Month: May 2021

Wild Geranium – Day 911

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My Purple Wildflower: Wild Geranium (Cranesbill) – Photo: L. Weikel

Wild Geranium

Yes indeed, it pays to have friends who know their flora. In yesterday’s post, I included a photo of a delicately sweet purple wildflower that I’d only noticed and appreciated on my walk earlier that day. Not one but two close friends identified that purple wildflower as Wild Geranium – also known as Cranesbill.

Beyond having very smart friends, this also confirms that I would make an absolutely abysmal herbalist. Actually, not only am I not the person to go to for guidance on the healing powers of plants – I don’t (or barely) even know which ones I could eat without killing myself. Which is why, if I ever decide to go off into the wilderness, I’d better ask Wendy or Margaret to come along. (And while I realize I have a several more friends who would also fit the bill – I want to clarify that they’re the ones who made the positive ID on FB this morning, so they win the prize.)

Noticing

In yesterday’s post, I mused that I’d only noticed these purple blossoms that day. Upon reflection, I surely must’ve seen them before. It’s fascinating, if a little unsettling, to contemplate how many things I see or look at each day and never even notice. My eyes just gloss right over a million things. Every day.

Today, for instance, I was intent upon examining the Cranesbill more closely in order to verify the identification. Sure enough, when I bent down and really took a good look at the entire plant, I could see how the leaves are the same shape as domesticated geraniums that are available in hanging pots all over the place.

Odd ‘Coincidence’

What’s slightly amusing to me is that just this past weekend I’d been out hunting for a hanging plant for our porch. I knew I’d know what I wanted when I saw it, and I even laughed at myself for being so picky. I perused the selections of at least four garden centers before finding what I wanted. The funny thing about that? I distinctly remember thinking to myself, “One plant I know I don’t want is geranium. Ick. I don’t like them.”

Ha!

It wasn’t more than 24-48 hours later that wild geranium had me swooning. Of course, knowing me by now, you know I looked it up. As far as traditional herbal usage of the plant goes, I’m grateful I’m not in need of its healing properties at the moment. (And from the sound of the afflictions it remedies, I think I better hope I never do.)

On my walk tonight, of course, I was acutely aware of their presence. And yes, I apologized to the spirit of geranium. I now realize I’m quite fond of the wild variety, at the very least.

Wild Geranium – aka Cranesbill – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-200)

Some Beautiful Things – Day 910

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Buttercup – Photo: L. Weikel

Some Beautiful Things

Between my walks yesterday and today (both of which I managed to get in just under the wire, dodging the rain), I managed to photograph some beautiful things. I just love how every once in a while I discover something small beside the road and when I zoom in on it, it appears even more exquisite than it did when I first glimpsed it.

Most of my walks lately have been silent. I wonder if this causes me to notice the little things even more. I don’t know.

The first flower I came upon today – which I don’t think I’ve written a post about before (although I may be wrong) – was the buttercup. I saw a flower being written about on Facebook a week or so ago, and the people writing were calling the yellow flowers buttercups. But they didn’t look like the buttercups I grew up with.

The ones I grew up with looked like the one above. I remember holding them under the chin of my friend Chris, or my mom, or even under my own wrist – you know, to see if it reflected yellow, which meant you ‘liked butter.’ Ha – I never was a big butter fan when I was younger. But I always loved the magic of buttercups.

Spartacus enjoyed tromping around on them today. I didn’t pick any, so I’m not sure if they reflected on him. But I do know he loves butter.

Spartacus Wondering What All the Fuss Is About – Photo: L. Weikel

Another Beauty

I’m not sure what wildflower this is, but it was a singlet – alone in the midst of a lot of greenery. I don’t remember seeing it yesterday, so it’s possible it only bloomed this morning.

Forgive me – I feel like I can get lost in the act of just staring into the faces of these wildflowers. They’re simply lovely.

Somehow or another, just seeing them today reminded me of the countryside in which I grew up. I have to wonder how it is that those days seem so long ago yet almost just yesterday.

Purple Wildflower Perfection – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-201)

Lean On Me – Day 909

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Dandelion Siblings – Photo: L. Weikel

Lean On Me

I don’t even know what initially caught my eye about these two. They were simply on the side of the road, minding their own business. The first thing I think I noticed was how closely they were huddled. They looked like  siblings – and yet from another perspective they appeared to have had very different life experiences. It looked as if one was saying to the other, “It’s OK. You can lean on me.”

