When words aren't enough. . .

On Monday, after I got the call that our new grandson had arrived, I was filled with feelings I longed to express but there were no adequate words. So, instead, I turned to the peaceful tranquility of my yard and walked and thought and felt and whispered prayers of gratitude.

Customize a free slideshow

Crossing paths. . .

During this moment in time, I am relaxing on one of the comfortable blue sofas (lotus position, with my netbook balanced on my knees) in a pleasant lounge area while waiting for my car to be serviced. I have been sharing the space with several other people, some only briefly, but two, like me, seem to have settled in. I find myself wondering about their stories; their journeys, if you will, but I haven't asked. Unlike Bob, I'm seldom inclined to strike up conversations with folks I don't know. He almost always did that and when he and the individual parted ways, even though they would never see each other again, for those moments in time it was as if they had always been buddies. I'm more of an introvert, I guess, which I have learned is often interpreted as being aloof. (I guess, on some level, I can understand that misinterpretation, yet, I remain surprised by it.) In an attempt to offset that impression, I do try to make a habit of making eye contact, saying hello or at the very least, to smile and offer a pleasant expression, more often.

Two people have unknowingly captured my attention as we all sit here and I find myself saying silent prayers for each of them. I don't mean that they appear needy, in any sense, but I believe their health may be a bit fragile or, if not, most likely heading there. The gentleman, who is asleep now and probably dreaming of the late '60's, has a clean but very bushy beard, long-ish hair and he is wearing very dark sunglasses. (Cool shades, man.) He seemed a little shortwinded as he entered the room; as if he had brisk-walked from the other side of town rather than having moseyed down from upstairs. The mid-elderly woman set my thoughts in motion when I first observed her walking in. She also appeared to be physically unfit. We smiled and exchanged a few polite comments. Seeing me busily involved with my netbook, she very considerately asked if I minded if she turned on the TV. I said I absolutely did not mind at all. From that point, we went our separate ways, so to speak. Gradually, I allowed myself to drift into a slight withdrawal from reality so that I became immersed in the circumstances purely as an observer--an audience. (Something I developed the knack for at a very early age.) The "show" became like a television "sit com" and the scenario began to be quite entertaining. When I glanced up from my netbook work, this is what I saw: "Mid Elderly" was having a mid-morning snack of chips and soda, watching Ellen DeGeneres while reading a Nora Roberts book. Don't get me wrong, I'm not belittling any of those things at all. (I, myself, am hooked on "Judge Judy," after all.) It was just one of those "giggly moments" when it simply struck me funny and I had to work at not letting it show. Pretty soon, "Mid" got up and walked somewhere. I thought she might be taking a look at some of the new cars in the show room but then I saw that she was walking slowly back and forth on the walkway outside of the new car showroom, smoking a cigarette. (That explained so many facial wrinkles.) With that, "Bearded Dreamer" began to snore and a little musical "jingle" began to play itself in my head. The jingle never completely materialized but the gist of it was a varied rendition of a children's song, "one of these things just doesn't belong" except mine was "all of these things......"

Is this a "bad" thing? Am I terribly naughty? Have I entertained myself at the expense of others? Should I be remorseful? How come? Or why not? Am I being too hard on myself? After all, I can't control my thoughts, can I? I mean......it's not like I pointed and laughed out loud or anything. And, besides, just yesterday...didn't I even laugh at myself? Doesn't that even things up?

I meant what I said about the prayers. I will be carrying both of these two dear people home with me in my heart and although they will never be aware of it, they have touched my life in a special way by crossing paths with me on this day of our journey together. Everything we do, matters, even when we think no one is paying attention.

Feeling foolish. . .

I love how God always takes care of me in such unexpected ways!

So I'm working in the yard and I pick up a long, crooked branch that had fallen into the myrtle. I tuck it under my arm and head across the lawn to toss it near the fire spot. But before I take more than a couple steps, I feel something crawling on my back, inside my shirt. So I wiggle around to make whatever it is either fly away or drop off, hoping it doesn't sting me. It won't get off me. So I reach over my shoulder with one hand and start shaking the daylights out of my shirt but I can still feel it. I begin to panic as my imagination blooms to outlandish proportion! I start running across the yard (with no particular destination in mind) but it seems the more actively I move, the more persistent the "creature" is in clinging to me. Just as I'm ready to start yelling out loud, I realize it's the other end of the stick that had poked its way down the yoke of my shirt and every time I moved, it would scratch my bare back. I was chasing myself around in my yard with a stick! ......Duh!

