Deep Freezing Pests

It's zero degrees this morning here in the North Country. A squirrel is shivering outdoors, and indoors, the furnace rumbles on and on just to keep a baseline temperature.

There is a good side to this really hard freeze: pests which have flown or walked or crawled north may not survive these deep-freeze temperatures. For instance, the hemlock wooly adelgid dies at -4 degrees Fahrenheit. This tiny 2 millimeter long insect sticks to birds' feet and has been carried farther and farther north as climate change warms our winters.  The wooly adelgid literally sucks the life out of hemlocks leaving them dead and brown.

I saw my first possum in the compost pile just a few years ago. Formerly, its northernmost range was the state south of here.

We might consider the "pests" that have invaded our daily life in the past few years and decades--mobile phones, internet, Facebook. While these applications have their uses, they also invade our private space. Getting away from them is nearly impossible.


This is one more reason to go on a meditation retreat. We can retreat to a protected space where the influx of inputs slows to a crawl. At last, we can catch up with ourselves. Ahhh.

Northern Orange Tree

A friend who was moving gave us his orange tree. Okay. Here in the North Country, "orange tree" means 3 feet tall in a pot with an orange (that is not yet orange) the size of a grape.

I place it next to my banana tree, which hasn't produced a banana or even a flower in 22 years.

We might imagine what a full-grown mediation practice looks like--a beatific smile on our always-calm faces. When really what we have is a very small practice, perhaps just 10 or 15 minutes at a time, not even every day.

The fruit of our spiritual life may seem quite small. Well, yes, i did hold my tongue in that situation. And i was kind to that person in the convenience store. And i did give some time to help a friend.

We start where we are. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. The spiritual journey commences with a moment of mindfulness. Now.

Happy New Now

 

Happy New Moment!






We choose one moment and celebrate the change of name. We used to call the present moment 2012; now we call it 2013. It's still the present moment.

We are never anywhere else other than the present moment. The past is a dream. The future is a dream. Now we see that 2012 is a dream. But we don't yet see that 2013 is also just a dream. Because it is always Now. A nameless Now. Every Now different as Life unfolds according to its own whims.

The body ages, and as long as the mind keeps track of time (very useful for celebrating birthdays, for instance), we are caught in a cycle of birth, aging, an death.

Take my hand and step outside the whole meshugas with me now, into the Now, where there is no birth; there is no death.

Happy New Now.

Clogged Openness

Our 3-week-old Christmas tree hasn't lost any needles yet. My sweetie has been watering the tree with boiling water. The other day, the tree drank almost all the tea kettle. Supposedly, boiling water melts the resin that clogs the pores in the stump.

The 91-year-old neighbor who taught us this trick said her tree sprouts new growth in February.

What clogs up our own openness?

We try to protect our feelings, our hearts, and our sense of self. We each have our own methods--irritation, anxiety, denial, or many others.

We can warm up our heart, perhaps simply by placing our hand on our heart. "Yes, yes. There, there now."

Our heart melts, and we too can have the resilience of new (personal) growth.

Local Salad

Company's coming, and i know they have a salad with every dinner. But when i peruse the vegetable section at the food co-op, i see that all the lettuces come from California. The cabbage, however, comes from 10 miles away. In my spotty attempt to be a localvore, i buy the cabbage and leave the petroleum-driven lettuce alone.

Fortunately, my 12-year-old granddaughter is game for the challenge of cabbage salad. She chops and dices, and makes her own salad dressing. Yes, there's a yellow pepper from Holland in the mix. What can i say?

The voluntary simplicity of localvoring can feel like insufficiency or it can feel like a challenge to our curiosity and creativity.

"I don't have enough" vs. "I wonder how we can make this work."

The cabbage salad is beautiful and tasty.

Seeds--for Good or for Ill

I love collecting seeds. Yes, it's a bit time-consuming, but i feel like i'm on a treasure hunt. Then in the spring i plant free seeds! Or i can give free seeds away.

I have a bottle full of poppy seeds, so i'm doling them out into little glassine envelopes. Glassine is translucent, a sort of thin waxed paper. This is a good project for snowy days.

Our minds have the seeds for irritation and peace, desire and letting-go. Which seeds shall we pass along?



I'd be happy to send you annual pink poppy seeds (Papaver somniflorum) or seeds for birdhouse gourds. Send me your snail-mail address at cheryl.wilfong (at) gmail.com.

The End of Bulb Planting

Three inches of snow this morning means bulb-planting season is officially over. The opportunity for planting flowers that will bloom in the new year is gone. Gone. The ground may not be (too) frozen, but how could i see where to plant the bulbs?

What are the wholesome intentions you'd like to plant in your life before the snow falls on your head?

Sometimes we get snowed-in by our bodies before we're ready. Wait! Wait! There was something important i wanted to do! Every winter the snow delivers its silent message to us--the winter of life is coming.

What's most important to you? Family (a slowly changing collection of dear ones. Notice the changeability.) Career? Money (ever-fluctuating)? Your spiritual path?

Now, in these between days, when busy-ness has abated and the new year hasn't yet revved up, breathe. And notice you are breathing.

Photo from openwalls.com