A gust of wind caught them just right. Their heads started bobbing and bowing, calling my attention to the distinctive appearance one had from the other. I wondered to myself how their experiences could’ve been so different when they so obviously grew up in an almost identical environment.

But upon closer inspection, it was as if one had been caught in a rainstorm or something. Its magic seed pods clumping together instead of fanning out in the traditional parachute-like canopy.

They were each delicately beautiful in their own unique ways. And when I photographed them together, their differences seemed to highlight each of their best characteristics.

Another Gust of Wind

When another gust of wind caught all of a bit off guard, I got a shot from a perspective I probably wouldn’t have sought otherwise. The stems of dandelions are not usually a focal point when I gaze upon them. From tightly clenched bud to brilliant expression of pure sunshine, I rarely look at the stem. That holds true for when they go to seed and become puffy wish givers as well.

But when I saw the bend in the stem, I knew why one looked sadder than the other. Somehow, in some way, life had dealt one of them a harder blow than the other. One of these dandelions was operating at a disadvantage. Its stem, while unbroken, was nevertheless askew. And a bent stem never seems to heal all the way.

No wonder the other seemed to hover protectively.

Did it sense its sibling had taken a hit, albeit from a passing car, a careless footstep, or perhaps even wild storm? Was one whispering in the ear of the other, “Just lean on me. We’re almost there.”

I have no idea; I doubt it, though. But one thing I don’t doubt is that together they appeared exquisitely beautiful in the moments I spent with them.

Lean on me; I’ve got you – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-202)

Pair of Hummingbirds – Day 908

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Mommy Hummingbird in Profile – Photo: L. Weikel

Pair of Hummingbirds

I’m not sensing a dominant topic asserting itself tonight in the ethers surrounding my laptop. As a result, I may be relegated to simply chit chatting tonight and giving an update on this and that, with no overarching theme. My ideas seem to be just flitting about like the pair of hummingbirds who’ve moved into our yard.

I should probably disclose right now that I’m sitting here on the couch with the front door slightly ajar. I’m listening to the rain splash down in that unmistakably soothing manner that only happens when the shagbark hickory, magnolias, and cherry trees just outside the door are dressed in their full leafy regalia. The patter of the raindrops is almost akin to a springtime lullaby.

Indeed, my bed beckons irresistibly this most perfect night for sleeping. The temperature outside is ideally suited to us simply having our windows open, devoid of any mechanical means of drawing in, circulating, humidifying, or cooling the air in our bedroom. And precisely because of this dearth of human-generated noise, we’ll be serenaded solely by the sounds of nature.

Be Still My Heart

Beyond the siren song of the rain and the cool breeze whispering in through the screened windows, I’m even more eager to hit the sheets, so to speak. That’s because tonight those sheets are new. Yes! We have a brand new (and freshly washed) set on the bed, an indulgence I justified as a Mother’s Day gift to myself. They’re made of Tencel Modal, a material made of sustainably harvested beech, bamboo, or eucalyptus. I’m a total sucker for this material, its softness floods my tactile proclivities with endorphins.

Combined with the after-effects of doing yoga for the first time in half an eon yesterday and mowing lawn again today, my body is swooning and egging me on to finish this post already and get us to bed.

Little did I realize that my post tonight would mostly center on my preoccupation with my new sheets, but there it is: Life with Lisa. An edge-of-your-seat extravaganza of daily excitement.

My Gift to You

My gift to you this evening is that I’m sharing photos of the Mommy and Daddy hummingbirds that have moved into our yard instead of our sheets. Nope! No photos of our sheets, no matter how you protest.

Hummingbirds. They’re much more interesting, I assure you. Although they’re probably not nearly as great to sleep with – or on.

Daddy Ruby-Throated – Photo: L.Weikel

(T-203)

A Return – Day 907

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Post-Yoga Serenity – Photo: L. Weikel

A Return

Today I experienced a taste of the way life used to be – a taste of something I totally took for granted. I experienced a return to something familiar.

I’ll be honest: the pandemic was merely an excuse. I’d slacked off outrageously for at least a year before the plague struck. And I can’t even articulate a reason. So the truth is even more heinous than the superficial appearance: before today, I hadn’t been to yoga in at least two years*.

