Simple Moodlings \'sim-pѳl 'mϋd-ѳl-ings\ n: 1. modest meanderings of the mind about living simply and with less ecological impact; 2. "long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering" (Brenda Ueland) of the written kind; 3. spiritual odds and ends inspired by life, scripture, and the thoughts of others
Since Appreciation is my word of the year, I've decided to note things I appreciate here in my moodlings. And since music is one of the things in my life that really touches me (as if you haven't guessed that from just this past week's moodlings alone), I'm going with music appreciation Mondays, at least when I remember to or have the time.
There are a number of pieces of music vying for this Monday music appreciation spot at the moment, but I think I have to start with a classic, Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet. It was part of an Edmonton Symphony Orchestra concert shift I worked at on Friday night, and the guest conductor, Yaniv Dinur (who was quite funny), made introductory comments that helped me to understand the music better.
(Note: many symphony orchestras have struggled with whether or not to play Tchaikovsky's music given the genocide Russia is perpetrating in Ukraine right now, but there is evidence to suggest that Tchaikovsky himself was a victim of the Russian Regime of his time. For this reason, the Edmonton Symphony Orchestra has chosen to continue to play his music.)
Our conductor told us that Romeo and Juliet begins with a hymn-like theme to remind us of Shakespeare's Friar Lawrence (the go between for Romeo and Juliet), and moves to the clash (hear the swordplay?) between the Montagu and Capulet families. Then we hear one of the most famous romantic themes in classical music, followed by reminders of further clashes and a bit of funeral march before the romantic music returns, with a sadder ending, of course.
If you're buzzing about this week as I am, with many things to do, perhaps you might like to let this play in the background -- or, if you have time, plug in some headphones and let it flow through you, as symphony concerts are meant to do. (I like this BBC video for its movement between different London Symphony Orchestra musicians, and the obvious workout being put in by them and Maestro Valery Gergiev. For me it's worth watching, as I'm always fascinated by how orchestra members work together to create beauty, from tiny piccolos to tubas to tympani drums -- if only everyone in the world worked this way!)
Those who follow these moodlings know that I like to choose a word at the beginning of every year as something of a theme on which to focus as the months hurry past.
In rereading last year's moodling about my Word of the Year, I had to chuckle. I lost that thread of inspiration at about the time the dark days moved back into the light, and my friend Garth returned not long after. I did enjoy most of my Partylite candles, however!
Having reached the end of 2022 and having to go back through my moodlings to remember the word I chose last January, I had to ask myself: is there really any point to choosing a Word of the Year?
Answer: of course there is -- I just need to be more intentional about actually remembering it (though I sometimes find it challenging to remember what happened the day before yesterday, already!) And 2023's Word of the Year is one I'm determined to remember.
Ready?
APPRECIATION. That's what I want to focus on this year.
Why?
Well, because in the past year, as I've gotten more and more involved in the ministry of presence for folks in the inner city, I've seen a lot of dark stuff. It's become too easy to feel sad and angry about the fact that there are humanitarian crises across the river or down our local ravine, never mind hidden in some of the poorly-maintained rental units within walking distance of my own comfy home.
I bumped into a neighbour this morning and we got to talking about the 49,000 people struggling with core housing need in Edmonton, and when I mentioned how we need all levels of government to step up and work together to build a lot more affordable housing, she laughed and said, "yeah, right."
Housing is only one issue. I'm sure you can think of a dozen others. The problem is that it's just too easy to get cynical when faced with so many challenges and the seeming lack of political will to solve problems. I feel that cynicism in myself, too. So that's why I decided to focus on Appreciation (many thanks to my friend Jim for his New Year's reflection).
And just in the nick of time, too. This morning when we arrived downtown to hand out socks, gloves and other winterwear, this is what greeted us.
They had come to dismantle the tarp/tent homes of people in the neighbourhood. Quinn (standing on the corner, shaking his head) captured it well when he said, "This is too crazy. They take it down now, and tonight it will be back because these people have nowhere else to go." People were dragging their belongings out of their shelters and piling them up wherever they could, just waiting for the cops and workers to "clean up" and leave.
