joy

If a Boston Finds Us – Day 1064

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Meet PachaPup and Brutus Beefcake – Photo: L. Weikel

If a Boston Finds Us

I had the dream of Spartacus at the first crack of morning light on Monday. While I was diligent and wrote it down as best as I could, I didn’t actually share it with Karl until later that afternoon. It made me too sad to even relate it; the sense of Spartacus being right there beside me was still so acute. When I did read my dream to Karl, though, we agreed to keep an open mind. “If a Boston finds us,” we said to each other, “we’ll pay attention for sure.”

Mind you, maintaining an open mind on this was akin to remaining open to getting struck by lightning twice. Sage and I had stumbled upon Sheila’s litter (only a few miles from our house) when we passed a hand-made sign at the end of a long driveway at the edge of a local road. She was not a kennel-bred dog. She and her litter-mates were raised right there in the living room of the farmhouse they shared with their humans, and where they were born.

We always had a sneaking suspicion that part of the loveliness of Sheila’s personality was due to her having been whelped in a family home. What were the chances  of making such a discovery again, especially since that family had moved away years ago?

Sarah’s Surprise

The very next day, our daughter-in-law Sarah sent me an email about a litter of Bostons she’d discovered in Pennsylvania. I do not think she ever expected me to follow up; I think she was just planting a seed. (She didn’t know about the dream…)

I clicked on the link and couldn’t believe my eyes. Besides the utter adorableness of the puppies themselves, they’d only just turned eight weeks old and become ready to adopt the day before. Yes, the day of my Spartacus dream. And the description of the setting in which they were being raised was exactly what I wanted: a family that loves their Boston Terriers.

I knew I had to at least honor Spart’s message by calling the human mother and discerning more details. Melisa and I spoke for forty-five minutes. The rapport was instantaneous. By the end of our conversation, we’d set up an appointment for Karl and me to meet the litter, as well as both their canine parents and their humans.

Turns out we had to essentially cross the state to get there – but oh my, was the trip worth every single minute.

Brother and Sister

Meet Brutus Beefcake and PachaPup. The ‘runt’ (Brutus’s nickname amongst his humans was “Shrimp”) and the only girl in the litter.

Oh my…what have we done? Details – and lots of photos – to follow. If nothing else, this should make the last stretch of the 1111 Devotion more fun for all of us, hmm?

Sibling Snuggles – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-47)

Snarfing Down a Carrot – Day 984

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Snarfing Down a Carrot – Photo: L. Weikel

Snarfing Down a Carrot

As I’ve said a vast number of times before, it’s the little things in life that make it all worthwhile. Yeah, I’ve written about a lot of the ‘little things’ in my life over the past 983 days, even accidentally titling three separate posts (here, here, and here) ‘Little Things.’ But I’ve never titled a post ‘Snarfing Down a Carrot’ before tonight and yet the snarfing was most definitely another example of a tiny moment that made my day.

In point of fact, and upon reflection, almost every post has been about something most people would view as utterly inconsequential.

Alas, perhaps that’s one of the lessons I’ve learned through this exercise I dubbed my ‘1111 Devotion.’ My life is a tapestry of inconsequential moments; opportunities to assign personal meaning to the shape of a cloud or to realize joy in the midnight song of a catbird.

Or to experience delight when pigs, responding to my calls, run from their pen to greet me with smiles and appreciative grunts. It got even better (in my book) when the swine that snagged the biggest carrot used decidedly covert and deliberate tactics to hide her coup from the other two. Not only did she know she’d scored, she was determined to hide it from the other two.

She knew what she was doing! – Photo: L. Weikel

Laughter and Joy

I’m grateful for the laughter and joy my ‘three little pigs’ brought me this evening. It was quite a juggling act, taking their photos while feeding them carrots, singing their praises, and making sure Spartacus stuck by my side.

But I hope you’ll agree, these photos capture at least a little of their ‘cheek,’ and surely elicit a chuckle.

I was going to pick a card for us to contemplate on tomorrow’s full moon in Aquarius. Instead, I became distracted by my lovely and loving little porkers.

