Category: Gratitude

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Why I Watch Birds – Stafford Challenge Day 6

Photo by Jean Paul Montanaro on Pexels.com

Our host today at http://www.ethicalela.com for Day 3 of the 5-day January Open Write is Dave Wooley of Connecticut, who inspires us to write WHY poems in list form, choosing a list of purpose and then explaining it in 10 because reasons. Hop on over and read his prompt and the poems that are born into the world today. I’ve chosen a prose poem to combine with the list poem just because I got rambling a little bit on the bird soapbox……

Why I Watch Birds

Because Eastern Phoebe, see, she’s the forest drunk and she hiccups and calls her own name like she’s forgotten who she is and where she’s supposed to be, and she makes me laugh first and then cry later like that time at the Atlanta Braves game when that lost woman looking for her seat stumbled down to the front of an entire section and yelled up to ask if ANYBODY recognized her

Because Brown-Headed Nuthatch, see, she’s always in the middle of a domestic dispute telling somebody how it’s gonna be, telling her man he ain’t got a lick of sense and he ain’t coming all up in her tree stirring up no trouble, better carry his ass on out there and find another nest to be a deadbeat dad, and she makes me cheer her strength

Because White-Headed Nuthatch, see, she’s the Social Media Gossip, laughing like an evil circus clown at all the crap she stirs up in the woods, revealing her own true self in the mirror, projecting her sins through the rough-bared face of the forest trees, and she helps me see the weakness and insecurity of people who laugh at others like this

Because Great Horned Owl, see, he’s an all-nighter with all this early morning coffee shop talk across the farm, like he’s an old man sharing some great wisdom when all it is, is a ploy because let’s face it — the man sleeps all day and sheds no light on anything pertinent to school, so why they ever put a cap and gown on him baffles me, and he reminds me not to let his kind fool me

Because Wood Thrush, see, he’s a bird that blends into the scenery, yet his song is the most beautiful of all, kind of like those normal-looking people who step behind a microphone and belt out a song that’ll bring you to tears and give you chills and wonder to yourself, where did that come from? And who else am I underestimating? 

Because Eastern Wood-Pewee, see, he’s always answering roll call, saying his name like he’s entered the building and the party can start, like a kid with a bad case of Senioritis who is perpetually late and wants to be sure he’s marked present so he’s not caught skipping

Because Northern Cardinal, see, he’s a woman-whistler, cat-calling at every woman who walks by, calling her pretty, pretty, pretty, just like some will do – some with good intentions, some with not-so-good intentions, but still giving me the gumption to tilt my chin up and carry on with the day

Because Ruby-Throated Hummingbird, see, she will ask for her food and thank me for it, then hover directly a foot from my face and look into my eyes like she’s blessing me with good vibes of peace and joy to feel like I can make a thumbprint-size difference, reminding me that all hope springs forth and wells up from a tug the size of a tiny thimble into a cascading waterfall

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Happy Birthday to My Husband

Here’s a great big Happy Birthday cheer for the love of my life. We share life, we share dreams, and we share challenges. I’m grateful that the good Lord sent him to be my husband. He’s a keeper, and I cherish him. 

We recently visited my brother and father in South Georgia for Christmas, and when we arrived, Ken was outside blowing off the back porch. It looked like the leaves and debris were headed clear down to Florida, as powerful as this blower was. 

My brother left shortly after we arrived for an appointment, and as soon as his car was out of the driveway, Briar picked up the blower and walked out along the path in the back yard to test it out. 

Briar’s blower might be able to blow out one candle on a birthday cake on a full charge, but Ken’s blower could peel twelve layers of pine pollen off a porch screen. Both blowers are battery operated, giving full range of an area without a cord to trip over.

It was one of those moments when I paid attention when I needed to. Rarely do I get a gift as right as I felt this one would be. And I realized even more that I’d nailed it when I’d had to stop by Home Depot and Lowe’s the weekend before his birthday so I could get chalk paint and wood stain for our kitchen table. While I was looking for just the right color wood finish, he said, “I’m going to be in the tools for a minute. I want to see if they have that blower like your brother had.” 

