Make Way for the Ducklings

On Monday evening, we walked on the golf course in our neighborhood. At the seventh hole, a mother duck and her ten newly born ducklings suddenly emerged. She was very surprised to see us. It was obvious that she was accustomed to the patterns of people coming and going. Golfers were usually gone by the time we arrived. She put her head down and watched us from the grass at the water's edge.

The ducklings were a circus. They had no idea of proper order. Straggling around her and making plentiful noises, they were a motley crew of fluff balls heading in every direction. Clearly, more training was needed.

I said to my husband, "Let's move off the path over to the grass on the fairway." We did, and Mother Duck relaxed as she saw behavior she recognized in humans. Hard as it was not to stare, I purposefully looked away.

A minute later, when I looked back, she was showing her brood how to eat bugs from the mud. The ducklings, distracted by all the sights around them, were chattering in happy excitement. This was a big event for them. Soon, I figured, they would be hungry enough to pay attention. For now, they were getting one of their first glances at the big, wonderful world into which they had been born.

Later that evening, as I was thinking of the ducklings and smiling, I remembered a book that was one of our favorites. Make Way for the Ducklings, was written and illustrated by Robert McCloskey in 1941 for children. It's warm, funny, and engaging. McCloskey deserved the Caldecott Medal he won in 1942 for his illustrations. I learned recently that it has become the Official Children's Book for Massachusetts. I can't think of a better choice.

Here's encouragement to go to the library one summer day. Find the book. Read it to yourself, or to your kids, if they are ten years old or younger. While you are at it, fill everyone's arms with books to try. Pick up a simple treat for the family on the way home. Declare " Book Day! " and enjoy your books together with some music playing softly in the background and your treats out on the table. We loved our Book Days. When we were struggling, the weather was unsavory, or we were bored and listless, a Book Day was our holiday of choice. We all piled on the couch with our borrowed treasures and ventured into other worlds, times, and places with them. We made many new discoveries and learned about things we would not have known otherwise. Often, these discoveries led to interesting school courses, hobbies, favorite authors, gifts, even trips and new friends.

____________________________________

My kids were allowed to earn school credits for the books they read in the summer. This encouraged them to keep reading and reminded me to integrate the things we learned casually into the rest of their year. When we came home from the library, I either saved the list that the library printed for us, or I wrote the books down in a notebook. If there were ideas from the books they read which they wanted to try, we either made time for this in the summer months or planned projects for the school year.

Please note: I did not receive any compensation or free merchandise in exchange for my written review or my opinion about this book.

Passages for Reflection

Celtic Blessing

Deep peace of the running water to you,

Deep peace of the flowing air to you,

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,

Deep peace of the shining stars to you,

Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you.

- source unknown

A Hermit's Desire

I wish, ancient and eternal King,

to live in a hidden hut in the wilderness.

A narrow blue stream beside it, and a clear pool

for washing away my sins by the grace of the Holy Spirit.

A beautiful wood all around,

where birds of every kind of voice can grow up and find shelter.

Facing southwards to catch the sun,

with fertile soil around it suitable for every kind of plant.

And virtuous young men to join me,

humble and eager to serve you . . .

A lovely church, with a white linen cloth over the altar,

a home for you from heaven.

A Bible surrounded by four candles, one for each of the gospels.

A special hut in which to gather for meals,

talking cheerfully as we eat, without sarcasm, without boasting, without any evil words.

Hens laying eggs for us to eat, leeks growing near the stream,

salmon and trout to catch, and bees providing honey.

Enough food and clothing given by you,

and enough time to sit and pray to you.

- attributed to St. Kevin, 6th century

Psalm 33

The earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord.

- ESV

________________________________________________

I discovered the first two passages in 2000 Years of Prayer , compiled by Michael Counsell ( Morehouse Publishing 1999). I was charmed by their simplicity. Hundreds of years old, they retain their freshness and their power. May you be blessed today by the delights of the simple things that surround you -- the beauty of the earth, the faces of your loved ones, the joys of fellowship.

Please note: I did not receive any compensation or free merchandise in exchange for my written review or my opinion about this book.

A Child's Wonder

The child's wonder

At the old moon

Comes back nightly.

She points her finger

To the far silent yellow thing

Shining through the branches

Filtering on the leaves a golden sand,

Crying with her little tongue, "See the moon!"

And in her bed fading to sleep

With babblings of the moon on her little mouth.