Maybe I’ll pick a card tomorrow.

Or maybe not.

Shhhh! It’s our secret – Photo: L. Weikel

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Sedentary Sunday – Day 924

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You Can’t See Me… – Photo: L. Weikel

Sedentary Sunday

The arrival of summer temperatures this weekend (it feels too early to me to be hitting 90 degrees, but what do I know?) persuaded me to indulge in a delightfully sedentary Sunday reading and studying on my porch.

Every time I consciously spend several hours away from electronics, I start thinking about how different life was in the not-too-distant past. I know I’ve read a million articles about how addicted we all are to our devices and yet I still check the headlines somewhat compulsively. (I actually chalk that up more to the trauma of the past four years than simple devotion to my laptop or cellphone.) Nevertheless, I’m starting to entertain thoughts of a shift this summer.

We’ll see.

My Real Message

The message I actually wanted to convey this evening has to do with an encounter I had on my walk this evening. Spartacus and I were ambling along the side of the road, taking in the way the sky was being painted by the setting sun.

A car approached us and I did as I try to do as often as possible, which is getting both the pup and myself entirely off the roadway. Most people smile and wave. Some obviously figure, “What the heck,” and floor it. Many are respectful and seem to appreciate that I’m trying to minimize risk for all of us. Yet I’m always a little bit concerned when someone slows down.

Yes, it could be someone I know. But even most of the people I know or recognize from working the polls or simply from living here all these decades don’t stop. They wave and smile.

So I was just a scootch concerned when the compact, navy blue SUV slowed to a stop and the passenger side window whizzed down to reveal the 50-something driver. Her short hair was dark brown and wavy, and it framed her friendly, smiling face. I wondered, “Ugh, darn it. Should I know her?”

To be honest, she did act as though she knew me – and I’m pretty confident we’ve never met. But! What she said next just made my day.

Never Hold Back

“I just had to tell you,” she said immediately upon lowering her window. “I saw my first fawn of the season today!”

Delight was written all over her face and quite powerfully washed over me as she filled me in on the details. She described where she works (a special needs care facility that’s close by and situated in a setting surrounded by nature) and detailed how she’d been greeted by a Mama Doe and her quite fresh newborn standing in the driveway only minutes earlier. She marveled at how the fawn was actually nursing right in front of her – smack in the middle of the driveway – and how neither Mama nor Baby were at all afraid of including her in their moment.

The driver joked that perhaps Mama Doe was making a peace offering because she was pretty sure Mama may have been the same deer that jumped in front of her car on her way into work today. Perhaps presenting her fawn was Mama’s apology and excuse for nearly killing the driver earlier.

Joy Is Catching

The very best part of this entire encounter (beyond imagining the utter adorableness of the newborn fawn) was the spontaneity with which this driver chose to share the unmistakable joy it brought her – and best of all – how she chose to share it with me!

I don’t know which made me grin more: the idea of the Mama presenting her nursing fawn to this woman (and the delight with which this gift was received) or that this woman somehow recognized a kindred spirit in me enough to share her news. I was simply walking along this country road at dusk and my evening was turned into an experience of sharing Nature’s magic and love.

Sharing her joy was a spontaneous act of courage. Next time any of us are tempted to do the same, I hope we don’t hesitate or hold back. We just might change the trajectory of someone’s day (or even more).

(T-187)

Sun Salutations – Day 891

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Exuberant Tulip – Photo: L. Weikel

Sun Salutations

As mentioned yesterday, in yet another example of reaping rewards for simply paying attention to the details of life that surround me, beyond catching sight of the flourishing bleeding hearts, I also noticed my tulips performing sun salutations.

The flat-out, open-hearted nature of this tulip bowled me over when I saw it. I took the photo above at 12:34 p.m., when the sun was directly overhead. This particular specimen could not have been more unabashed in its eagerness to soak up every last drop of solar nectar. Moments after I took the photo, I’ll admit, I sat on the porch and just stared at it. I drank in the exquisite harmony and balance of the petals; the way the patterns repeat themselves over and over again. Almost mesmerizingly, I see a plethora of sixes. The brilliant yellow stamens are half a six, but the rest of the flower is a blatant celebration of sixes. Numerologically, sixes can represent exuberance.

