Just the other day I was so excited telling John that Mr. Squirrel, a.k.a, Hank, finally found the new feeder I put out for him that holds a cob of corn. It took him awhile and that first cob sat there for about two weeks. But then one morning I got up and noticed not one speck of corn was left on the cob!
Of course, Mr. Chipmunk seems to love it too, as I’ve witnessed them scurrying down the birch limbs I have leaning up against my cottage as decorations. In my excitement sharing this with John, he smiled and said, “My rodent loving wife.”
Yup, I guess that’s me. I love critters. And many of my friends reside in low places, just like this sweet little bunny that was mindfully munching away.
On any given day I can be perched in my writing cottage, working away, and take a moment to look outside my windows to discover a friend or two is nearby.
It’s comforting to me. While I love time alone, I don’t feel alone. And while I adore the people friends I have, I must say a girl sometimes just needs those friends who have no advice to give or any troubles to share.
Aren’t animals and nature grand? Thank you Mother Earth!
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Perhaps it was because I woke with a sinus headache, fed the dogs and went back to bed this morning, which isn’t like me to do. But I honored what I felt I needed.
An hour later I was feeling much better and knew today was the day I would stop procrastinating and get the back cover text written for my book coming out this fall, Wisdom Found in the Pause – Joie’s Gift.
I planted my butt firmly in my writing chair and vowed to not leave it until I’d gotten a draft written. After three hours and may re-writes I was happy with what I’d written so off to my editor it went. Will see what she has to say.
One thing I have to remind myself to do is to take breaks and give myself small rewards for tasks accomplished. So being a beautiful day – suspended between summer and a hint of fall, I set out with Gidget in her stroller, for a walk around town.
As I walked through the senior assisted community complex, I noticed the sweetest, small leaf on the ground. When I looked up, I noted the tree is beginning to change.
I enjoy savoring every bit of fall and decided to be on the lookout to create an altar from things found on my walk to place in my writing cottage when I got home.
Small pine cones, two goose feathers, a stone, snippets of wheat grass, a yellow coneflower and two maple leaves were the items I collected as I walked. Along with my collecting bits of nature on my path I paused to also take photos of things that made me smile. Little did I know it was going to lead me to remembering…
…and then I remembered…when I saw this wooden sign in a downtown retail shop…
Today is three years since Joie passed away…and with it she left me the gift of what I would learn over the last three years…that pausing often in ones life is essential to well being…that the journey and purpose of life is to be happy.
I couldn’t help but feel a sweet joy well up inside me for the spiritual signposts I was rewarded with today. When I got home, I created the altar with a photo of Joie beside it, and have a battery operated candle lit in her memory.
And I’m reminded once again of the divine timing of her life with me…the gifts of transition…and the timing of the book I’ve written about her due out this fall…and trusting in what one can’t always see until it is time.
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From the tip of his tail to the end of his button nose he could fit perfectly in a pocket. When curled up and eyes closed he looked like a black, round puff ball. So tiny was he as a kitten that we started calling him twitty kitty.
Then there was the other tail attached to a soft body of two colors, black spots among a sea of buckwheat and so it became his name— Buckwheat. A young pup mix of German Shepherd and Collie he was the dog my future husband, John brought home to a little white farmhouse in the country.
Soon to join this duo was the black ball of fur who officially became Conway. You see, he had to have a more dignified name than twitty kitty.
This sweet trio, all of whom had the key to my heart, lived together in the small farmhouse while I finished my last year of technical college. I lived nearby in an apartment with my mom and sister. The plan was for me to join John at the farmhouse in about a year once we were married.
But it didn’t stop me from taking part in decorating my soon-to-be little home for Christmas that first year. A fresh cut tree was a must and all the trimmings. John having enjoyed model trains growing up, set up part of his train underneath the tree.
Using extra leaves from the dining room table, placed under the tree, he assembled the railroad track on them. It wasn’t long before I heard the train chugging its way around the base of the tree —almost like a Norman Rockwell scene.
But you see, when you are young, you don’t always think things through and we hadn’t bothered to consult with the book of 101 lessons for puppies and kitties.
It was a bitterly cold Christmas Eve that first year in the farmhouse. John had to work late delivering fuel oil so no one would be without heat on Christmas day. I impatiently waited for him at the apartment, all dressed up in my holiday best, hoping we wouldn’t be late for church.
Our first home
It was an hour before church when he finally swung by the apartment, honking the horn. I ran out and hopped in the car for the short jaunt out to the farmhouse. He would have to shower and dress quickly, but we could still make it to the holiday service on time.
But what to our wondering eyes did we see when we walked in the back door? No, not eight tiny reindeer and St. Nick like the fairy tale depicts.
Garbage was flung in every direction all over the kitchen floor and into the dining room with streaks of oh-my-gosh, what in the world is this green stuff!? It was here, there, and everywhere. And oh, the smell! Mingled in-between green gobs of who knew what, and garbage, was shredded Christmas wrapping paper.
I was afraid to look in the living room. But by now, instead of lying my finger aside my nose, like yup, St. Nick does in that oh-so-lovely tale, I was plugging my nose from the stench that seemed to be growing stronger by the minute.
Peeking around the corner, my Norman Rockwell scene looked like a tornado had went through. The tree was half-cocked and almost appeared to be swaying a bit. Shattered pieces of, green, gold, red, and silver lay on the train tracks, the train tipped on it’s side, and some rail cars strewn about.
Almost in tears, looking at the tree again, was it my imagination or was the tree really moving? Upon closer inspection I was met by two beady black eyes starring right into mine from the center where Conway had most comfortably perched himself. For a long winters nap, perhaps?
But “Oh no, kitties do not belong in trees,” I said in a stern voice as I pulled him from his perch and plunked him on the living room floor.
There really was no time to clean up the mess, except the green, runny, seriously, what is it? had to be dealt with before we left.
Still wondering what it could be I grabbed a bucket of hot water and rags, while John gathered up the garbage strewn about. Buckwheat sat nearby not quite himself, head hanging low, calmer than usual, when John spotted the culprit thus solving the mystery of the ghastly green, smelly, goop!
Packets of green taco sauce not used from a take-out-dinner brought home from a local Mexican restaurant chain had found their way into one said young pups tummy – where as we all know, can’t stay there for long!
My frustration waned and my heart grew ten times its size in that moment realizing that poor little Buckwheat must have had quite the fright as the green monster of dread began to rumble in his stomach and then made a mad, explosive dash to exist his back end.
While I heard church bells playing in the distant, and the lawn outside the little farmhouse was covered in fresh, pretty white snow, it’s the green Christmas inside that I would never forget!
