Life Coach: Spirit, Body and Mind » garden

Musings: Further Along The Road

Margo — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 17:44:54 +0000

Once again I have been on a writing hiatus. It has led me to realize that I am unable to multi-task on many levels. I have always understood “multi-tasking” to mean the ability to do more than one specific task at a time. I am sure I have already mentioned in previous postings that this is very difficult for me to do. My brain and my body just don’t function well in multi-tasking mode.

I am always so amazed when I walk by my husband when he is working at his computer. I really should say “computers” – plural, because, although he has one computer (on his main desk – I’ll explain in a minute!), he has two screens and sometimes he is multi-tasking between the two and sometimes he is also multi-tasking on each screen. My brain just cannot hold that! It’s way too mind-boggling for me.

Apart from his main desk, he also has a secondary desk which holds another computer and recording equipment which he uses to create his “podcasts”. When he is all set up to record in that space, it looks rather like an old-fashioned radio show. He wears headphones and has a microphone in front of him and I almost expect him to break out into acapella singing. Since he has been indulging in this activity, which is all linked to his web page work, (www.windowsobserver.com), I sometimes think of the computer room/office as a recording studio too.

The lessons I have learned about myself in the last couple of months are myriad. I have lost three friends in that time frame. Two were “expected”. Is death ever expected? The two people, although unconnected in any other way, had actually been struggling with the same lung disease over several years. The third friend’s death came out of left field and left me, and many other common friends as well as his wife, completely mind- and heart-slammed. The first friend, died on 26th October 2011, the second friend died about mid-November, and the third friend died 16 December.

In other words, just as I was absorbing the news of one death the second occurred, and so it was for the third. In the meantime, as death was occurring, life was going on. Normal everyday events, commitments, and activities continued on despite what was going on in heart and mind. Meetings were attended, friends were attended to, school and its accompanying homework had to be dealt with, volunteer commitments were kept, I participated in a retreat, Thanksgiving came and went as did Christmas, and on and off, in the back of my mind, was the little nagging voice that said “I need to write”.

As I look back, I realize that I was actually multi-tasking in general across the board of all these events. Just to be able to deal with everyday life as well as grieve, and support others who were grieving, was a huge multi-tasking effort of its own, and I am so grateful for my relationship with God and my strong support network of spiritual friends who help me to get through tough times such as these and still stay sane.

But to hold all this together and allow the Muse of creativity to come forward is, for me, an impossible task. I have to put great energy into honoring and dealing with difficult situations and emotions such as death and grief, and there is little energy left for anything else. And I need to honor myself and where I’m at in all of that and allow the various processes to sweep through me. It is all important to my personal and spiritual growth.

So now, as I sit here and look out my window (no working on the lanai today, we had a near-freeze last night!), I feel some of the tension surrounding these recent events slipping away. Even though it is too cold to sit outside right now, the sun is shining brilliantly, the sky is that crisp, clean, light cerulean blue that only winter can bring forth, and I am breathing deeply and easily as I notice the hawks circling above the pine trees, the other birds swooping across and into the garden, and the squirrels frolicking on the backyard fence. Muse is creeping slowly back into my heart, honoring and respecting where I have been and gently inviting my fingers to once again play across the keyboard and put the words on the screen.

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Spiritual Growth: A Dream Realized

Margo — Tue, 11 Oct 2011 23:23:32 +0000

After our stay with friends Greg and Sherry in Minnesota, Rich and I headed west then south through the Dakotas down through Iowa and into Missouri. We had planned to stay in a small town just outside Kansas City. This was no random choice. We were going to spend a couple of days with some very dear friends from our time in Naples, Italy. I had been a team member on many CREDO Personal Growth Retreats with Rod, and Richard and I had both been involved with the CREDO Marriage Enrichment Retreats with both Rod and his wife Trish.

Rod and Trish had made a flying visit with us about three years ago here in Jacksonville. They had been doing some east coast travelling and decided to dip down a little lower than originally planned to spend a day or so with us. That had been the first time we had seen each other since they had left Naples, Italy back in the mid-nineties. So we were very excited to be seeing them again. However, even though they were the primary reason for choosing to make Kansas City a stop on our 4,252 mile retirement ride, I had a secondary motive for wanting to stop there.

During the period 1989-91, Richard was transferred to a ship that was home-ported in Norfolk, VA. Although it wasn’t my first visit to the USA, it was the first time that I had lived here. It proved to be a very difficult time for me. The culture and way of life over here is drastically different from Europe. Everything over here involves distance and there is very little public transportation. And the distance factor enters into creating relationships with other people. In Europe everybody knows everybody. In Norfolk I found it very difficult to make friends; people seemed to live in their own boxes.

However, through a specific fellowship that I am involved with I did manage eventually to create some meaningful friendships. One lady in particular, Gert, became a very good and close friend. In the spring of 1991 Gert gifted me with a a subscription to Daily Word, a small daily reflection booklet that is published by UNITY. That booklet became my lifeline. It is the most positively uplifting daily meditational book that I have ever read. Wherever I went, Daily Word travelled with me, and I have continued to renew the subscription every year since then. I have used their twenty four hour prayer line many times over the years and it is such a comfort and a joy to make a call and get a real person on the other end who truly cares about whatever issue may be bothering me in the moment, and who is willing to pray with me and offer comfort.

Inside the front cover of the Daily Word each month there is a photo of the Silent Unity Chapel. There is always a light on in the top tower of this building and the photo intrigues me. Every time I see it I think, wow that’s where the prayer ministers are who receive all the phone calls and pray with all the callers – at any time of the day or the night every single day of every year. For the last fifteen years I have held a small dream to go there and visit. And here we were, planning to go to Kansas City and I knew that Unity Village was located somewhere close by. So when Rod asked if there was anything particular that we wanted to do/see in the area, I jumped right on it.

On Friday 26th August, we set off with Rod and Trish to go visit the Unity campus. I had no idea what a spiritual treat I was in for; God was in a most generous mood that day. Upon arrival we parked in the main parking lot right in front of the Book Store and Café. We decided to go in there because we figured that we could get information as to the layout of the campus and get directions to the Silent Unity building and chapel. The store was an absolute delight and we perused for a while. The staff was so helpful and we bought a couple of items and received a map of the campus. Imagine my joy when I found out that there was a large, handicap accessible labyrinth laid out on the ground immediately opposite the store. Rich, Rod, and Trish were quite happy to indulge my desire to walk the labyrinth and so with a happy heart I took my walk. Below is a video that Rich made and towards the end there are some still photos that he also took.

While I was walking the labyrinth, a large red-shouldered hawk came and rested at the very top of a tree on the edge of the labyrinth and watched me as I made the eleven circuits. His photo is here below.

When I had finished my walk we all went through a walkway and up some stairs to go visit the Silent Unity Chapel. Nothing quite prepared us for the beauty that lay before us at the top of the stairs. The campus buildings were laid out in a long oblong design and centered in the middle of them was a beautifully designed formal garden with fountains and pools. The whole thing made me think immediately of Europe and of St. Augustine, Florida because there was a Spanish flair in the design. I could have stayed there for hours. It truly filled my heart and soul with great happiness.

We wandered along and crossed the a small bridge over the central pool then headed toward the chapel. Trish and I went inside noting that there were two other people already there – a man and a woman. As we entered, the woman turned around toward us and said, “we are just about to do a guided meditation, would you like to join in?” We both assented, and spent the next fifteen minutes being guided through a beautiful reflection. This was another highlight of the trip for me. We spent a little more time walking around the campus and taking in the peacefulness and serenity of that place, before heading off to have a lovely lunch together.

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Minnesota: The Travelling Dinner

Margo — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 14:00:00 +0000

In my previous posting Vignette- Paula in Minnesota, I mentioned the “travelling dinner”. I vaguely remember some years ago a friend talking about a “neighborhood dinner”, where everyone from the neighborhood (a fairly small one I believe) shared a meal. However, instead of all coming to one house to eat, the families went from house to house eating a course here and another there.

So on one of the evenings that we spent at Sherry and Greg’s place in Minnesota, we were invited to participate in a travelling dinner. Two of the couples did not live in the immediate vicinity of Sherry and Greg’s house, but were great friends of all the people who did. So they brought their contributions to the meal to Deb and Crystal’s home.