There's nothing like destabilizing the only stability people have had for the last couple of weeks in this chilly winter weather.
But we've seen this many times, and because we couldn't do anything about the inhumanity of the situation (other than being active members of the Edmonton Coalition on Housing and Homelessness and standing witness as the team from Inner City Pastoral Ministry), we focused on the people who came to our little table for the winterwear donations given to us by kind and generous people -- and we also witnessed the kindness and generosity of community members to each other even as their homes were being taken apart.
One fellow sat amid his pile of belongings on an ancient blanket-covered chair, cracking jokes (to lift peoples' spirits?) He pulled a rubber band out of a garbage bag and announced that he'd found ten thousand dollars in it, then asked a passer-by, "Would you like this rubber band that held all that money?" He was non-stop with his wisecracks.
One young woman came to our necessities table and asked for ladies' briefs, quietly telling me that she was having her "lady time." I dug around under the mens' socks and found the last two for her. She was tucking them into her pocket as another girl arrived, saying, "I'd really like a fresh pair of underwear if you have it." I told her she'd just missed the last two, but of course, the young woman who had just received them dug into her pocket and gave one to the girl who'd asked. Just like that.
People look out for each other all the time, and I appreciate that. Sometimes I even remember to say so.
But not as often as I should.
So my 2023 Word of the Year is chosen to remind me to voice my appreciation in situations where I find myself marveling at the beauty, goodness and truth of this world, and the kindness and goodness of human beings. Especially those who receive more complaints than pats on the back, those who are often overlooked.
And I need not only to voice appreciation, but to properly appreciate. To really look at, listen to, smell, taste, touch and reflect upon life rather than just letting it pass me by. And to do things to show my appreciation, to make others aware of things, creation, and people worth appreciating whenever possible.
This morning at the Community of Emmanuel, Pastor Jim shared a beautiful prayer that he wrote, and I asked him if I could share it here. Gracious fellow that he is, he agreed.
God of all times and places and beings,
as a new year begins,
keep us aware of the road we are called to walk,
a road where we
welcome outcasts and refugees,
heal a broken planet,
feed the hungry,
build bridges of trust, not walls of fear,
share our gifts,
seek justice and peace for all people,
and bring Christ's light to the world.
+Amen.
-- Jim Gurnett
His sermon this morning, about the road we walk starting in this new year, used the word WALK as an acronym for how we can move through the year in God's presence. I loved this idea, and am sure he won't mind me sharing it as well:
W -- we walk in Wonder
A -- we walk in Appreciation
L -- we walk knowing that we are Linked to all other beings, and
K -- we walk giving Kindness wherever we can along the way.
My prayer is that we all walk through the year 2023 in this good way!
I was a teacher once, many years ago, but turned those skills toward parenting my own kids, and somehow never got back to the classroom. I have the deepest respect for teachers, especially in these build-the-plane-as-you-fly-it days of covid. Teachers are miracle workers who deserve our undying appreciation as they inspire and guide our young people to be whole, and hopefully, happy and healthy members of our society. It's a tall, tall order to do what they do!
A first year teacher (me) and some of her students
So here's an exercise to mark World Teacher's Day, which was established in 1994 to commemorate the signing of an important Recommendation Concerning the Status of Teachers by the United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) and the UN International Labour Organization -- fifty-five years ago today.
