Hawk Watching

 A hawk perches on a tree overlooking our bird feeders. The little birds come and go--chickadees, nuthatches, titmice, woodpeckers. A few bold ones flit in the same tree the hawk sits in.

Finally, we hear a thud on the deck. The little birds carry on eating at the bird feeder as if nothing has happened.

When death strikes an acquaintance, we carry on in our own lives, going about our business.

This morning Death was perched in a tree. Some flitted around it. Death strikes. Life goes on.

Handicapped Black Cap Chickadee

A chickadee with a useless leg visits our bird feeder. A couple of days ago, i was happy to see her, all alone, nestled on the deck railing pecking sunflower seeds. A handicapped bird is unlikely to live very long.

She flies funny. She does a lot of flapping as she comes in for a landing. Will she be able to gather enough food to sustain herself?  She uses a lot of extra calories with all that extra flapping.

Since there's nothing i can do, i have to let Nature take its course. I have to accept life as it is, even if it means this particular chickadee's life is short.

According to my Advance Directives, i'm all in favor of letting Nature take its course.But it’s hard to watch how Nature is treating this little bird.

I offer what i can to this sweet little chickadee.

Blood on the Deck

Right below the bird feeder, i found drops of blood on the deck. My mind rushes to fill in the story, which i will never know. Let me guess. Someone died. Someone else ate dinner and survives to hunt another day.

Death is certain. The time of death is uncertain.

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.

Time to Put Out the Bird Feeder

 Six inches of snow today make it official: It's time to put out the bird feeders!

The bears are supposed to be asleep in their dens.

Doesn't it feel good when your bear of a problem goes into hibernation?

The birds of joy have been there all along, but the mind has been so focused on threats to the self that the negativity bias rehashes that same old problem.

Feed the birds. Feed your joy.

Hanging by Her Fingernails

This morning, i looked out the kitchen window to see a big, fat gray squirrel squirming on the squirrel-proof bird feeder. Aha! i thought. I'm going to give that squirrel a good scare.

I quietly opened the door, but the squirrel didn't run away. I walked right up to the bird feeder, and still the squirrel squirmed--and cried. Then i saw that it had one finger caught in the bird feeder. Every time she moved, her finger caused her more pain.

I got a screwdriver and put on leather work gloves. I faced the squirrel who quieted down and stared at me. Was she ready to meet her Maker? Or could she feel my good intentions? I pried the feeding gate off the bird feeder. Still, the squirrel was stuck, hanging by one fingernail.

I peered more closely to see the cause of the problem. Then, suddenly, she was free, and she bounded off.

We too are caught in the pain of stress and distress. We try to think our way through our problem, get caught in the story, and only cause ourselves more distress.

Even when we have the tool for our release close at hand, our little hands are still grasping for something we desire.

Then we drop the desire and are free. Free to live our own wild and precious life.

CARDINAL IN SNOW

 A crimson cardinal perches in a snow-covered apple tree, considering whether he will fly to the bird feeder. Chickadees flit from tree to feeder and back again; they are not shy. But the cardinal is a shelf feeder, and this bird feeder is for perching birds.

Nuthatches--which my partner calls upside-down birds--hop up or down a nearby wild cherry tree. Gravity doesn't seems to concern them.

The cardinal launches himself toward the house and grabs a bite to eat.

I smile. Winter bird-watching feeds my own joy.

Hand Held Hummingbird Feeder

I recently found hand-held hummingbird feeders at the farm & garden store. Even though we have a regular-size hummingbird feeder, i put these dots, as they are called, beside my knee  every morning when i meditate on the deck.

This morning the hummingbird zoomed around me, fed at the regular feeder, then came for a few sips at the dot beside my knee. Then it sat on the wire around the edge of the deck and caught its breath--about 2 feet away from me.

I feel the thrill of sitting so close to this tiny bundle of life, the thrill of joy. What does joy feel like? Explore that thrill, and notice exactly where you feel it.

Walking Bear Foot

Somebody has been walking barefoot on our dirt driveway. Since snow is still clumped around the edges, it wasn't me.

A bear roams in the woods around our neighborhood. He was at the neighbors, half-a-mile away, day before yesterday, wrecking their composter.

"Why doesn't the bear eat your compost?" my neighbor asked.

"Well, it's full of leaves and garden detritus," i said. "And the kitchen scraps are all mixed in with that."

If we don't inadvertently feed the bear--our neighborhood bear or the bear-of-a-problem in our mind--it won't wreak havoc with our (empty) bird feeders, our leafy compost piles, or our calmed mind.

One-Legged Dove

A one-legged dove has been visiting our bird feeder all winter long. It hops along the deck railing where we scatter sunflower seeds each morning. Every time it loses its balance (often), it flutters its wings and resettles itself.