On the appointed evening at the appointed time Sherry, Greg, Rich and myself walked down the driveway. It was a very pleasant evening so the walk was very enjoyable. We made a right-hand turn onto the road at the bottom of the driveway, walked about fifty yards, passing the driveway that led to Connie and Joe’s house (Sherry and Greg’s immediate neighbors), before making another right-hand turn into Deb and Crystal’s driveway.

No house could be seen, so I wondered how long of a walk this was going to be. I needn’t have worried. The driveway sloped upward for about fifty yards and as we crested the top we saw that it then sloped downwards for about another fifty yards and there at the bottom, slightly to the right, stood the house. From this view point it appeared to be a one-story building with beautifully cultivated flower beds on the one side, and a wonderful large fire pit encircled by brightly colored Adirondack chairs which in turn were surrounded by more raised flower beds. All this was then surrounded by lush green grass and trees. Another piece of heaven!

Kokopelli entranced me!

But the view of the house was deceptive because it was built on a fairly steep slope. It wasn’t until another day that I saw the other side of the house and realized there was a lower level which contained a spacious apartment where Deb’s Mom, Mary, and Deb’s sister, Paula, lived. It took me a while to actually go into the house because, being the gardener that I am, I had to check out all the beautiful flowers in bloom and the various plants that I didn’t recognize, plus there were lots of interesting and whimsical garden decorations to look at.

Eventually I made it inside where there were some delightful appetizers laid out. Once we filled our plates, most of us migrated through the kitchen and dining area to a lovely screened-in room located at the back of the house. The view was as delicious as the food we ate. As I mentioned before, the house was built on a fairly steep slope, so this room was was quite elevated and gave the impression that we were seated among the tree tops. (For me it was a small God-moment.) It was here that we got to meet the non-neighbors, Char and Frank and Doug and Deb.

After about forty five minutes of eating and socializing, it was deemed time to move to the next course. This was to be eaten at Connie and Joe’s house and we were told that we were going via the “scenic route”. So we all trooped out in Indian file and followed a pathway that they had created through the woods connecting the two houses. It was rather magical and I half expected fairies and pixies to jump out from behind the trees. The crossing point between the two properties was marked by a lovely vine-covered trellis archway that stood over a couple of steps down. My heart actually started beating a little faster right here because in a “deja vue” moment it reminded me of my Dad’s garden. (See my posting Vignettes- My Kingdom.)

All of these neighbors are avid gardeners, so we found ourselves stepping into another beautifully appointed garden where flower beds were in full bloom with lots of lush greenery everywhere and more whimsical garden features. We spent quite a bit of time checking everything out. A special mention needs to be made here about Joe’s “work shed”. I’m talking about a GIGANTIC work shed the size of a small warehouse. There were big tools and small tools, and every kind of small (and some not so small) machinery all neatly laid out. As you can imagine, the men folks in our party were in hog heaven.

Don’t you just love her!!

After admiring everything, flower beds and the work shed contents, we all drifted into Connie and Joe’s where a second round of appetizers was laid out. More eating and more socializing took place and by this time a few glasses of wine had been consumed so there was lots of merriment and laughter. In the meantime some rain clouds had gathered and so we got sprinkled on a little as we made our way over to Sherry and Greg’s. Earlier in the afternoon I had helped Sherry assemble a huge bowl of a very colorful mixed salad into which we had put everything bar the kitchen sink! As people came in, we tossed it in a home made dressing and in no time at all that huge bowl was empty.

We were all beginning to get full tummies but the walk back to Deb and Crystal’s house must have helped our digestive systems because we were ready for the main course by the time we got there. Actually some of us rode in the car because of the rain, but we were still ready. I think the laughter and the socializing shook the food down nicely because we even had room for dessert after eating yet another plateful of food. It was altogether a very fun experience and I’m already plotting and planning to see how I can replicate it, even though most of my friends live in rather spread out areas. But maybe that will make it even more interesting. I’ll let you know when and how I make it happen.

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Musings: Dealing With My Frustration

Margo — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 19:04:03 +0000

I know that talking things through with someone helps to diminish the hold that anything that is frustrating me or causing me anger or resentment has on me. Writing also helps in the same way. So here goes. Whether I’ll be able to post is another matter, and that’s where my present frustration is coming from.

I haven’t written in a while. I’ve given up trying to understand why this happens. It’s not that I have nothing to write about. I have been keeping, and adding to, a small list of topics that I want to express my feelings about. But something is getting in the way. The weather has been gorgeous lately. We have been enjoying the best Florida spring weather – no grey, no de-pressing stuff going on outside, so that’s not the issue.

Now that I think about it, maybe there is still an issue connected to the weather that’s been keeping me from writing, but it’s the reverse of dealing with the de-pressing grey. It’s been so perfectly beautiful outside of late that I have been called into the garden and have struggled to balance my time outside with all the other things that I want/am committed to do.

It has been really amazing to watch the garden come to life after the long cold winter. It seems as though with each passing year I become more aware of the transformation that takes place as plants come back to life, buds appear, then full foliage and flowers blossom out. The Confederate Jasmine, that I planted as two very small 20-inch tall plants at the base of the front supporting columns of my old gazebo two years ago, has now grown into thick, lush greenery that covers both 8-foot tall columns and trails upwards onto two of the roof supports and is also quite thick as it meets across the front horizontal bar. It is also full of flowers which I hope will last so that I can see them and enjoy them when I return from this trip.

And therein lies another source of frustration. I have been travelling on and off since 28 March. Being out of my normal habitat and routine is always somewhat disconcerting and disruptive, and I haven’t yet learned to handle that with total grace and acceptance. I drove up to Newport News, VA back then to spend a few days with my son who was there from Italy to attend a work related conference. It was a gift that I had no intention of passing up. We had a great three days hanging out together. On the way home from there, I was then able to stop in Fayetteville, NC to spend an afternoon and night-over with my dear sister-friend LeeAnn. She and I never waste time on pleasantries, diving deep into our sharing from the heart and soul which allows us to broaden, deepen, and strengthen our relationship on all levels, especially the spiritual level. Another enormous gift for which I am truly grateful.

Arriving back in Florida after that trip, I had three days to catch-up (I always say that with tongue in cheek because, how on earth do you catch up with time that has already passed??). So it was a flurry of unpacking and keeping up with some commitments that were on my calendar, before I then had to pack for the trip that I am presently “enjoying” ( barring bad internet connections – grrrrrr!) with my husband.

And therein lies the ultimate frustration. Yesterday evening I had the first real longing, desire, to do some creative writing. I sat down eagerly in front of my computer and – nothing. I don’t mean nothing would come out on the page. I mean nothing would come up on the computer. No worries, I have my resident computer technician travelling with me, no? But after checking things out he told me that there was nothing he could do. There simply was no internet connection and he had no control over that. Talk abut frustration!!!

As well as the creative writing I felt called to do, I also had a bunch of emails I wanted to send out, and there were several things that I wanted to check out on Google. I was stuck. Couldn’t do a thing. So I called it a day and picked up a book and decided to read. But the frustration was there, bubbling under the surface and even though I checked in with God and asked for inner peace, I guess I was wanting to hang onto the frustration and wallow in it for a bit because it was still there this morning, and so was the lack of connectivity!!!!!!!.

Rich has struggled all morning to give me some connection, but it has been been frustrating for him too. Right now I have no idea if I have connection or not, but I did learn (thank God I can always learn something), that I can at least access my Live Writer programme and get the words out and down, and in doing so I have released some of the frustration. Whether I will be able to post my writing is another matter, but at least it’s ready to go if and when we get a connection.

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Musings: A Slow Return to Normal?

Margo — Sun, 27 Feb 2011 18:08:06 +0000

It has been almost twice as long since my last writing as it was since the one before that!! My Muse has been battling a myriad of obstacles to claw her way out from the cold, the grey and gloomy weather, and dealing with pain. Although I find myself in “grey and gloomy” Bellevue, WA and I left behind the now warmer climes of Florida, here she comes pushing and pulling the words with her, in her first attempt in almost two months to put words on the page.

Perhaps it is because there is nothing else to get in the way. I am out of my normal environment, my usual routine. Nothing is clamoring for my attention: no commitments, appointments, or general household chores. I am free to do what I want, when I want. But there is more to it than that. There is a fizz and excitement within me that is quietly bubbling up from my heart like magma from the inner core of a volcano.