The exercise is simple but challenging. Name the significant teachers in your life, people who have taught you, people who have taught important people in your life (I've included some of my colleagues and my kids' teachers, too). I'm sure I've missed quite a few, and it was definitely challenging to remember some of their first names, but here are the ones I am thinking of today:
Lillian Howrish, Alida Janzen, Violet Hansen, Florence Carson, Aline Collins, Gloria Vilbrunt, Robert Motut, Julian Usyk, Rick Lemieux, Ken Donnelly, Collin Collister, Bob Chorney, Diane Washuta, Heather Bedford-Clooney, Palma Covelli, Lorraine Gallant, Karen Douziech, Fr. Fee Otterson, Gary Kozens, Lee Vilbrunt, George Stepney, George Fortier, Gina Charbonneau, Glen Kirkland, David Leigh, Dr. Eileen Conway, Fr. David Louch, Dr. Walter Moser, Fr. Tim Scott, Dr. Olenka Bilash, Dr. Barbara DeLuna, Ingrid Zukiwsky, Dr. Bob Ware, Dr. Ron Stephens, Arthur Szynkowski, Pat Dusyk, Kathy Dekker, Michael Marien, Shirley Marien, Pat Turner, Monique Gratrix, Maria Lentz, Sr. Teresita Kambeitz, Shirleyan Threndal, Fr. Dave Norman, Lucille Lewans-Rezac, Fr. Ron Rolheiser, Louise Potvin, Fr. Don MacDonald, Fr. Paul Fachet, Bishop Gerry Wiesner, Ruthie Wasylenko, Gilles Denis, Michelle Widynowski, Priscille Jong, Janice Barton, Margaret Bujold, Richard Beaudoin, Michelle Dupuis, Karen Koester, Moira Hecker, Dr. Tracy Bear, and last but definitely not least, Jeanine, my dear sister.
How many can you name from your life?
Heartfelt gratitude to all teachers today! They deserve it, now more than ever.
If you are able to express your appreciation to a teacher in person or online, go for it!
Here's what my greenhouse looks like on this rainy Monday afternoon. I've run out of space to plant anything else indoors, so I'm glad that it will soon be time to move all these plants outside...
Once again, I have more tomato plants than I can grow.
Want some?
Dahlias are up in the pots against the window,
and squashes that I might get to plant in my friend Lidia's garden.
The peppers started blooming this weekend!
Tomatoes won't be far behind.
And the petunias are ready for flower beds.
Lavatera, marigolds, clarkia and snapdragons are up, too.
But what makes me happiest is how the garden has reacted
to the 3 cm of rain we received in the last 24 hours.
It's still early in this time of Covid-19, and things will get worse before they get better. But I have to say that, so far, I'm really impressed with the many creative ways that people are coping with this crisis. Besides being invited to socially-distanced walks with neighbours, I've been on the receiving end of several other fun initiatives to keep spirits up... mostly online: games of Trivial Pursuit and dice (I won 40 cents that will never be collected!), a yoga class, meditative evening prayer from Taizé, and a wine and cheese phone call with a high school chum.
But the most amazing thing so far was a re-connection with a large group of friends, many of whom I haven't seen in over 30 years. I traveled for a year as as a student member of an Up With People cast of 130+ people in a musical, educational and cultural program which focused on peace, love and friendship among nations. We performed in the U.S., Canada, and more than a half-dozen countries in Europe, while participating in community involvement activities at schools, senior centres, and social agencies. Living with a large group like that, I made a few lifelong friends, but keeping up with everyone was impossible. Back in the 80's, all we had was snail mail, and long distance phone calls were pricey, especially overseas!
But communication now is another story altogether. On Saturday morning, my friend Allie, who subscribes to an online conferencing service, invited as many castmates as she could to join her in an online video gathering. By the end of the meeting, 2 screens worth of about 40 friends from 7 different countries connected (some for over 4 hours). Everyone agreed that it was pretty great to see people we hadn't seen since we did our final show at the Capitol Building in Washington D.C. on July 4, 1988. At first, our online gathering was chaos, everyone trying to get a word in edgewise, but then Andrew decided we should all take turns updating each other about our lives, and that worked really well. Our lives have taken many twists and turns, and it seems we're all in different stages of self-isolation because of the corona virus, but are finding all sorts of different ways to stay connected with the people we love.
If the human race learns anything from this pandemic, I hope it's a deeper appreciation of the things we've been taking for granted, and that who we are and how we love one another is what's most important.
Here's a beautiful little video about how one poet sees that the coronavirus is helping us to reframe our lives... Thanks, Nora, for sharing it with me! Be well, all...
You open our graves,
O God,
though we don't realize
the many ways we have died.
You bring us up from our graves,
and we begin to see
how we have exiled ourselves
from the good you want
for us.
Suddenly
we begin to understand
how we have chosen
other spirits to lead us
instead of your Spirit
within us.
