I am one with Mother Earth, my feet
grounded in the rich, fertile soil
footprints leaving impressions
as the pores of my soles
pour into my soul
the lifebeats of
universe
pulsing
up
Grounding Nonet
The Serviceberry and the Question: Did I Bees Good?
As I continue along the journey of my One Little Word for 2025, enough, I’ve been thinking lately about the stewardship of how I over-own things – do I selfishly trap them and call it collecting, or have I done my part by passing them along when they have lived their best life with me?
I think we all have a tendency to hoard things – to save a penny for a rainy day. But what happens when the collections have taken over our lives and the proverbial pennies are now quarters and dollars, anchoring us instead of freeing us? In 2023, I looked at all the boxes in the loft of our barn and in our attic and stepped back, taking it all in. I hung my head in shame at what I saw. It was like a graveyard of opportunity for still-useful items never seeing the light of day anymore, and I was the undertaker. I was the bad guy in the parable of the talents, burying the promise and potential of what had been entrusted to me. No, I have not been a good steward when it comes to things.
Once upon a time, I heard a saying shared by my father in a sermon. He reminded us all not to be those people who get all we can, can all we get, and sit on our can. At the end of 2023, I realized I’d been sitting on my can. And I needed to take action.
My grandparents grew up during The Great Depression, and learned about their stories when we would go visit them as my brother and I were growing up. My paternal grandparents lived in Waycross, Georgia, and they were the absolute King and Queen of double coupons. I learned a lot about frugality from them – about saving, about the concept of “enough,” and also about the disadvantages of too much. My grandmother clipped those coupons and looked for whatever was free – whether she had a plan to use it or not. At the heart of this was the need for protecting – for providing and provisioning the essential needs of a family, and I began in those days to understand the way that money could be stretched.
I used to hear the water come on, go off, come on, go off – – and years later, I realized that she showered that way. She got wet, turned off the water and lathered, turned it on and rinsed, and repeated. She double-couponed so much that they had an entire storage room of cereals and other dry goods. I was having a bowl of cereal on one visit when I noticed something moving in the milk. On close inspection, I was horrified to discover that I was eating bug swimmers. From that experience, I learned the importance of checking expiration dates.
But I also learned something else: the extreme effort on not wasting water did not transfer to the waste happening when the dry goods spoiled before they could be used. Sufficiency seemed at odds between having too little and having too much – and there are problems on both ends of that spectrum when we forget the importance of fine-tuning our needs to the middle ground of enough.
All this examining things and re-calibrating my mindset about the things I’d accumulated made me think of a childhood story that my mother used to tell me. At one time in my life, I was an aim-to-please rule following preacher’s kid who, in my young child voice, would ask my mother, “Did I bees good?” whenever the stringent need for good behavior in church or at some event, visit, or outing was over and done and I was needing my recognition and report card on my efforts. Likely, I was ready to get back to business as usual with a little badness kicked into gear and let go of the need for my best behavior.
But as I looked at all the things I was holding hostage in my barn and attic, I wanted to re-ask that question through a different lens: Did I bees a good steward of things?
Nearing 60 with retirement dreams of lightening the load to ease the way for RV travel and a significantly downsized house in the near future, I began a quest last year to clean out our home and attic and purge the anchoring cargo of a lifetime of teaching and boxes of mementos and sentiments that have outlived their purpose in my life. It’s time to prepare for the next chapter – whatever that may be. No one can move forward who is so heavily anchored in the past.
I have a question:
Did I bees a good steward of things?
Or did I hoard them?
I read a game-changing book in 2024 by Robin Wall Kimmerer, entitled Braiding Sweetgrass. At several times throughout the book, I found myself silently weeping tears for all of the boxing of things I have done in my life. As I turned the pages of that book, I imagined the life involved in all these items – the trees that once stood tall in the forest sheltering nests of woodland critters – trees that gave their lives to become books and furniture and toys; the plants that yielded cotton and other fibers to become linens and towels and clothes; the hands of craftsmen and seamstresses who shaped the creation of each thing. I was gobsmacked.
In the first month of 2025, I finished Kimmerer’s most recent book, The Serviceberry, in which she discusses the ethics of reciprocity in a gift economy. Abundance and gratitude are at their purest when we understand the concepts of the gift economy as opposed to the market economy. There is life-changing magic in the mindset and understanding that the notions of self-sufficiency and hoarding are at odds with our values and people we hold dear – and may actually be harming them. Her essay that summarizes the main concepts in her book is available here, but I offer this warning: be ready for a seismic shift in your thinking once you read it. It tops any sermon I’ve ever heard on Matthew 6:26, and ironically, birds are at the heart of the Bible verse and at the heart of The Serviceberry.
