To everything...

I think today may mark the arrival of autumn. Nothing is certain, but I am hoping. For those who enjoy the heat, this has been the summer of dreams, but for the rest of us, a test of endurance. Mother Nature either has a warped sense of humour, or is menopausal; being of an age where this experience is first-hand, I vote for the second option. After a summer of 30 degree temperatures, we woke up to 15 this morning, with an expected high of 18. There seems a certain degree of malice here. However, the change is welcome.

Each season evokes different feelings for me, and while fall is a time of year that I love, I also find it quite melancholy. (This may not come as a huge surprise, and I shall attribute it to my Irish roots from my great-grandmother.) I guess it is a reminder to be grateful for the bounty, the beauty and the warmth, for they will pass for a time. 

Fall can be a time of adjustment, from first days of school taking our babies away for the first time, to first days of college, taking our babies geographically far away and leaving us with empty nests. Teary transitions often. 

Fall is a time of transformation; from green to crimson and gold, from flower to fruit and seed, from the heat of the sun to a cooler time. 

Fall is a time of transition; from growth to fallow and rest, from green fullness to bare beauty, from the front porch to the chair by the fire. In the garden the activity of furry and winged friends becomes frenetic as time is shortening to prepare for winter survival. On the path the birdsong is becoming quiet as summer nesters leave to winter where it is warmer. 

Fall is also a time of contrast; lush to bare, green to gold to brown, warm to cold, light to dark...

and beginnings to endings. I know that my beloved brother Alan is approaching the end of his life. It is a painful reality that is ever in my heart and mind. I am reminded of how his was a constant presence at the beginning of mine. My mom was 40 when I was born, the last of six. She was unwell after my birth and Alan often cared for me. I guess that is why I have such a deep bond with him even though we have spent our adult lives in different provinces. The pain of birth and the pain of loss.

(Alan and I)

(my grandma, Alan and I)

Yet even in the midst of sorrow, there is joy as our oldest son marries and starts a new journey. As a mother you must accept that whoever your son marries will become the new and most important woman in his life. Knowing this, you can only hope that he will choose someone that you can love and respect as well. I am so grateful as I watch with joy as my new daughter carefully tends his heart, and helps him become all that he can be. There really are no words. And, as if this were not more than I could ever hope... there are four lovely children for us to open our hearts to. A time of thanksgiving and abundance. 

Fall is the time of harvest on our calendar; a time to take account of what we have to be thankful for. Do we always feel thankful? Of course not. Can we make a practice of being thankful? Yes. We have to practice the things that do not come naturally to us..like being grateful, like being kind, like saying thank you. It comes back to stopping amidst the busyness and taking just a moment to take stock....

 and be grateful.

On a quest for quiet

I just wanted quiet that day. I felt like my soul was bruised, like my skin was inside out and even the lightest of breezes on it would be painful. I had just heard that the life of my dear brother Alan would now be measured in months and I was mourning this news. Having cared for my parents in their last years, the pathway is similar to one I have walked before. As their needs and conditions change, your schedule and attention adapts to meet those needs, but you are often too busy to mourn the changes as they happen. My brother is in Manitoba. He has an illness that none of us, his family, was familiar with. Its progress has been relentless and difficult, robbing him of speech and movement and memory. I have not been there to see the steady erosion of his health. While I would not have him suffer further, the thought that there might be only months left of his physical presence here, hit me very hard. Grief has kind of an ebb and flow; sometimes overwhelming and sometimes easing and today the tide was coming in. 

I just wanted quiet..to sit on the porch and watch what was going on in the garden. There was however a tournament taking over our street and the ball diamonds across the road. Noise and traffic..an invasion. So I got in my car and left.

My son had called while I was crying and suggested a little 'baby time' might be in order. It is wonderful to have grown sons who offer their shoulders to their mother for the occasional meltdown. Grief needs to be expressed and shared... and then followed up with a snuggle from a sweet little person who is glad to see you. It helps and I am grateful.

Still, I wanted quiet. So I headed to the path by the river that leads to the pedestrian bridge. Normally this is a quiet path, but on this day there were cyclists and airplanes and boats on the river. At first I was angry, but then I thought that maybe when we cannot find external quiet, we have to find a place of internal quiet. 

" In the midst of movement and chaos, keep stillness inside of you"  - Deepak Chopra

So I decided that perhaps I did not need silence to have a place of quiet. So I forced myself to walk slowly, notice the small things and really appreciate my surroundings. 

Running Strawberry Bush presents more like a vine and you have to practically have your nose on the path to see these unique seed pods under the foliage.

Somebody gnawed a window in this mushroom to allow a glimpse of its inner structure.

When I saw this Grass Spider and his funnel web, I was awed by its architecture. I include this for Karen who finds them fascinating. I however, had no desire to make its further acquaintance.

At this time of year the forest is taking on a softer, rounder shape as vines of all sort begin to coat everything in sight. Included in this number, are One-Seeded Bur Cucumber vines with their prickled pod clusters and tightly wound tendrils.

Orange and yellow Jewelweeds are easy to find in late August, but this larger variety, also known as Himalayan Balsam is the tallest of the three and not so readily seen. 

From the pedestrian bridge I could see a solitary cormorant sunning on a rock. Maybe he wanted a little quiet too.