Our lives have been filled
with non-necessities:
self-importance,
busy work so that we can impress others
by our useful lifestyles,
needless activities and possessions,
and many other things
that ultimately do not matter.
But you choose this time
to put your Spirit within us
and to ground us
in the needful things:
compassion,
connection
(from the appropriate social distance)
and appreciation of basic necessities and
all that we have received from you.
You promise that
your Spirit
gives us life,
and that even in this time of struggle
you speak and act
through our love for each other.
Stay with us,
O God,
and keep us grounded
in you.
+Amen
* * * * * * *
I love how on this Lazarus Sunday, the fifth Sunday of Lent, we are told the story of Jesus' interactions with his three friends from Bethany at a time when they are in crisis... how he grieves with Mary and Martha, and turns their sorrow to joy by returning their brother to them.
In this time of Covid-19, we may be feeling like so much of what we have known and loved has been laid in a tomb, but we are called to keep the faith that resurrection will come. We are to continue to support each other in whatever ways we can (don't forget your local farmer's markets and other small businesses), and to share our resources with those who are coming up short (also remember our charities who are helping many in need).
In spite of all the uncertainties we are facing, I can't help but feel that with this opportunity to re-prioritize our lives, moving from the non-necessities to the needful things, we are learning to live as God has wanted us to live all along, in a greater communion with each other and all of creation.
* * * * * * *
I'm taking a bit of a break from Laudato Si Sunday reflections for the time being, but encourage anyone who has some time to read through it and come to an understanding of the kind of world we might create when we emerge on the other side of this pandemic. Past Laudato Si reflections can be found here, and the Encyclical itself can be found here. Happy reading!
I love this time of year, when the garden is just planted, and evertyhing looks so orderly. We've just had a good rain, so give it a week, and the zillions of elm seeds and other weeds will begin to appear. For now, though, I'm enjoying the tidiness of plants coming through the soil, and the sense of potential at the beginning of "the wet garden, sprung in completeness where God's feet pass," as Eleanor Farjeon says in her song, Morning Has Broken.
We do not make ourselves,
and everything we create
is invented from the materials
that you provide.
So really,
nothing belongs "to Caesar" --
everything is yours.
That's not to say
that we shouldn't pay taxes
that help to support our social structures
and the lives of those less fortunate.
It's just to say
that we need to remember
that you are the Source of All Being,
and to hold in reverence
all that is,
all that you are.
You are present in the tiniest amoeba
and the largest whale.
You live in the forests
and in the hearts of people
with a different world view than our own.
So when you ask us to
"Give therefore to Caesar
the things that are Caesar's,
and to God the things that are God's,"
I hear your invitation
to cooperate with you
in caring for your creation.
Help me to be always aware
of the ways I can improve
in my collaboration
with all the other creatures
who come from stardust.
Maybe there are guys or gals like him in your neighbourhood, too. You know, the ones who might be recently retired, and who also recently remembered the leaf blower/snow blower that hasn't seen enough use. And hey, now that they're retired, they have time to go out and clear those sidewalks of every last bit of snow, even as it's falling... and they seem to enjoy doing it!
I'll be the first to admit that it hasn't been our snowiest winter on record. I'm actually a bit worried about a dry spring. Even so, we've been happily watching our super snow blower man lately because not only are his own sidewalks completely clear of snow and ice, but he's been out with every dusting of snow, blowing off everyone else's walks, too. He clears his own driveway, the walks of his blind neighbour, and the newly widowed elderly lady who lives the next door down -- and then he keeps on going. On Saturday, when the snow was deepest, he blew a path down the middle of the sidewalks all the way around our little area park (past about twenty homes), and our neighbour, thinking the snow blower was done, cleaned up the edges in front of our two homes. That's when super snow blower guy came by a second time and obliterated the thin skiff that the shovel couldn't get! I guess his machine had more juice than he thought, and he just kept on going, leaving not a stitch of snow behind.
Several times of late, seeing and hearing him coming, I stood at the front window to wave my thanks, but he's a heads-down, hard-working super snow blower guy who is so focused on his work that he never looks up to see my gratitude (or maybe the snow gets in his eyes). So I stuck my head out the front door, but he was already moving on, the noise of the machine preventing my voice from reaching his ears. Of course, I know where my snow blower super hero lives, and I vow to leave him some of this year's first batch of fresh backyard berry jam when the time comes...