It begs the cyclical question at the end of each day, each week, each month of striving to live in a more simplistic and abundant way: did I bees good? And at the end of 2024, I could finally say that I’ve moved from being a failing steward of accumulated things to passing with a C. I still have a way to go, but I’m doing the work of managing the mountain by keeping my One Little Word front and center. I don’t buy the extra tube of toothpaste just because it’s on sale – – because I have enough. I leave some for others, and I leave room for honoring the uncluttered spaces and the sense of order. And I can feel it.
A Calm Christmas: Comfort and Joy in Winter
This December, I’m slowly making my way through Calm Christmas and a Happy New Year by Beth Kempton (2019), and in Chapter 3, she presents ways to seek comfort and joy in winter by seeking our natural rhythms and learning from nature.
She shares her experience searching for deer with her father when she was nine years old, hoping to capture photographs of them at dawn when all the rest of the world was still sleeping. Through this experience, she is certain that she finds her spirit animal and holds to the belief that the fallow fawn shares secrets that lead to discovery and strength, even still through the memories she made that day.
Another reflection she shares is her rhythm of childhood winters, with such predictability that there is great comfort in the daily routines and patterns of familiarity – getting dressed by the heater, pressing her nose against the window of the toy store, eating porridge each morning, caroling, bedtime stories. What can seem humdrum has roots of dependability in the knowing that things are the way they are and taking a deep sense of certainty in the simple, mundane living of days.
Kempson writes in Chapter 3, “At this time of year, it’s natural to slow down, prune our lives of extraneous details, reflect on past events, and tend our hearts, minds, and bodies so we are ready to flourish again.” There’s a quietness to the process. To contemplate our winter rhythms, Kempton encourages us to find a still, quiet place and think about what brings us comfort and joy at this time of year, and throws in a glimmering question to chew on: what would radical winter wellness look like for you?
Radical winter wellness – what a concept! At first thought, a cup of steaming hot tea with local honey and fresh lemon come rushing to mind. Long walks with the dogs across the farm, breathing plenty of fresh air deep into the lungs seems like ultimate wellness also, along with simmering soups chock full of fresh vegetables with bright orange carrots just right. Zesty navel oranges and cinnamon oatmeal with brown sugar, and quiet moments of reading by the fire all proclaim wellness, too.
And radical wellness for the mind. That is found in a stack of delightful reading and a crossword puzzle – and I’ve ordered a calendar with them so I have a short puzzle each day to chew on – – a mini crossword like a small piece of chocolate from a candy jar – just enough to satisfy. Just enough to bring comfort and peace.
Baby Deer Haiku
We fear this young fawn
has fallen victim to our
night-time predators
we kept seeing it
all alone, no mother close
….did, but now we don’t
Stay tuned!
Day 22 of #VerseLove with Donnetta Norris: Earth Day Poems
Donnetta Norris of Texas is our host today for the 22nd day of #VerseLove. She inspires us to write Mother Earth poems. You can read her full prompt here. She encourages us to make a list of all the gifts we have received from Mother Earth and to write a poem in the form of our choice to say thank you. She also provides these links for inspiration:
Today, I chose a pantoum and rooted it in Ecclesiastes 1:9
Nothing New Pantoum
there is nothing new under the sun
mind-blowing truth of Ecclesiastes
since the dawn of time, nothing new
everything we see was here all along
mind-blowing truth of Ecclesiastes
God hid gifts in Mother Earth’s belly
everything we see was here all along
discovered, spun, re-mixed anew
God hid gifts in Mother Earth’s belly
riches to bestow, wonders to behold
discovered, spun, re-mixed anew
sacred scriptures ~ this is true
riches to bestow, wonders to behold
since the dawn of time, nothing new
sacred scripture ~ this is true
there is nothing new under the sun
Goal Update for October
At the end of each month, (or beginning), I review my yearly goals and spend some time reflecting on how I’m doing in living the life I want to live ~ a way of becoming my own accountability partner and having frequent check-ins to evaluate my progress. I’m still in the process of revising some of my goals as I encounter successes…..and setbacks. New goals have asterisks for the month of November, when I will report on them in a few weeks. For the month of October, here’s my goal reflection:
| Category | Goals | My Progress |
| Literature | Read for Sarah Donovan’s Book Group Send out Postcards Blog Daily | I participated in the October book discussion with Sarah’s reading group for Reader, Come Home: The Reading Brain in a Digital World. I’ll participate in the book discussion for Assessment 3.0 this month. Time for reading has been scarce lately, but Audible is a good way to try to keep up the pace when all I can do is multi-task. I sent no postcards this month. I continue to blog daily, and the daily writing and reflecting is a wonderful habit for me. I don’t feel complete without some form of daily writing, and the blog is a way of continuing the habit. I had a Zoom meeting with Ruth Ayers of Choice Literacy about writing for her website. I look forward to spending some time writing about local literacy events. |