However, I must also acknowledge, that just like returning to exercise, I struggle to return to my writing. The weather back home in Florida over the last two weeks has steadily been improving. I have been able to enjoy my quiet time on the lanai almost every morning. I have been enticed out into the garden to begin springtime preparation, and several times have been able to wear shorts and tank tops. But I have been slow to take the laptop out there, and I am well aware that I have made many excuses not to do so. At least I have enough honesty with myself not to declare “reasons”.

So, back to the “bubbling excitement”. And why am I here in Bellevue? Those of you who follow my postings (and a huge apology here for such a prolonged silence), all know that my husband Richard is a techie-geeky type. Well he has been invited by Microsoft, as one of their Most Valued Professionals (MVP), to attend their annual MVP Summit. (He’s like a kid in a toy shop at the moment as he soaks up the techie-geeky air and worships at the Microsoft shrine.) Well, he invited me to accompany him, and as he had plenty of frequent-flyer miles to cover the air fare and as I had never visited this part of the USA before, I said what the heck.

But it was more than the fact that I had never visited this part of the States before that had me saying yes. Coming to Bellevue put me within striking distance of a very dear old friend who I have not seen in twenty five years. George and I met at the same time as I met Richard and within the same Naples Little Theater group. In fact, George directed me in my very first play with that group, “Goodbye Charlie”. That was back in 1983. George left Naples, Italy in either late 1985 or early 1986, and we haven’t seen each other since then!!!!!!! I love George very much and he’s also Godfather to our daughter Melissa, and in just an hour or so I get to hug him and plant a big sloppy wet one on him.

So forgive me if I’m a little excited and somewhat nervous. But, oh what joy that this is the cataclysm that is unleashing the reticent Muse!!

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Return To My Spiritual Sanctuary

Margo — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 02:10:39 +0000

Much as I loved and enjoyed my trip to San Antonio, I am so grateful to be back in the spiritual sanctuary that is my garden. I try very hard to keep my small personal routine on schedule when I travel but it is never quite the same. Perhaps if I had lots of money and could stay in the kind of places where I could be guaranteed a quiet terrace, garden, or patio where I would not be disturbed by anyone or anything except God’s incredible creation, then it might be a little different.

The joy of sitting in my lanai fairly early in the morning, surrounded by hummingbirds, butterflies, cardinals, titmice, and mourning doves, as well as the flowers that bloom in my garden and the pine woods out back, is indescribable. The quiet and the beauty restore my soul and fill my heart with happiness.

In my solitude here each morning there is a peacefulness that fills my whole being, a tranquility that I am blessed with, that allows me the perfect start to each day. My meditation books are there within easy reach and I am called to a place of quiet communion with my Creator that sets the tone for the rest of the day.

Here I can bare my soul to the One who loves me always, no matter what. Here I can tell Him my concerns, share my joys with Him, and make any specific requests that I may have. I read recently that, “Faith functions in connection with prayer and persistence. Persistence cultivates the belief that prayer will be answered. A person with a persistent spirit will be blessed.” (The Power of Prayer by E.M. Bounds)

And so I continue in my prayers for special causes that I have, for the many people who have asked me to pray for them, and for all those who have no one to pray for them. And in my praying I am drawn closer to my God. In my praying I go deeper on my spiritual path. And in my praying for others I am released of the bondage of self-importance and of self-centeredness.

I am immensely grateful for my sanctuary. For my special place where I can retreat from the chaos of the outside world. For the quiet that offers me the time to recharge and regenerate to face whatever challenges the day may bring. For the time each day that I am blessed with to nurture my soul. Amen!!

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My Garden: God’s Creation

Margo — Sat, 26 Jun 2010 02:18:29 +0000

What an amazing way to start the day; such nourishment for the soul!! This morning I was sitting in my lanai by 6.45am. It was going to be another day full of brilliant sunshine and very low humidity and I was ready for it. I love the subtle yet clear light and the silence of the early morning.

Within moments of being there it was as though someone had pushed a button. For the next 30 minutes I was treated to my own High-Def, surround sound, 3-D, wide screen live show. And through it all the sun rose higher and the light got rosier.

The Hummingbirds came out in full force. Within minutes there were at least four couples buzzing in and out and over the yard. I know they were couples because each set of two sported one ruby-throated male. It seemed as though there were bright red diamonds flashing about the garden.

The couples dived and rose together in perfect unison, twisting this way and that. Suddenly, they would come to an abrupt hovering halt, facing each other. For a few moments they hung quivering in space about six inches apart and then it seemed as though they leaned in to each other in two or three darting movements, as if exchanging quick kisses. Then off they zoomed for some more madly ecstatic flight.

Meanwhile, in the background, at the birdfeeder on the back fence, Mamma and Papa Cardinal were taking turns at having breakfast. The male, in all his glorious scarlet beauty, would eat then hop up onto the fence and stand guard while his mate had her fill. When she flew back into the tree behind the fence, he would go again to the feeder and eat some more. As she flew down again, he resumed his spot on the fence and gallantly awaited until she finished.

While all this was going on, several Titmice were playing at catch-me-if-you-can in and out of the wrought iron work of the old gazebo. I was sure they were just marking time and waiting for the Cardinals to finish feeding. And in fact, as soon as they flew off, the Titmice descended on the feeder and took their turn.

I had one more unexpected treat in store. After the Titmice had finished at the feeder and the Hummingbirds were taking a well-earned rest from their tactical maneuvers, I went inside to make some tea. As I stepped back out into the lanai I noticed a large black bird on the feeder. It was a very “glistening” black, almost like a raven. Its beak was also black.

He was about the size of a Cardinal, but sleeker, slimmer. It was definitely not as large as a crow. I began ruffling the pages of my “Birds Of North America” by Kenn Kaufman but could not find a match. Then suddenly the bird moved around on the feeder and I was looking at his profile. There on the side of his breast where the wing met his body, was a flash of vivid red underscored by a slash of white.

Once again I checked my book and I believe I found my answer. There amongst the Blackbirds was a species called the Red-winged Blackbird. It was obviously a male which still had not completely acquired his full summer plumage, hence the slash of white. Although the book indicated that these are “abundant and familiar” birds throughout Northern America, this was the first time I had seen one.

By the time my new visitor had left the feeder, everyone else had retired to the trees or moved on to greener pastures. With the exception of a couple of butterflies who went their merry way, dancing from bloom to bloom. What a wonderful gift God has given us with His creation and what a blessing to have so much of it in my small patch of the world.

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The Garden: Hummingbird Haven

Margo — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 03:05:30 +0000

I created my garden to be a place of joy and happiness. Somewhere that I could retreat to and rest. A sanctuary away from the chaos that is the world outside. I created it to be full of God’s natural beauty with flowers and plants and small items of garden art.

I have worked hard to make this creation but it is work that I enjoy and find to be very therapeutic. Gardening is good physical exercise and therefore is a great workout for my body. It is also wonderful spiritual exercise because I usually combine plenty of prayer work as I dig, plant, prune, and weed. So the garden offers me the chance to nurture myself on the physical as well as the spiritual level.

For me there is nothing like being close to God’s creation to fill the heart with happiness and the soul with joy. Watching green shoots emerge from seeds sown several weeks earlier is like having access to my own personal miracle show! And when the plants grow and flowers bloom, filling the garden with perfume and color, I experience a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment like no other.

However, what I did not plan or expect was the incredible daily show that the hummingbirds put on for us. In past years I have certainly been aware of the presence of hummingbirds in my garden. But this year has been an amazing experience. It is almost as though they have made my backyard their official playground.

I have a wonderful plant, which I know as Orange Trumpet Vine, that grows along much of the border fence in the back yard. It also grows up and around the mailbox out front, and climbs up one of the columns on the front porch, trailing over towards the other column about six yards away.

When I made the major renovation to the garden this spring, I “transplanted” the trellis archway from the back yard and made it the focal point of the newly enlarged front flower bed. With the help of my friend Linda I managed to transplant the original Orange Trumpet Vine (I grew it from seeds from the island of Ischia in Italy) that grew all over the archway. Thankfully it tolerated the move well and is now healthily flourishing in its place of pride out front.

The hummingbirds love the nectar in the glorious globes of trumpet blooms that hang richly from the Vine, and so I have always seen them in the summer gorging on their sweet treat. But I also put a new hummingbird feeder out back and would see them from time to time there. I moved this feeder a couple of weeks ago and had my husband hang it on the back wall of the house fairly near the window near my desk computer.

