Swan Sanctuary

The many years I spent working with swans, coupled with intensive gardening, has left my body in a rather sorry state. Overuse of my hands, and far too much bending, have left me with painful arthritic hands and an acute case of sciatica. I have begun working at a motel, at the front desk. It is quite boring in comparison to doing the work that I love; but I must accept the fact that my body has aged and I can no longer endure the physical demands of my previous livelihood. 

Yesterday, a couple of gentlemen approached the front desk at the motel, disgruntled and angry. They are working in town and they are booked for an extended stay at the motel. This is a non-smoking motel. For the past few days, the housekeeper has left notices in the mens’ rooms, admonishing them for smoking and cooking in their rooms. This was a false accusation on the part of the housekeeper and they were rightfully offended because only one of the men smokes, and he assured me that he smokes outside the building. They had complained to another front desk clerk, but she was rude to them. They felt that this unfair treatment was verging on harassment. 

Everyone who knows me, knows that I have zero tolerance for cigarette smoke and that it sends me into immediate asthma attacks. There was a strong odor that had followed the men into the building, but I knew this was not cigarette smoke or marijuana. As I listened with concern to them and discovered that they are welders, I understood the situation. My ex-husband was a welder when we were first married so it was a familiar smell to me. I told the men that I would first of all, never accuse someone of anything that I had not personally witnessed. I know that simply walking into a room filled with smoke, you will walk back out smelling of it because it clings to clothing and skin. The odor from the welders was obviously emanating from their clothing and permeating their rooms.

I promised the men that I would let my manager know about their frustration. I could visibly see their anger melt away. They wanted someone to listen to them. They wanted to be heard. They thanked me and I was grateful to have been the calming presence that they needed in that moment.

I miss the work that I have done in the past, but I also understand that life is ever changing. I accept that I am now needed elsewhere and I know that even doing a mundane job at a motel has its rewards.

I do not have the wide array of birds that I enjoyed when I was in Virginia. I miss the cardinals, the chickadees, the mockingbirds, wrens, and so many others. I am grateful; however, for the limited number of wildlife I have here. Yesterday, I watched as 3 squirrels sat in a semicircle around the bottom of my feeders, munching on the corn, peanuts, and sunflower seed that I had tossed on the ground for them. Today, I marvel at a squirrel and a rabbit sitting within 2 feet of one another, each satiating his hunger. The European ring-necked doves, also ground feeders, joined them while the house finches and sparrows indulged at the hanging feeders above them. The European starlings show up a little later in the morning, in a small whirlwind of their own, have their fill and make a mess bathing in the birdbath. They usually return later in the afternoon for a second helping. The Northern flicker visits the suet feeders periodically throughout the day. 

Unbeknownst to me, I recently learned that quite a few people, in colonial times, kept squirrels as pets. They are often referred to as “tree rats” despised by many in our modern times, but they are highly intelligent and just like humans; they are problem solvers. If they can figure out a way to get to a bird feeder, they usually succeed. My own feeding station has a raccoon/squirrel baffle and it is set more than 8 feet from any structure from which they could springboard onto it. I always toss enough extra food onto the ground for them. While many people see squirrels as “nuisances,” I strongly disagree. Their habit of burying seeds and then forgetting where they hid them, helps many trees in the continuity of their own species. A new tree will sprout from the buried seed. In fact, most trees depend on other life forms, along with the wind, to disperse their seeds. We should encourage squirrels because they are our allies in planting more trees, which we all now know will help our struggle against global warming.

We all could learn a lot by observing how well other species are able to coexist.

We are already nearing the end of January and although the last frost date in this area is not for another 4 whole months, I am biting at the bit to begin planning my next garden. Last summer I was caught up in major upheaval and I did not have the opportunity to begin another garden. This is a new year, a new beginning, and I intend to make the most of it. I can dive back into my permaculture study with renewed enthusiasm and begin to plan a magnificent garden.