I’m not even sure what finally motivated me to drag my carcass to the studio, but I finally relented. It was probably an inchoate sense that my time for slacking was over. Denial was no longer an option.

Ugh; I Just Can’t – Photo: L. Weikel

Getting Back On the Mat

The owner of the yoga studio was as surprised to see me walk in the door as I was to arrive there. When she asked me how I wanted to pay (for a single class or did I want to buy a package of five classes – or ten), I was tempted to just pay for one. Heck – I was skeptical I’d make it through a single class. I’m not kidding. You’d know I wasn’t kidding if you lived with me and could hear me groan like an elk in mating season whenever I get up off the floor.

But here I was – not even sitting on my map and warming up – being faced with making a commitment to the future.

Half Happy Baby Is Better Than None – Photo: L. Weikel

While the two-year hiatus I’d just engaged in was indeed a long slog of ignoring my body’s need to stretch, I’d actually been worse at an earlier stage in my life. It wasn’t until my late 30s that I even contemplated doing yoga once a week. So technically, I’d already overcome a 20 year slug-a-thon.

Was This Time Different?

Getting back on the wagon now? Heck yeah.

I reminded myself what it was like after I went to my first yoga class back when I was 38 or so. I remembered the drive home that evening. My body was vibrating. I could feel myself sitting three inches taller behind the wheel of my car.

Through every pose, though, my mind had screamed, “I can’t do this! Oh my God! This is horrible! I hate this! I don’t want to do this anymore! Why am I here?”

And at the very same time as my mind screeched its outrage, my body was nearly weeping with relief. It was one of the strangest feelings I’ve ever witnessed and felt at the same time. I literally experienced the dichotomy between my mind’s resistance and my body’s relief.

Aaah – Photo: L. Weikel

Setting My Intention

So yeah, of course, my response was: “In for a penny; in for a pound. Even though I’m not sure whether I’ll make it through today’s class without weeping, sign me up for a ten-pack of classes.”

How was it, you might ask? Overall, it felt great. There were moments, I’ll admit, that were reminiscent of that first yoga class 25 years or so ago. But I have to say – I’ve been telling my body all day how grateful I am for her. She’s better than a Timex watch.

And since I’m not into selfies, nor would I abuse you, my dear readers, by subjecting you to shots of me doing yoga (ew – just the thought makes me shudder), I’m going to allow my cats (both living and deceased) to act out today’s class.

It felt delicious. This was a return that feels profoundly beneficial on many levels.

Exhausted But Content – Photo: L. Weikel

*And judging from this post, aside from the occasional ‘random’ yoga class, it’s actually been longer than two years that I engaged in this practice with any consistency whatsoever. Sad.

(T-204)

Stormy Weather – Day 906

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Stormy Weather Approaching – Photo: L. Weikel

Stormy Weather

There’s nothing like some stormy weather to bring sky visions that make me want to swoon. Actually, instead of falling away in a faint, I simply find myself stopping every several yards to gape in wonder at the magnificence unfolding across the aerial landscape.

When I have to walk alone (I should clarify: when only Spartacus and I are on a walk) I find myself snapping impatiently at the poor pup, who only wants to keep moving to the next scent station while I insist on taking yet another photo. I can almost hear him whining “But Mommy, you just took three photos. We need to keep mooooviiiing.” And so he tugs on his leash, which jerks my arms and jiggles my phone, and causes me to mess up the photo.

But the shifting clouds and sunlight, the shapes transforming before my eyes, the shafts of light creating elevators to the Hanaqpacha (Upper World) beckon irresistibly. I know first-hand: if you blink your eyes they’re gone. And just because the sky is full of mysterious permutations at the moment does not mean they’ll be here tomorrow. Far from it. They may not be here five minutes from now. Thus, I must seize the moment, puppy impatience be damned.

Soften your gaze – North Wind – Photo: L. Weikel

North Wind

Much to Spartacus’s chagrin, I couldn’t stop stopping today. The magic was relentless. I was simply happy we were managing to get a walk in at all. Just as my ‘work’ day was coming to a close, the aforementioned stormy weather really kicked in and I started to doubt. But the wind and rain only lasted for an hour or so, and Spart and I soon decided to risk it.

Look at the above cloud bank. Soften your gaze. Do you see the face within the great blue grayness? It’s reminiscent, to me at least, of the bronzed face of Harrison Ford (as Han Solo) in the second Star Wars movie. I didn’t see that face until I got home. I took the photo for the simple purpose of capturing the power aloft.

