Noisy Chickadees

Five chickadees arrived on my deck railing at the same time. I suspect it was Mother with 4 of her brood. Wow. Chickadees have a very different family culture than the one i grew up in.

First of all, they all talk at the same time, all the time. And they are loud! No wonder Mother wanted to kick them out of the noisy nest. In addition to calling each other "Sweetheart," they yell at each other constantly. These are my seeds. Go find your own. Or Get off my branch. I was here first. Or Mom! Then they all fly off together, so they obviously do love each other.

I love individual chickadees, but five at a time was eye-opening.

For those of us who are naturally quiet, for those of us who are conflict-averse, for those of us who give in easily, can we find our chickadee voices? Can we give voice to our authentic selves?

After all, the chickadees do call each other Sweetheart.

Maple Trees Compartmentalize

The 200-year-old maple trees that grow along the stone walls on the border of my property are big, but usually not beautiful, trees. The sweet maple sap attracts carpenter ants, and carpenter ants are the main diet of the pileated woodpecker.

One of our seemingly-healthy middle-aged maples has giant holes hollowed out by a pileated woodpecker. A few weeks later, the smaller woodpeckers take their turns. A year later, a green leafy branch falls during a wind storm.

The tree service guy says, "No need to worry. Maple trees are very good at compartmentalizing."

I begin to look closely at old maple trees. They have all lost branches, big branches. Sometimes, half the tree will split off during a thunderstorm, yet the other half is still vibrantly alive, even if gnarled.

This process sounds like our own aging. We start out so young and beautiful. Pests are attracted to us, and sometimes they wound our heart. Sometimes we lose branches of our family tree--grandparents, parents, siblings, cousins, and other dearly beloved. Still we live on with visible and invisible scars. By the time we are ancient, we look gnarled and even ugly, yet the maple sap still runs in our veins, and we are vibrant and sweet.

Growing Kale Indoors

Last summer, i put redbor kale in three of my flowerpots on the front step to add color and height. The pots--with the kale--came indoors in October. My kale plants are now 3 feet tall. I harvested the leaves for dinner tonight.

Kale is a cold weather crop, so it's still growing outdoors in the garden. And it's fun to have it growing indoors as well. One of the plants has baby kale sprouting all along its naked stem.

In the summer of our lives, what can we plant that will bear fruit (or vegetables) in the winter of our lives? Many people rely on family as their refuge. I remember my grandmother sitting in her recliner looking out her picture window and knitting slippers for her ten grandchildren. Nine out of ten of them lived hundreds of miles away as did two of her three daughters.

I rely on the Dharma for my refuge. Not matter the circumstances, no matter the internal "weather", the Dharma bears fruit.

Big Root

One of my favorite groundcovers is geranium macrorrhizum, which is just finishing blooming. The simple flowers aren't that interesting, but the leaves smell wonderfully of geranium. I could roll around in a bed of this geranium. Or just rub leaves on my wrists and throat every time i walk past it. Ahhh!

Macrorrhizum means "big root." Macro = big.
Rhizum = rhizome, which is a root that sends up shoots as it grows horizontally.

What is your big root? What roots you into this life? Place? Family? Friends? Job? Spiritual practice?

What's your big root of stress? Family? Friends? Job? Health?

Simply notice your biggest stressor. Usually it has to do with not wanting whatever Life is offering. Wanting something different that what is.

The geranium macro-rhizum grows in sun or shade, wet or dry soils. I wonder if i could just simply bloom where ever i am planted?

Ohana: No One is Left Behind or Forgotten by guest blogger Cherie Attix

Today's post comes from guest blogger Cherie Attix who lives on Maui.

In the Aloha State we have a word that is dear to us. The word is "Ohana." To quote from the Lilo and Stitch movie, "Ohana means Family. Family means no one is left behind or forgotten."

Family is an important aspect of life in Hawaii. I remember being called Aunty in a grocery store for the first time from a child I didn't know . That sealed the deal for me, Hawaii would be my forever home. I always considered this to mean that every adult near a child had an unspoken responsibility to that child, and the children always showed respect for their elders.

Being blessed with ohana who is there for each other means everything. Near or far, ohana is always with us.

Goodbye Kwanzan Cherry

My sweetie bought a Kwanzan cherry tree for me for Mother's Day about 20 years ago. Our lawn was really too shady for it, so it limped along, performing beautifully one year, then not again for several years. This summer, several branches died. Last week, my sweetie cut it down.

I actually feel relieved to have that space open up to plain grass. Now there's space. Ahhh.

This is the feeling i had when my father died many years ago. The mighty oak in the forest had fallen, and now there was enough sunlight for my spindly little tree to grow up, up toward the sun. Suddenly, i saw the expectations he had had of me. Suddenly, i felt the weight of those expectations, which fell from me effortlessly. Now i had room to breathe.

We all carry unacknowledged expectations--from parents, spouse, family, and friends. Under the rah-rah of "our family!" lies a unique and authentic heart. Yours.

Broccoli in a Bag

I emailed my 10 neighbors asking if they wanted some broccoli. Two said "yes," and one came over to pick it up. I wasn't home, so they raided my refrigerator, and took a bag of broccoli home with them.

Now that's what i call making-yourself-at-home. That feels so family. So friendly.

Love that looks like broccoli.

Harvesting Before Frost

The race is on to see how much i can harvest before frost. This morning's temperature was 40 degrees.

Really, there's not too much left in the garden, and that's good, because there's not too much space left in the freezer.

The tomatoes are in, leaving just a basketful of cherry tomatoes on the vine. The winter squash are in, but one gourd vine went crazy. I try to bring in one gourd every time i return from the garden. Then there's my 8 varieties of basil.

We plant many seeds during our lifetime--friends, family, career, spiritual path, service to others. Which shall we harvest? And which do we just let go of?

Many friends come and go. Our career ends. Family changes its definition: our parents die, our siblings drift into the distance, wives and husbands divorce, our children grow up, our grandchildren live far away. Who is our true family?

Our spiritual path may ebb and flow, yet gives us the ability to harvest kindness, mindfulness, and equanimity, no matter the season.