The view upstream included a heron fishing and a canoe just coming into view from around the bend.

White Snakeroot is blooming and something has traced a lovely pattern on its leaf. 

The meadow is fragrant with Joe Pye Weed and a variety of Goldenrods.

I saw a Great Spangled Fritillary in the meadow but it was too busy to pose. This one stopped briefly in my garden the day after.

A glimpse of blue amongst the yellow and pink in the meadow revealed Blue Lobelia, a lovely plant which I had never seen in this meadow before.

One leaves the meadow to the sound of the water in the brook.

Jack-in-the-pulpit plants have outgrown and shed their striped spring coats and these ruby fruit clusters are ready to be eaten so their seeds can be dispersed.

It was time to go home again. Did I see anything really extraordinary? Not especially. Do I still feel bruised and heart-sore? Yes. Do I feel quieter inside? Also yes. Will I need to walk tomorrow? Very likely. I guess that is why we have to 'practice' mindfulness. It does not come without working at it; a deliberate focusing of the mind in order to centre the heart and emotions. Will practice make perfect? I don't know. But maybe I will recognize sooner that I need to stop, or maybe I will be able to find that quietness more easily with time. I do know that life will continue to provide a need for it.

This and that...

Despite an overwhelming anxiety about the state of the world in general; weird weather events, ridiculous politicians, increasing violence and drug use, and the seeming inability of those in government to recognize and deal with these issues... breathe...there are many moments of lightness and diversion. Like..

sharing the McDonald's drivethru with a vole..

or a back road with a peacock...

or driving onto the set of Hitchcock's 'The Birds'.  

The cliche 'small things amuse small minds' often comes to mind, and is probably rooted in the British phrase, 'little things please little minds'. It would have been, and remains still, a disparaging comment, either indicating that the particular mind in question has not the wit to grapple with larger issues or is consumed by things too petty or trivial to be given such notice. These perhaps are an evolution of Ovid's comment that 'frivolous minds are won by trifles'. 

For me, the 'small' is necessary to balance the weight of life's heavier issues,  the dire, the threatening, the frightening things in our world. The small and less obvious things, the unique, the lovely, the awe-inspiring things, can go unnoticed and unseen, like those few moments in the changing evening sky that stop your heart with their beauty.

Or maybe to notice that 'one of these things is not like the other..'

  

or look closely enough at a heron on the shoreline to notice that a beaver is swimming beside him in the river..

or in noticing a goose being shunned by the group, see that his feet are orange and black instead of all black. I guess it is hard to be different no matter your species.

or noticing these little birds pop up on the edge of a corn field. If they had not been accompanied by a parent, I would not have known that they were guinea fowl. Babies of guinea fowl are 'keets' and will look like this when they mature, which is kind of prehistoric with that bony structure on its head which identifies it as a Helmeted Guinea Fowl.

How can one not be grateful for the diversity in nature, and take time to admire it. It is a practice that must be cultivated though; time set aside to walk or drive slowly and train yourself to really look at what is there. I am often surprised by things in unusual places.

Like this Great blue Heron in a tree top at dusk. He didn't stay long, possibly just rested for a moment as he chose his destination for the night.  

This was such a charming scene, a barn cat curled up on a fence post next to the barn yard and the calves at dusk.

  

These fellas were sitting on the fence rail one evening, until the white one got up to inquire as to what I thought that I was looking at. Maybe he didn't exactly say that but there was attitude in his posture.

I got the same attitude from this fellow when we stopped on the back road to ask him for directions. 

When we were in Port Stanley a few weeks ago, this 'vessel' was headed for the lift bridge and entrance to Lake Erie. It was fascinating, and such a tribute to his creativity to watch him enjoying piloting his craft along the canal. What a great way to spend the day.

There is always something new to see.

Like these weird growths which turned out to be Hackberry Nipple Galls, home to a tiny gnat size bug. This housing development does not harm the tree or its leaves, just looks kind of gross. But interesting.

These seed pods are from Velvetleaf which has a heart-shaped leaf and a yellow flower which I have never seen in bloom. They apparently can be found near corn or soya bean fields, but I noticed it because of the unique shape of the pods, kind of the same size and shape of Reese's Peanut butter Cup Minis.

I didn't know if these plants were a type of reed or grass or some other aquatic plant as I had never seen them before. They are over six feet tall and have a cascading flower shape with a kind of fan on top. A little research identified them as Annual Wild Rice, or Indian Rice; not a true rice but still a useful food source which can be cultivated. Something new in an oft seen place.

There are three beds featuring canna lilies in the back garden at Glenhyrst Art Gallery and Gardens. The coloration of the blooms was uniformly yellow and orange with the exception of this one bloom which was unique. Yup, be yourself. Life lessons everywhere.

Then there is the charming or comical; those things that make you smile...

like this goat nuzzling his sheepish pal...

or the big hay bale 'teddy' ...

or 'Mozart' at the petting pen..

or the definitive sign, just 'NO'.

Small things, all of them. Nothing life-altering about them, but each in its way brings something important and life-enriching. It focuses our attention for a moment on something lovely, or sweet, or new which feeds our soul. A moment when we are absolutely present. A moment of gratitude.

 'Small things'.