I noticed immediately that there was great activity at the feeder on a very frequent basis during the course of the day. Richard and I also realized that the birds seemed totally unfazed by us being on the other side of the glass and he was able to get some great video and photos of them.

Then it occurred to us that we were hidden from them because Richard had applied a mylar screen to the windows to cut down on heat in our office. So we began to spend quite a bit of time at the window watching these amazing creatures really “up-close-and-personal”. They are nothing less than miracles.

Over the last few days we have keenly observed them. Several times we have noted there were about seven or eight of them zooming in and out of the garden, up into the trees of the pine wood behind our house, then swooping down to “dive-bomb” each other off the feeder. This evening in particular we watched them as we ate dinner in the lanai and noticed some very interesting behavior.

One hummingbird would zoom down, seeming to go the feeder. But she would pull up short and just hover there as though suspended from an invisible thread – a minute angel-like figure with wings spread, beating furiously. Then a second bird would swoop in and hover about a yard above the first. And they would both just hang there, in space before suddenly zooming off up into the trees.

A little later another couple came buzzing across the yard like two F-16’s on a training flight. They twisted and turned, mirroring each others movements until suddenly one turned to face the other in mid-flight and they seemed to do a short dance in mid-air. I am not sure if all this activity is part of mating behavior or if they are just being naturally playful.

Whatever the reason, Richard and I are thoroughly entertained. These delightful creatures are truly amazing to watch. This evening among the many we were treated to the company of a handsome male. As he moved around his ruby-red throat coloring was quite spectacular. I am very happy that my garden has become Hummingbird Haven.

Check out these HD videos of the hummingbirds feeding.

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The Garden: An Inspiration

Margo — Sun, 13 Jun 2010 13:00:00 +0000

Those of you who know me through my writing know that I love gardening. This love of gardening comes partly from my historic/geographic gene pool – I’m a Brit and we’re almost all gardening mad! The other part is still from my gene pool but from a more intimate and personal section – the family. Both my parents loved the garden, but my Dad had an absolute passion for his garden.

I’m not a very organized gardener as I’ve already mentioned in other postings. I’m not a very organized anything because I’m a real “fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda gal”. My garden is a veritable hodge-podge of flowers and plants and I’m never quite sure what’s going to pop up where. I throw seeds all over the place and plant bulbs here and there, then I sit back and wait for the wonder of nature.

I love the growing process. Taking a seed and watching it peep up through the soil with it’s first tip of green is a most exciting adventure for me. It fascinates me that from that tiny little thing a whole flower or plant or bush or even a tree can come forth.

Sometimes I stand in my back yard with a seed in my hand and I look at everything that’s growing around me, and I am in absolute awe as I think it all started with a few seeds. The hand of God is most definitely present in such a miracle.

Gardening brings me great joy and I consider it to be wonderful therapy for the soul. Gardening takes me out of myself and is one of the few activities through which I feel a real connection with God. Gardening makes my heart happy.

But today I realized another benefit that comes from my hard work out there in the garden. Of late my husband has started taking series of photos of my garden. At first he was taking general all-around shots so that we could share them with the rest of the family that is flung around the world.

More recently he began taking close-ups of single blooms and flowers. Such works of art each and every one in itself. He also took one set that was all leaves and they turned out to be very interesting and beautiful. But here’s the kicker.

Richard is also this “computer geekie/techie guy”. He works a lot with Windows 7 and it allows him to create themes. These are a series of images that you can put together as desktop wallpaper. Well he has taken my garden as his inspiration for creating beautiful themes that are available for free download if you work with Windows 7.

If you’re a garden fanatic and you’d like to check out more shots of my garden, you can visit our Summer Garden shots album. I hope you get as much enjoyment from this as I do.

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Fantasy: The Dandelion Fairy

Margo — Wed, 26 May 2010 23:30:00 +0000

Tata was feeling very sad. She sat alone in the garden and a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked around at all the pretty flowers and sighed loudly.

“Why me?” she cried. “I have been such a good fairy. I did not pull the wings off the ladybugs. I gently brush the rose petals so they are velvety soft. I always help the baby birds who fall out of their nests.”

Earlier that day the Fairy Queen had given all the five-year old fairies their very own jobs. Now all the flowers and the trees, the birds and the insects, had a special fairy to take care of them. Tata had been named the Dandelion Fairy.

She was so upset that she did not see the Fairy Queen come into the garden. She sat on a little rock, her wings drooping, and sobbed loudly and deeply.

“Why Tata,” said the Fairy Queen softly, “what is the matter? Why are you crying so hard?” She sat down beside the little fairy and gently took her hand.

“Oh your majesty,” said Tata, feeling very unhappy. “Please do not be angry with me. I did so want to be a very special fairy with a very special job. I have worked very hard and I think I deserve to be the Rose Fairy or the Baby Bird Fairy. The Dandelion is just an ugly weed.”

The Fairy Queen looked very grave as she spoke to Tata. “My dear Tata, I think that you are indeed a very special fairy. In fact, I think you are the best five-year old fairy in my kingdom. That is why I have given you such an important job to do.”

Tata looked up at the Fairy Queen in great surprise. She did not understand. How could taking care of a silly weed be so important? She listened carefully as the Fairy Queen spoke again.

“You see Tata, the Dandelion may be just a weed, but it is also very important. It’s leaves are very good in salad, and there are many people who enjoy a hot drink made from them. But the best part is the fruit.”

Tata’s eyes opened wide. “I did not know the Dandelion had a fruit. Is it sweet?” she asked.

The Fairy Queen smiled. “No Tata, it is not sweet. You cannot even eat it, but it brings lots of joy. You see, when the flower dies a big ball of white fluff comes in its place. When boys and girls find these they have great fun blowing them into the air.

On the end of each strand of fluff is a tiny fruit, the seed, which then floats away on the wind. When they come down to the ground again they grow into more Dandelions. So you see Tata, even weeds are important. Now do you understand why I need you to take great care of the Dandelions?”

Tata smiled at the Fairy Queen. “Oh yes, your majesty. Thank you so much for choosing me for this job. I will be the best Dandelion Fairy that you ever had.”

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Musings: Back Again!

Margo — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 19:10:34 +0000

I am so tired of being sick this Spring. It seems as though I have been dealing with unhealthy demons since about 20 February. First my really bad upper respiratory deal that knocked me out for two to three weeks. Then, after just one week of feeling good I was plagued by a bad cold/allergies (I never did decide which it was). That dragged on for more than three weeks before I was hit by the gastric flu bug. I am so ready to be done with all this and be truly healthy for the rest of this year!!

What really annoys the heck out of me is that sickness robs me not just of health on all levels, but also of time. Oh I know I still live each minute that God gives me. I don’t lose effective time. What I lose is the time I would normally put in to all the various activities that make up the flesh of my life.

My garden lies in wait to be ministered to. Outdoor projects for which I had a planned scheduled have to go on hold. The weeds begin to sprout profusely in the flower beds, and just the pure unadulterated pleasure of being out there working in the dirt has to be postponed while viral bugs have their with my body.

My writing is forced on to a back burner. No matter which part of my body is physically under attack, the Muse withdraws and hides. My head seems full of fuzz and leaves no room for inspiration. My arms and hands are sluggish, ravaged by fevers or infections or plain old weakness, and consequently they have no strength to fly over the keyboard in creativity.

My craft room sits in silence full of its colorful cardstock and inks, ribbons and stamps, glitter and glue and various findings. But nothing there is able to penetrate the general sense of dis-ease that pervades my body, heart, mind and soul. Not even a fast-finished product can elevate me from the murky depths that sickness produces within me. The Muse avoids temptation!

And my wonderful husband patiently tends me, doing everything he can to alleviate the grayness that insidiously surrounds me. And even there I feel robbed because I have no energy, nor am I in any kind of mood, to actively participate in our relationship. And that is a loss in and of itself.

There is nothing I can do about this state of affairs. Bugs and viruses for the most part have to be given their time. I can only languish and try to be as positive as possible. I practice patience and humility in accepting the situation for what it is. But my inner child grows pouty, wants to go out and play, and longs for the company of Muse.

I have been very careful this week in my return to health. No rushing out and doing everything it once. This is difficult for me because I have a tendency to want to make up for lost time, to catch up. But one thing I have learned: time once past can never be “caught up”.

