Busy as a . . .

The other day I noticed several bumblebees on the few remaining cosmos flowers because, unlike most bees I've seen, these bees were not flitting from flower to flower. They were curled up on the flowers and very still. They appeared to be . . . sleeping.



I'd never seen sleeping bees before, so I did a little research.

Bees do sleep.



Isn't it funny to think that the very creatures humans say they are "as busy as" take time to rest?



Maybe we could learn one more lesson from our busy bee friends and be as intentional about taking time for renewal and refreshment as we are about reaching goals.

The next time you're buzzing around thinking about how busy you are, perhaps you'll remember the bumblebees and take a moment or two to slow down for a bit. I think you'll be glad you did.

Enjoying the season

We had two very cold days (in the 30s) recently. A lot of the vegetation in the yard got rather brown and crispy after that.

Bentley did his best to help me find flowers, greenery and other interesting stuff while we were outside.








Still, sections of the yard look rather sad.



Instead of fretting about the plants I've lost, I'm learning to enjoy the scenery provided by each season and looking forward to the changes that will take place in the yard as the weather gets warmer.

That's the way life works, isn't it? I can spend my time bemoaning the changes that are taking place or find ways to appreciate all of the opportunities to learn and grow.

Don't (just) look back - look sideways

The Cafe Press anti-Valentine contest has proved to be an eye-opening experience for me.

First, I was amazed at how easy it was for me to come up with ideas that reflected a cynic's view of love. Negativity is not the most desirable of traits. :-)

Second, when I looked at the designs others created, I learned that there are people who are a lot more cynical than I am out there. Bitter, bitter, bitter.

Third, was the major "duh" moment I had when I realized that I could create designs with a positive message even though they weren't part of the contest and added a couple of positive valentine designs to my shop. I think this was the most important thing I learned from this experience.

It reminded me of times in the past when I have started a project with specific ideas and goals in mind and gotten stuck when I found something blocking my path. Sometimes all that's required is a tiny adjustment - other times, not so tiny.

If I keep focusing on the problem, all I will see is the problem. On the other hand, if I glance around a bit, I may see an alternative that I had missed before. In many cases, it might not have been there earlier - timing is everything. Often the best way to deal with getting stuck is to change my perspective and look "sideways".

Square peg, round hole

I recently observed the completion of my 50th year on earth. Birthdays in general invite introspection -- birthdays that end in zero, even more so.

When I told Kelly that I felt like a square peg in a round hole most of the time, she reminded me that the perfect place for a peg to be was in the hands of the Carpenter.

Several tissues later, I am still grateful she shared that image with me.

It reminds me of solving a jigsaw puzzle.

In a standard puzzle there are pieces that are more easily recognized and easier to place. The straight sides of the edge pieces leave no doubt as to their location, even indicating if they belong on top, bottom, left or right side.

What happens with the remaining pieces? They find their place with pieces that have similar characteristics. There will be false starts, with pieces that look promising, but don't quite fit. After some trial and error, all of the pieces are combined and the whole picture finally comes in to view.

Life is that way; some purposes are easily seen and others are visible only after a lot of trial and error. Unlike online jigsaw puzzles, there is no "Auto Solve" button! And, unlike jigsaw puzzles, the pieces can change shape -- skills are acquired, attitudes change and rough edges are softened.

I'm looking forward to seeing the next picture formed by the puzzle pieces of my life.

Be careful when you throw rocks . . .

At a family get-together several years ago, I overheard my brother telling his children to "be careful when you throw rocks" as they tossed gravel from the driveway at each other.

While I appreciated his attempt to rein in his children, I thought it would have been better to tell them not to throw rocks at all! (Especially since my car and I were in the vicinity.)

Since that time, "Be careful when you throw rocks." had become a joke between my husband and me.

Now I see the phrase from a very different point of view.

The Bible study group I meet with is currently studying the Book of John. Chapter 8 begins with the story of a woman accused of adultery and condemned to be stoned to death. Jesus invites all who have not sinned to throw stones. The crowd quickly dissipates.

We began to discuss how many times people "throw rocks" at us and we respond in kind -- angry words, bad attitudes and judgemental thoughts.

I was reminded of sets of rocks I painted for a "garden tea" at church. Each rock lists a characteristic of loving and Godly responses to others: love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, faithfulness, goodness, kindness and self-control.



Now I see that "be careful when you throw rocks" means if someone is not loving and gracious to me, I don't have to respond in kind. I have the option of choosing to respond differently.

I decided to paint a few more rocks this weekend. Here are some of the results:








Be careful when you throw rocks! :-)

The Meltdown

I have been interested in fusing glass for several years and had acquired everything necessary to try it -- except the courage to face my ultimate enemy -- fear of failure.

The logical part of my mind understands that it is normal to start at zero and gradually amass the skills required for any undertaking, but the more primitive part of my brain wants to be perfect from the beginning -- failure is not an option.

The day before Thanksgiving, I finally gathered up enough courage to fuse together a few bits of glass. As often happens, things went smoothly and the pieces looked nicer than I expected.