I dare you to look at that tulip and not feel joy stirring in your heart. Joy simply at being able to witness such a precisely-wrought piece of art created from a bulb that wintered underground throughout this long, cold, snowy winter.

Long Gone

When I spied this exaltation to spring, and saw its petals stretched out far and wide, I honestly thought I was witnessing its greatest expression of its tulip-hood. The feeling I got (and still get) when I immerse myself in the beauty of the patterns contained within the face of this flower is that it spent it all. This flower didn’t hold back one iota of energy when it flung its six petals out in an ecstatic embrace of the sun.

I didn’t think it could recover itself in time to live, and rejoice in, another day. I thought she’d be long gone within a day.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I set off to take my walk last night and glanced in the direction of my exuberant tulip, only to find this:

Child’s Pose Following Sun Salutations – Photo: L. Weikel

Boundaries

Wow! She was closed up tighter than a drum! What a worthwhile example of both being in the moment and setting boundaries.

It’s weird, I know. Don’t I know tulips aren’t the type of flower that just bloom one day and then have their petals fall off the next? Of course I know that. But I’ve certainly not been as aware of the cellular sentience of these beings as I was in that moment. For whatever reason, it hit home. These tulips embrace their sustenance with zeal and close up shop at the end of the day to preserve all they’ve gathered.

There’s no debate; no waffling. Life is lived with gusto and boundaries are set to protect itself and the life force coursing through it.

And my day was made all the richer for it because I paid attention.

Finally

I ran across a tree tonight as I took a walk following the announcement of the verdict in the trial of Derek Chauvin for the murder of George Floyd last year. I’ve walked past this tree a bazillion times before. But I’ve never seen it look quite so much like a Black goddess with arms upraised in victory and celebration as it did tonight.

Victory – Accountability – A Step Toward Justice – Photo: L. Weikel

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An Observation – Day 765

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Sunset 12/15/2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

An Observation

I had to run out to the grocery store – two, in fact – today. I needed to stock up on the ingredients necessary to fulfill my lofty snowstorm baking aspirations. In the midst of doing so, I made an observation that I wasn’t expecting: there seems to be an air of anticipation and happy excitement ahead of the snowstorm that’s supposed to arrive tomorrow.

Usually people are grumbly and cranky over an impending snowstorm. And one might think, given the severely restricted nature of our lives over the past year, that the prospect of being cooped up in our homes (yet again) as a result of a snow dump might just have people sidling even more toward the surly edges.

That did not seem to be the case. Instead, I witnessed cheerfulness and a bit more warmth from fellow shoppers and store employees than I was expecting.

Retreat

Could it be that everyone wants to get snowed in?  Is the realization of how much and how quickly the Covid-19 virus is spreading be sinking in? Is it possible that everyone just wants to hunker down and not have to think about washing their hands or making sure their mask is covering their nose and their mouth?

If we’re forced by the weather, something visible and tangible, to stay inside, then it just restores a sense of normalcy to our lives, even if fleetingly. Because let’s face it, our everyday work lives are not normal. Every day we get up in the morning and, if we have to deal with the public or report to an office or a courtroom or a nursing home or a prison, we have to entertain the possibility that we might get sick. Even if we wear our masks and stay 6’ away from everyone, the possibility exists that someone we’re talking to or walking behind may spread it and not even realize it.

And that’s a huge stress.

Find Joy

It sort of feels as though we’re all just so darn ambivalent. Of course we want to work. Not only do we (hopefully) get a sense of worth and purpose from our work, but let’s face it, it pays the bills. And yet the script that’s running quietly at the base of our skulls just keeps on whispering its relentless litany of ‘what ifs.’ A nice thick layer of snow feels like the perfect muffler to drown out the incessant worry.

May we all stop tomorrow and listen to the snowflakes as they click softly into place, piling one on top of each other. If you still have to work, may you find joy. If you get to leave your workplace early, give yourself permission to play – even if it’s only fleeting. Play. Laugh. Find joy. Remember, too, to look for it.