Today I have done a little in the garden: prepared and planted up three raised beds with spring onions, Web’s lettuce, and chard. In another small flower bed I sewed seeds that I hope will bring a small wild profusion of blooms later in the summer. I finished all that I had hoped to achieve before the rains came.

And now I sit in my lanai and listen to the thunder rolling in the distance. One particular roll sounded rather like a Harley and for a moment I was amused as I pictured God in black leather Chaps and a ponytail rumbling across the skies on a sleek chrome machine! And, joy oh joy, my Muse is back and here we go dancing across the keyboard in a game of catch-me-if-you-can.Along the same lines:

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Self Nurturing: The Garden – Remodeled!

Margo — Sun, 04 Apr 2010 10:35:00 +0000

Finally the sun has deigned to grace us with his presence, his light, and his warmth down here in (normally!) sunny Florida. The biting cold, the frosts, and miserable grey are hopefully a thing of the past. And not a day too late; my garden Muse was absolutely itching to get to work because I had major projects to accomplish!

This year I decided to shake things up a little in my garden. The St. Francis flower bed, so named because his statue oversees this part of the garden, had developed a deep-rooted weed system which was hard to control. So I decided to dig deep, dig out as much as possible of the offending growth, and put in a fairly large (10’ x 6’) paved patio center-front of the bed to eliminate some of the back-breaking work of weeding. I have dressed up the patio with pots and urns of various sizes and colours which are planted up with bulbs, seeds and some partially developed plants.

The Quan Yin flower bed, obviously named because her statue reigns supreme here, is much the same as before. However I have decided to fill it with even more flowers this year. There are also hundreds of seeds lying just below the surface of the soil which hopefully will germinate and bloom as the year goes by. I also plan to add to the collection of brightly coloured chimes and wind twisters that hang from the wrought iron framework of the old gazebo that I moved to this bed when the lanai was built last year.

The front yard has undergone the biggest transformation: the side two of the three small flowerbeds have been eliminated and returned to sod, while the central flowerbed has been enlarged to four times its original size. I have walled it in with rustic stonework, elevating the back part to a higher terraced level. The front area has been filled to overflowing with brightly coloured spring flowers and hundreds of seeds are also germinating here for later in the season.

However, the central attraction of this new terraced bed is the weather-worn, trellis arch that originally sat just outside the screened-in back porch room. This arch, which was deeply rooted into the ground on each side with six years of steadily growing orange trumpet vine, was dug up and relocated to the center of the raised terrace part of the new bed out front. A couple of extra trellis panels have been added on each side of the arch to accommodate the copious trailing branches that grow from the vines, and I have planted several rose bushes in this elevated section too.

All of this was done with much help from my assistant gardener, Linda – a very dear friend without whose help I could not have achieved this major overhaul!! This morning, after many anxious days of waiting and watching, new green growth showed on the winter-hibernating vine that wraps itself intricately around the arch:-).

As I sit in the lanai writing, my heart is full of joy and my soul sings in gratitude as I survey the end result of much hard work. It continues to be a work in progress and God’s creation will become even more beautiful as seeds develop into plants and then bloom out in a riot of colour. And this joy and gratitude are magnified because I know that passers-by can feast their eyes and experience their own heart joy.

My happiness is complete as I watch the birds swarming at the feeders. Squirrels are scurrying in the grass and chasing each other up and over the back fence. Lizards and frogs are awakening from their winter lethargy and today I have seen at least a dozen butterflies.

Richard has taken some lovely photos of the garden today, some of them early this morning in the subdued sunrise light, and some of them around lunch time. Enjoy!!

You can see all 45 photos at the Spring Garden Update Photo Album.

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Musings: Life’s Curve Balls

Margo — Sun, 21 Mar 2010 18:26:40 +0000

Just recently life has thrown a few curve balls into my personal space. Nothing drastic, but enough to throw me off balance. And then, of course, there’s the dratted weather, which has thrown enough curve balls into everyone’s territory to create disruptions galore.

My last posting (yes, I know, it’s been two long weeks!), was on 7 March Musings- Freedom, and I shared how sick I had been and how much I was enjoying the freedom of wellness. We had a short interlude of a few days of good weather as I regained my strength, and the first call of order was the garden. So much needed to be done in the way of general tidying and clearing before beginning on the major project which would completely remodel my front yard.

I have to admit that even as I experienced the joy of gardening, I struggled with a certain level of frustration. As much as I wanted/needed to be out doing the garden, especially as I had lost so much time due to bad weather and we didn’t know how long the warm weather was going to last, I also really wanted to be writing. Having two passions is sometimes difficult to manage and the garden passion and the writing passion each carry about equal weight in my heart.

Well, I chose the garden and managed to get a few days good work in as well as immersing myself into the the general mainstream of my daily life. I was on about day five of this readjustment back to normal when the next curve ball arrived and truly took the wind out of my sails.

I had just arrived in St. Augustine for a Body Talk appointment. I pulled into the parking lot, took my phone out of my bag to put it on silent mode, and it rang in my hand. It was my husband calling to let me know that he was in the ER with chest pains “but please don’t get alarmed”!

In hindsight I have learned that my reaction to crisis/alarming news is to back off, disconnect if you will. In that moment I said to my husband, “I’ve just arrived at my appointment in St. Augustine, do you need me there?” He kind of muttered around for a few moments as I cautiously allowed my mind and my heart to re-approach the reality of the situation, then he said, “Yes, I think I’d like you here.”

As I ran in to cancel my appointment before turning the car around and racing back to Jacksonville, I realized what my comment must have sounded like to my husband as he lay on a gurney in the ER. I called him immediately and left a message (they had made him turn his phone off). I told him that even as I had asked that ridiculous question, there had been no doubt that I would go right to the hospital to be with him. I had just needed a moment to allow my fear to subside so that I could get on and do what I needed to do.

I guess for me it is a defense mechanism. Stepping back so that I can allow my head and my heart to kind of sync up together and work in harmony. It’s the kind of mechanism that has us go to numbness or disbelief in the face of personal tragedy. We need that small space of time so that God can step in and hold our heart and our hand, or even pick us right up into His arms, and walk us through the pain and the difficulty of any given tough situation.

I spent the whole of the drive back to Jacksonville in prayer mode. I asked God to protect my husband and surround him with His healing grace. I made a couple of phone calls: one to my daughter to put her in the picture, and two more to dear friends so that I would have my support group in place no matter what.

By the time I got to the hospital I was calm. They had done a bunch of tests on Richard and were beginning to administer some different medications. His EKG’s, chest X-ray, and blood work were OK, but he was still experiencing tightness and pressure in his chest as well as shortness of breath when speaking. They kept him in for observation for a couple of days before sending him home with more medication and instructions for follow-up, including an appointment with the Cardiologist.

It is amazing how a couple of days and a crisis can affect the human system. It was only after getting Richard home and seeing him slowly return to normal that I realized how exhausted my body was. As I went through the process of letting go of the anxiety all I wanted to do was sleep. I also noted how I felt generally irritable, and irritated toward Richard. (Like how dare he put me through that!!).

Stress is a very hard task-master that produces strong emotions and reactions. I am grateful that I know how to recognize stress fairly quickly and can take positive steps to reduce and eliminate it from my life. I booked a massage in the next few days and also returned to my beloved garden, two of the best therapies for stress that I know work for me.

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Musings: Commitment Now

Margo — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 21:34:46 +0000

I feel like a Mamma Bear in the middle of the great hibernation. I have no desire to stir out of my warm cave. I have no desire to get up, go out, do anything at all. I just want to stay curled up where it’s nice and warm and be cozy.

Much of the country may be under snow right now. Thank God Florida isn’t. But that still doesn’t change the fact that it is freezing cold – by Floridian standards. We have had heavier frost the last two nights than we have had all winter. I almost can’t believe I’m referring to winter, freezing temperatures, and Florida all in the same paragraph. But for whatever reason, we are experiencing a true winter season in the sunny south this year.

I could make it all about me and say that perhaps I need yet another lesson in gratitude; gratitude that we don’t get this kind of weather every year. Or perhaps I needed to learn once again not to take things for granted. Humility would be attached to that one. But, because it’s NOT all about me, I guess we’re just having an abnormally cold winter.

The reason this is such a big deal for me is because it affects my whole temperament. I plain don’t like the cold. It makes me grumpy and keeps me locked inside. Not that I don’t go out; I get my errands done and meet all my commitments. There’s just no joy to it, and if I can stay home, I do.