- Carl Sandburg

The jet stream over the United States has dipped south and brought a cool spell to the eastern half of the country. On this July morning, I stepped outside and shivered. But it was delightful, all the same.

Every mid-summer, there is a day when I can smell the fall that has not yet arrived. The next season is far off, like a distant cruise ship that wanders before pulling into the bay. Today, the air smells like fall. Tomorrow, we will return to summer again. This harbinger of the season to come reminds me of the transient nature of all things on the earth. We are like the grass, as the Psalms sing, with a glory like the grass. We have our day, and then it is gone.

Nevertheless, at this moment, in this midsummer, the sky is a deep Robin's egg blue and the sun is a golden dandelion that rolls across the sky. The green leaves of the trees bow in the brisk, cool wind. The songbirds hop and skip and chatter their delight. The earth calls to me, Come and play.

So I did.

This morning my husband and I hiked some of the five miles of trails around Carl Sandburg's home in Western North Carolina. This beloved American poet, winner of two Pulizer prizes, moved here and established a small farm in 1945. He was world-famous, and at the height of his influence, at the time. This place was his choice for a sanctuary.

The trails wind around the house and pond in front, through woods filled with pines, oaks, maples, hemlocks, and rhododendron. Behind the house is a little mountain called "Glassy" because the open granite face looks like glass when wet. We hiked up to Glassy, through the woods, and around the pond, until we were as fresh as the morning air and our spirits as light as the golden sun.

Isn't it beautiful? I asked my husband.

Yes, it is, he answered.

We need to eyes of a child to see it all, to drink it in. We need a child's wonder to gaze upon the beauties that appear before us -- at the moon and at the earth and the people on it -- and say amen to them all, and amen to the Love that made them.

Morning Friends

During my morning quiet time, I opened a door to the outdoors. This is a quiet side of the house. Hemlocks, holly, and rhododendron hem in the path that skirts the back yard and leads to the patio. Dense mulching and moisture make it a rich feast for birds. The greenery, low and high, enclose us and create an outdoor room.

Perhaps it was my bright red pajamas. Maybe it was the raw sunflower seeds I nibbled with my cereal and coffee. Did I remind them of someone else who feeds them? The birds were wary but curious. Numerous cardinals kept flitting by the open door and looking in. One pair of them was building a nest. They chip-chip-chiped as they worked. Two sets of towhees were shuffling the mulch. It looked like a dance. Hop, hop, shuffle-shuffle. Hop, hop, shuffle-shuffle. All right in front of the open door. Suddenly, one of them lifted a large, curled leaf in her beak and carried it off. What was it for? Then her mate, a brilliant male, stopped under the hemlock right in front of me, not more than 10 feet away, and looked me in the eye while he sang, "Drink your teeeeee . . . drink your teeeeee."

Just beyond the walk, a bobwhite reminded me of his name: "bob WHITE! . . . bob WHITE!" A tufted titmouse flipped his head feathers up and down and gazed on me earnestly. He chattered "Peter, peter, peter, peter" from the hemlock branches above. Across the lawn, the robins stuck out their tangerine chests and chanted their morning drills. They seemed pleased with the moist, slow breeze and the mackerel sky overhead. A storm is coming, later. For now, this small piece of earth is calm and damp and sweet.

There we were -- earth and green and clouds, and my new friends. I was comforted and soothed like a small child who has been out of sorts and doesn't know it until she climbs into her mother's lap. Some time later, smiling, I shut the door gently on Bob, Peter, Robin, and Tee, and went upstairs to the rest of my life and into the day which was waiting for me.

________________________________________

Below is a list of birds which I have seen in our yard in North Carolina. How many of these have you seen? Which birds can you find in your yard this summer?

American robin

Song sparrow

American goldfinch

Eastern towhee

House finch

Eastern bluebird

Red-winged blackbird

Brown thrasher

Gray catbird

Carolina wren

Tufted titmouse

Black-capped chickadee

Ruby-throated hummingbird

Northern cardinal

Blue jay

Chipping sparrow

Mourning dove

Bobwhite

Eastern Phoebe

American crow

For identification of your birds and advice on birding, Cornell University has created a great website called All About Birds where you can identify your birds, watch videos of their behavior, and listen to their songs. I can't think of a better way to introduce birding. It's a great resource for the homeschool. And if you are curious about any of the birds I describe here, you can visit this site to see them.