Thus lulled into a greater sense of confidence, I fused a batch of glass every other day or so, each time, without incident. The results were satisfactory, but not outstanding.

Then I tried to fuse on Saturday.

The glass and I had a meltdown.

For some reason -- I think it was because it was a windy day -- the kiln took longer than usual to reach the first benchmark temperature.

What I now know is that the glass was thoroughly warm at that point and I should have very carefully monitored the rest of the process. Instead, I kept an eye on the pyrometer at the intervals I had found worked before.

The result? The glass -- and I -- had a total meltdown.

There's something very disheartening about opening up a kiln and seeing puddles of glass on the shelf. It's even more discouraging to see molten glass hanging from the side of the kiln lid. If you've ever seen cheese dangling from a slice of pizza, you get the idea.

After the glass and I cooled off, I discovered the results weren't as catastrophic as I thought. The kiln is still usable and I have since fused glass without incident.

So, what did I learn from this?

In most cases, it's ok to make mistakes. Don't be surprised when you do, and keep track of what you've done so you can avoid making the same mistake over again. It was easier to figure out what happened because I had started a firing log.

Don't ignore your instincts. I had a feeling that I should check the kiln sooner, but didn't. Next time, I will be more aware of all aspects of my endeavors. The past can serve as a guide, but each situation is unique and must be treated as such.

Accept and appreciate the support of your family and friends. When you are no longer rational or able to objectively look at a situation, their input is invaluable.

Don't be afraid to fail. If I succeed at everything, I have only verfied what I can do. When the outcome is less than stellar, I have the opportunity to find a way to make it better and to increase my knowledge.

I can see life as a series of adventures and seek new experiences, recognizing that I will stumble on occasion, or I can seek out the familiar and continue doing what I know without any risk of failure -- or growth.

I choose adventure!

Happy Birthday!

My Aunt Margaret has led quite a life, from journalist, to army wife, to author. Yesterday she celebrated her 80th birthday with, among other things, petits fours, chocolate and steak. (My Uncle Billy is a chocolatier.)

As a young journalist, she wrote about the happenings in her hometown. Years later, that experience led to one of the books she wrote, "Murder in Coweta County". "Murder" is a true story. Criminal justice classes often used it as supplemental reading.

It was made into a CBS television movie starring Johnny Cash and Andy Griffith. Aunt Margaret got to appear in the movie -- as the court reporter! Rather fitting, I think.

My favorite of her books is the more whimsical "A Buzzard-My-Best-Friend", which tells the story of the time she and her family spent as owners of a Virginia farm. I have fond memories of the summer my family and I visited that farm. (It may also be the root of my love/hate relationship with the idea of owning a small farm.)

Seeing what she has accomplished over her lifetime reminds me that, while life may be considered one great adventure, in reality it is a series of adventures. I'm going to remember to enjoy each one.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Margaret. May your adventures continue for years to come!

What to do?

When I walked into the living room the other day I saw a flash of movement in the tree by the front door. As I sat and looked out the window, I realized it was a tiny bird.

It hopped from branch to branch and then flew to the archway leading to our front porch and clung to the stucco wall. After it left I went to the front porch to see what attracted the bird there.


To my delight and horror, I found a lovely little nest the bird had built in one of my pots. The nest is a work of art and represents hours and hours of labor from this little creature. Unfortunately, the location is very, very bad. The pot is on a stand that is only a couple of feet high, and it's right by the main entrance to our house.

While we wouldn't touch the nest, others might. We don't have many human visitors, but we do have frequent visits from raccoons, as evidenced by their muddy footprints left on the concrete walk after they dig in my water garden. Raccoons are omnivores and will eat anything.

There are also two large Cuban treefrogs who live on our porch light. They also will eat anything that will fit in their mouth!

What to do? I looked at birdhouses and thought of ways to hang the pot so the bird could still reach it, but I came to the unhappy conclusion that they would not return to the nest if I touched it, and they and their babies would be at risk if I left the nest there.

I had to move the nest.

While not a solution I would have gladly chosen, I took the nest out of the pot and put it at the edge of the woods. I know the bird won't use the nest, but I hope someone will use the materials to build a home for themselves.

A false sense of security

As I took my morning walk today I saw a bunny. It is not uncommon to see at least one bunny when I walk, but this particular bunny caught my eye because he (she?) didn't run as I approached. It continued to munch away on the vegetation as I walked past.

Why? Because the bunny was on the other side of a chain link fence and beyond my reach.

The bunny felt safe because the fence provided a barrier of protection. What the bunny didn't know was that the fence surrounded our neighbor's dog run - and he was on the inside!

Blackjack, the dog, wasn't in the area - he's too old to bother chasing a bunny anyway, so the bunny really was safe. (Maybe it wasn't such a "dumb bunny" after all.)

This made me think about the times I've felt safe when I really shouldn't and the times when I've not felt safe when I should have.