Here's to the super snow blower people, the neighbours who clear other people's walks, or brush off their cars, or pick up litter, or perform nearly unnoticed acts of kindness just because they can. You know who you are, and you deserve better than berry jam. Thanks for all you do!
We're so lucky here in Edmonton to have a river valley with parks full of trees... and I have my favourites. These days, it's the tamarack, a golden-needled beauty that's keeping the fall colour going a few weeks longer.
Tamaracks are deciduous conifers, meaning that they reproduce through seed cones and drop their needles every autumn. I didn't know that one tree could fit both categories! But tamaracks start out with fresh green which becomes a blue green, then gold, and finally you find golden needles all over the ground. The really lovely thing is that the needles are soft, not prickly like many of our pines and spruces, so Shadow-pup can run around under the trees and not end up limping. He also enjoys the chickadees that feed on the seed cones during the winter.
We have several gorgeous tamaracks in one of our favourite river valley parks, and I've been watching their colour come and go over the last weeks. It won't be with us much longer, so I'm enjoying while I can... until the pale green returns next spring. It's nice to see a bit of gold on an overcast day, don't you think?
Today is World Water Day, and I'm glad, because the lowly substance is so under appreciated. We tend to take it for granted, and rarely imagine what life would be like without it.
Imagine...
not being able to bathe
wearing dirty clothing more often than not
trying to cook without it,
or always having to boil out impurities
walking miles to get some
drought blasted foliage and dying crops
outhouses
thirst and hunger
no swimming
dry creek and river beds
...and realize that around the world (including Canada) we are reaching towards a billion people lacking access to clean water, and there are many places in drought conditions because of climate change. I've mentioned it before, but there are many First Nations reserves in Canada that are constantly under boil water orders, which is shameful for a country as wealthy as ours.
Appreciating our own water is just a first step in the right direction, followed by awareness of water's value in our lives, the desire to conserve it, and the insistence that everyone should have access to clean water. Activism for the basic human right to drinkable water isn't far from any of that. It doesn't take much to join the Council of Canadians' #Pledge2Protect our water, and we are all capable of shunning the little plastic bottles filled with something that, as a human right, should be free for all but is making a killing for large corporations.
People in Cascade Locks have had to organize to protect their water from being exploited. Less is demanded of us, but we can stand in solidarity by drinking our own tap water (which is usually healthier than stuff that is bottled in plastic for long periods) and taking our own water from home with us in reusable water containers instead of supporting big bottling companies. Other people in other parts of the world are not so fortunate.
Today, let's appreciate our water and remember and help those less fortunate by doing what we can.
Especially when the sun is setting, which is around 4:25 pm these days in Edmonton. Here are a few pics from a stroll around the Highlands Golf Course and along Ada Boulevard...
Lee and Shadow wait for me to catch up...
A shiny golden ball...
that turns seed pods golden too...
the setting sun...
Magrath's Mansion is still impressive
(a young lady we know held her marriage celebrations
This weekend is Thanksgiving (in Canada), and it strikes me once again that our global climate crises all stem from the fact that human beings have forgotten how to appreciate and be thankful for the many, many blessings we receive from God, who created our sister, Mother Earth. Unfortunately, in our forgetfulness, we act as though we are the masters of the universe, and imagine that we are entitled to more than our earth can logically provide to each person on the planet. Most of earth's ills can be traced back to greed...
This week's reading of paragraphs 60-64 of Laudato Si: On Care for our Common Home (click here to access it)is a wrap up of Chapter One, What is Happening to Our Common Home, and a brief introduction to Chapter Two, The Gospel of Creation.
Paragraph 60 points out two extremes of opinions regarding how to deal with the ecological problems our earth is facing, one being the myth that progress and technology will solve all our problems, and the other the idea that human presence, impact and intervention on earth needs to end. Of course, the answers lie somewhere in between. The trick to living well is always finding the right balance, the place of sufficiency rather than too much or too little.