I did my best to give a quizzical look of confusion and vague memory.” Oh, yeah, that blue thing you were playing with out in the back yard?” 

There was already one of those blue things in the back of my car under a blanket even as he looked around for it, so close that I’d had to jump ahead of him with the buggy to load our bags of paint and be sure he couldn’t see his birthday gift awaiting him.

Happy birthday to the man who likes everything clean and always helps make sure it stays that way! 

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Flipping My Grandmother’s Kitchen Table

One of my daughters flips furniture and has garnered a social media following, sharing what she does in time lapsed videos as she breathes new life into pieces that need a fresh start. I’m always amazed by her before and after photos of the projects she envisions and creates. So when I finally worked up the courage to flip my grandmother’s kitchen table that I’ve had for many years but was scared to refinish for fear I’d mess it all up, I picked up the phone. 

My grandmother’s table (leaves in) with paint samples spread across the top, before refinishing

“What do I do?” I asked her. My (almost) sister-in-law had suggested chalk paint, and I loved the idea of a modern farmhouse look.

Ansley told me, and I set out to get the things I’d need: an orbital sander with 80 and 220 grit sanding pads, a 180 grit sanding sponge or paper, a can of Behr chalk paint in Farmhouse White, a good name brand chalk paint brush and wax brush, a tub of chalk paint wax and a lint-free rag, a quality 2-inch stain brush that wouldn’t shed bristles, a drop cloth or other floor covering, and a can of stain mixed with polyurethane in a satin finish. I chose a warm pecan color. 

I wore a mask and sanded the dark finish off the top with the 80 grit paper outdoors, then wiped it all down and lightly sanded the bottom with a 180 sanding sponge. Back indoors, I lined the floor with paper in case of spills (I’m so glad I did) and painted the bottom part of the table with 3 coats of chalk paint and the top with 3 coats of the pecan stain/poly mix, sanding with the 220 grit in between coats. Although I paid the price of bending down all weekend with a Monday morning backache, I completed the project in two days and now have a whole different kitchen table. 

My grandmother’s table refinished with my daughter’s vision in my kitchen (leaves are out for drying)

We normally don’t have the table situated with the leaves out, but in the picture above, they’re open for drying and the table is pulled apart into its different sections.  I’m letting the table dry for a couple of extra days since the leaves will fold in half and rest with tops touching once I roll them back inside the table and lock it shut.

I can hear my grandmother, Georgia Lee Haynes, cheering her granddaughter Ansley’s skills and choices from Heaven as I stand here in my rural Georgia kitchen between the two of them, one in Heaven and one in Kentucky. I’m the one holding a dripping paintbrush with a splotch of white paint in my hair, standing next to the table that will bridge generations from long ago to many years in the future. 

Pull up a chair and let’s have a cup of tea and play a game of dominoes – – and feel free to grab a paintbrush and stay awhile…..the chairs are next. 

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They Know Me

For Christmas, my grandchildren made me hand-stitched birds. The love that went into each stitch is precious and was a labor of love and patience for them and for their mother. They will adorn my new office space as soon as we get moved into our new building. These are far too lovely to hang only once a year on a tree. I need them where I am reminded daily of my blessings, for those times I get caught up in the work day and forget that there are so many reasons to smile and take things in stride. I love that their mother is already teaching them that the key to the fine art of gift giving is in the heart of the recipient – and that handmade gifts are the most special of all!

A great big thank you to my grandchildren!

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What Rescue Will Do

Boo Radley now

We have three schnoodles, all rescues, who came to us bruised and battered, scarred and scared. 

We understood.

Going from abandonment, abuse, neglect, and betrayal to a shelter or foster home, to a forever home must be filled with all sorts of emotions and confusion – and I am a firm believer that dogs have emotions.

That’s why we forgave Boo for biting a couple of times at the start. Here was a dog who was shivering with fear in the back of a van in a wire kennel. He was matted and thin, dirty and smelly. 

He almost wasn’t ours. We’d found dogs online twice that we’d come to adopt, and both times we’d completed paperwork only to find that when we arrived, our dog had “just been adopted” by someone else. Right out from under us.