| Creativity | *Decorate for fall *Create Shutterfly Route 66 | I created a surprise ducking of our office. I used tiny ducks left over from my brother in law’s birthday ducking and put them to use in the office, even adding Halloween ducks to the lineup. I have been trying to get to Shutterfly since July, so if I haven’t accomplished this goal by the end of October, I may give up on this one. Update: I’m giving up on this goal. |
| Spirituality | Tune in to church Pray! Keep OLW priority | We have been tuning in to church. With Dad preaching every Sunday in October and a few Sundays ahead of that, it makes the church home hunt take a back seat until my childhood church gets a new preacher, since I have the opportunity to hear Dad. My car is still my prayer chamber for daily prayer, and there’s so much to give thanks for. I continue my conversations with the good Lord each morning and afternoon. I’m still keeping my OLW my priority: pray! |
| Reflection | Spend time tracking goals each month | I’m tracking goals, revising, and considering some new categories as I look at my goal table. |
| Self-Improvement | *Reach top of weight range | This is a setback for me this month. I’ve hit major stress and gained weight, despite joining WW. I need to set a firm date and get the mental mindset that it takes to stay on track. I have work to do. Update: every day, the diet is starting “tomorrow.” I seriously need a good mindset to start back. I’m keeping this goal. I need to get on track. Tomorrow. |
| Gratitude | Devote blog days to counting blessings | I begin the days this way and end them giving thanks as well. |
| Experience | Embrace Slow Travel Focus on the Outdoors | I’ve taken a trip in October to F D R State Park for a Little Guy Southern States Meet Up. We met people who have the same kind of camper we have, and we even signed up for next year’s meet up in Tennessee at Roan Mountain State Park. My brother and his fiancee came for a visit during Fall Break, and it was wonderful having some time together with them. I’m still focusing on the outdoors with birdwatching adventures and camping. We also built our own fire pit foundation for the fire pit my son gave us for Christmas last year. |
Moments of Peace in Nature from Sunday, October 15
I return to work this morning after a quiet, uneventful fall break. We’re having an emergency drill today, so the inner peace will not fade throughout the work week but instead will be pumped out as adrenaline and action and what ifs replace the echoes of birdsong and back porch swing chains. My brother and his girlfriend came to visit, we arranged some furniture to make room for a few new pieces from my dad’s house, and we sat outdoors by the fire pit, roasting marshmallows and talking into the night.
As I was taking the dogs out for their final evening walk one night, I did what I always do – – I shone the flashlight all along the edge of the woods to see if there were any eyes shining back at me. Out here, we have everything from coyotes to field mice, and I’ve learned that I can never be too careful.
Sure enough, there was a tiny pair of eyes looking at me, about fox height. It had a black, bushy tail with a triangular-shaped face. We had a stare-down for a full minute at least before the animal disappeared around the tree, its tail curving along the trunk as it slunk off into the forest.
I walked the dogs, thinking it was gone, and mentioned it to my brother when I came back inside.
“Really?” he asked. “Let’s go check it out.”
I grabbed the light and off we went, back to the tree, where the two eyes sat just a foot behind it, shining back at us. The brush was thick, so we stared at it for a few minutes trying to figure out what it was before it hopped off through the dense thicket and went on its way.
I Googled and concluded that it may have been an oddly-shaped fox squirrel. We’ve had a black squirrel for a long time on this farm, and perhaps this was the great great grandson or something.
The shape of that head, though, perplexed me. I kept returning to the idea that it wasn’t a squirrel when it hit me: it might have been a skunk.
Just like my brother and me to chase a stripeless skunk into the woods, but I think that’s what happened.
If I’d had any doubt, my husband took the dogs out early yesterday and returned to bed, noting, “There’s a slight skunk smell out there.” I hadn’t told him that I had toyed with the idea that this had been a skunk.
Now I’m sure of it.
Skunks, dogs, birds, fireside pits, porch swings, and Hallmark movies all week- – and today I leave you with photos of peace taken last week. Happy Monday!
Falling for Nature
In recent days leading up to the first day of fall, I’ve been intentional about getting out and soaking up some nature time – driving, walking, sitting to just observe and appreciate the beauty of where we live and celebrate the changing season. My friend Margaret Simon commented this past week that she’d noticed many were lamenting the end of summer while I was heralding the onset of fall, and she inspired me to share some of the reasons I could live in the world of autumn year-round.