Now that we've made it through Chapter One, we can see the many ways that "our common home is falling into serious disrepair" (paragraph 61) and some may wonder why the Church thinks it has anything to say about these matters. Looking at all these ecological and social problems, Pope Francis explains that perhaps it is necessary to call out to a faith community that understands the importance of hope in finding the way out, redirecting our steps, and solving our problems before we reach the breaking point.
Clearly, our present way of life is unsustainable because human beings have substituted the artificial goals of our markets and consumerism for our true values of relationship and community. 'Having more' has often been mistaken for 'being more,' but if we want to live well on our finite planet, a return to our true values is critically important. If I'm reading the world correctly, more and more of us are attempting to simplify our lifestyles in an attempt to slow "the rapid pace of change and degradation" simply because the breaking point is a scary place to live!
I was hoping, when I read the title of Chapter Two, The Gospel of Creation, that there would be a little explanation of the word 'gospel.' Many people don't realize that it simply means, 'good news.' I think this is significant, because in paragraph 62, the idea that "science and religion can enter into an intense dialogue fruitful for both" is mentioned. Science's logical approach when combined with religion's faith-based hope in good news has more of an opportunity to 'make things right' than either could alone. It's kind of like my own relationship with my husband. He's the engineer, the scientist, the logician who works with his head, and I am the elementary school teacher, the facilitator, dealing in gut practicalities. Together, we're an excellent team, if I do say so myself, because we bring different gifts and talents to bear on our marriage's challenges. Likewise, science and religion can find balanced solutions to earth's problems by working together, science's thought processes with religion's belief in the good.
Pope Francis is insistent when he says that we need more than one way of looking at the complexities of our ecological crises -- "no branch of sciences and no form of wisdom can be left out, and that includes religion and the language particular to it. The Catholic Church is open to dialogue with philosophical thought; this has enabled her to produce various syntheses between faith and reason. The development of the Church's social teaching represents such a synthesis with regard to social issues; this teaching is called to be enriched by taking up new challenges" (paragraph 63).
Huh? The Church's social teaching? If you're like me, you may or may not have heard about it, and could use a little more explanation, so I looked it up. The Canadian Catholic Organization for Development and Peace has a wonderful webpage that lists ten principles of Church social teaching and gives examples of how they are being applied. Take a few moments to check them out -- they have so much to say about how our world should and could work.
My one wish in regard to the principles is that the Church had worded them a little differently, so that every one of them would be applicable not only to human life, but also to the life of all God's creatures, all of creation. Where possible, our focus on humanity's needs should not preclude the lives of other living beings in God's creation, but sometimes, the way we talk, it's as though human life is far more important than any other life on our planet -- and the reality is that we are only one part of a huge web of life that is dependent on creatures living together in harmony. We need to stop thinking of ourselves as the most important beings on earth and give some thought to the possibility that God might love the whales or the lady bugs just as much as God loves me. We don't really know, do we?
Faith is supposed to shed light in dark places (remember my one little candle from a few weeks ago?), and Laudato Si reminds us that faith convictions can offer Christians and other believers "ample motivation to care for nature and for the most vulnerable of [our] brothers and sisters" (paragraph 64). In his message for the 1990 Day of World Peace, St. Pope John Paul II spoke of how Christians "realize that [our] responsibility within creation, and [our] duty toward nature and the Creator are an essential part of [our] faith." When our faith moves us to act responsibly, there is always hope.
And when we remember that all of creation is a gift into which we have been born, there is always gratitude, which prevents us from taking things for granted. Perhaps that's the thing to hold onto this Canadian Thanksgiving, and to remember to celebrate gratefully, without overdoing it. I suspect that the best way to show our thanks to God for all our blessings is to use them wisely, and too much turkey is never wise (especially for turkeys!) The value in our celebration is not in our table decorations or fancy desserts -- it's in our appreciation of the flavours and the friendships that bring us enjoyment.
For what are you most thankful this Thanksgiving? And what's one thing you can do to show that gratitude to our hurting world?
I know I've posted the video below more than once, but to me, it's a gorgeous reminder of our many blessings. Have a blessed, greed-free, grateful Thanksgiving!