Good Boy

Maybe ten minutes later at the most, I couldn’t allow the exquisite beauty unfolding before my eyes to go unrecorded one more moment. “Spart! Hang on! Come ‘ere!” My commands punctuated the shushing of the wind as it worked to unfurl the newly budded leaves of the ash, sycamore, and maples behind me. The setting sun illuminating wisps of clouds in peach colored garb wouldn’t wait.

He listened – for the most part. Well enough to deserve two treats after Mommy took her dumb photos. What a good boy.

(T-205)

Sent or Delivered – Day 905

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Sent or Delivered? – Photo: L. Weikel

Sent or Delivered

It’s always amazing to me how Spirit will sometimes turn the most mundane objects or tasks into opportunities to send (or is it deliver?) messages. I guess the answer to that question (sent or delivered) depends entirely upon the recipient. Spirit can send a million messages – or a single message a million times – but that act alone doesn’t ensure a single one will be noticed, read, heard, or received in any way.

A piece of garbage that blows out of the back of a garbage truck can remain on the side of the road for days or weeks, or even much longer than that. It might get whisked into a roadside gully where a thunderstorm washes it into a stream, ultimately delivering it into a river. It might even make it to the ocean if it doesn’t get caught on a rock or buried in silt like the skeleton of a dinosaur.

There’s a chance that piece of garbage was sent as a message for someone to find and pick up. But if the intended recipient chose not to walk before the rain or went a different direction – or just wasn’t paying attention – then that sent message might never get delivered.

Ah, which tells me that it takes the efforts of two for Spirit to actually deliver a message. Spirit’s acting alone in sending is only the first affirmative act. But we need to do our part if we’re to give Spirit the satisfaction of claiming delivery. We need to see it and recognize the effort as the message it is.

Act On It?

It’s romantic to think that all messages we receive we act upon, but let’s face it: we don’t. I think we’re probably lucky to bat .200 or so in just recognizing a message has been sent and we snagged it as it passed by.

But following it? Actually listening to the message? Yikes. That entails a lot of steps. Receiving the message, recognizing it as such (and not dismissing it as a random piece of garbage), realizing it could actually be a message intended for us on some miraculous level, and then choosing to respect the message. And by that I mean respecting it enough to take the time to contemplate just what the message might mean and how it could apply specifically to our life.

Is this meant for me?

How does it apply?

Does it answer a question I’ve been mulling over?

Does it make sense?

A Picture or a Word

All of which makes me wonder just what I was being told and shown this evening. I believe the application calls for some contemplation. But no matter what, “Message sent – and  delivered.”

Bifurcated Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-206)

Double-take – Day 904

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Waiting – Photo: L. Weikel

Double-take

I was in the parking lot of our local health food store recently and did a double-take as I walked to my car. Who was that bulldog/boxer-faced individual sitting behind the wheel of that Jeep? And you know, some people actually resemble their pets (a lot), so my internal question was not facetious. (Yes, I just made that statement with full awareness that I have Boston Terriers. Hush.)

I just love it when our pets act like us by exhibiting human characteristics or expressions.  They’re way funnier than we are. Sometimes it’s a close tie between whether they’re funny, adorable, or just eerily clever.

You have to wonder if the dog in the Jeep has any inkling that it’s acting like its person. Surely it must be engaging in some form of imitation.

Early Night

Tonight’s post is short. My eye is hurting me and it’s probably best if I just give it a rest. I had a most unpleasant encounter a few days ago with the leaf of a bamboo plant on the edge of our property. I was mowing the lawn and this leaf became aggrieved by my efforts and whipped itself underneath my sunglasses, lacerating my eye.

It hurt. A lot.

Luckily, I was almost certain this aggressive greenery hadn’t cut my cornea, but rather limited its aggressive lashing out to the white of my eye. Nevertheless, it hurt (as I said before) and I wasn’t going to mess with risking infection.

Luckily, I was able to get in to see an ophthalmologist that afternoon. I’ve been using the antibiotic/steroid mixture in my eye for a few days now, but it’s hurting again tonight. So I’m going to rest my eye for now and leave you with this image of a dog driving a Jeep. I hope it makes you chuckle.