I recommend that, one morning this summer, you open the door and have your breakfast with the earth at your feet. If you have a porch or patio, all the better. As you sit with your breakfast in the early quiet, you may find, as I have, that the animals are as curious about you as you are about them.

Sanctuary

I am sitting by an open screen door in the mountains of North Carolina. Sunlight sends shafts of golden warmth that split the morning cool across the patio. The birds are curious about me. They fly near, but not too close, to watch me drink coffee from my cup and eat my toast. A towhee sings, "Drink your tea-ee-ee," over and over, like a faithful chant that consecrates the tall, cathedral oaks stretching to the sky.

After the bustle and frenetic activity of the last few weeks, the quiet seems almost like too much. But I know it's good.

What is it about green earth and blue sky that heals our souls?

I am in need of healing, and direction. Here, in this temporary sanctuary, I have time to breathe. Time to walk old paths up mountainsides and down valleys. Time to listen to the wind and watch summer storms roll over me. Time to search for a future.

We didn't choose this, lovely though it is. We have tried our hardest, over the last six months, to move immediately into a productive future. But the doors we knocked on never opened. Now we find ourselves in a temporary dwelling place. If someone asks me what God is doing in our lives, I have no answer. I simply don't know. But I know He's here -- here with us, among the little birds chanting their hymns in cathedral trees, against the green earth and the blue sky.

For now, that's enough.

For the Birds

As we pack up, I am trying to decide what to do about the birds.

Joshua led us into birding 15 years ago. Since then, we've nearly always had something for birds in our yard, wherever we lived. Now we won't have a permanent residence for a period of time, and we are packing up this one. We have a number of bird houses on the property, four bird feeders, two bird baths, and a wall fountain.

The birds are at home here in our woods. Several nesting pairs have moved in. It suddenly hit me this morning that they aren't moving. Is it a good idea to take everything down? I know they are just birds, but something about it doesn't seem right.

I have decided to take the wall fountain with us, since it was on the porch. We will leave the bird baths behind. I still have some bird seed -- that can stay in the garage with the peat moss. I think that will be okay. I have a feeling that our new owners like the birding idea, because they love the yard, just as it is.

I wonder if I should leave the feeders up or if I should pack them and take them with us. It doesn't make much sense to just take one or two feeders. No one in the family built them, and they don't have any sentimental value other than our use of them for a number of years. The birdhouses, however, were built by my husband and son. They are nailed to the trees outside. I think we should probably leave them here. I did give one birdhouse of that set, which was not yet mounted outside, to Josh as a keepsake.

Should I keep any of these things for posterity and for our new home (which may be a couple of years in the future), or should I leave them as a blessing for the birds? What do you think?

Porch Paradise

This morning I said good-bye to my porch.

We have a long porch across the front of our house. The floor is made of wide, stained wood boards. White trim encloses it. Sitting there, I look out at at hardwood trees, pines, and ferns. I have seen a lot of wildlife from the porch -- deer, woodpeckers, wild turkeys, rabbits, hawks, black squirrels, bluebirds, phoebes, even a turtle. For several summers, a doe has used our yard as a safe place to leave her twin fawns while she searches for food. They are wary, but not alarmed, when we watch from our porch. We have a bench, some chairs, a rocker and various tables scattered around so that having "a cuppa" and a chat on the porch is inviting. It's a lovely place, a retreat, but not fussy in any way.

I purchased an assortment of pots on clearance at Home Depot and Lowe's. I filled them with inexpensive perennials and annuals. We had a small wall fountain already. I cleaned it up and set it on some canyon stone tiles next to the rocker. Suddenly, we were enjoying a little piece of paradise. Going to the porch was like taking a mini-vacation.

Last year, my husband built flower boxes that fit on the railings, and I filled them with flowers that added to the sense of being enclosed in a garden. We listen to classical music from a small, portable CD player. In the evenings, I light candles and citronella lamps. We can watch the sun set, enjoy dinner, have dessert, talk about things.