I had to let go of my last garden that I made here in this town. I have had to let go of the back breaking work, the money spent, the time invested, and the love that I poured into it. I have had to let go of my successes with beginning many plants from seed and I have had to let go of the flowers themselves. I had always believed that leaving something more beautiful than I had found it, was its own reward; but the clueless mindset of so many has caused me to feel at times, that it was all a total waste.

My previous landlord rototilled my entire garden after I left and replanted grass in the 40’ X 30’ area. My 4 hȕgelkultur beds, all of my herbs, the loads of mulch that I had put down, the comfrey that was to provide tea for the plants, the improved soil from my chickens, my favorite clematis – Raguchi – and the climbing rose now gone to be trodden by dogs, neglected, and overgrown with weeds. All of the arduous work that I had done was apparently for nothing. Gardens that I had previously left behind, were left miles away. Since I no longer lived in the same town, I did not have the constant reminder of what I had lost. I avoid driving past this previous garden now because it is like a knife piercing my heart.

I know that the only way to heal this broken gardening heart is to plant a new garden. The only way to overcome the anguish is to make the next garden even better than the last. I continue to grow as a person. I continue to grow as a gardener. I know that with each successive garden I am making it more sustainable, more enduring, more in tune with Mother Nature. One day, those who do not now know any better, may become interested in my garden. They may shed their cloak of ignorance and seek understanding. I know; however, that my only job is to keep on gardening, to let go of judgement and resentment. I simply need to walk barefoot on the earth and plunge my hands deep into the soil, allowing it to fill me with joy once again.

There was news today of a tragic fire in a New York high rise apartment building. Eight of the seventeen victims were children. I have never liked high rise buildings or the elevators that are used to reach the upper levels. My mother’s aunt had moved to senior housing that was in a high rise building, when I was in my early twenties. There were only two elevators and I often had to wait several minutes for the elevator, whenever I went to visit her. Few people choose to walk the stairs when it requires ascending all the way to the 16th floor, or higher. That was challenging for me even then, when I was young and fit and I rode a bicycle rather than driving a car.

I am a fan of vertical gardening. It is a great way to utilize small spaces and you can grow a large amount of food this way. I like to make use of wall space in my home by building floor to ceiling bookshelves. It is smart and it can aid in insulating my home from the weather. I like a two story home because I prefer to have the bedrooms separated from the main living space. It is also warmer on the upper level of a home. I know that should the need arise, I can jump out of a two story building, but anything higher than that, I would not be able to escape from. I draw the line; however, in putting people, their children, and pets on top of one another in modern apartments and condominiums. 

I have lived in mobile homes, which I dislike as well. When walking through them, my feet can sense the air space beneath them and I am well aware that I am not walking on solid ground. I need to feel grounded and the less space there is, between my feet and the earth, the more grounded I feel. Another drawback to a mobile home is that it is more susceptible to fire than a brick and mortar home. I feel considerably safer knowing that if there is a fire, I only have to run a few feet and I can be out the door. 

My heart breaks for those children who have to live in high rise buildings. Their opportunity to connect with the natural world is severely limited. It also saddens me that many pets must spend their time imprisoned in apartment buildings, never knowing the joy and the freedom of sprinting through an open field. The few times a day that they are taken outside, they must be on leashes and can go no faster than the person holding the other end of the leash. Gyms and sports clubs have been built for people to exercise and work out; but pets often receive far too little exercise. Special areas have been implemented for dogs to run off leash and to interact with other dogs; but there is no such option for those cats that have been forced to live their entire lives indoors. The news, as usual, does not mention if pets lost their lives in yesterday’s fire.

Most large cities now have numerous high rise office buildings and high rise apartment buildings. This is of course preferable to taking habitat from other species, by clear cutting forests to build single family homes and shopping centers. The real problem here, as I have stated so often, is that there are too many human beings and too many domesticated pets on our small planet. Building high rises may be the only option for our overcrowded world, but I believe this can only contribute to greater intolerance and the possibility of more disasters like the one seen yesterday. We live in difficult times. There are no easy answers, but it is time to begin seeking them, and to reduce the world’s suffering.

