Snow Globe

It snows. It stops snowing. Big, fat flakes fall from heaven. Then the snow globe stops shaking, and everything settles down. Until more feathery flakes fall.

I love snow globes. And i love Mother Nature shaking out her feather pillows with feathery snow falling gently and generously to earth.

The snow globe i live in is white and full of privilege. I have everything i need. I am safe. I am warm. I am alive!

Thank you Mother Nature.

The Tracks of Mother Nature

The melting snow shows the footsteps of Mother Nature. The bounding tracks of squirrels melted first, looking like giant footprints through the snow.

Animals are looking for food, water, and shelter, so their tracks usually tell one of those stories. These melted squirrel tracks come from the apple tree in our yard straight to our deck, where the bird feeder is.

If we could see our own invisible tracks, they would show us going from one craving, one desire to another. Refrigerator. Music. Computer. Where did i put my phone? TV. Toilet. Bed. Refrigerator.

If we could see the tracks of our minds, oh, what a merry chase they would lead us! Hopping from one mental desire to another. It can be very instructive to simply write down our stream of consciousness for a few minutes.

Rest your body. Rest your mind. Come home to the here and now.

Injured Cardinal

The day after Thanksgiving, i walked into the woodshed attached to my garage and found a female cardinal. Cardinals are very skittish, so i knew i couldn't approach her directly. I left the woodshed and went around to the side door. When i opened that, she hopped toward the garage and hopped out the open door. She didn't fly. Two of her wing feathers were sticking up.

She hopped across the driveway, toward the compost bins. I didn't see her again after she hopped into a hemlock hedge. I scattered some sunflower seeds around, but The chickadees, however, found the sunflower seeds within minutes.

Ah, well. Nature will take its own course.

I was surprised to see her again yesterday. As i was walking to the compost bin, she hopped out of some very thin cover next to the garage. Hop, hop, hop--across the driveway. She fluttered about 6 inches off the ground for 6 feet. That seemed like progress. I scattered more sunflower seeds on the ground, around the garage, the driveway, the shrubbery.

Just like the cardinal, i too am of the nature to become disabled. Whether i want to or not. Maybe she had a broken wing. Maybe i will break a bone. Maybe her wing was sprained. I too am of the nature to have sprains.

Nature takes its own course.

Coming to Peace with Nature by Dawn Downey, Guest Blogger

This year I'm coming to terms with nature. Starting right now.

Nature means trees: ticks dropping out of them, spider webs stretched between them, and snakes curled up at their roots. I dislike these things. I walk every day, but choose sidewalks and treadmills, preferences no doubt borne from my suburban upbringing.

In April, my husband and I hiked in Wallace State Park. He studied the map painted on a wooden placard and selected Rocky Ford Trail, labeled moderate. As directed, we crossed a dam and headed for the trail. Once across Ben veered right. I continued straight. "How the hell did you know to turn?"

He pointed to a spot a couple yards beyond where he'd stopped. Sure enough, a trail, but it petered out into the patch of weeds at my feet. My attempt to understand the natural world was doomed. Hopeless. Mother Nature had failed to provide me the gene that signals where to change direction in the absence of street signs.

The trail wound through oaks still naked from winter. Bone white sycamore skeletons reached skyward, as it ran parallel to a stream. We stopped where a waterfall trickled over a limestone shelf. Cardinals sang accompaniment to the gurgling creek. The music so delicate you had to hold you breath to take it in. It nourished even a room service kind of girl like me. Lesson one: listen.