Sunset from the grocery store parking lot – Photo: L. Weikel

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First Flurries – Day 759

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Cardinal in First Flurries – Photo: L. Weikel

First Flurries

Yup, it’s definitely starting to feel like winter, even though we’ve not technically arrived there yet. Here in eastern Pennsylvania we experienced our first flurries and snow coating of the season.

I hope I never get so old that I don’t feel the joy of ‘first flakes’ fluttering in my heart as they come cascading out of the sky. I know, I know. There are personal safety issues that arise with the arrival of the slippery stuff. I’m not talking about the stresses that might accompany having to walk or drive anywhere essential in the snow. I simply never want to have my first reaction to seeing snow be anything other than a touch of childlike glee.

Critter Reactions

I’ll admit it; I had to laugh at the birds falling all over themselves at the feeders. I should’ve taken more photos of the house finches, goldfinches, nuthatches, and cardinals crowding and dive bombing each other at the feeder just outside my living room window. You’d think it was the equivalent of avian Black Friday.

But I did manage to get a lovely photo of a mama cardinal that looks almost staged. I only wish I could activate the ‘live’ feature of the photo within this post because when I hold my finger down on the photo in my phone, you can’t miss the curtain of flurries falling from the sky as she turns and winks at me.

Squirrel Squatter – Photo: L. Weikel

Squirrel Squatter

While I was making my morning coffee, I had to laugh at the unexpected sighting of a squirrel balancing on a metal hanger for a floral basket. I cannot imagine that its tiny little peds aren’t freezing. I hope they didn’t stick to the metal when s/he went to move. They probably didn’t, although I was surprised at how long it hung out there. It did not look like the most comfortable perch.

Luckily, the temperature was just under freezing. I think that tongue-sticking-to-a-metal-pole type of reaction only happens when everything is in a deep, deep freeze.

Slugs

And then there were the spoiled creatures that live in our home. Cletus and Spartacus were not venturing far away from the fire. They much preferred watching the flakes from the window or the door. Or even better, from the vantage point of inside their dreaming eyes.

Cletus & Spartacus – Photo: L. Weikel

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Little Things – Day 742

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Precious Awakened – Photo: L. Weikel

Little Things

Each and every day, particularly right now, focusing upon the little things in life, the things that make us smile, is an act of self-love. Off the top of my head, listening to my cat Precious snore like a longshoreman while curled up on the back of the couch right behind me fits that bill.

And now that I start to contemplate the many ‘little’ things I’m grateful for, I see how many of them revolve around non-human creatures, especially Spartacus (our Boston Terrier), Precious, Tigger, and Cletus. I can say without qualification that they bring a dimension of joy and comfort into my life that I’d be lost without.

Tigger Snoozing – Photo: L. Weikel

You know me…recounting the joys my four-legged companions bring to my life is something I engage in routinely. And it’s not at all likely that I’ll stop dipping into the pool of love they provide anytime soon.

That’s at least partly because simply living life in 2020 and paying attention to our collective reality means we are bombarded with news that hurts our souls. Literally. Even if we only cursorily glance at the headlines just to see where we stand as a community or a country, it’s enough to drain our energy and leave us feeling defeated, deflated, or perhaps occasionally worse: enraged.

Our nervous systems are drenched in the fight or flight hormones of cortisol and adrenaline. And unlike pretty much all other times in our nation’s history, because of the ubiquitous nature of technology in our hands, we are kept mercilessly up-to-date on the latest atrocities being waged against the things many of us care about most.

Spartacus & Tigger getting some flame time – Photo: L. Weikel

Purring and Comfort and Walks

Beyond the scientific proof that the purring of cats is healing to the physical body, I for one can attest to how my cats have mended tears in my emotions since I got my first kitten at age six: Katen. Katen was a black and white domestic shorthair cat with a white hourglass on his nose. He got me through my childhood, pure and simple. He was my closest confidant (although I was lucky enough to have a couple two legged ones too – you know who you are).