*******
A prayer for our earth
All-powerful God, you are present in the whole universe
and in the smallest of your creatures.
You embrace with your tenderness all that exists.
Pour out upon us the power of your love,
that we may protect life and beauty.
Fill us with peace, that we may live
as brothers and sisters, harming no one.
O God of the poor,
help us to rescue the abandoned and forgotten of this earth,
so precious in your eyes.
Bring healing to our lives,
that we may protect the world and not prey on it,
that we may sow beauty, not pollution and destruction.
Touch the hearts
of those who look only for gain
at the expense of the poor and the earth.
Teach us to discover the worth of each thing,
to be filled with awe and contemplation,
to recognize that we are profoundly united
with every creature
as we journey towards your infinite light.
We thank you for being with us each day.
Encourage us, we pray, in our struggle
for justice, love and peace.
It was too hot last week to spend a lot of time out in our gardens, but we had a nice rain on Sunday, and things have cooled down. So today and tomorrow I'll be tackling weeds, turning compost, and finding the rock garden rocks that have sunk into the soil. Lots to do. Wonder if I can convince my teenager to help me? Could be tricky as she has a slew of new library books to read.
Anyway, here are a few pics:
Here's the funky sea holly that didn't do anything last summer,
but is making up for it now. Maybe it prefers dry weather?
Gaillardia, zinnias, delphiniums
and our birdbath hanging in the Russian Olive tree.
The yellow lilies are so showy!
And the orange ones are holding their own, too.
There are smatterings of colour all over the front yard,
at least until the lilies finish.
Sweet peas are my absolute favourite.
In the vegetable garden, things are taking off, too.
Here are Landon and Christina's 2000-year-old squash.
Last night, my eldest daughter and I went to see The Magic Flute, a beautiful production of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's famous work mounted by Edmonton Opera. It was a delight in so many ways... but mainly for the amazement it offers as incredible music written by a composer that pushed the boundaries of music in his day. He was probably the Elvis of his era, the guy who revolutionized the European music scene of the time.
I love opera, though I'll admit to having my moments in every show where I just wish they'd stop singing the same words over and over. The trick then is to stop listening to the words at that point, and pay attention to the music. What are those violins doing? Listen to how that flute underlines the heroine's sadness. Pay attention to how the clarinets' and oboes' melodies intertwine. But don't close your eyes too long, or you might just drift away...
The Magic Flute was my Christmas present from Christina, and a perfect gift it was, holding many moments of amazement and amusement. Sure, the story is silly in spots, but that's Mozart's lightheartedness coming through -- and the God of life certainly didn't create all doom and gloom, so why should Mozart?
Here's a lovely bit -- the duet of birdcatcher Papageno and his little wife Papagena at the end of the opera. I love their little "papping" bit at the beginning, the silliness of them singing about their soon-to-be family of "kinderlein" all named Papageno and Papagena after themselves -- and the expressions on these faces are just wonderful. Enjoy!
These last few weeks of autumn, during the season when "every leaf is a flower," as noted by Camus, my walks with Shadow pup have been just glorious. The many tree-canopied streets we stroll fill my eyes with sun-flecked greens and golds that are too much to take in from the sidewalks. So I decided to abandon the sidewalks and walk down the middle of the residential roads (moving out of the way if cars come, of course). And I've discovered that my canopied perspective from the middle of the street is better. See what I mean?
As Shadow and I walked under the trees, I started thinking about how important it is to broaden our perspectives whenever possible. Human beings are not meant to be static. When we always do things and see things in the same way, we miss out on a lot of living.
A few weeks ago, my cousin reminded me of this again. She invited me to go with her to our local mosque's open house on "Islam and Non-violence." With all the stories about the extremist Islamic State in the news, the event was timely! Unfortunately, I had a prior commitment and missed out, but she and her parents went and really enjoyed learning about our Muslim brothers and sisters and their beliefs. She commented that it was "very informative and refreshing to hear that Islam is also peaceful" (its name is actually derived from the Arabic word for peace) -- it's mainly the ISIS/ISIL extremists who have twisted the meaning of the Quran's teachings. I hope the local mosque will have another open house soon, as I plan to attend the next one with my cousin.
