Well, La De Da!

I got up early this morning ( having stayed up way too late last night playing with my new toy, the Nexus tablet) and decided that I should just get up and stop trying to go back to sleep. I sat up, coughed, put my slippers on and stood up. OK, I was on my feet. It was going to be a good day.
 I heard a small whine from the corner of the bedroom and knew that Cutter, our sweet Corgi, was asking me if I was really getting up this early and could he come too. I  let him out of his crate and opened the hallway door.  Cutter ran ahead and stopped at Carl's crate so I let Carl out too.
It didn't matter that it was two hours earlier that usual. They are so locked into their routines. First the unabashed happiness of freedom..., the running around, the jumping and making little leaps of joy. It makes you feel happiness just watching them start the day as they do, with the expectation that something wonderful is happening and that life is something to get really excited about. It's contagious.
 Of course, all dogs don't have what we offer, here. Our dogs are in a five star resort hotel and they know it.
They are fed on schedule, have their own "spot" on the sofa, listen to us tell them how wonderful they are and generally think life is about them. It kind of is.
 I also gather that the dogs can read because they obviously heed my wall hung advice.

So this is a post about happiness and what I do to keep the scary fearful "what ifs" away. It's kind of an "in the moment" post that just needed to be written by me today.

After breakfast the dogs and I went outside. The air took my breath away. It was cool and overcast. The fragrance of campfires was in the air. My neighbor was burning near his house. It smelled wonderful.

The dogs disappeared behind the house and I thought about the excitement that ensues when they first go through the front door. They do it many times during the day, but there is always the same enthusiasm. How we could learn from them about the simple joy of the moment.
They aren't "into" the beauty of their surroundings, as much as I am, but they have moments when they make me notice something that I might otherwise miss in my search for beauty. Sometimes they don't find things that are exactly beautiful... but this slug,  in its own way, is a work of art in the natural world.

It's a mollusk and a big one. "It" (I need a better word than "it" because they are both male and female) didn't seem too concerned with "dog face" but then Carl didn't actually touch it. These slimy little creatures are crawling about because of all the moisture.
A long time ago, in my wild youth, I was staying with my grandmother and I walked down to the creek on her property. I sat down and leaned back on a rock to rest. My hand landed on one of these slugs and I was "slimed" for the first time in my life. I guess Carl knew better. He sniffed it and walked away.
I don't care for them but they are interesting creatures.

It actually has a beautiful pattern on its slimy little body. Still don't want to touch it.

 I walked over to the fence and looked out into the driveway. That was when I saw the "paperwhites."

To all of you who are suffering in the frigid north and back east... this is for you.
To remind you that Spring will come and Winter will not stay away forever.

Even in the deathly cold of winter, Spring will push its way through and have its day.

Nothing stays the same... all things come in their time.
 Look death in the teeth, as scary as it is, and think about our impermanent life,

 This cow scull is slowly becoming part of the plants and the earth...like everything.

Slugs only live for about four years, if they're lucky. Dogs only live for eighteen years... max.
Try to live in the moment. It's all we've really got.
 Get a camera. Take pictures of anything that makes you happy..  things that you love.
Buy a puppy. Unleash your joy or at least find what it is that makes you happy and do it. You don't have to leave town and start a new life. It's about small steps within the context of your existing life. Start small... with a smile. Life is short. Lighten up.

I do believe that this is true....

But the flip side is...

And as my favorite poet, Mary Oliver, asked...

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?"

Slugs Under the Stepping Stones of Memory

The summer before I went into the 6th grade, in Pleasant Hill, CA., the school district had so many new families moving into the area that they decided to build a new elementary school. They tore out an old walnut orchard and transformed the empty acres into a new school.... and it was right down at the end of the street from where I lived. They called it Strandwood. The year was 1956.
This last weekend I walked my grandchildren back down to this school and the memories came flooding back. The above collage has three photos with the word "here" on each one. Each word represents a different memory.
The top photo is the front of the school. It's much prettier than it was that first year. We had no trees, hedges or gardens then. But it was a brand new school and we were the FIRST GRADUATING CLASS. All of the 6th graders were big important students. We were the oldest and the "big deals" for the year. We only stayed for one year and them moved on to Pleasant Hill Junior High School a few miles away.... but for one shinning school year we were the "alpha" kids.
Where you see the word "here" in the top photo is the spot where a couple of friends and I ( the summer before the school opened ) climbed onto the roof and down through a skylight into the school office. We thought we were really cool until we looked around and saw the new Principal standing in the doorway of his office. He was so mad at us. He gave us a long speech about breaking and entering, told us that we would probably have to go to the police department and took our names and phone numbers. I remember trying not to cry in front of my friends.
Now, mind you, I was a "good" girl and this wasn't something that I had ever done before. I was so scared that I could hardly breath. He told us that he wouldn't call the police but that we were to go home and he would be calling each of our parents that afternoon. He must have known how scared we were because he actually never called any of our parents. I sweat bullets for a week waiting for that phone call. It was all the punishment I needed. Never again, no matter who I was trying to impress, did I do anything like that and years later( I mean many YEARS later.. probably like 3 years ago) I told my Mom what had happen. She laughed and said that, knowing me, waiting for the principal to call was probably punishment enough. As I have said before, I have had this "closet Catholic" guilt thing going on inside of me my whole entire life. The day school started I was hoping that I wouldn't run into the Principal in the hallway. I didn't want him to be reminded to call our parents. I still think he got too busy or lost the list with the phone numbers. I still think about it.
The second "here" on the right is a photo of the main hallway and in the distance, the cafeteria. I got to serve lunch there and polished my domestic skills cleaning the tables afterwords. They gave me a free lunch for this effort and sometimes an extra ice cream or cookie.
I was also the third ghost in Dickens, A Christmas Carol. that year. I wore a huge black cape with a hood and showed Scrooge the future, while pointed with my finger. No words. It was an easy part and my first stage appearance. I was hooked for life. I went on to a short illustrious career in high school as an ACTRESS.
The third "here" is the best one. This is where, without flowers, trees or air conditioning units, I received my first kiss from a boy. Yes, it was exciting and wonderful. I'm sure we were in love. I just don't remember his name or what he looked like...., but I remember where it happen. "HERE" marks the spot.
So now, some 54 years later, I'm here with my grandchildren....



watching them play on the "new" playground. Gone is the wood sided, bark filled area with metal equipment that tested your ability to climb the highest, balance the best and swing the longest. Oh! I guess these new and softer playgrounds do the same thing. They are definitely more colorful. The equipment is different but the children are similar, each with his own skills and abilities. Each challenging themselves to be the best. I love the shadows on the green (and padded, like the local gym) fake grass. That could be me below the Bean. The ghost of years past. The outline of a child is always similar, in a way.The memory dims but the childhood continues. My memories will fade. His will develop, in the same place, only differently.
Little Bean is just starting to build his story. Hopefully my photos will remind him of this sunny day, walking with his Noni, to the school playground where she tells them the stories of long ago..., of walnut orchards and mustard grass in the meadow.., of an old oak tree on the hill behind the school and running up that hill so fast that she thought her lungs would burst. Too many memories to count. So many memories...

And then they discovered the slugs under the stepping stones. They met another little boy and it became a "boys will be boys" quest to find the most slugs.
We found a bottle with an orange cap. We, carefully, brought home 15 or 16 slugs and 2 "rolly pollies". The Bean carried his in his shirt. Yep! It was a record day.


My photos did not show up with this post. I was only able to retrieve the first one so I will do a separate post with the two photos that are missing. I'm beginning to think that that blogging/ computer "fates" have an issue with me lately.