Boo Radley a/k/a Einstein at the rescue - picture sent to us by the organization on his intake day

A dog they dubbed Einstein for his wild hair had just arrived in the parking lot on one such occasion, and was being held in a van until he could be processed. They could not put him out for adoption with the other dogs yet. I think the lady who’d promised us the cute female Maltipoo with some sweet little Hawaiian name truly felt bad that we’d driven an hour to adopt her only to find she had just left with another family, so she’d added, “But there is one other possibility. I can’t let him go today, but he’s just arrived. Want to take a look?” 

We did.

We followed her to the parking lot, where she’d opened the van doors to reveal the most frightened dog we’d ever seen, visibly shaking and unsure of what was happening to him. 

I stuck my head in and spoke softly to him, and he calmed down. I asked to hold him, and the woman reluctantly allowed it after explaining that the landlord of a nearby apartment complex had brought him by and begged her to take him. She told the woman that the dog’s owners had left two weeks earlier, that this dog had been abandoned in a duplex, and someone must have thought he would be found immediately. He wasn’t. They’d left food and water down, but it was all gone by the time the cleaning crew showed up to find a huge mess teeming with flies and one terrified dog.

Boo Radley the day we picked him up from the rescue

We adopted Einstein and named him Boo Radley. He had no reason to trust anyone anymore – if he ever had – and we had a lot of ground to gain with him. He snapped and bit at first, but with love and time, he has come to be a loving companion, despite his many lingering issues.

Boo Radley watching the driveway for his people to arrive home (he’s a full time inside dog who wants to wait outside for his family following his afternoon walk)

This is the dog who will cower to the laundry room and shake when anyone’s cell phone dings. Let it ring with music and he will howl at the moon.. He becomes agitated and obsessed with killing flies if he sees one buzzing around. If he smells the heat of a toaster, he will shake with fear and seek a lap. If the smoke alarm (or any timer or noise such as a clock) goes off, he goes into a tizzy. We think that somewhere along the way, he experienced a fire.

Boo Radley – ready to play keep away with his ball. Where other dogs fetch, Boo has trouble sharing his toys.


But this is the same dog who sits awake all night at our heads, guarding us as we sleep, then sleeps all day. This is the dog who sits at the head of the driveway and doesn’t want to come inside until both of us are home from work. He knows he has a family, and he knows his role is to protect and love us – as ours is to protect and love him. This is the same dog who knows he will never again be abandoned or abused or neglected. The same dog who now rests assured of his place in his forever family.

This is what rescue will do.

Boo Radley – sleeping like an owl in the early morning after guarding his people all night (don’t let him fool you: he’s a fierce working dog, not a mere lap dog).
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Goals and Aspirations for 2024

At the end of each month for the past decade plus a few years, I’ve reviewed my yearly goals and spent time reflecting on how I’m living the life I want to live ~ a way of becoming my own accountability partner and having frequent check-ins to evaluate my progress. The process I’ve been using has been helpful in guiding steps of intentionality and observable differences – – it has put teeth of quantifiable measure in the conversations I have with myself whenever I might attempt to believe that I’m making progress and provided a way to articulate exact progress so that I’m not merely shuffling things back and forth and deceiving myself. I make a table, establish goals, and keep an accountability log of accomplishments and action steps through month-end reflections. I learned this system somewhere in my early years of teaching and it was reinforced by my doctoral chair, Dr. Rachel Pienta, who assured me that it would get me to the diploma at the finish line with fewer tears and less frustration. 

She was absolutely right.

This year, though, I’m tweaking my process by a few degrees to get to the things in life I need to accomplish. Everything on my list is not an ongoing action goal – – some of these are aspirations, and I need to recognize the differences and prioritize my efforts. Weight loss is an action goal that needs quantifiable progress markers with a timeline. Downsizing and retirement planning needs quantifiable progress markers with a less strict timeline. But gardening and hobbies like knitting or quilting or canning fig preserves are not as high on the list of priorities, and they’ll fit in between the more challenging goals where time permits.

So this year, I’m using a different system. I’m evaluating my progress in bold areas monthly, and all other areas quarterly. 