It’s most definitely put a crimp in my outdoors style. Haven’t been able to get outside to do much gardening, and the bad weather has affected the garden big time this year. On those odd few days that it has been warm enough to get out there, I have hacked away a lot of frost-burned plants and trees. Damage control has been the main name of the game.

The other major area that has been impacted is my writing. I really don’t like to sit in front of the computer for any length of time indoors. Even if it is cold outside that somehow doesn’t make it enjoyable to be writing indoors. So I have done very little writing and that is an irritation in and of itself. And what has frustrated me even more is that some days the sun has been shining, the sky is blue, and it has all the makings of a “come hither” look outside, but the thermometer has hovered in the low fifties:-(.

But this morning, four of my readings really got into my heart. Two were on the topic of “now"/the present moment”, and two were about “commitment” – my commitment to life and God, and God’s commitment to me. One of the “now” readings was headed by a quotation from Buddha:
”There is only one time when it is essential to awaken. That time is now.”

Only Buddha could have said that! The short reflections following the quotation said: “Even with our eyes open, we sometimes go through our days as if we were sleepwalking. these are the only days we have; we need to be aware of them.” (From the Daily Book Of Positive Quotations by Linda Picone.)

Both the quotation and the reflection really tugged at my heart, and I realized that even though it is good to have “down days”, days when I am not busy doing, it is probably not good to have too many of them in row. And that is what I have been doing in my great hibernation. I have enjoyed some great books, I have caught up on some Tivo, but I have also been “sleepwalking” through a lot of my days.

I have done a little writing but it’s been my “other writing”, the stuff I hope to turn into a book. But I have been thinking that there is no reason that I shouldn’t share some of that here in this forum. Each short chapter is a self-contained story unto itself and can stand alone. So keep your eyes open for articles under a new topic: Oases. See you on the pages!!

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Musings: Open And Closed

Margo — Fri, 22 Jan 2010 14:00:00 +0000

We came to Florida in January 2004 and we have just experienced the longest freezing cold weather since arriving here. The thermometer on my sheltered back porch lanai registered thirty one degrees Fahrenheit at about 7.30am on several mornings. It did not get above fifty eight degrees Fahrenheit at any time during the day.

Half of the trees, bushes and plants in my garden have been badly frost burned. I am hoping that their roots have not been damaged and that there will be re-growth. Thankfully I had covered the precious small lemon tree that my son Marco had bought me on a visit a few years ago and also my queen palm with some old flannel sheets. However, it was not possible to cover everything in the garden.

But other damage was incurred that I did not really notice until the warm weather suddenly returned three days ago. Regular readers all know that I had griped about the cold and the fact that I had been unable to get out into the lanai with my lap-top to do my writing. I even referred to myself as being imprisoned by the wretched cold!

However, in my posting Musings- Prisoner of the Cold I explained how I had beaten the cold at its own game and managed to write an article. I felt very good about that and pleased that I had been able to “invite the Muse out to play”. Feeling the creative juices flowing is so satisfying to me. But there followed more days of nothing followed by a trip out of town for a few days.

Then I got up on Tuesday morning this week and noticed immediately the difference in the temperature inside the house. At the same time I noticed that the heating wasn’t running – Alleluia!! I almost ran to the back door to check out the thermometer. Holy mackerel – fifty nine degrees Fahrenheit at 8am!!! I turned off the house alarm and opened the lanai door; no blast of cold. I stepped outside and felt warm – in my jammies!! Oh joy!

I quickly prepared my juice and grains, gathered my meditation books from the kitchen, and headed outside. The birds were swooping over the fence and some were already at the feeder. Two squirrels were on the grass under the feeder happily munching on the spill-over. I stood and took in a deep breath as far down into the bottom of my lungs as I could get it to go. It was real fresh air and it was quite warm, thank you very much:-).

In that moment I suddenly felt “open”. My chest was expanded. My shoulders were thrown back. My face was lifted upwards. I raised my arms above my head as far as I could reach in a big stretch. I went up on my tippy-toes. I felt magnificently alive for the first time in about ten days. Even my heart felt happy.

In that moment it registered with me that I had been totally closed up during the period of freezing cold. I looked back and realized that I had been in a “hunched-up” position against the cold. My shoulders had been hunched forward. My arms had, for a lot of that time, been wrapped around me. And that was just when I was indoors!! When I went outside I was always bundled up in heavy clothing and huddled up against the cold.

All my energy had gone into dealing with the cold and I had been “closed”. I too had suffered a “frost burn” of my own! No wonder the creative juices had been unable to flow. I had been on physical and creative lock-down for about ten days; kind of under my own “old flannel sheets”. Please God the warmth will remain and I will get to play with the Muse on a daily basis.

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Musings: Prisoner of the Cold

Margo — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 01:19:18 +0000

The thermometer that is incorporated into the clock located on the wall in my lanai has not registered higher than 44 degrees Fahrenheit at about 7.30am for the past week. This morning it indicated 34 degrees Fahrenheit at 8.35am. It has not climbed above 58 degrees Fahrenheit in the past seven days at any time of the day!

The corner of the lanai where the clock is located is the most sheltered and the warmest spot in my garden. It is protected from wind chill and receives sun for the better part of the day. Now that the lanai has been built it is even more protected from the elements. And it is “bloody cold out there” as my true Brit self would say. And I know that it is even colder out in the open, more exposed garden.

I am not a happy camper. I feel like a prisoner to the cold. Today especially the sun was shining and it looked glorious outside. The sky was blue and everything was in clear and sharp focus – including the frost that sparkled like diamonds on the house immediately across the street from mine!!

I have waited patiently for the number to go higher. I have waited patiently not to feel the immediate chill when I slide open the lanai door. It feels just like standing in front of an open freezer door. I have waited patiently to be able to go out to my sanctuary, lap top in hand, to invite the Muse out to play.

I can wait no longer. So I have dragged a small table over and placed it right in front of the sliding door that looks into my lanai and I have set up the lap top so that I can at least see out into the garden via the lanai. It’s not quite the same; the fresh air, the usual Florida warmth, and the songs of the birds are missing. I don’t feel the usual joy in my heart, but it’s better than succumbing any longer to this sense of total imprisonment.

It’s not that I cannot or have not been outside the house this week. I am not a wimp and I do carry some memory in my bones of dealing with a cold English winter. In fact a few days ago I received an email from an old school chum who reminded me of the previous “worst English winter” that we all experienced as students returning to our various colleges and universities in January 1963.

The college that I attended, Coloma Teacher Training College, was set in a very rural area (read “out in the sticks”, or perhaps here in America you say “out in the boon docks”), south of London. It was located a couple of miles outside a very small village called West Wycombe. We were so isolated that the local villagers thought we were a college full of unwed mothers or mentally handicapped women. Being typical college students, we made sure our behaviour did nothing to change their minds. Many was the evening that, bolstered by a drink or two and with pillows stuffed under our coats, we would carousel through the village singing slightly “naughty” songs.

Other evenings would find us trudging down to the village store with the hoods of our duffel coats up over our heads. Like most female (and male) students in those days we all had long long hair and we would comb it forward over our faces. We limped along, one foot in the gutter, the other on the curb, muttering indecipherable words and stopping suddenly to peer through our hair at people we passed. We thought we were being very risque’ and very avant garde. (It was cool to think in French phrases in those days.)

But that winter was quite spectacular. I remember returning after the Christmas holidays, getting off the bus (I lived outside the college with a college-picked family), walking through the village and thinking how picturesque it all seemed with the flurries of snow swirling all around me. I walked out the other end of the village and turned the corner to cross the recreation fields that separated the village from the college.

I clearly remember stopping in my tracks, jaw dropped, and not sure quite what to think. It suddenly seemed as though I was at the North Pole as a vast expanse of pure white opened up in front of me. The falling snow was thick enough that I couldn’t see to the other side of the field. There was not another soul in sight.

I stood there for a few moments just taking in the whole God-beauty of the scene. I was well dressed for the weather and had on a pair of knee high boots. When I took my first step out into the field I sank into soft snow so deep it came over, and into, the top of my boots. I think I took maybe three or four more steps before I realized this was not a very wise thing to do, and jumped back quickly onto the pavement, all the time aware of the icy cold that was surrounding my feet.