Ours is a small, rural county in middle Georgia with huge orange sunsets that dip down between the rolling hills, nuzzling down into an heirloom quilt for a good night’s sleep. Sometimes, we are “those people” who really do take Sunday afternoon drives with nowhere to have to be and no time to have to be there – just so we can take it all in!
A family of deer come along their path daily, walking along the edge of the trees. Their darker winter coats are starting to come in, and the babies are losing the last of their spots.
Mushrooms are growing along the rocks, and leaves are dropping in shades of red and yellow from the trees, spinning down to blanket the ground.
And spiders are becoming more plentiful – the big ones, spinning webs between trees, setting traps for unsuspecting prey. Somehow, they give off a Halloweenish vibe, especially as our resident bats circle overhead in the evenings.
The most hopeful time happens as the day begins when the sun is rising and the light infiltrates the trees, pounding down on the grass like a warmed oatmeal breakfast with a multivitamin and a glass of orange juice, turning on the light, greeting us all with an enthusiastic “Good Morning!” as it peels back the covers of night.
Redbirds lurk and loiter, running off the last of the small songbirds from the feeders as they migrate south. They’ve already laid claim to the feeders that will get them through the freezing winter ahead.
Monarchs and Black Swallowtails feast on the last remnants of the withered figs.
The American Crows and the Fish Crows, too, become more abundant. They sit on church steeples, thanking their maker for a reprieve from the brutal heat of the summer. Their caws stir in a dash of Poe.
Our pair of Great Horned Owls was visiting every night, but now they are in a different spot on the west side of the farm. We can still hear them, but they haven’t made themselves evident lately.
Even if I only spend ten minutes each day outdoors, I notice the small changes that are happening around me and feel grateful to be able to admire the transition from summer to fall. I’m choosing a tree this year to photograph every 5 days so that I can see the change as a time lapse once the leaves have all let go and the summer-to-winter transformation is complete. I can learn much from trees that shed worn leaves and bloom again fresh in the spring.
I take pictures and count the blessings of each magnificent and microscopic moment of beauty. How do you celebrate the changes as fall approaches? I’d love to hear all the ways we welcome the season!
air love
Mid-air dragonflies
Upsidedownrightsideup love
Hanging in the breeze
Showing Up and Showing Out
Nature has a way of showing up and showing out.
For weeks, I’ve been watching and waiting for the figs to ripen, and almost overnight the first wave is ready for the picking. I saw the purple-brown fruits last evening and ran inside to fetch a plastic bowl and summoned my husband to bring his long arms and reach the branches down for me so that I could pick them. Together, we got what we could reach. It was too late to fire up the tractor, though. Usually, he raises me up in the bucket so that I can pick from the tip-top of the tree. That’ll happen after work today.
For now, we have our first bowl full, and they are plump and heavy.
But that’s not all that happened yesterday.
I finally caught a glimpse a bird I’ve been hoping to see for the past few years. Up until yesterday, I had only heard them. They live here on this farm, and I hear them in the wee hours of the morning, when it’s still dark. Ironically, I’d conceded our long game of hide and seek in yesterday morning’s post and declared them the winners. It’s as if one of these birds actually read my blog and decided to show a little mercy.
I was in the reading room that overlooks the butterfly garden. From the window that faces southward, I saw a stirring in the trees. A large stirring – – really an extra-large stirring.
Surely not, I thought.
It wasn’t dark. Just a couple of minutes before 8 p.m. on the nose.
It couldn’t be, I told myself.
I ran for my binoculars and searched the dense tree line for the bird, hoping it was still there when I returned.
I turned the knobs to focus and zoomed in as close as I could get.
Sure enough, just as I’d thought.
There it was, sitting on a pine branch, facing the house.
I could barely contain my excitement, yelling for my husband to come quickly, but not yelling loudly enough to scare off my buddy. I handed off my binoculars to him, and counted back the trees, pointed to the limb and actually used fractions to direct him 2/3 of the way up the Loblolly Pine to the Great Horned Owl grasping the branch with both feet.
We stood in awe, watching this great nocturnal bird of prey turn his head all around, watching the ground below for movement, like the embodiment of a Mary Oliver poem with wings.
It was fantastic to see. I still have shivers just thinking about the magnificent stature of this amazing creature and its commanding but camouflaged and silent presence.
After a few moments, he dove to the ground in pursuit of something he’d spotted, and just like that he vanished into the woods to feast on his catch.
And I’m burning with owl fever now, wishing desperately that he had a little camera attached to him like a policeman wears a bodycam, so I could have his night vision and see where all he goes and what he does. I’d have to hide my eyes when it came time for him to kill the bunnies and field mice and other critters, but I’d lose sleep for weeks just watching how he lives his days and nights.
Today was a treasure – ripe figs and Great Horned Owls. Life doesn’t get much more exciting.
Common Threads 