That's just one example. Sometimes widening our perspective can be as simple as rearranging a routine or doing something differently. I could try brushing my teeth with my left hand rather than my right, or make a different choice for breakfast. Take a different route to work, or listen to another radio station/read an alternative news feed. Try on a new point of view. Imagine walking a mile in the moccasins of someone whose life is completely different. The possibilities are endless! The idea is that by changing things up, we widen our appreciation of the life we've been given and gain insight into the perspectives of others not like us -- and teach our "old dog" a "new trick" or two in the process.
How will you expand your horizons today?
P.S. Looking for more Simple Suggestions? Click here.
Shadow-dog and I are just back from a frosty walk, and it's a gorgeous day out there. Not temperature-wise if you're used to tropical climes, but beauty-wise. Yesterday we had a gentle snowfall that covered everything in diamonds of the best kind. They don't have to be mined or cut -- they just appear out of nowhere and make life glitter for a time without costing the earth a cent.
Life is full of diamonds -- ever notice? A friend of mine started this moodling in my mind by commenting on the Aurora Borealis (the prettier name for the Northern Lights) that were out early this morning when she was walking her dog. An Olympic gold for the Canadian women's curling team was another sparkling start to the day, and the story of a student basketball team manager with Down Syndrome given an honorary 2-day contract with the Philadelphia 76ers was another little diamond I found online. (Click here to see it.)
The walk Shadow and I took on a very pretty winter day is a diamond in itself, as were the flocks of waxwings swirling in the skies above us. When we got home, the sight of the snow blocks cut out of my garden during my youngest daughter's fort making plans (that didn't quite reach fruition) made me smile. They look so pretty in the sun. The dog has a great time romping around them.
And said dog is another crazy little diamond that I managed to catch on camera, splashing through the snow diamonds and chasing his tail (I love how he always growls at it as he circles). In case you haven't guessed, anything that makes a person happy and makes life shine a little more than usual qualifies as a diamond in my books.
Where are your day's diamonds? Being aware of them is just one way to have a diamond of a day!
Bees are among my favourite creatures. It's taken me most of my life to be able to say that, as, when I was young, a small boy at a campground where we were staying somehow got into a hornet's nest or a wild bee colony, and the sound of his screams still echoes in my memory. I was afraid of anything that buzzed for a long time... until I had children of my own and determined that they would not carry their mother's phobias.
So from the time they were little, I taught my girls to watch bees, and listen for them as they visited the poppies in our yard. I often find one daughter or another paying rapt attention to a little fuzzy black and yellow insect as it finds its way in and out of flowers, collecting nectar and sharing pollen around. The girls aren't afraid, but they do respect bees, especially since Julia was stung once. She was perhaps five, and came screaming into the house, showing me where it hurt. Uncertain what to do, I called my mom, who reminded me of an email that had been making the rounds, saying, "Put a copper penny on a bee sting." So I did, and within minutes, the welt was gone and Julia was back to her happy little self. So there's something to file away in your first aid folder!
This month, the David Suzuki Foundation has a 30x30 Challenge campaign on, encouraging people to get out into nature for at least 30 minutes each day in June. Spending time in nature has been proven beneficial to our physical, mental and emotional health... and I think listening for bees fits right in there, too. Bees are quiet and unobtrusive, and nature wouldn't manage nearly so well without them. They carry lessons for us, too. In particular, I'm thinking of the one in Mary Poppins' song Just a Spoonful of Sugar Helps the Medicine Go Down:
The honey bees that fetch the nectar from the flowers to the comb
never tire of ever buzzing to and fro,
because they take a little nip from every flower that they sip
and hence, they find their task is not a grind.
So today's suggestion is to find a field of dandelions, or a patch of blooming chives like I did, and sit still and pay attention to the bees as they humbly go about their work. Their short wings and fuzzy back ends make them seem like little bumbling clowns, and their happy hum while I was taking pictures has made a rather grey day into one that seems a little sunnier, somehow. They do so much, and thanklessly, that they deserve a little appreciation... and we all feel better when we take a nature break. Guaranteed!
