nature

My Backyard Studio

May 7, 2010 By heather 2 Comments

Birds tweeting (in nature, not on Twitter) interrupt the Boardwalk sounds.

It’s not a real Boardwalk carnival, mind you. The children at recess in the elementary school a couple of blocks from my house sound no different from children running around the wooden slats with dripping ice cream cones. The construction machines (at same elementary school) sound like roller coasters winding up, taking their cars to the top of hill before releasing them to adrenaline.

And the cars rushing down the major street four blocks from my house become the waves cresting, crashing, and rolling back into the arms of Mother Ocean.

In this carnival, I write today.

This is my backyard studio.

(Pretend you don’t see the magazine that’s not distracting me from my writing. Not at all.)

Butterflies, birds, and squirrels keep me company. (Yes, the squirrels and I have declared a cease-fire for the moment. That’s how beautiful this day is.)

The morning dove who's taken up residence in our gutters

She’s shy. I had a hard time catching this shot.

Red-breasted something-or-other: That's the official species name.

I just watched this little sheila grab an earthworm from my garden (no! I need those earthworms!) and swallow half of it. She bounced toward me with the other half hanging out of her beak as if offering it to me. Too bad the memory card from my camera was in the computer.

Filed Under: my backyard, nature, writing

Colossians and Creation

May 7, 2008 By heather 7 Comments

The sunlight sparkles on the water, speckles the path, and dances with the trees. I sit on a log bench and meditate on the memory verse for my Bible study:

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation, for all things in heaven and on earth were created by him – all things,
whether visible or invisible, whether thrones or dominions, whether principalities or powers – all things were created through him and for him. He himself is before all things and all things are held together in him.

All of this has been created by him, through him, and for him.

I look up and study the textures surrounding me: the bark–some large plates, others small slivers, the leaves–some wide mittens, others pine needles, the fish–some transparent, others spotted. Flowers border my feet–purple and yellow and white.

By him, through him, for him.

The Creator became creation and brought light into the darkness. What does it mean to sparkle with his light? The Church, a body–a body of water reflecting the son? Each of us–our lives, our art, our work–reflecting him.

We walk along the path, my companions and I, sometimes silent, sometimes in laughter. We stop and inspect roots and dragonflies and turtles.

Back at the camp, we find our places of solitude. But it is not silent. The space is filled with the warble of a cardinal, the drumming of a wood pecker, the shushing of the breeze. All creation praises him. After all, it has been created by him, through him, and for him.

In these moments, grace fills the space. Hope of the future, of a creation in perfect harmony, sneaks into the present. In these moments, my life and my art mean nothing and everything. In
these moments, the dark night of the soul awakens into a Dvorak
morning.

These are the moments of my retreat, the moments that God refreshed body, soul, and mind, the moments that my emotions overflow with rejoicing in the Creator.

By him, through him, for him.

Note: This post is part of a group writing project with The High Calling blogs. For other retreat posts, go to Success Creeations.

Update: I’m an idiot. A fact my readers well know. I forgot to tell you all this cool information about this post! The fact is that Laity Lodge is sponsoring this contest. If you can write a post today about retreats, you’ll be entered into a drawing for a free, yes, free retreat at Laity Lodge.

For those who write a blog (but don’t win), you can 50% off at Laity Lodge.

For my readers, 25% OFF FOR YOUR READERS – Anyone who reads your blog
can register for 25% off. When they call to register, they need to ask
for “the HighCallingBlogs.com discount.”

For more info, go to Chris Cree’s blog, Success Creeations.

Please, no comment from the peanut gallery.