Container gardens are simply arrangements of pots filled with plants. Generally, they are placed around seating areas. You can have an entire "garden" built with these containers. The big idea that most people have about them is that they are labor intensive. I have found the opposite: container gardening on a porch is perfect for the homeschooling mother in the summer. First of all, there is no heavy labor. No rocks to move, no earth to till, no weeds to pull, no edging to build. Just put the dirt and the plants into the pot. Second, there is nearly no maintenance. Weeds do not grow in, deer and rabbits do not harvest, slugs do not devour plants that are up on porches. If you have a problem with bugs, you can buy a general insecticide at Lowes or Home Depot in a spray bottle for a few dollars. Apply it to the plants once a month. I do have some scissors that I use to clip away spent flowers and leaves once a week. But that's relaxing work, not heavy labor. Some people are concerned about the cost of container gardening. Let me be honest, it does cost a little more than buying a packet of seeds or a tray of seedlings. However, that extra cost depends largely upon your shopping. It doesn't have to be expensive. Better Homes and Gardens carries a line of plastic pots at Walmart that are very attractive. I have also found fabulous deals on sale at Home Depot and wonderful terra-cotta, clay pots at Lowes which are made in Italy and are very economical. Once you have bought the pots, you can use them for years. Just refresh them with some new peat in the spring and plant again.

The main thing about the containers is to stick with a theme -- a style or a range of hues that work together. Sage greens and browns, grays and blues, or clay pots are examples. This makes your arrangements look like they have been deliberately designed.

It's important to pick plants that are easy to grow and to keep the pots from drying out. Slightly moist, but not soggy, is the ideal. I water my plants every other day in hot weather, and once a week in rainy or cool weather. Some of my favorites choices for my pots are: petunias, impatients, alyssum, and English ivy. These plants need different amounts of light. When you choose and place your plants, be sure the light is right for the plant. Put shade plants in the shade and sun-lovers in the sun. If a plant seems to be less than exuberant, it could be that you don't have it in the right place. Petunias and alyssum need at least two hours of direct sunshine. The intense colors of the trumpet-shaped petunias contrast nicely with the lacey, delicate sprays of the alyssum. Impatients love a deep shady porch. Their pale colors glow in the shade. All of these flowers will produce an abundance of blooms until frost. I make my own potting mix by using 1 part peat moss to 2 parts of cheap potting soil. I also gleaned some great ideas from library books on container gardens and added a few perennials to my pots for variety. Small seedlings, which are perfect for pots, cost $2-3 each at Lowes.

I have to admit to you that I wasn't very scientific about the placement of my pots. I just kept adding more and moving them around until I felt like I had enough of them in the right places. It took me about a week to do this, but it was a great escape from the pressures of life and very restorative. I have no regrets about undertaking a container garden, and I now happily recommend it to weary mothers.

To the naysayers, I answer "ahem". Don't knock it 'til you've tried it.

A Summer Morning Walk

On Monday, my husband and I decided to take a walk along the road leading to Dingman Falls. It's a beautiful stroll in an Appalachian ravine. The woods rise steeply on either side and fill the air with their piney scent. A bustling creek spills it's brisk waters over the rocks and winds around, following and skirting underneath the road. Birds are busy with their nests in early June and punctuate the air with their rapid calls. They sing as they work.

The road leads to two waterfalls which are connected with a boardwalk. The first, Silver Thread, is a gossamer stream that sends it's refreshing waters down a very narrow, very straight ravine. It's hard to believe it's not man-made. The rocks split off at sharp right angles which look like they must have been cut by a machine. Further on lies Dingman Falls, the second largest in Pennsylvania. It's broad rush down a long incline that sprays mist over admirers on the boardwalk below. Adventurous tourists can climb the stairway and path that lead up the ravine and around to the top of the falls.

The woods surrounding them are filled with a wide variety of plants and animals. We have been surprised many times by what we found there. Monday was no exception. When we walk along the narrow, winding road, we find it necessary to occasionally stand by the side as a car passes. We were standing still at one of these moments when I looked down and saw columbines, very much like the picture above. Right at my feet. I would have missed them entirely, had we not stopped. Then I noticed that they danced all the way up the side of the ravine, as though they were following their own meandering path. A path of columbines. Like this. Here in the woods, growing wild. I used to plant them in my garden. Next to them were bluets, whose lavender petals served as a backdrop that made the columbines' yellow and tangerine hues glow. I was captivated.

Since then, I keep thinking of them. I thought of them yesterday as we cleared out our attic and carried dusty boxes to the garage. I thought of them as I ate supper. I remembered them as I lay in bed and listened the wind outside. I could still seeing them dancing against the dark green woods with the bluets beside them.