Human lives are sometimes divided into segments that resemble the seasons. A young person just starting out in life is said to be in the springtime of his life. That time in which he has acquired a livelihood, a home of his own, and created a family, is known as the summer. When a woman looks in the mirror one day and realizes she has become old, she has entered the autumn years. I have never heard anyone refer; however, to the winter of one’s life. What would that be exactly? Is it that period of time when one is simply waiting for death to arrive? When you realize that you can no longer do the things that you used to do and your body fails you, is this the winter time of life? 

The pentagram, or 5 pointed star, represents for me the 5 stages of a woman’s life. The first stage is birth. We grow into childhood, then adolescence, and finally arrive at the second stage of maidenhood. The third stage is motherhood, a very busy time of life, that generally includes raising a family. In what seems like no time at all, she has arrived at the fourth stage. She may have grandchildren and great grandchildren by now. This is known as the stage of the crone, by which time wisdom has been attained. From here she travels to the final stage, the release from life, the fifth point on the star.

Our lives can easily be compared to plants, as well. As a seed, we germinate, begin to push our way through the soil, and sprout as seedlings. We grow, some slowly, some rapidly, and then we produce flowers. Our flowers may hang on for some time, or they may bloom like the day lily, for only one day. Eventually, and without fail, our flowers fade. We set seed for the next generation and then we disappear back into the soil. As human beings, setting seed is like reviewing the life we have lived and putting our affairs in order. It is the time to prepare for the journey of death, the passage into a non physical realm.

I am in the winter of my life now. I do not know how long or how hard the winter will be. Some winters are short and mild. Others are brutal and long. The only thing that is certain, is that when my winter season is finally over, I will be gone.

I have mostly stopped listening to the news, even PBS and NPR, because it seems that the only thing they can talk about is COVID and the new omicron variant. I do not need this in my consciousness. I am healthy and I have every intention of remaing so.

Today though, is one year since the horrifying attack on our U.S. capital. I was glad to hear that former press secretary, Stephanie Grisham, who used to be a Trump supporter, has had the blinders removed from her eyes. She sees clearly now and intends to aid the mission to stop Trump in his ongoing attempt to undermine our democracy. She hit the nail on the head in her statement that he is a “master manipulator.” He has made it his life’s mission to unscrupulously exploit the masses. Grisham points out that he has a “fragile ego” and this makes him a very dangerous man. He is actually very mentally ill.

Donald Trump is a serious threat to our country – perhaps an even bigger threat than terrorism. We must remain vigilant, because until he is in fact stopped, our nation will remain vulnerable. The majority of the rioters last January 6th were white males. Many of those who were arrested and accused are former military. Some have backgrounds in law enforcement. We must remain cognizant that many of these men are members of well known white supremacy groups like Proud Boys, White Nationalists, neo-Nazi, and the infamous KKK. With so many hate groups made up of people who are disenchanted with our government, we must find ways to overpower that hate, with love. Our government is not perfect. No government is perfect. Violence and hate; however, are not the answer to its problems. Let’s not fight violence with more violence. Let’s sow seeds of peace and love, and watch the hatred disappear.

I am immersed in yet another snowstorm as I am writing this. I believe our natural inclination is no different than with other mammals at such times. We want to hunker down, bury ourselves beneath warm blankets, and snuggle with a loved one – or in my case, my cat.

I started a partime job last week and I was scheduled to begin my shift at 3:00 this afternoon. Before I could even begin to shovel the 8 inches, or more, of snow off my truck, I needed to first shovel a path to the street where it is parked. I am immensely grateful that this snow is soft and powdery, unlike the last snow which was wet and heavy. 