I’m looking through a proverbial viewfinder for the big areas of life where I need the presence of some focal lenses, and I’m thinking of the smaller aspects of those larger lenses as I adjust the diopter lens and take snapshots of my journey. 

2024 underway, taking us on a new scenic journey. The conductor punched our tickets at midnight – – (and where we live in rural Georgia, our front door literally shook with a sonic boom from someone’s Tannerite explosion welcoming the new year). 

It’s here, folks! Welcome 2024, and cheers to you and yours!

The Viewfinder

Optical Lenses of FocusDiopter Lenses of Possibility     Snapshots of Success
Hobbies
and
Life Outside Work		Sewing, Knitting, Quilting
Traveling and camping
Gardening
Birdwatching
Monthly reading group with Sarah J. Donovan
Writing with Ethicalela.com
   5 times a month, and every day in April
Writing with Two Writing Teachers at the Slice of Life
    Blog every Tuesday and every day in March
Writing with Spiritual Journey Blogging group on 
   Thursdays
The Stafford Challenge – a poem every day starting     mid-January
Writing group book proposals

These columns will be shared as progress occurs each month or quarter.

For starters, I am sharing my blog post on Slice of Life today. And just like that, I’ve taken a step into 2024 with a hobby that I enjoy. 

Career and Work LifeFinancial Strategies
Retirement Plans
Downsizing home, possessions
Continuing Education
Networking
Spiritual LifeChurch Life
Prayer Life (OLW)
Family LifeWeekly Dinners and game nights
In Person Visits
FaceTime Visits
Group Texts
Traveling together
Celebrate Red Letter Days
Mental and Physical HealthReach top of weight range (I know this number) by June 1 and maintain it throughout 2024

Walking

Hiking campsite trails

My Table of Plans for Focusing on Success

My One Little Word for 2024 is pray. Today’s diopter word is step. As I pray for 2024 to be a productive and fulfilling year, I must step into it with purpose, and take the steps necessary – to do my part – to make it a great year. 

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A Visit to St. Simons (written on 12/29/2023 at 8:30 p.m)

We are visiting my childhood home today – St. Simons Island, Georgia, on the 8-year anniversary of my mother’s death from Parkinson’s Disease. Although the family house where we grew up has long since been leveled and rebuilt, so much of the 1970s decade is still ever present here on the island. 

When I was young here, the Tastee-Freez was the place we’d go on our bicycles to get ice cream and hot dogs. It has since been a Dairy Queen and now a Frosty’s, but the original poster is still hanging by the door. 

I also love my brother’s dishes, which were our family dishes in the 1970s. This morning, I used a smaller coffee cup and a saucer than I would normally use, just to eat from these dishes. The retro vibe is strong on the olive green pattern. 

It’s a welcome feeling to walk back through the decades. As we go through years of memorabilia with our dad, my brother and I are reliving memories and sharing the stories. Even though the annual “family meeting” is sometimes uncomfortable with the details of how families move forward after losing a loved one, it’s also filled with plenty of time around the table, enjoying great food and laughing. 

As we move into a new year, laughter is a word that I’ve considered as my One Little Word for 2024. It’s surely something that improves my whole outlook! 

We’re missing Mom today, but we know she is close. As my brother and I were driving this morning, a hawk flew directly over us – – a sure signal that all is well in Heaven. 

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Family Yule Log – Part 3 of 3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

From the Yule Log recipe notes: A French Christmas tradition that dates back to the 19th century, the cake represents the yule log that families would burn starting on Christmas Eve, symbolizing the new year to come and good luck ahead. 

After baking the Yule Log cake and spreading and rolling it with heavy whipped cream in an inside whirl, my daughter went to work icing the cake to look like a tree log. 

When her masterpiece was complete, she thanked me. ”Without you, I probably would have given up.” 

Her comments stopped me in my tracks. I hadn’t offered much of anything other than simply being there. I’d been the one to make the mistake of flipping the frosting onto the floor. Fortunately, it had landed like Mount Crumpit, allowing me to scoop off the top of the mountain and then clean up what was touching the floor, saving what was usable for the bark frosting and discarding the rest – – while she stood there laughing (shhhh…..don’t tell anybody this part).