I have chosen to place my self in "danger" by, among other things, going whitewater rafting and flying with $5 Frank.

Then there were the times when I have felt fearful when there was no need, usually in situations when I was "on stage", either figuratively, or literally.

In both cases my reaction was a choice. So, what did I learn from my bunny buddy? Examine your situation and remember to choose your reaction wisely.

Oh, and the bunny? I saw it again this afternoon. This time it was outside of the fence, and it still didn't run from me!

Taking steps . . . or not

Have you ever found yourself sailing through a project only to suddenly find yourself flummoxed by the next step you need to take?

There are times when I'm happily progressing toward a goal and suddenly happen upon something that, for one reason or another, stumps me and stops me in my tracks. Recently I've become aware that it is usually okay to avoid a step that is holding me back from accomplishing something I want.

I am learning to recognize when a step is vital, and when it would be nice, but not crucial to the success of a project. If the step that is holding me back is not truly important to the completion of my task, I skip it.

If the step can't be avoided, I re-examine it and see if it can be approached from another angle, or if a similar action can be substituted.

It seems to be working for me. I'm learning how to complete half-finished projects, or how to pass them on to someone who will enjoy finishing them.

The ghosts of unfinished projects past are slowly leaving my life.

Self-taught musicians

Today I discovered two very different self-taught musicians on YouTube videos.

The first is "Nora, the Piano Playing Cat". Some of the "licks" (pun intended) she plays actually sound quite modern. According to the person she lives with, she began playing on her own. She does seem to enjoy playing, preferring the mid-range notes. Her performance has encouraged many other cats to post their videos.

The second musician is twelve-year-old Conrad Oberg. Born in the summer of 1994, he taught himself to play piano (at age 2) and guitar (at age 10) and has been playing live concerts since he was 4. Quite an accomplishment on its own; all the more so since Conrad was born prematurely (3 1/2 months early) and has no eyesight in his left eye and only 15% of the vision in his right.

What in the world do these two have in common? Music, practice, and following their bliss.

What can I learn from this? Don't be hesitant to pursue the activities that utilize my talents and abilities. I may never be famous, but I'll enjoy my life a lot more!

Appearances can be deceiving

We have two citrus trees in our yard, neither of which we planted.


The first tree is in the woods at the edge of our yard. It is full of lovely oranges. They are about the size of a baseball, a gorgeous shade of . . . orange, and slightly sweeter than a lemon. It is a sour orange tree. The juice can be used for marinades and marmalade, but you probably wouldn't want a glass of it with your breakfast.

The second tree is a scraggly little thing snuggled next to a larger tree at the edge of our pond. We could tell it was a citrus tree because of its flowers, but never saw fruit of any consequence. It does have a healthy array of thorns which have made their presence known numerous times. Encounters with the thorns made it quite tempting to remove this "weed", but we didn't.

This year the scraggly tree was full of fruit, but they were small and pale. Hmmm . . . small, pale fruit -- could it be? I grabbed a couple of them and took them to the kitchen for an experiment.

A friend of ours has a very pampered key lime tree. He keeps it safe and warm and makes sure nothing will harm it. He had a bumper crop this year and shared his limes with us.

I took out one of his limes and placed the fruit from my tree next to it. Same size, same color . . . I got a knife and cut them open. They looked the same. I squeezed juice from each into glasses and tasted. Hooray! I have a key lime tree!


Here are the limes I harvested from my tree. (That's a quarter in front of the bowl.)


What have I learned from this? When life gives you thorns, make key lime pie!!!

The Thinking Place

Few things hold my attention for any great length of time. I tend to flit from one "interesting" idea to another, like a bee in a field of flowers. Instead of bags of pollen, I carry snippets of ideas around, letting them jumble around in my head until they clump together in a new way.

While I do come up with a number of ideas, my lack of focus results in "lots of eggs, but no chickens". I never stay with my ideas long enough to bring them to life.

That said, I have decided that I'm going to set aside a place and time on a regular basis to practice focusing on things I'd like to accomplish.

What I learned from George

Saturday morning we said a tearful goodbye to one of our cats.

His name was George. (He's the one in the middle.)

While we still have several cats, our house is strangely quiet.

George was a talker. The other cats don't seem to be quite as vocal, maybe because they couldn't get a "meow" in edgewise with George around.

He also seemed to know exactly where we were going to step, and made sure he checked the spot so it would be "safe" for us to move there. This, of course, meant that he was usually underfoot, especially in the kitchen.

As I've considered "life with George", I find it comforting to think about the things I learned from him.

George taught me:

* When you want something, ask for it. Continue talking to people until they understand what you want and give it to you, or show you where to get it.

* Know where the things you like are located so you can point them out, if necessary.

* Savor every meal and welcome the company of fellow diners.

* Hugging is a good and necessary part of every day.

* Avoid confrontation if at all possible.

* Spend time in the fresh air every day.

* If you get lost, stop and listen. The information is there, if you are still and quiet.

Farewell, Georgie. You'll always live on in our hearts.