Our equanimity can be like this--subject to the worldly winds of pleasure and pain, gain and loss, praise and blame, fame and disrepute. Just when we are about to lose our balance in one direction or another, mindfulness comes to our aid and settles us into this present moment. This very moment.

Ahhh. I feel steadiness again.

Unbending the Hook

L-hook (foreground) and ?-hook (background) They used to be identical.

I'm fascinated by the bent hook that the bird feeder used to hang on. It used to be a question mark, and now it's an L. Wow! It takes a lot of power to straighten out one of those hooks. I've tried manipulating them with pliers and been frustrated.

All the bear had to do was hang on the bird feeder. Amazingly, it's hanger held (though bent from a C to a /\. And the ?-hook bent like butter. That bear has super-human strength. And it is hungry. Really hungry.

Would that our own "hooks" could be unbent so easily.

Which of the main 3 hooks is your biggest? (We all have all of them, so don't worry. You'll get to work on the others later.)

Greedy--desire for the pleasant--for stuff or for pleasant states of mind.
Aversive--pushing away the unpleasant--perhaps critical, impatient, or irritable
Delusional--confused or wishy-washy

Then relax. And practice loving-kindness toward yourself.


Read pages 77-79 of The Meditative Gardener for a fun quiz to figure this out.
Here's an example:

G I always store my trowel in the same place.
A I leave my trowel lying around.
D Hmmm. I don’t remember where I left my trowel.
G My tools are organized.
A My tools are in a jumble.
D Tools?
G My tools are color-coordinated.
G My garden gloves are color-coordinated with my garden boots (or
garden clogs).
A I never wear gloves.
D I can’t find my gloves.

Bear in the Bird Feeder

Oh-oh. My birdfeeder is on the ground, minus its cover. The bird feeder is empty. Totally cleaned out. It's arcing hanger is bent into a V. And the C-hook it was hanging on has been straightened out by somebody heavy.

My bird feeder is squirrel-proof, but it is not bear-proof.

The bears are awake and trundling through the garden. No kidding. It is definitely time to stop feeding the birds and store the bird feeders away until it snows again next December.

Don't feed the bears.
And don't feed the bear of a problem that lives in your mind either.

First of all identify the food with which you are nourishing that bear of a problem: worry? anxiety? impatience? anger? frustration?

Notice that "nourishment" every time it arises. Simply notice it.
Then feel how that worry-anxiety-impatience-anger feels in your body.
Really become interested in the sensations of that uncomfortable, unpleasant, grrrr feeling.
Label those body sensations.
Keep your attention on the sensations.
Notice the changes.

When you're ready, practice some self-compassion.

Note the hanger, bent from a C to a V. Somebody was hanging on the bird feeder!

Chickadee Generosity

I love the generosity of chickadees. They fly to the bird feeder and pick up a seed or two. Sometimes, they throw seeds out of the feeder, onto the ground below. Shortly afterward, the ground feeders arrive--juncos, cardinals, and squirrels. And, well, oh heck, other chickadees aren't picky, they'll eat off the ground as well.

Bird feeders are all very well and good for perching birds, such as chickadees, goldfinches, and woodpeckers. But cardinals are shelf feeders; they generally don't go to a perching bird feeder. And juncos scavenge whatever is on the ground. Fortunately, there is something on the ground, thanks to the chickadees, who offer quite a good proportion of their own meal to whoever comes next.

What if we offered a third or a quarter or even ten percent of our assets to others who could really use a decent meal?

The chickadee doesn't know, for sure, that sunflower seeds will be in the feeder tomorrow. (Sometimes, we do go on vacation.) Every third visit or so, they fly off with two seeds in their beak, which they may "bank" in the bark or crotch or hole of a nearby tree. But they are giving away far more than they put in the "bank."

I aspire to be as generous as a chickadee.

The Friendliest of Birds

I consider chickadees to be the friendliest of birds, and here's why: they are almost fearless. They arrive at the bird feeder while i am putting the sunflower seeds in it. Yesterday, one chickadee made a touch-and-go landing on my outstretched hand full of sunflower seeds. You really have to mindful to feel the glorious happiness of a small puff of feathers clutching your finger for less than a moment.

Compared to other birds, the chickadee is foremost in friendliness. The tufted titmice are skittish. The goldfinches, still in their winter olive drab, travel in flocks and scatter at the mere breath of wind. The cardinals zoom off if you so much as move your eyes.

Metta is often translated as loving-kindness, but it stems from the word maitri, the Sanskrit word for "friend." It is just as accurate to translate metta as friendliness or loving-friendliness. One aspect of friendliness is freedom from fear. In other words, fearlessness.

As tiny little fears poke their way into my mind--anxiety, worry, uncertainty, unease, dread, jitters, or what have you--can i respond like a chickadee? Can i fly right into the heart of the unknown?