It’s amusing to me to realize that he was black and white – just like my beloved Sheila and Spartacus; just like Cletus. Indeed, just like the marvelous Stinky who’s been around recently.

I love feeling the heft of a cat on top of the covers, his purr resonating through the layers of sheets and blankets. (I will admit to allowing Spartacus to nestle along my back underneath the covers. Talk about a comfort.)

And the walks. The walks are good for all of us. All of these little things, these opportunities for giving and receiving love, make my life incredibly rich. I hope you have such little things too.

Cletus with a rare smile – Photo: L. Weikel

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Rapturous Beauty – Day 694

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Rays of Hope – Photo: L. Weikel

Rapturous Beauty

I’ve always loved living where four distinct seasons occur. And I’ve never quite been able to name a favorite season. Each has its own unique charm and reasons to love it. But I have to say, this fall, beginning just at the equinox (September 22) and persisting into this October, has kissed us with some rapturous beauty.

On our walk this evening, it was almost as if Karl and I were struck dumb with the surreal beauty that kept unfolding around us. Funny thing is, not only was it unfolding around us, but it also felt as though it were wrapping us up, cocooning us, enfolding us in a warm embrace of hope.

Propaganda

We are being subjected to some pretty thick and intense propaganda lately. We’re being whipsawed from one dire situation to another, one outrageous slashing of norms and decency to the next.

As a result, we’re left feeling vulnerable and raw.

And what message do we keep receiving day after day? Take a walk. Look up. Immerse yourself in nature. Listen to the crickets. Notice the clouds. Watch the wind swirl the leaves off the trees and carry them miles away.

Hopefully, this pandemic has shifted all of our lives enough to make every single one of us realize just how important maintaining a direct connection with Mother Nature.

If you’re still on the fence, I offer you the two photos I’m including in this post. Look at them. They are unfiltered.

Open Your Heart

I love how rays of light piercing the sky the way they are in the photo at the top of this post make me feel that hope is alive and well and an utterly vital sense to have and maintain.

And then – I don’t know what to tell you. The photo below, which is simply a shot of some of the wonderful trees lining the dirt road that we walk along every night, makes my heart want to break wide open in an outpouring of joy.

I realize that sounds radical and a bit weird. It’s not necessarily a unique or special photograph in many senses of the word. But there’s something about it. Every time I look at it, I feel a tug in my heart. I almost feel tears starting to form. I can’t explain it.

But maybe you will feel it too.

And if so, then my work for the evening is complete.

Sunset through the Trees – Photo: L. Weikel

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Surprised Admiration – Day 639

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Photo: abcnews.go.com

Surprised Admiration

It’s not a stretch to figure out what the title of tonight’s post is referencing. When the announcement was made today that Joe Biden was selecting Kamala Harris as his running mate, I’d say my first reaction was a subdued, “Wow.” Not subdued because I was less than enthusiastic. My “wow” was quiet because it contained a surprised admiration that Biden had actually selected her.

There’s no question that she is absolutely qualified to both hold the position of vice president and step into the position of president should the need arise. But she has many other outstanding qualities that complement Biden and will combine with his strengths to create a formidable governing team. And boy, do we need a resurgence of good government.

Most of all, my “wow” was subdued because it surprised me. I was impressed with Biden’s self-confidence and maturity. And no, just because he’s 77 years old does not by any means translate into wisdom or maturity. Mere age alone does not confer self-confidence. Nor does it confer wisdom. And it sure as heck does not confer maturity.

Our Current President

Let’s face it. I don’t even need to write anything under this heading – it is self-explanatory. We’ve all been living (and dying) at the mercy of the whims of a person who lacks these very qualities that Joe Biden just exemplified in his choice of running mate.

The reason I was pleasantly surprised by Biden’s choice is precisely because so many men in his position (and yes, white men in particular, sad to say) would have been both intimidated by how roundly she scored points on him in that early debate and then vindictive as a result. Indeed, I seem to recall some relatively has-been male politicians (Ed Rendell springs to mind) recently being quoted as counseling Biden against choosing Kamala “because she was too ambitious” or “rubs people the wrong way.”

