it.” Peter Lawrence Berra.

What a Difference a Year Makes- conclusion

So blessed readers the story of my journey as a rescue volunteer continues.  As previously noted, rescue work is a volatile and fractured topic to write about.  Proceed with caution.

RHTtrail80dpi

No one looks back at the past with unclouded vision. While time often brings insight which helps us understand what has occurred, it also tempers our perception into selective memories.  If a dozen people recounted their story of  the rescue’s beginning years I know, with the exception of a few key details, the versions would vary a great deal.  One reason is at least for the first two years the operations were run with an opaque  style of communication.  At times, the staff and even the board members had no idea what was going on behind the scenes. It was not obvious at first, but became more evident as time went on.

This is a very common scenario when a new organization begins to outgrow it’s founders capacity to manage operations. Progressive directors reach out, delegate and create a support system which can adapt to meet the needs of the growing organization, a choice which requires trust and a willingness to relinquish control.  Easier said than done.  Frequently as organizations become more successful they reach a point where growth is so rapid it becomes overwhelming.  If those in charge cannot adapt to this growth and provide a clear sense of direction,  things spin out of control. Chaos ensues which in turn makes it even more difficult for directors to give up control. When people put their heart into creating something with a genuine desire to make a difference, meet a need and do so with their own resources, one cannot blame them for holding on. It takes faith to step back and let others in and some rescuers are better off keeping their operations small enough to manage individually. I have seen several individually operated rescues succeed because they are small self-contained systems.

coffeetom80dpi

I can see now, there were parallels in the scenarios at home and at the rescue.  While our family circumstances were not chaotic there most definitely were power struggles over control issues which impeded progress for a while.  In many ways the time I spent at the rescue was one way I could have a sense of accomplishment.  I would spend hours cleaning crates, chipping away at the mountain of nasty smelling laundry, hauling trash, scrubbing outdoor runs, washing food bowls and mopping floors. Then we’d walk dogs for hours in cold Lake Effect snow bursts, in pouring rain, in wilting humidity,  many evenings  with just a handful of walkers to walk well over forty or fifty dogs.  I would come home exhausted, throw filthy clothes into the laundry (my shelter shoes stayed quarantined in the garage) take an immediate detox shower and collapse in bed. Still, I went to sleep knowing I had made a difference if only for one day.

message80dpi

A key difference in the two situations was I sought outside help at home.  It was met with resistance at first, but became a blessing as the focus began to shift from blame and drama to each individual taking responsibility for communication and healing.  In return I was able to draw clear  boundaries which allowed me to take time at home when needed and allow for my time at the rescue.  My family came to understand the importance of  my work at the rescue as an expression of a genuine compassion necessary for my peace of mind.  It was harder to set that boundary at the rescue, but I stuck to my resolve. I got more support than negative feedback, but the negativity was at times harsh enough to leave me questioning my sanity in staying. Always there were those faces and wagging tails in the crates and pens calling me back.  I promise in good time to share some of their stories here. They deserve to be heard.

neely80dpi

The leadership help needed at the rescue just took longer to come into place and only did so after several incongruous attempts. In the meantime, I did my best to keep a flow of volunteers coming in and to provide them with simple training that focused on basic safety guidelines.  Still, I could not be at the rescue to supervise new volunteers all the time, so there were inevitable problems.  I made every effort to learn from those mistakes and improve the training each month. I kept careful records of the rate of intake and retention, trying to find ways to prevent burnout and improve the quality of interactions between the dogs and volunteers.

In the end  what matters is a good fit was found. The board has taken responsibility for all  financial and developmental decisions, setting consistent policies and providing  clear, open communications with the staff and volunteers.  In a little over a year, new leadership has brought the rescue out of disarray and into order. From time to time I encounter someone who had a critical experience during the early years. I encourage them to revisit the rescue and see how progressive change has been. The number of dogs taken in is under careful control, which allows the team to keep the rescue clean and provide good quality care. Dogs arrive off efficient transport programs, often with care bags and foster home “bios” that can help match dogs and potential adopters. The rate of return is much lower and post adoption issues are fewer.  The turn around time from arrival to adoption for the majority of the dogs is only a few weeks.  The rescue reaches out to provide more opportunities to help local dogs in need, an important goal for any successful shelter.

brunosmiles80dpi

The volunteer program has grown tremendously.  Training is more comprehensive and consists of several sessions. Volunteers have color coded lanyards which correspond to their level of training and experience.  Beginning volunteers walk dogs with easier temperaments, dogs that require a more savvy handler have color coded tags so volunteers know which dogs match their experience and training levels.  Those TLC dogs I wrote about?  the tough love cases?  They get their own team of volunteers and training is provided for both the dogs and their handlers.  Just a few days ago, an announcement was posted indicating the rescue is making the volunteer coordinators job a paid position, thanks to a generous donors funding. The future looks bright.

Even in the best run operations, not everything goes perfectly. There are always voices of criticism. From time to time a dog comes through the rescue which for a variety of reasons can not be adopted. (The concept of no-kill sheltering is vastly misunderstood, I am not going to address it now.)  Its hard on everyone, especially the staff who really put their heart on the line for the tough cases. Until more societal changes occur to address the reasons we even need shelters in the first place,  this work will test the courage and stamina of the most determined crusaders.

 I take full responsibility for the choices I made and blame no one for the consequences.  Things at home have worked out well, there is a sense we are closer for having weathered a few storms. I sense the same is true at the rescue and  I am grateful I was welcomed back after a years distance.  Oh and those faces and wagging tails are as compelling as ever.

bowser80dpi

Photo Notes: special thanks to Sarah Miraglia and Carolin Booth Murphy for allowing me to use some of their fantastic rescue dog photos. All of the dogs pictured were placed in good homes, through various local rescues.  The brown girl in the top photo is my “granddog” Coffee adopted in Philly. She’s playing with one of our former fosters, whose story I promise to write soon.  The valentines photo is a boy named Bowser who passed away from cancer while living with his foster mom.  It is of some comfort to know he was loved deeply in his final days.