I tramped back a hundred yards to a small cafe and sat down to empty out the snow from my boots. My feet were soaking and freezing cold. I looked up at the woman who owned the cafe and to whom we had been very risque and avant garde on several occasions. I guess she overlooked my past transgressions and took pity on me because she handed me a dry tea towel.

These were not the days of cell phones. She allowed me to use the telephone in the cafe to call the college, and I found out that they had not been able to telephone all the out-students in time to warn them not to attempt to come into college. Grimly I made my way home with very cold feet.

The snow lasted well into March that year. We were all sick and tired of it by the time the last little mounds had disappeared from the sides of the road. I spoke to my sister in London two days ago and she too remembered that winter. She confirmed that the snow at the moment is very reminiscent of back then. Let’s hope for their sake that it doesn’t last so long.

Well, I have beaten the cold and done my writing. The Muse was fairly happy at playing indoors because she could at least see the outdoors. But I will be much happier when the temperatures rise a little and I don’t feel so hunched up in my body and my soul. Warmth has a liberating effect in both areas.

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Reading Or Writing: It’s Still About Words

Margo — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 02:51:16 +0000

Well, I’m sitting here looking at my lap-top and wondering just what am I going to write about. Maybe that’s the wrong comment. I’m pretty sure I know what I’m going to write about – my absence from writing since 20 October. I’m just not sure how I’m going to go about it or exactly what will appear on the page.

I can at least share what I have been doing in the last ten days: reading. I have devoured at least twelve books in that period. Every spare moment has been spent reading. Every meal and every bathroom visit has been accompanied by the book du jour. I have done essential housework and kept appointments, and I have read. My husband has been away for the last week so I have been able to indulge my little addiction with no guilt whatsoever. I have avoided going out unless I had to, and I have avoided any other activities inside or outside the home that I might normally engage in.

With one exception: gardening. Somehow or other the garden manages to break through all barriers within me. And now is the great time of weeding and clearing, pruning certain plants and attempting to dig out the root systems of those pesky crab grasses and vines that seem to take over every nook and cranny during the summer months. Pansies have finally appeared in the garden centers and I have brought many flats home to brighten up the winter flower beds.

Perhaps the reading marathon is akin to squirrels collecting and hoarding their nuts for winter provisions. Right now is nature’s time to pull back and curl up and hibernate a little. And so I move into autumnal mode, make my hot herbal teas, and curl up with adventures created by other authors. I was thinking a little earlier on today that maybe I am tired of my own words and need to fill my head and my heart with the words of other writers.

There was a moment somewhere in these last ten days when I wondered if I was in one of my “funks” (read de-pression). But I have not felt that awful slide downwards, nor have my days been gray. Tears have not plagued me and so I decided not to fight it and just accepted that I needed to read rather than write. I have not felt frustrated at not writing, and I was still surrounded by words!

I have discovered Rosamunde Pilcher who writes about families and their incredibly rich relationships. She has a way of unfolding their stories on the written page that invites the reader into their lives in such an intimate fashion. Her characters are so real that I feel as though I could invite them into my own life and they would fit. And along with Rosamunde I have been reading Belva Plain whose style I find to be simply elegant and elegantly simple.

Then, too, I came across Robert B. Parker. I love a good detective or suspense story and he manages to combine those two aspects in the best possible way. His dialogues are composed of short phrases, sometimes pure monosyllables or just one or two word sentences. But they are so succinct, so totally perfect, and his humor is dry yet delectable as a nutty, crisp cracker (must appeal to the Brit in me!). The plots move along at a fast pace and keep the reader involved from start to finish. His series of books with PI Spenser as the central character is terrific and well worth the read.

And here I am writing again. There was one other thought process that I have entertained about my not writing. It reminded me a little of what happens when I make up my mind to get back into exercising or to make a specific change in my diet. Either something comes up (a sickness or an arthritic flare up) that keeps me from doing the exercise, or I get a “chocolate attack” and there goes the healthy eating. So either “he-who-shall-not-be-named” is getting at me, or I fall into a big hole of self-sabotage.

But I have managed to reach a point in my life where I can accept most situations as they unfold. “What is, is” says my dear friend Tish. And so I read obsessively for a couple of weeks – no big deal. It has brought me great joy. It is wonderful to love myself enough that I do not need to beat myself up. Bottom line is I was enriching my vocabulary and feeding my heart and soul.

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Mentors: Along the Path of Life

Margo — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 03:09:38 +0000

Where do I start? As I look back along the path of my life there have been dozens of moments when the sets of footprints have been many. I know that God has been with me all the way, even when I have chosen to ignore Him. So I know that there has been at least one set along the sands of time when He was carrying me and, when I was “in a state of grace”, then we walked side by side leaving two sets of prints.

But those other times when more feet left their mark are when some very special people walked with me. People who loved me or at the very least cared about me enough to accompany me through difficult times. Sometimes these people were professionals whom I sought out for specific help. Other times they were special friends, the kind that leave footprints not only on the path of life but also across my heart.

If I were to be honest, even though I did not recognize it at the time, I would have to say that my mother was my first mentor. It would probably be even more honest to say that I was not capable of recognizing her in the mentor role. But with the wisdom that age eventually gives us and with the passage of time, I am able to understand and admit that she did indeed give me many of the values that I hold dear today.

My Aunty Polly was another mentor in my young life. She was not a blood relative but someone my parents knew from before they were married. She had an amazing ability to make me feel loved and cherished no matter what I may have done. She always had a compliment for me and she always smelled of some divine French perfume, and when she hugged me I wanted to stay inside her arms forever. As I struggled through my teen years her love and support never wavered. She was always ready to be my champion.

Sad to say I remember no particular mentors in my life during my upper school years or college years, although Aunty Polly was ever available if I bothered to approach her. This barren period of my life stretched into my marriage to my first husband. But the barrenness was of my own creation as I slid further and further into isolation.

It was not until a few years after I separated from my him that I began to seek help and became aware that there were some very compassionate people available if I but looked. Dear Fr. Hill, the Catholic chaplain with the U.S. Navy in La Maddalena, Sardinia was the first of those. His laughter filled the corridors of the Navy base and filled my battered heart with hope. In turn he introduced me to a young woman called Lou Ann who was to mentor me through the first few months of struggling out of my “dark period”.

As I took my place among my fellow citizens on this path of life I slowly understood that there was no stigma in seeking help from professionals. Since then I have been blessed with help from many psychologists and spiritual advisors: Dr. Lockart, Dr. Fernandez, Dr. Werbel, Dr. Boger, Chaplain Gerry Smith, Chaplain Steve Jensen, Chaplain Wendy Bausman, Chaplain Rod Kelley, Chaplain Terry Robertson, Chaplain Paul Witt, Chaplain Robert Church, Chaplain Mark Logid, Chaplain Greg Gillette, Chaplain Larry Smith. I know there were others. I can see their faces but my memory is being unkind and not allowing me to remember their names.

My dear friend Herm del Prato in Naples, Italy was another soul with whom I shared many personal stories and struggles. His ear was always willing and he was never judgmental. And how can I forget my “soul sister” Cawne who came into my life in 1987 and, in her own woundedness, opened up a whole new path of spiritual possibilities to me. Despite a large geographical separation we are deep friends to this day.

As I think of my life today I realize it is full of mentors in the unique friends who I choose to surround myself with. Men and women who are all questing on their own paths and yet willing to share and give of themselves to me. My beloved Mavis, who is also a substitute mother-aunty-sister-friend and who teaches me to remain teachable. Cathy and Lorelei in St. Augustine who help me stay true to myself.

Kathi, Paige, Tish and Robin who all help to keep me “right size” and show me how to live by going out there and living life themselves. Michael, who massages my body and through his skills, talents, knowledge, and experience helps me to get nearer to myself. Linda who helps me care for my garden and teaches me lessons of genuineness like no other.

And there are many more, too numerous to name, who through their actions and the way they live their lives, fill me with gratitude for their presence, for their friendship. They enrich my life with love, with compassion, with humility, with joy. They nurture me along my path. I am truly blessed.

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Musings: Your Father

Margo — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 14:00:00 +0000

One of my morning readings yesterday carried that title: Your Father. And although it was referring to God as Father, it made me instinctively think of my own father. His name was Alfred, but everyone called him Alf. He died 9 June 1997.

I know that unfortunately there are many people who do not have a good relationship with their father. The sad statistics on child abuse the world over reflect this situation. And I have read that these statistics do not give a true picture of the enormity of this problem because much child abuse goes undetected or unreported.