It's times like this when I'm really thankful for the small forests between me and my closest neighbors! I have an inkling they already suspect that I'm a little "loopy" but I'd like to refrain from proving it as long as possible.

What does this have to do with God taking care of me? Well...I have been struggling with the effects of a variation of extremely intense emotions lately (happy, sad...you name it) and, quite frankly, it was wearing me out. How grateful I am that God's intervening is always perfectly timed. The nudges might be very obvious, they might be subtle or serious but my favorites are those that require a sense of humor -- the kind that allow me to make an absolute fool of myself and then to feel my burdens become lighter with laughter.

For love of tractors. . .

Ten or fifteen years ago, if anyone had told me one of my heart's delights would be tractors (John Deere tractors, specifically) I think I might have been in doubt. Now, here I am...intrigued by the rhythmic differences in the motor sounds of various makes and models. I learned to listen to them from Bob, who could very often identify year, make and model the moment the first "putt-putt" became distantly audible. It gave him many moments of playful satisfaction to watch my amazement when I could never seem to catch him being wrong about that. He would say something like, "Pretty soon you'll see Eric come up by here with the 70" (or the 60, or the A) and I, being sure he must be just guessing, would wait to prove him wrong. But he never was.

Today, I love to hear the tractors. My heart swells when I hear them start up and make their way out of the garage. The more of them, the better. It is music to my ears and a melody in my heart. Imagine how I felt today, at the parade in Callicoon, immersed in the midst of that 300/400 piece "orchestra." Now, I do realize that my passion for tractors has more to do with all that I associate with them (Bob, wholesome living, "workmen who have no need to be ashamed" -- all that) and not so much the machines, themselves. But how I arrived there doesn't matter; what matters is the fact that I am there and I don't doubt for a moment that there is a purpose, for there is purpose in all things.

Feeling a need to honor this passion with at least some of the loyalty I feel it deserves, and in anticipation of this day, I have been asking myself how I might resolve the issue of wanting to be in two places at once. (If I knew the answer, wouldn't *I* be famous?!) It is Sunday, after all, and in the past twenty-five years or so, I can count on one hand how many times I have not been in a church on a Sunday morning. (A couple of absences were weather related, one to deliver an offspring to college and one or two due to illness.) If the timing of all things involved were to go according to plan, it could work. (Church: 10:30-11:30...Parade: 12:00...gives me half an hour...25 miles...perfect!) Realizing the chances of that happening were very slim, I put the folks at church on notice: Come eleven-thirty, Dorothy is outta here; which was received with loving kindness and understanding. So......at eleven forty-five, with two hymns yet to go, I stuffed my music in my bag, said to the gentleman near me, "I have a date with a tractor" and off I went.

Thankfully, I was able to maintain a smooth 65 mph (which I consider "hurrying" rather than "speeding") until I had to slow down in Long Eddy. To make a long story short, the parade had already begun before I got there but I was in time to see my French Woods "family" and snap a few pictures to cherish.

My heart is glad today and who knew it would be tractors to make it so?

Birdhouse music. . .

The birds are extremely loud this morning. I especially love the little housewren songs. I think their houses are all full of babies right now because they fill with music whenever I walk past them. Regretfully, I neglected to get all the birdhouses cleaned out last year so I'm afraid those that are not up to code, have no tenants. I vow to be a better landlord after this.

I have run across quite a few robin's nests while meandering around the property and puttering in the yard. Some of their locations seem a little peculiar to me and I have to wonder what made a robin couple choose those spots in the first place. Bob used to observe their precarious locations and would build little platforms to hang nearby as an invitation for more secure new home construction the following year when the pair returned. He found pleasure in seeing the birds take advantage of his kind gesture and satisfaction in pointing it out to me since he sensed my original skepticism, I'm sure.

Imagine my joy a few days ago when I discovered a whole neighborhood of such housing (all of it inhabited) along the back rafters of the tractor garage!

I believe our purpose here is not so much to try to change the world in such grand ways that we will be recognized, but to contribute to that change in small ways by following the nudges we feel to care for our world and all that is in it.

Hobbit Hole landscape finished. . .

Except for the fact that I ran out of mulch, I think the Hobbit Hole landscaping is finally finished! I hope the English ivy plugs I planted "take."

Rhododendrons. . .

The rhododendrons I considered eliminating last year. Instead, I thinned the dickens out of them to see what would happen and found out they are virtually indestructable.