What a bunch of garbage. But when I heard that there were men, the Old Guard, so to speak, of the Democratic party weighing in on the danger of choosing a powerful, God-forbid ambitious woman, my heart sank. There it was again. That same old trope.

A Stellar Field

Let me be clear: I felt that the field of candidates from which Biden had to choose was extraordinary. And those candidates were all stellar in their own ways because he’d promised he would choose a woman as a running mate. And for ever (so far), especially in this country, for women to compete with men they’ve had to jump higher, be smarter, have thicker skin, be more creative, and do it all for less money. So I challenge anyone to honestly tell me they were surprised when it was obvious that the ten or so candidates he was vetting were all superlative candidates.

Given this state of affairs, he could not have made a poor choice. He could’ve made a safer choice – safer as far as his ego goes. He could’ve chosen someone thought to have a more deferential temperament. Or perhaps even more saliently (especially to some of the small men counseling him) he could’ve punished that uppity chick who chastised him on national tv using her own lived experience of being a child who benefited from the busing he failed to support.

Joy and Hope

After my initial, “Huh, wow,” response to hearing the news, I started watching the coverage of the selection on tv. The reactions expressed by so many commentators, activists, and politicians honestly made tears roll down my cheeks. For the first time in so long, I saw joy on people’s faces. I saw hope and heard a renewal of faith in the true nature of our country being expressed.

It felt like when we elected Barack Obama. For me at least, I was seeing an expression of unity and inclusion, a celebration of diversity and an expression of self-confidence that doesn’t require subservience to feel powerful. I was seeing an expression of our country and its values that so very many of us have yearned for and were perhaps beginning to despair of ever seeing again.

It’s overwhelming to consider how many people in our country feel invisible, disposable, voiceless, and worthless.

Which is why it was incredibly powerful to hear so many people interviewed this evening, including those who often do the reporting of our news say, “I feel seen.” Over and over, I witnessed the tears in their eyes. Saw the joy written all over their faces. Heard the hope tingeing their voices.

The election isn’t won yet. Not by a long shot. But the spontaneous expression of joy and hope I witnessed this evening was like a steady, yet gently soaking rainstorm on a vast landscape of parched cracked earth.

Photo: cbc.ca

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Lightning Bugs – Day 577

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Lightning Bug – Photo: L. Weikel

Lightning Bugs

Two nights ago, on Monday evening, Karl and I took a good long walk that extended into the magical time of twilight. Much to my delight, we were welcomed along the way by lightning bugs rising from their slumber and peeking their heads above the tall grasses that fill the fields and line the roads around our home.

With my sense of time rather hopelessly distorted as a result of the coronavirus pandemic, it felt early to be greeting these harbingers of summer. But I guess it’s not. I see I first wrote about them last year on June 3rd, when I discovered a lone firefly hanging out on our porch one morning. I then wrote another post on June 9th – when I reported seeing a grand display as they rose from the forest floor near High Rocks.

Come to think of it, then, it would appear that they’re pretty much right on track. Practically to the day, since it was June 8th when we saw them this year!

Wow. Bug time. You can set your calendar by it.

First Heat Wave of the Season

We took a walk this evening that bumped up close to twilight, but wasn’t late enough, apparently, to witness my favorite luminescent creatures. I have to wonder if they weren’t sleeping in, tucked into the cool shade of the matted undergrowth of the meadows and forests. They may have been tempted to hunker down a bit longer than usual tonight, as the heavy blanket of heat and humidity today made all movement feel like a major, sticky effort.

The heat index was up to 100 degrees today. That’s oppressive. It means that the heat and humidity weren’t bad enough on their own, but they decided to work together to add a little oomph to the punishment being meted out to the humans. But I also think these are prime conditions for firefly eggs to hatch.

I’m optimistic that a post-twilight walk later this week will yield tremendous firefly activity. Or maybe we’ll have to wait until July for the best natural pyrotechnics. In the meantime? I just looked out the window and a wink of light acknowledged my glance.

Lightning bugs. They’re one of the little joys in life that keep me going.

Fireflies – Photo: Stocksy United

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