I was very blessed. I had a very good father but I did not have a very good relationship with him. We didn’t argue or fight and he certainly never abused me. He wasn’t strict or stern. He was just a very quiet person who didn’t have a big personality, and he wasn’t big on showing his emotions – good or bad. (He died without ever having said “I love you” to me.) I used to describe him as nondescript, the kind of person who faded into the furniture.

He was also a product of his times and of his family background. I do remember that his mother, my grandmother, always had a twinkle in her eye. My grandfather, however, was the absolute opposite. I do not remember him with a smile on his face. When we visited them at their house, he was always seated at a table in the very small, very narrow, very dark kitchenette/dining room, staring morosely out the window and drinking a Guinness. They lived in a very small rather bleak apartment and did not have much money. There was not much joy present.

As I made changes to my lifestyle and began to mature (at the grand old age of thirty five!) I began to review the perceptions I had of my father. I realized that I had played a part in the non-relationship that we had. I am guessing that my father did not live up to whatever grandiose expectations that I may have laid on him, and therefore I probably, for the most part, dismissed him.

I need and want to rectify on paper right here and now any mistaken perceptions I may have perpetuated. My father was a totally good man. He worked hard, at two jobs, to provide for all of us. Actually, when I think about it, he worked at four jobs. He had his fulltime job in a civic agency and he also worked a part time job as a supervisor of ticket sales at a dog track. Then at home he also ran a small shoe repair business for friends and family, and when he wasn’t busy at any of those jobs, he created, planted and maintained an incredible garden, providing us with at least 50% of all our fresh vegetables, salad, and fruit. (This was how he said his “I love you’s.”)

As you may imagine, my father was not a “Johnny-go-lightly”. He just didn’t have the time or energy. The only time he left the house was to go to one job or another. He did not go out “with the boys” and he didn’t even go out, as in “on dates”, with my mother. (Even if they had had the money, which they didn’t, they didn’t have the time or the energy.) He was always at home when he wasn’t working. He was always available if we needed him.

I had very few possibilities to make up for lost time in my relationship with Dad. Once I came to my senses I lived for many years overseas so did not get much opportunity to rebuild a close relationship with him during my visits home. And, sad to say, by the age of sixty five/seventy he had lost most desire to be a happy person and was rather difficult to be around.

Because of this I am so grateful to have a deeply intimate and personal relationship with that “other Father”. It did not come easily to me because I carried old ideas from childhood education of a stern and vengeful God. I thought He was a God who would point His finger at me and who kept a running tally of my sins.

I have been blessed a thousand fold since then to have been given teachers along my path who have helped me to find a Father who loves me passionately. In the Old Testament God is called Father only six times, but in the New Testament, through the words of Jesus, He is called Father over sixty times. Jesus himself brought the Father very close to us.

I was also encouraged by my teachers and spiritual mentors to create a personal picture of this person I called Father. If any of you have read the classic story of Heidi you will have a clear idea of how I see my Father. He is the big, Yogi-bear-like Grandfather who takes care of Heidi. I know I can climb up into His lap and pour my heart out to Him, leaning my head on his shoulder and feeling His protective arms around me.

One of the writers whom I have quoted in previous postings has written a beautiful poem about the Father. Written by Ruth Harms Calkin it is titled I Have A Father . I will quote just the last verse here:

But the great triumphant truth is –
I have a Father.
My Father protects and upholds me.
He strengthens and supports me.
Nothing can happen to me
Outside my Father’s will.
My Father is greater by far
Than he who is in the world.
Once and for all it was settled
On a rugged cross
On a lonely hill:
I have a Father.

If you are struggling with father issues I encourage you to seek help to resolve them. You deserve that as a worthy human being. And in the meantime I urge you, from the depths of my heart, to seek a relationship with the one true Father that nobody can take away from you and who loves you dearly.

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Musings: Life And Lemons

Margo — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 17:23:04 +0000

I am totally forcing myself through a dark grey cloud at this moment, making my fingers push across the keys on my laptop. Unfortunately the weather isn’t helping. It’s grey and miserable out there and has been since yesterday.

There’s a voice in my head that belongs to perky Ms. Cheerleader (one of the many “committee members” who inhabit my brain!!), saying over and over, “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade”. A snarling voice that belongs to another committee member, Mr. Censor, throws back at her, “what if I don’t want to make lemonade!!!”.

If what I am feeling right now is akin to depression I really empathize with those suffering from that disease. I have cried at least a dozen times since yesterday evening. I have absolutely no energy or enthusiasm whatsoever. So what bought this on, you are wondering? Here goes.

You remember I got stung by a wasp (we’re now thinking possibly a hornet) twelve days ago? This was Lemon #1, and that story is in a blog I wrote about eight days ago. Well I was put on antibiotics for that and they have a “depressing” effect on my system. Not too bad, but I wasn’t my usual happy-go-lucky self. Had to work at being upbeat. Lemon #2.

Last weekend was a busy, fun filled time: gardening, attending a parish picnic, and riding to St. Augustine on our beloved Harley. However, by Sunday I noticed that my right index finger was a little tender around the lower and left nail area. I saw that I had a “hang nail”, dropped a little alcohol on it, and got on with my day. By Monday morning it was reddish and a little swollen. So I applied more alcohol and decided if it got worse I would see my doctor. I did not know that this was Lemon #3 developing.

Serendipity came that evening in the form of my second pottery class. The three pieces I had created two weeks prior were nicely dried and ready for glazing. I already wrote a blog about this on Monday evening. What I didn’t write in there was that my husband was packing for a business trip that evening and the “gods” were conspiring against him and consequently creating some aggravation and irritation between us – rather like “pre-deployment bitching”. But that’s a whole other story (and Lemon #4!); I’m just painting background here!

On Tuesday morning The Finger is throbbing. After having kissed and made up, Richard left for the airport and I left for a cat scan. It was to be “with contrast” and so entailed the need for an IV. I am not going into details. Just accept that my left hand was “butchered” in an attempt to get an IV in – I almost came off the table and I was screaming through clenched teeth! Lemon #5.

Having got through that trauma, I went and sat in Starbucks for about two hours drinking green tea, breathing, and reading a book. I had a lunch date with a girlfriend that was the most God-ordered thing that happened to me that day. Everything about lunch with Sue was totally serendipitous and allowed me to forget The Finger for a while.

As I drove home I became very aware of the increased throbbing in The Finger. It also looked rather like a small light bulb, glowing red and radiating heat. I prayed that it would explode so that whatever was going on inside would get outside! I went straight to my doctor’s office, and he tried very hard for twenty minutes to gently cause the prayed for explosion, but to no avail.

He decided that even though I was already on antibiotics for the sting, I needed something more potent. After ascertaining that I was headed straight home, he administered a “level three” antibiotic, made sure I had some pain killers, made an appointment to check on it in two days time, and sent me home. I crawled in the front door just before someone threw a switch and sucked out every ounce of energy and enthusiasm that lived inside my body. Lemon #6.

For the next twenty four hours I felt like a grey blob. I cried a lot. I felt as though someone or something was jut pushing down on me, suppressing any joy that I might feel. I was grateful that I had lunch scheduled with Kathi next day and that I had a massage on the books that afternoon. By the time I came out I felt somewhat better – thank you my massage-angel Michael!

I woke on Thursday (yesterday) feeling as though I had been allowed back into my “normal” body, although I was aware that maybe that level three shot had blown my defenses and I was manifesting a yeast infection! Lemon #7. However I felt ready for the day and had at least two ideas for articles that I was going to write when I got home after the doctor’s appointment. But, when he saw my finger Dr. W. wasn’t totally happy and said, yes it was making progress but he wanted to zap me with another level three. Lemon #8.

I crawled home after my appointment having stopped off to get my yeast infection meds and getting trapped in the store by an ungodly storm. I felt the energy and enthusiasm draining out of me again, and I crashed for three and a half hours on the couch. I cried a lot again last night, and some more this morning. Then I made a command decision: this depression, even though temporary, was not going to have a hold of me any more!

So, even though I don’t feel like making lemonade with all those lemons, I am writing. I will not allow it to rob me of that joy. And even though I don’t want to make lemonade, I can at least see that there were some serendipitous moments granted me in the mix, and for those I am truly grateful. They gave me the intermittent strength to make it from one lemon to the next!!

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