Bear Eating Sunflowers

Everyone in the neighborhood has either seen the bears or has piles of bear scat in their yard. My neighbor, Connie, says her sunflowers have all been bent in half and the seed heads have been eaten.

Our forester neighbor has been on all of our cases for years about bringing in the birdfeeders in March. But some of us cheat. We like to see the birds up close; they bring us so much joy.

But the birdfeeders bring bear, who then become used to people food and the sources of people food. In the confrontation between people and a bear, the bear always loses--its life. The bear will be killed. It's a life-and-death situation for the bear.

We like to do things our way. Wisdom suggests a different way, a different action. But we think we can get away with our little cheat. "Surely, it won't hurt anyone," we reason.

The Buddha was very specific. We have the 5 precepts of doing no harm, not taking what isn't offered, using our sexual energy wisely, speaking truthfully and helpfully, and not using intoxicants.

Perhaps one of these precepts sticks in our craw. Oh, surely, we think, it's not that important.

But our actions are extremely important. Our actions are really the only, only thing we own.
Our actions are a life-and-death situation--for us.

Orange Blossom. Oh, Honey.

My orange-tree-in-a-flowerpot is blooming. Oh, my. Orange blossoms (which are white) deserve their reputation for perfume, bridal bouquets, and honey.

We moved the three-foot tall dwarf orange tree from its summer vacation spot under the second story deck up to the deck where we sit morning and evening to sip our tea and admire the gardens and smell, smell the fragrant orange blossoms.

Seldom do we have the opportunity to practice smelling meditation. Well, sometimes we get to practice smell-y meditation. Pee-yew. Unpleasant. Get me out of here. Even perfume can be overbearing. Cough, cough. But orange blossoms are delicate and delicious. More. I want more orange blossoms. I could take a bath in orange blossoms.

The goldfinches are loving their new perch in the orange blossom tree near the bird feeder.

Below Zero

It's 10 below zero on this beautiful, cloud-strewn morning. The birds at the bird feeder have fluffed their feathers so that they look like round balls instead of sleek birds. (And what wind chill do they feel when they fly through the already wind-chilled air?)

Minus ten delineates zone 4 from zone 5. If i buy plants that are hardy in zone 5, that means they'll survive down to -10 degrees. That's today.

I try to buy zone 4 plants that are hardy down to -20. Then i can be pretty sure they will survive the winter.

These very cold temperatures can also have an effect on invasives of all kinds, which have been creeping northward as our climate warms. Lyme ticks are not as prevalent in the northern part of the state, which is mostly zone 4, but also zone 3, and even zone 2 on the mountain tops.

Tree pests such as the hemlock wooly adelgid, which will eventually wipe out our hemlock tree population, can't survive below -10. But we need several days of -10, and only this one is predicted.

We try to knock out our own bad habits by giving them the cold shoulder, but this cold-heartedness only puts them into the deep freeze of repression.

Warmth is the remedy. Feel kindness for yourself and for the bad habit.
I love myself as i am.... (Fill in the blank with the name of your bad habit.)
I love myself as i am, impatient.
I love myself as i am, cold-hearted.
I love myself as i am, feeling unloveable.

Morning sun is streaming into our passive solar house and warming us up on this wind-chilly day.

Photo from wallowamountainproperties.com

Spring Cleaning

It's time for spring cleaning of garden paraphernalia.

I bought these great ideas, but due to some glitch, they don't work. I don't throw them away because:
#1.  i can't believe i spent that much money on something that doesn't work
#2.  maybe, if i sit down some year, i can repair it.

• The mister for hummingbirds attaches to the bird bath. It worked the first year, but then the 1/8 inch tube for water for the mister got holes in it. (from gnawing raccoons?)
• The battery-operating bird feeder that begins spinning when it senses the weight of a squirrel and flings the squirrel off. (Don't i wish!) A raccoon overloaded its battery power the very first night. Now it's stuck. I spent $50 to have a bird feeder cluttering up my garage.

It's time to renounce bad ideas and desires that lead to suffering (see #1 and #2 above).

Spring cleaning--a great time to practice the third supreme quality of a Bodhisattva and simplify our life.

Photo from hanover.wbu.com

Bird Branch

A few feet away from the bird feeder on our deck, i have attached a dead branch to an upright post that supports the railing. The dead branch may not be very attractive to humans, but birds love it. They perch on any of its various twigs before, and sometimes after, grabbing a sunflower seed from the feeder.

Eating dinner on the deck, my sweetie and i sometimes proceed in freeze frame. Fork halfway to mouth stops in mid-air in order not to scare away the rose-breasted grosbeak. The situation calls for mindfulness. Sometimes i move, millimeter by millimeter--a form of mindful movement.

But I don't tell the chickadees that i'm having chicken (i.e., bird) for dinner.