outside

We've been able to get out and about a bit lately, what with all of that Springtime in the air and all. My only sadness is that Jack isn't able to join us for much of it. He joins me on the patio, in our backyard, for a bit of sunshine and Springish smelling, but is really needing to rest after his recent hip injury. I'm hoping that after a little more rest and some of the treatments he is receiving, he'll be able to take a short walk down the street again {soon}. I'm afraid walks in the woods are out for the time being and I have found that I have been {unconsciously?} choosing places that don't allow dogs. I used to feel sad when we went to those places without him but knew he couldn't join us anyway. Now it seems to assuage my spirit a bit. I know he can still smell the woods on me when we return. I'm sure in his good-hearted-doggieness that he understands {mostly}. While I'm sad I can't take him with us now, I am happy that I took him as often as I did in the past.



Eva by the creek and some of the first trillium of the season!



Eva checking the water at the Audubon Society for newts.



Samuel and our one brush with frog-ness on Sauvie Island. I think we missed the frogs this year. We did see several snakes, though, out basking in the sunshine with the rest of us.



Eva and Samuel at Smith and Bybee Lakes. We heard frogs here and ended up seeing dozens? hundreds? of tadpoles on one of the flooded paths. I tried to photograph them but they were having none of it. Who can blame them. The herons were also plentiful that day. We also saw two black tailed deer and a bald eagle!

Be

All I could think of was beauty, when the sun shone through the clouds. And the color of the sky,bright blue, spanning half the sky, bringing with it suggestions of park walks and pea plantings (finally).

And bushtits busy in the blueberry bushes, watching as I approached.

A is for Ant

A is for ant. Or ants. With his friends. Curiously meandering all through my home...

The ant scouts came early- or so it seems to me now. It seems like I remember sunshine and a bit more warmth for their initial spring entrance, which is not the case currently. (Or is it more likely that I have one or two memories of ants and sunshine, in this house, and have glossed over the rest? Or is it simply rainier this year? Or, is this exactly when the ants usually show up- the perfect ant time? They certainly seem to think so.) Of course- the bit with the sunshine and the warmth- that also might be later, when they come out with their queens and high hopes of expansion.

These current ants are scouts, out wandering, looking for snacks, ever optimistic that sweet goodness will be found within these walls. My walls. Their walls. They make no distinction. Why should I. And truly, as long as they don't bring back long lines of friends, I mostly leave them alone (save to take one or two back outside to spend time with other friends). Even then, even with long lines of friends, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't do much beyond sprinkling cinnamon and pepper around their trails. Then I'd bring out the caulking gun. (Just because they are here, doesn't mean they need to stay. But I'm friendly while we share a space.)

And, because I know I am friendly, I also make sure to keep juices and apple peels and all sorts of ant goodies picked up, cleaned up, and out of most spaces, because ants are quick and will come to stay, if given the right invitation. I've had run-ins with ants before and felt powerless in their presence, their large numbers taking over my kitchen, my laundry room, my pet food. Now I'm very clear. They are welcome. In {very} small numbers. And I'll do my bit to keep those numbers from growing.

I'm certain the ants are here because of the rain, too. I just found out that Portland broke a 130 year rain record by over an inch yesterday. So there are ants. In the house. To get out. Of the rain. {But no thunder, because it's Portland.}

two

I was lucky enough to see this garden spider (we call them big ladies.) outside our front window. I've never seen one with her egg sac before and this was a special treat. This was the closest I could get without {completely} upsetting her. As it was, she guarded her eggs the entire time I was around and only relaxed her vigilance once I took the step stool and my camera away. I saw her looking more relaxed when I resumed watching her from inside the house. We've had quite a bit of cold weather recently and I haven't seen her through the window since the cold weather. It seems she got her egg sac finished just in time. I look forward to seeing her babies hatch and pour out of their egg sac this spring.

segway segue

so this morning after i woke up i came into the kitchen and realized- after i hastily went through my email- that we had to get going early today because i was taking the kids to a class at omsi where they would learn about and then ride on a segway. i'm glad we went. samuel was glad he woke up. and all three of us, at it turns out, got to ride the segway. first the kids and then the adults. i never expect to participate in these types of classes and am always tickled when we get to try too. it was smoother than i had anticipated and much easier to turn and maneuver. and yes, i giggled when i first stepped onto it, leaned forward and got it to move.

but before riding on the segway, we learned a little about how it works. turns out there are 5? or was it 3? gyroscopes inside it helping to keep it oriented and balanced. and- to demonstrate this point, we each got to hold and try to move a gyroscope that was already rotating. and that was a fascinating sensation and i thought immediately about going to the omsi store after the class had finished to buy us our very own gyroscope to look at more at home. of course, when we got there, they had a different kind of gyroscope, not one you could hold in quite the same way as the one in the demonstration and i decided against buying it and was thus not out the $7.99 or so it would have been to bring it home and make it our own. i did, however, buy the kids rock candy because, as i was reminded by samuel, they so rarely get to eat rock candy. true. and i remembered that there comes a time, or at least there did for me, when i no longer wanted to eat rock candy. so- no rock candy and no gyroscope. for me.

