Monday, August 6, 2012

When the Mouth is Busy...



A strange quietness has descended upon our back yard. The incessant cheeps of the swallow nestlings have stopped, a sure sign the last one has finally flown off. The quiet won't last long, for the yard is a-buzz with birds, insects, frogs, and the occasional coyote - all you have to do is listen.


A great variety of birds visit our feeders and over the years we have learned to identify most of them. Often, we don't even need to see them, as we know their calls. (Those who know me well know that I also often answer them!) These include the robin, chickadee, nuthatch, grosbeak, junco, Song and White-capped sparrow. Four types of woodpeckers live in the neighborhood and each of these - the Downy, Hairy, Pileated, and Northern Flicker - has its own unique call and drumming sound. The Pileated and Flicker, especially, announce their arrival with loud piercing cries. The sharp-shinned hawk, always on the lookout for a smaller bird meal, makes the high pitched sound common to hawks. Most of these we know by heart; others we need to look up year after year as we hear them less often or for one reason or another don't remember them. The bird community we live in is a very busy and noisy place!

At Family Camp this year, as other years, I asked the kids which animal in the woods is the loudest. As always, some children threw out their best guesses - lion, bear, dog, dinosaur... Some, either because they know me and have heard this question before (Caroline) or think it through carefully before answering, correctly shout "WE are" And how right they are - I don't know about volume, but in terms of pure constant chatter, we humans must surely win hands down. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but as I remind the children: "Our ears don't work as well when our mouth is busy..."
During my growing-up years, lots of visiting took place at our family dinner table. Dad spoke of business, politics and “the early days” when his family homesteaded in eastern Montana. Mom boldly gave her opinions on current events, related tales of her girlhood, and shared family news. I chattered on and on about whatever concerned me at the time. We felt free to speak, but were expected to listen in return. It was a lesson well-learned that has served me well.


In today's world, listening is more important than ever. With multi-tasking and electronic gadgetry now a given, how often do we give others our undivided attention? When someone is speaking and another is texting, plugged in to an iPod, typing on a laptop, answering a cell phone, or watching TV, what is actually being heard?


How often is there direct eye contact, quiet listening, and appropriate response as opposed to eyes directed elsewhere, mind on other things such as formulating one's own agenda that may have nothing to do with the current conversation?

The political climate is equally interesting and the same things apply. We each have our own view and opinion and in many cases feel compelled to share them. Again, this is not necessarily a bad thing, but how often do we actually listen to the other points of view? It's good to remember that hearing and LISTENING are not the same things...


My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.           James 1:19-20

Friday, July 13, 2012

Beach Exploration: Sand


“To myself I am only a child playing on the beach,
while vast oceans of truth
lie undiscovered before me.”
Isaac Newton
It is apparent, even from some distance, that the trees here are survivors. Prevailing winds and storms take their toll along any shoreline and on this tip of land, jutting into the Strait of Juan de Fuca just where it flows south into Puget Sound, they are relentless. Only a few hearty birds frequent the tree tops here.


We were camping at Fort Worden State Park in Port Townsend, WA.


That afternoon we would walk the beach, taking a route that passes through sand dunes filled with beach grasses, shrubs, and flowers.


Here, nestled down among the dunes and taller plants, a number of flowers thrive.



No matter how common or plain these may appear, I always stop and take a closer look at lovely, delicate blooms.


The tide was ebbing as we began our walk, and we were soon completely absorbed in the sights, sounds, and solitude of the shore.


It is a wily thing, lulling and luring us into its spell...



Water is a remarkable force, even as it quietly seeps through the sand on its way down to the sea.


I imagine I am flying high above the earth looking down and the view is similar - the flowing of streams and rivers carving their paths through the land.


There are flood plains, deltas, large outcroppings of rock; are not the processes and results the same?


Looking up to the bluffs, we see countless eons of deposits that were laid down in remarkable patterns.


Wind and water continue their relentless assault, slowly wearing down and carrying away each particle.


At the top, all things teeter on the edge, waiting their turn to return to the sea in an endless cycle.


Others have been here - we see the signs of their passing...





Most leave a brief imprint which will soon be gone, washed away with the sand and all that lies on it.


Some - the daring or foolhardy - seek a more lasting impression. I think most impressions are fleeting at best, and the deepest ones are not necessarily the ones we set out to make.


 

Many live here on the edge between the land and the sea, able to withstand the extremes.



Some tether themselves tightly to the land, adapting and adjusting their parts for the long haul.




Some are able to come and go, using the tides to their advantage.



Others, who must remain in or near the water, have developed unique ways to protect themselves when the tide is out. 



The beach is littered with those that have been flung onto the land, whatever the reason - many will survive to be carried out once more when the tide turns.


Many will not...

We treasure our time on the beach
and savor every small gift:

The shell - form and function
perfectly matched.
The rock - solid and strong,
but even it can be broken and changed.
The beach glass - worn smooth and polished
through time and abrasion.


Yet again I am reminded...

"The sea does not reward
those who are too anxious,
too greedy, or too impatient.
One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach
- waiting for a gift from the sea."
Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Tricolor Summer


RED


Bee balm, begonias, and fuchsias that hang
Star Lilies, raspberries, and rhubarb with tang
Sweet smelling roses
That turn into hips
Plump sliced tomatoes and watermelon drips

WHITE

Salal blooms, Snowberries, and Dogwood on trees
Trillium and Daisies make some people sneeze
Ice cream, fresh-churned,
With vanilla and cream
Sprinkled with strawberries that grow by the stream

BLUE


Hydrangeas, Hostas, and loud Steller's Jays
Forget-Me-Nots nodding and brightening the days
Blueberry cobbler
Fresh Blackberry pies
Fireworks that BANG! and flash in dark skies


A red and white tablecloth flaps in the breeze
In blue jeans with bluegrass we sip our iced teas
We value our freedom
(Though not all are free)
We honor our brave ones (is that you or me?)


While Ruby-Throated hummingbirds
buzz through the trees
Lupine fills sand dunes around local seas
We celebrate this land and should grateful be
It's a touchstone for the future - if we want it to be.


But the land that you are crossing over to occupy is a land of hills and valleys, watered by rain from the sky, a land that the LORD your God looks after. The eyes of the LORD your god are always on it, from the beginning of the year to the end of the year.              Deuteronomy 11:11-12