But it sure got me thinking about the Yule Logs of our lives and the teamwork we need to conquer their challenges to reach their summits. I thought of the lessons I’d learned. 

  1. Even if the Yule Log had been a complete disaster, the experience making it was the blessing. Togetherness in the kitchen is sacred, and things happen there that can’t happen anywhere else. There is conversation, laughter, mistake making, and forgiveness.
  2. The one who reads the whole recipe and sees how overwhelming it will be may be less equipped than the one who has never read it and sees the whole journey as merely a series of small steps. Some of us work on long range plans, some on short range plans.
  3. Sometimes supporting someone is just a matter of presence and encouragement – nothing more.
  4. Just because she’d never made a Yule Log didn’t mean she couldn’t turn out a masterpiece. I’m pretty sure Michelangelo had never painted a Sistine Chapel ceiling before, either. He nailed it on the first attempt, and so did she. Not only was this Yule Log gorgeous, it was also delicious.
  5. I need to stop counting the obstacles and focus on the possibilities. Dollar General sells $15 mixers on Christmas Eve, and they do the same work as the top of the line Kitchen Aid mixers. The gas oven is the same 350 degrees that an electric oven is. There are bowls that will appear out of nowhere when you need another one – some plastic, some metal, some glass. You get a second wind somewhere at the beginning of a long task, and it will see you through. 
  6. Without each other, we can accomplish much more than we can accomplish alone.
  7. There is both starting power and staying power in support and encouragement from others to make it to the finish line.
  8. When I wonder why I’m standing in a kitchen on Christmas Eve never having guessed I’d be making a Yule Log, that’s the time to listen for the lessons that life is sending my way through the blessings of my children. It’s in the unfamiliar, uncertain places where we draw on faith and learn our greatest lessons.
  9. I need to do a better job of expressing to each of my children how very proud I am of each of them and how much I love them. They do things that terrify me and things that amaze me.
  10. It isn’t luck or magic that is needed for any of this. It’s prayer and divine intervention, and they are not the same things. 

In the years ahead, my hope is that the moments of making this Yule Log burn warmly, living on as embers that remind us that the living of life is in the journey, and it isn’t for the faint of heart. It takes each other, and it takes willingness and courage. It takes a lot of work, and there will be mishaps. It takes forgiveness and laughter. But most importantly, it takes faith, hope, and love. 

8 O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.

Psalm 34:8

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Family Yule Log – Part 2 of 3

Part 1

Part 2

At 8:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve, my daughter and I began our first-ever Yule Log baking adventure in our pajamas in a rural countryside VRBO kitchen that was unfamiliar to us. When our Kentucky family got together to plan the Christmas dinner, everyone decided to divide the menu and each prepare a dish. Ever so daringly and boldly, she volunteered us to bring a Yule Log. She’d found an ambitious recipe online and had shopped for all the ingredients. She measured them into bags and brought them to the rental house.

By the time we arrived back from the only open store, a Dollar General on the backside of nowhere, we were well into the Christmas Eve hours when children are tucked into bed and elves begin working their magic. And we needed more than magic. We needed divine intervention. Lots and lots of prayer – my One Little Word for 2023. 

The recipe looked intimidating. We watched the video of the woman making it to try to ease my apprehension. So much had to go right, and I was fearful of a flop.

The old whipped-cream-on-the-nose baking pose

To ante up the challenge, we were using dishes that weren’t ours, cooking in a gas oven we didn’t know. The cardinal rule in baking is to “know thine oven,” and this beast was a complete and total stranger from another realm. 

Somehow, though, after all the beating of the egg whites with sugar to form stiff peaks and folding in that mixture with the flour and egg yolk and cocoa, she pulled a perfectly baked chocolate sponge cake from the oven, ready to be inverted onto parchment paper and rolled in a thin white towel and placed in the coolest part of the room to set before spreading the heavy whipped cream on it and re-rolling it. My daughter was unflappable throughout the whole process, but my nerves were on edge the entire time. I was trying not to show it. 