A Great Learning Adventure

When Joshua was in the fourth grade, we studied birds for a month. We learned how birds fly, how their feathers are designed, how they migrate, what they eat, their physical structure, and bird behavior. We bought birdseed and established a feeder in our backyard near a large window. Every morning for a month, we watched the feeder and identified our visitors with a tiny paperback Golden Guide Book of Birds. Cardinals, blue jays, finches, sparrows, juncos -- they were all there. We became very attached to them.

One day when we were buying seed, I noticed a pamphlet about Cornell University's Project Feederwatch. The idea behind it was to connect scientists studying bird populations with people who fed birds in their backyards. If we signed up for the program, Cornell would send us the forms for recording the species at our feeders. The scientists would use our information to track changes in migration, diseases, and population. Here was serious work and we could be part of it. We mailed our application that afternoon. For the next nine years, we watched our feeders in the fall, winter, and early spring.

Thus began our love affair with birds. Over the years, we collected bird guides, birding books, and birding equipment. Joshua studied the books until he knew the birds so well that he only needed a glance at a guide to confirm his identification. We became experts on bird behavior, habits, and schedules. We could recognize their songs. On cold mornings, we huddled by the windows, watching and counting and sipping coffee. It was our little place, our very own, where we met feathered friends from faraway places. We added to this our birding walks, especially in the spring and fall, when we might catch a rare bird in migration.

Our hobby drew us to Cape May, New Jersey, a birding hot spot, the summer Josh was twelve. For a week, we sunned ourselves on the beach and ambled along trails near the ocean in hopes of a glimpse of a new species. Our bird list had grown long by then, and it was becoming clear that we would have to travel to see new ones.

For his eighteenth birthday present, Joshua planned a month-long trip across the country for birding. He research led him to plot a path across the upper Midwest to the Pacific Ocean: Rocky Mountain National Park, Snake River, Crater Lake, the Redwoods, the Oregon Coast, Columbia River Gorge, Yellowstone. His plans were specific to the smallest details. He kept lists of birds for each stop in our journey and exactly where they might be seen. He memorized the bird guides so that he didn't need to look in them to identify a species. In this way, he would recognize the bird instantly when he saw it.

There were many moments from that trip which I will never forget, but one is especially meaningful. In the Bear River Bird Refuge in Utah, Joshua and I slipped out in the early morning to see the birds. There were so many that we couldn't identify them all. We just did our best. As our car rolled slowly down the narrow lanes in the refuge, the birds rose in waves from fields and water. Thousands of them. At one point, we turned a corner and surprised a gathering of white cranes. As they rose gracefully from their resting places, they looked like clouds rising, loveliness in slow motion. I stopped and stared, unable to drive further. My mind could not quite take it in, the sheer numbers of them.

The great learning adventure we had undertaken together through the years had made this possible -- this beauty, this experience, this depth of sharing. It unfolded before me again, the map of our life , and I saw it as I had not seen it before.

A Walk After Supper

We all knew that a new season had arrived in the Poconos, but only by looking at our calendars. Our small world had been hemmed in by a cold, icy winter that lasted for weeks into March and April. Occasional, pleasant days were followed by more winter. Just last week, snow and ice and bitter wind returned. Our woods remained a stubborn brown until well after Easter. But now, with temperatures soaring near 80, the event was upon us.

When I slipped out of the house after supper for a peek, I was unprepared for the spectacle. It had happened nearly overnight. Spring had emerged with such force and decisiveness that it felt like a beautiful woman had walked into the room and no one could think of anything else.

She had stepped out of her winter carriage like debutante, blushing and late for her first ball. Radiant in her pastel silks, she boasted weeping cherries, crab apples, apple blossoms, forsythia, daffodils, tulips, hyacinths, azaleas, sweet woodruff, violets and pansies -- all at once. Her gown swished softly as she moved with the tender evening breeze. The air was filled with her perfume. On her feet she bore green slippers, soft as new grass, in which she danced with the glowing sky. Bowing and smiling, ribbons trailing from her hair, she moved with ease and grace.

I walked and watched and marveled.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning's line, "Earth is crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God," filled my head. The little birds, merry in their preparations, seemed to sing it. The rustling, still bare oaks murmured it like a refrain. "Earth is crammed with heaven, earth is crammed with heaven, earth is crammed with heaven." With every step, crammed with heaven, I was carried along, hardly noticing where I wandered, until my feet ached.

And full of heaven, and earth crammed with heaven, I came home to ordinary duties. The sink of dishes, things to be put away, my husband speaking my name.

I know it now. Earth is crammed with heaven. I was given eyes to see it.