Ceramic Birdhouse

While i was at the hospice thrift store, i found a ceramic birdhouse. I bought it for $3. It's cute with painted flowers and butterflies. But ceramic?

For now, it's decorating my solarium. In the spring, i'll take it out to the front step with the flowerpots. I do wonder how it will look hanging from a tree.

The ceramic birdhouse has two drainage holes in the bottom. That's good. But how am i going to clean it out next fall?

The entrance hole is big, so maybe a mid-sized bird will make a home in it. Little birds would be at the mercy of big bird (or squirrel) intruders.

Some things look good, look beautiful, but turn out to be useless.

A lot of the things we decorate our lives with turn out to be clutter.

Maybe the ceramic birdhouse will turn out to be clutter too, and i'll clean it up and give it back to the hospice thrift store so they can sell it to someone else.

Leopard Moth Caterpillar

Amazing how many butterflies are still flitting about. And what about all those caterpillars? Today i saw a BIG black fuzzy one with red skin underneath. Turns out this is a leopard moth caterpillar, which i cannot say i have ever noticed before.

This is the fun of nature-watching. Seeing beautiful and amazing creatures I have never seen before. Though i'm pretty sure they've been here all along. I just haven't been paying close attention.

Paying close attention is what meditation is about. We begin to notice things we have previously breezed right over.

For instance, i've been paying attention to how i fall asleep in meditation. I can tell you the precursors. Sometimes i can even catch myself falling asleep.

This is one definition of awakening: When falling asleep wakes you up.

Leopard Moth photo by scooterwolf

Earth Worms are Migrating Too

Birds are flying south. Monarch butterflies are winging south. Snowbird friends are migrating to Florida, North Carolina, or Arizona for the winter. 

Earthworms are migrating too. They head deeper down into the soil to spend the winter below the frostline. Here in the North Country, that's at least 3 feet deep.

As you consider the cool and cold seasons ahead, where do you want to burrow down?

There are lots of distractions out there, but what does your heart of hearts really, truly want? Listen.

Mine wants to burrow into a couple or three particular meditations. I want to burrow into the subtle dullness that so often arises. I want to practice loving everybody. Yes, that's right. Everybody. That's where i'm burrowing this winter.

Butterflies on Boneset

While i was in North Carolina, my sweetie broke a rib. When i returned home he excitedly told me that he had seen 10 monarch butterflies on the Joe Pye Weed. "The common name for that flower is boneset," i said. "Bone-set."

He's not complaining much about his broken rib. When his car crashed, the seat belt and airbag jolted a few other parts of his body, and he feels those aches and pains more strongly.

Our physical bodies surprise us with various breakdowns. But i feel confident that my sweetie will heal. After all, he seems to have 10 monarch butterflies on his side.

Weedy Milkweed

Milkweed is living up to its name--weed. Suddenly it's growing in several of my flower beds. Wha-a-a??? I want it to grow where i want it to grow, not where it wants to grow. I want to support monarch butterflies, just in case there are any around, but i don't want a milkweed garden. Hoo-boy. What to do?

I'm pulling the milkweed out of my flowerbeds, though the roots run deep and are beyond the reach of my shovel.

Our own roots of suffering run deep underground. Take your pick--greed, aversion, delusion, or maybe all three. Don't despair. Begin by being mindful of what your particular "weed" looks like, feels like, what it says in times of stress. Get to know the habit and habitat of your "weed." No need to feel guilty or beat yourself up. That just fertilizes the habit of aversion. Simply notice.

Notice what's growing in your garden.

Milkweed Seeds

Milkweed seeds were blowing today, drifting across the lawn like soft feathery snowflakes. Just yesterday, Julie said she received a bushel of milkweed pods from her husband for their 40th wedding anniversary--the best present she's ever received. They want to re-establish a milkweed patch at the edge of their lawn in order to support monarch butterflies which have been decimated by genetically modified crops. Monarch larvae feed on milkweed.

The highest form of generosity, called kingly generosity or monarch generosity, is the type of generosity that gives anonymously, without ever telling anyone. A sort of Secret Santa gift-giving, except that you never find out who your secret Santa is.

Putting money in someone else's parking meter, paying someone else's bill--some random act of kindness.

Julie's act of kindness is to establish a habitat for monarch butterflies.

What to Do with a Hornworm?

by Guest Blogger, Jenny Holan

What an interesting dilemma. I haven't been persistent about outlining my creed or principles, or following a path illuminated by others.

This dilemma shows up once in awhile, as at present: I looked up the large pupa that appeared in my garden, and it's clearly that of a sphinx moth, a k a hornworm. What to do?? Interfere with the life cycle? Try to stay out of it by pretending I never saw it? I really want to remove it a long way from my tomatoes, preferably to some butterfly/hummingbird garden where the moth can enjoy a wealth of nice nectar. But it wouldn't be ethical to bring it anywhere nearer to someone else's tomatoes than to mine. This individual doesn't seem to have done damage to me in its dangerous tomato-hacking days, but I quail to think of the number of children it may produce, and the havoc that could happen next summer. I have waited so long for the tomatoes to bear fruit...

Perhaps I ought to keep it in a container, and if it emerges in time, volunteer it for the Hospice benefit event in Putney, planned for 11 September: a ceremony of remembrance and hope, featuring the "release" of donated butterflies (symbolizing the renewal of souls).

I know Buddhists have been releasing purchased birds for centuries, but I'm ambivalent about the karma-for-ransom concept, having trouble with the whole idea of an industry, or anyway a livelihood, predicated on a demand for captive lives, as it is for some people.

The Putney event is procuring its butterflies, along with organizing and naturalist advice, from a clearinghouse called Wings of Hope, which coordinates supplies of pretty insects (the ones reported are overwhelmingly monarchs and painted ladies) with those who wish to use them to call attention to the needs of wildlife, the search for health care and research, spiritual concerns and community, or any cause or occasion. I didn't know that there are such people as butterfly breeders, who raise and ship them out like ranchers, but these are the suppliers, who donate their livestock for educational purposes, including showing children and shut-ins something about butterflies, as well as for memorials and ecology studies.

Might a release to which a "minority volunteer" is introduced (local moth) be more in harmony with the balance of nature than one at which only the non-threatening elite "graduate"? Sure, one or two would be statistically absorbed, but if this was done by many at once, would there be less of an impact? Or would a reduction of control spell trouble?

So, here's an organism that exists, and all available tomato plants are part of its life cycle and support the survival of that species. What's my role as another strand of the Web of Earthlife? When I do pick this thing up, does the heart inside have any clue that its life is in my hands?