The cake is ready when it springs back into form when pressed

We watched the recipe video again when it came time to unroll the cake and spread the layer of whipped cream on the inside. 

The entire process involved phases of blending, folding, baking, setting, cooling, spreading, rolling, unrolling, and waiting. It also involved a lot of laughing to keep the nerves under control. It felt a lot like walking across a landmine with someone who didn’t know we were on a battlefield with so many potential pitfalls. 

As every step turned out, my daughter smiled through the entire process. She was baking a miracle as I stood amazed. Turns out, she hadn’t read the entire recipe before she started. Each small step was not overwhelming to her. I, on the other hand, saw every mile of the long journey and knew how risky it could be.

It came time for the rolled log to be iced, and her artistic flair came out in full force. 

She evened out the chocolate buttercream frosting into consistent thickness and began her artistic presentation using a fork to make bark lines, even making an elliptical shape to make it look more knotty and authentic, like an owl might pop its head out at any moment and ask us whoooo we were. She softened a Hershey bar and began the tedious process of shaving thin chocolate curls with a sharpened knife. And she placed peppermints in a Ziploc bag and crushed them to look like shimmering snow to top the Yule Log. 

And when her masterpiece was finished, she stood back and admired it with pride. 

“Look what we did, Ma! Thanks for making it with me. Without you, I probably would have given up.” 

I hugged her close, thinking, No, dear daughter. This is all your creation, not mine. I never would have even attempted it. You are far more courageous than I will ever be.

She inverted a mixing bowl to cover it like a cake lid and placed it in the refrigerator to chill overnight. I admired her accomplishment and thought of that Yule Log as a metaphor for all the ways we need each other. 

And we hugged goodnight, looking forward to sharing it with family on Christmas Day.

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Family Yule Log – Part 1 of 3

One of my daughters volunteered us to make a Yule log for Christmas dinner. We were in Kentucky, checking in to a VRBO after our 6-hour drive and a Christmas Eve Service of Lights when I found out. Without a mixer anywhere in the cabinets, the bold yellow glow of a Dollar General open until 10 p.m. on Christmas Eve on the backside of nowhere offered a glimmer of hope for the first miracle we’d need to create this masterpiece of skilled baking and artistry I seriously doubted either one of us had – – except for her creativity. That was the only strong possibility we had going between the two of us.

The recipe said it would take 3 hours. It was 7:30. The second miracle we’d need would be wakefulness. A working oven (in this one, we’d be cooking with gas) and all the right pans and an assortment of mixing bowls would need a divine nod, too. 

The irony is that just a day before, I’d seen a perfect Yule Log as I’d scrolled on Facebook. I admired the swirl, the spongy-looking cake, and the icing that looked like tree bark. Oh, to be able to make a thing like that, I thought to myself.

“Someday, when I’m retired and have more time and patience, I’d like to try making a Yule Log,” I shared with my husband, showing him the picture. He studied it for a moment, noticing its intricate design, and then studied me, handing the phone back. I think he halfway expected me to laugh, as if this were a joke. I didn’t.

“But what about all these different ingredients?” I asked my baking partner daughter. ”We may have a Dollar General, but we’ll never find a grocery store open after 6 on Christmas Eve.”

“No worries,” she assured me, holding up a bag filled with an assortment of Ziploc bags. ”I already have all that, already measured out. It’s in this bag, and everything is labeled, right down to the eggs.” 

Sure enough, she came ready with the ingredient part. We added a jelly roll sheet pan and a roll of parchment paper to our buggy, along with the mixer. Then we thought of a can of Pam, a Hershey Bar to make chocolate curls, and some peppermints to smash for a top-garnish. We were ready to check out and go get busy on our baking adventure of a lifetime. On Christmas Eve.

At 8:00 p.m., we began the 3-hour baking quest. 

“I’ll bet you didn’t think you’d find yourself making a Yule Log on Christmas Eve, did you?” she asked.

“This is not the first time I’ve found myself doing something I didn’t expect to be doing,” I reassured her with a smile of readiness for anything.

I heard my husband chuckling from the den, where he sat reading. ”Nope, it sure isn’t, and I’m sure it won’t be the last, either,” he added.