Filed Under: camping, creation, nature, retreat, solitude

Today's Inspiration

November 30, 2007 By heather Leave a Comment

You’d think I was Snow White.
I couldn’t resist. The weather was
perfect. With my cream of wheat lunch, my water, and a book, I went
into our backyard and settled in a chair. At some point–who knows how
long it had been?–it occurred to me that there was a lot of noise and
scurrying around going on. I glanced up from my book. My backyard
teemed with birds hopping here and flying there and squirrels dashing
and jumping to branches so distant, it looked like they flew. It
must’ve been the pecans falling. A dash of red caught my eye. A bird,
mostly grey with a red head (immediately endearing him to me) hugged a
tree (that tree-hugger), knocking his beak in places, climbing up a bit
more, inspecting, knocking again. He reminded me of a shopper looking
for the perfect pumpkin.
And it hit me: a veritable woodpecker!
Most
of the birds were shades of brown and grey, although a few had a dull
orange chest. They searched behind our wood pile, amongst the trees,
beneath the fire bowl. I felt for a moment transported to some cabin in
the woods, and it made me want to sing (well, what doesn’t, really?).
After
a while, I looked back down at my book. There, crawling over the top,
was a caterpillar with a blue and green pattern on his back, fuzzies
sticking up on end like he had just had a scare. A fellow booklover, I
knew immediately, because he gravitated toward the words, pausing over
an especially delectable one before moving on.

Filed Under: nature

Camping 101

October 29, 2007 By heather Leave a Comment

What I learned from camping:

It’s best to spoil yourself
when camping: steak and salmon for dinners and the like. It helps if
you pack a Master Chef with you for just such an occasion. This is why
I take my husband with me.

Coffee tastes better percolated outside.

Full moons are just as bright as the dawn.

Also bring with you a pyro. They make the best campfires (um, my husband again).

Watching a lake shimmer in the sun is better than DVR.

Fires are hypnotic.

If lit on fire, marshmallows are excellent carriers of fire and can easily ignite other items such as sweatshirts and chairs.

The only time hot dogs taste good is cooked on an open fire.

You
get a lot of exercise just doing everyday things, like walking up to
the bathrooms, taking out the trash, and hiking, so packing things like
chips, hot chocolate, and the makings for s’mores is okay.

I can get dressed laying down.

At
night, that walk up to the bathrooms can’t be bothered with. Squatting
behind the tent is fine. Pack toilet paper and hand sanitizer.

No
matter how clean the showers are and if they get hot water, nothing
will feel so good as a steamy shower in your own bathroom when you get
home (followed by a good night’s sleep in your bed rather than an air
mattress that you suspect is losing air).

The Creator God
must really love us to give us these trees and water and deer nibbling
by and yellow and blue and orange butterflies fluttering this way and
that and grasshoppers playing along the path.

The last one I’ll tell you in another post. I will tell you this: it has to do with fire.

Filed Under: camping, life lessons, nature

Wonder of Wonders, Miracle of Miracles*

September 13, 2007 By heather Leave a Comment

A few weeks ago while working in the yard (okay, so Chris was working and I was reading–details, details), we found an amalgamated mess of twigs and coconut husk in one of our hanging plants on the patio. Chris peeked into the planter and a bird flew out, hitting him in the glasses. I don’t know who startled more, Chris, me, or the bird. We left the nest because, hey, we’re not homewreckers.
Yesterday evening I was outside reading when the previously startled bird flew back to her nest chirping. Tiny, squeaky chirps answered her, and she dropped in the food she carried.
She’s a mommy bird now!
I grabbed a cigar, slapped her on the back, and admired the newborns.
Then she flew to our fence, perched, and chirped, watching the planter. Was she off to find more food but wanted her young to know that all was well? Was she doing a security check, making sure I wasn’t a danger? Was she trying to encourage them to come to her? Was she exhausted and exasperated and just needed a second alone, a woman can’t even go to the bathroom without all the chickadees following?
Pam, I’ll have to take a picture so that you can tell me what we have.

*Fifty points if you can tell me from where I pilfered the title.