but-before we left the house this morning, before i even woke up the kids, i stood next to the stove getting ready to make scrambled eggs and i saw out of the corner of my eye what looked like a bird flying across the living room. so- i went and stood in the middle of the room and as it turns out, it was a bird- a wren- who had flown across the living room, from one closed window to the next. and i wondered, how on earth did he get inside the house in the first place? and how long had he been there, perching briefly on my now blooming christmas cactus? for a moment i thought about how my one cat who would have possibly brought a bird into the house had recently passed away and how neither of my other two cats would catch a bird much less bring it into the house. and how- also- there seemed to be no open windows or doors.

i followed the little bird as he hopped along the window sill, hiding behind the curtains. he finally flew behind eva's table and perched on a cardboard box filled with animals or legos or ugly dolls or somesuch and peeked out at me when i peeked in at him. i expected him to fly pell mell through the living room when i finally found him. instead, i opened up the window for him and he flew, as though attached by a string, straight out the window and into the freedom and fresh air beyond.

and today was also the day that i picked up maxwell's ashes and paw print and fur clipping from the vet. and i wonder a little bit if the bird and his inexplicable presence in my living room this morning was a good luck wish from maxwell, a sweet hello from beyond. maybe.

later, as i walked out of the vet's office with my kids into the pouring portland rain, carrying my cat's ashes and wearing maryjanes and a sweater, thinking fondly of my new rain coat and boots warm and dry at home in the closet, i laughed and cried at the absurdity of it all. of missing maxwell. of trying to be prepared. trying to understand. of the whole day with the bird and the segways and the other moms in the class and all of us- all of us- really just trying to live our lives the best we can. the best we know how. which is all maxwell ever did in the first place. and which is probably one of the many reasons why i still miss him so much.

mushroom madness

The sun came out today and I went outside to take a few pictures of the amazing mushroom madness happening out in our front yard.









Eva and I talked a little about who might be eating the mushrooms. We decided it could be squirrels and/ or slugs. Then we found this little guy munching on one of the larger red mushrooms. Clearly slugs have an appetite for mushrooms!

look closely

look closely

slowly, then all at once

Sitting outside ready to meditate, I noticed the sun had shifted ever-so-slightly in the direction that signals the coming of autumn. The pagan holiday for this time of year is Lughnasadh (Lammas). It is a pre-harvest celebration, midway between the autumnal equinox and the summer solstice's longest day of the year. For me, it is signaled by this subtle change in light, particularly in the morning. There are peaches, blackberries, tomatoes (finally!) the beginning of melons, the end of my blueberries. The heat of summer can still be found some days even as the sun's intensity is diminished overhead.

I love holding these two seeming dichotomous states- the {sudden} shift of light and the knowledge that this process has been in effect each day. Every day. An imperceptible change in sunrise, sunset, until one day a noticeable difference. It reminds me of Hemingway's quote on how people go bankrupt, "Slowly, then all at once." And so much of life. Our children's transformations, learning new skills, new developments. How did I learn to knit? Slowly, slowly, over the course of many years. Then all at once. And suddenly I had a project I couldn't believe I had made.

Of course, the movement of the seasons hardly stays all-at-once {for long} and is by it's very definition, a continuation of slowly. The process constantly changing, shifting, moving in the direction of the circle. We notice the all-at-once on a particular day, label it fall, and watch as it shifts again toward winter, the uneasy nebulous nature of change given a static label. We switch our shoes. Coats. Activities. As the movement becomes imperceptible again. Until the next subtle shift of light becomes noticeable to our eyes. Our minds. Slowly. Then all at once {we notice}. Again.



Very hungry caterpillars. I don't know why I thought the slugs were eating these petunias. (A hazard when growing petunias to be sure. Everyone seems to want to eat them. They must taste as good to them as they smell to me.) Eva and I have been studying the three, four, then five! caterpillars living on this one petunia plant for a few days, noticing their different colors and how they sometimes stand up or lay down, depending. Somehow one of them (or a family member) ended up on the patio near the peaches and we duly placed him back on the petunia with the others. Perhaps later in fall when these guys have all turned into cocoons would be a safer time to grow petunias. The two I planted out by the sweetpeas have {so far} remained untouched. It is flower central out there with plenty to choose from, which probably has a lot to do with it. Or maybe purple petunias are particularly tasty.



The sweetpeas and chamomile are having a long season this year. I have been drying the chamomile as I remember and am thoroughly enjoying the strong fragrance of these particular plants. I love these multi-colored sweetpeas with the different shades of purple.



I let several of these plants stick around this year to see what they were. I love them with the sweetpeas and calendula. Their clusters of tiny flowers are a lovely shade of pink. Any ideas on what type of plant they are?