Prior to bundling up from head to toe, I soaked in a warm bath of epsom salts. It helps to get my rickety bones and stiff muscles moving. It also makes facing the cold less daunting, when I am already warm before having to brave the blowing snow. This makes me very grateful that I have a bathtub and hot water. I am equally grateful to have power and internet.  Everyday, I am thankful for the roof over my head, for a working tea kettle, and a kitchen stocked with food. 

I often think of the life I had with my grandparents when I was barely more than a toddler. My grandmother was amazing – a real pioneer woman, living high in the Rocky Mountains. We lived in a tent for a time because her husband was a lumberjack. Grandma cooked our meals on an open fire. She warmed a large rock on that same fire, wrapped it in a blanket and placed it in the bed with me, which was at the foot of her bed. In the morning, snow would have to be brushed off the tent; then Grandma fried freshly caught trout, fished from the nearby creek, for our breakfast.

I am thankful that I do not have to endure the hardships that my ancestors had to. The human beings of today are soft and pampered, compared to them. I do not know if I could be as courageous as my grandmother was. For today at least, I do not have to. My manager has called to tell me not to come in today. What sweet relief!

I was reading an article about lifestyle changes that have transpired over the past fifty years. In 1972, I was only one year out of high school. I bought my first Volkswagen Beetle for $400 and the price of gas averaged only 36¢ per gallon. The average family income was just over $11,000 per year and the average home cost was around $27,000. The Vietnam war had just ended.

My grandchildren are incredulous whenever I tell them about my life when I was their age. I am more amazed at how well I have managed to keep up with the swiftly changing times. I must admit that I have resisted some of the changes. While I do not live in the past or cling to “the way things used to be”, nostalgia sometimes comes knocking on my heart’s door. I can still listen to the music that I listened to when I was young, but I am not hearing it as I heard it then. Listening to that same music today invokes a subtle melancholy for what was. Fifty years older also makes me fifty years wiser and I am listening now through layers and layers of experience and pain. Sometimes, I feel sad. I feel sad in the same way that I feel sad when my flowers begin to fade, their beauty gone forever. It is the same sadness that I feel when the first hard autumn freeze claims victory over the last stragglers in my garden.

The fact is, life has always, and will always, continue in a never ending spiral. In another fifty years, my grandchildren will look back at the way things are today. They too, will have grown and changed in what is often called “ the blink of an eye.”

This New Years Day was special in my mind because it was followed by a Sunday. New Years has long been my favorite day of the year, and Sundays my favorite day of the week. I crave quiet and these days are the closest I can come to sacred silence. The day after New Years 2022 fell on a New Moon, always an auspicious time to begin anything new. Perhaps this will lend extra power to any resolutions or intentions that we set.

In addition to declaring my usual affirmations for peace, harmony, and abundance, for myself and for the world, this year I am adding stability to my intentions. I want the stability of a strong foundation as I step into a new year. I want financial stability and continued emotional stability. I want this for my loved ones and friends. I want this for the world. For the past two years, we human beings have been teetering precariously due to the pandemic and climate change. We have lost our balance atop the very ground we are standing on. 

The fires that swept through Boulder, Colorado, on the 30th of December, have left thousands who must now begin building not just a new year, but a new home. It seems that no matter how strong we build our homes, they cannot stand up to the fires, floods, and storms that ravage them. Neither can the homes of so many other species withstand our human encroachment, as we destroy their habitats by clear cutting forests and reshaping the land to build our own homes. The people of Boulder and its surrounding communities have been devastated, but so too, have millions of other life forms. We have lost so many of them – forever.

I am grateful that those people, who were impacted by the fire, escaped in time before lives could be lost. Fires, floods, natural disasters, and COVID have left much of the world standing on shaky ground or adrift and mired in uncertainty. My wish for 2022 is that we can all resolve to build better lives and better relationships with each other, and with our planet. Whatever comes our way in the next 12 months, let us create stability by using love and compassion as the cornerstones, to give us strength and resiliency. Let us remember that it is all of us together, and not divided, that will ensure stability in the year ahead.