Filed Under: nature

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning

May 15, 2007 By heather Leave a Comment

This weekend we went to O-O-O-O-Oklahoma where the wind comes sweepin’ down the plain. We camped at Turner Falls, and for those of you who camp, I would suggest trying this area. The front area (more day trippers—I’m just full of songs today) was more commercialized, but the fall itself was magnificent. Swimming areas, a small stretch of sandy beach, and of course, a castle. Why not have a castle in O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A Oklahoma, yeah? Apparently, in the thirties an English professor at Oklahoma University built it modeled on middle ages English castles. It was his summer home. I guess profs made a bunch more back then. The tent camping area is more secluded. We found a spot right on the rushing river. You don’t really see the other campers. And you don’t see any lights except for the stars, which explode in the sky after the sun goes skinny dipping.
Saturday night, after dark, long after dark, a girl appears by our campfire. The guys were off to the side I think cleaning up something, maybe tying up the trash bags because of the raccoons. This girl, with eyes that didn’t focus anywhere just stands there until my friend Patty asks, “Are you okay?” with her South African accent.
“I’m looking for Xena. Is Xena here?” the girl draws in a breath of cancer from her cigarette.
As in the warrior princess?
“No,” Patty says, “Sorry.”
“I must be at the wrong campsite.”
Ya think?
She wanders away with a dim flashlight. The guys return, and we relate the story. Patty’s reaction: I hope she’s okay. If she’s lost, she’ll be lost all night.
My reaction: maybe she’s the Wandering Lady of Turner Falls searching for Xena’s campsite from the 1930s. The castle-professor had fallen in love with her, but she did not return the emotion, and now she’s doomed to search for Xena forever (because Xena saved her from his clutches in the 30s, or course).
My sweet, caring husband, upon seeing her flashlight again, goes out to help her.
Scenario number two: It’s a ploy. A trap. She lures away the men in the camp to torture them. Meanwhile, others come in and kidnap the women and children. I start praying. Please return my sweet, caring husband to me. And I don’t even watch sci-fi. (Although you should have seen my nightmare last night. Bruce Willis was my father, and he was not a good guy.)
Chris returns. What’s the story? we ask.
“She’s stoned,” he starts. We got that. “I asked her where she came from [cotton-eyed Joe, to keep up the songs]. ‘You know that area where you’re not supposed to drive?’ she said.”
We nod. We know.
Chris continues. “‘We drove there.’ I knew exactly where she was cause I saw that truck earlier. She said Xena—not the warrior princess—did you actually ask her that?” Chris asks me. I hadn’t. She must have come up with it all on her own in her drugged stupor. “Xena the Russian-” okay “-was with a group that jump started our car today and now we’re the best of friends and camping together.”
And they probably had a stash of something.
“When we got to this tiny stream, she turned her flashlight off, told me she knew where she was, and didn’t go any further until I had turned around,” Chris says.
I jump in. “So if it was scenario number one with the Wandering Lady of Turner Falls, she knew that anyone who crossed the tiny stream (River Styx?) with her would be doomed to Hades. If scenario number two, then she grew to like you because you were caring and didn’t try any hokey-pokey business and so she decided to let you go and return to the camp unharmed and in time to save us.” Of course, Patty’s husband, Charl, was still there to prevent aforementioned kidnappings.
Rolled eyes on all sides.
So back to the beautiful morning, Lisa Samson started it all, Mary DeMuth emailed me—along with several others—about it, fellow Misfit Michelle participated, and Robin participated then tagged me. Wshoo. That’s a lotta links, folks, especially considering the pic-in-a-post, too. Morning faces. Pure morning. And I took the picture. Second morning of our camping excursion. Pre-coffee. Unwashed hair. The whole business. But, I can’t bring myself to post it. It would take out the intrigue, and I need just a little mystery (for those of you who do know what I look like, just pretend). So here’s me enjoying the falls. Note: hair is unwashed and unfixed and in an awkward growing-out stage. And I rarely wear make-up anyways, so can this count? And pic was still taken pre-coffee.