(T-207)

First Hummingbird – Day 903

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Hummingbird in Cusco, Peru, 2012 – Photo: L. Weikel

First Hummingbird

I’m not sure what came over me this afternoon. I’ll blame it on allergies. There is, after all, an ever-replenishing layer of yellow green pollen coating everything – tabletops, chairs, floors, cars. I have a bottle of Windex and a roll of paper towels at the ready because the air truly is thick with the stuff. And just as the afternoon air seemed to reach critical warmth, my eyes refused to stay open. I leaned against the pillows on the glider and drowsily rode the waves of the wind chimes…until “Bzzzzzzz!” I was jolted from my reverie by the season’s first hummingbird!

In fairness to this newby, I was wearing a neon orange shirt. So mistaking my hulking figure for a tasty and tantalizing nectar station might be excused – or at least might not be as glaring a miscalculation as one might think. Then again, it may not have been a miscalculation at all. If this was indeed a hummingbird returning to its ‘summer home’ from last year, it may have been feeling legitimately off-put by our failure to have a welcome home meal ready and waiting.

Close Encounter

Perhaps I was that in-between state I enter when I’m half asleep, but if I had to swear to it, I would: I felt the air above my head and face being buffeted by the blindingly rapid movement of the hummer’s wings. That’s how close it was to my drowsy countenance.

Needless to say, though, I was unprepared for such an early arrival. So I’m just going to have to make do with a photo from two years ago. Makes me realize that I need to try to snag more shots of these dazzling creatures. I’m chagrined that I only have one photo of our perennial visitors.

Ah! But here’s a bonus. My search for a photo for this post has revealed one I took of a hummingbird that visited me as I sat on a balcony in Cusco, Peru, in February 2012. I visited Peru that month on a quest to heal – or at least dive deep into – my grief over losing Karl only three months earlier.

Early? Late? On Time?

I’m surprised I haven’t mentioned the arrival of the hummingbirds in any other posts. I wonder when my first sighting was last year – or the year before. It’s curious that I’ve not documented (and celebrated) the return of the hummingbirds before this, since I always seem to announce the arrival of peepers.

And I do want to give a shout out to Karl. As soon as he heard I’d been buzzed, he retrieved the cleaned and emptied feeders we stored when the hummers headed south for the winter. I ran out to Giant to purchase a bag of plain white refined sugar (their favorite), which Karl then used to make their nectar.

So who knows? Maybe tomorrow, if I’m very very lucky, my weary little traveler will return. And maybe it’ll even pose for a photo. (Doubt it. But hey, you never know.)

Hummer from our porch, July ’19 – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-208)

Pattern of Numbers – Day 902

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Face in the Clouds – Nilch’i? – Photo: L. Weikel

Pattern Of Numbers

Surely there’s something special about tonight’s post. The pattern of numbers associated with it merits attention. For here I am, writing every night, no matter how tired I am or how mundane my thoughts, all because I promised to write 1111 consecutive posts in tribute to my son; in other words, my 1111 Devotion. Today’s post is # 902 – in numerology, this adds up to an 11. As can be seen at the bottom of this entry, since this is post # 902, that means we have T-209 left. Another 11.

I know, I know. “It’s numbers, Lisa. Also known as math.”  It’s also a lot of portals. A lot of doorways. The double ones create a space to move forward, an opportunity to leave, an invitation to enter another dimension.

Sometimes things aren’t as cut and dried as we would like them to be.

Sometimes the obvious is a superficial distraction hiding something really profound.

Something Special

All day today I had this feeling that the day was, in some way, something special. The air appeared to have a crystalline quality to it. (Or maybe that was only when I realized my glasses were covered with pollen.) Gee! How amazing everything looked when I took them off!

Or maybe it’s the eerie realization that that single tone resonating in the back of my mind is actually just one single chime on our porch being nudged by the barely perceptible breeze outside.

Something tells me that the clarity of the day both visually and aurally was connected in some way to the tremendously powerful winds that blew through the area yesterday. New energy arrived. A shift in attitude. A door opened.

Winds of Spirit

Perhaps I should consult the oracle of the Winds – my friend, Renee Baribeau’s, book, Winds of Spirit*.

Hmm. Randomly opening the book for a clue, I happened upon Nilch’i (Navajo) – the Wind of Intuition. Renee suggests: “This wind can be conjured up for inspiration, organization, or ritual, and to provide strength when needed.”

I wonder if we were visited by Nilch’i yesterday. Feels like a distinct possibility.

*affiliate link

(T-209)