The owls and the interloper

Our owls came back to nest this year, and my husband and I have enjoyed seeing the increased activity around the owl box in the past few weeks. The parent owls showed themselves more during the daytime this year and even did a few too many fly-bys of my head when I was outside in the evenings.

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Mamma or daddy owl (a western screech-owl) on high alert. Its markings are beautiful.

Others nearby haven’t been as thrilled with the owls nesting in our bird box. Somewhere close to the box is a hummingbird nest, along with the nest of another sort of bird—perhaps a black phoebe (I’m not sure about the identification of that one). There are other tiny birds in the area, too, and I wonder if they have a nest somewhere in those trees, too.

As the mother owl left the nest more frequently, the other birds flitted around the trees by the box, pitching a frenzied “Go away!” fit. Continue reading

The mercy of summertime trees

Summer has arrived here. Yesterday and today brought 90+ degree days. Summer in this part of California is when I pray most especially for clouds and also send up running prayers of gratitude for the few trees along the trails where I run or walk each morning. Some trails have lovely tree canopies but most are open to the sun with only the occasional tree to provide a bit of shade, a place of respite for the dog and me.

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Standing in the shade of a small tree along the trail

Brown and dry are starting to take over from the springtime green, and, as I stand in the shade of the tree, I know I’m not ready for the relentless heat and brown of summer. Continue reading

Glass in the garden

I promised this post a few weeks ago after my trip to the Atlanta Botanical Garden. As friends and I wandered through the garden, we encountered workers installing glass art pieces. Huge cardboard boxes and ladders sat alongside flowers. The workers had completed a few of the projects but most weren’t finished.

I came across the first sculpture, not realizing it was part of a garden-wide project. It looked striking but perhaps out of place in a garden.

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I like the magic spot in this picture where one of the glass tips is aglow with sunlight.

It occurred to me something larger might be happening when I noticed these glass apples: Continue reading

A revival call: The practice of reaching out

In the difficult weeks following the attack on my dog, two dear friends from North Carolina sent me cards. Both had taken the time to buy a card, write a note, find my address and a a stamp, and drop it in their mailbox. Their kindness lifted my spirits.

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I wonder: why do we do less and less of this tangible caring for one another?

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Healing in the Hiding Place

There are some books you shouldn’t read in public unless you don’t mind crying out your eyeballs in front of strangers. Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place is one of those books.

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Four weeks ago, I invited you to join me in reading The Hiding Place and planned to read it myself on a cross-country flight. Even the first two chapters forced me to stifle tears, and I only dared read part of it on the plane, stopping after I pressed against the window to sob quietly. I saved the rest of the book for home, reading it only in daytime, as if the only way my heart could absorb what I was reading was to have the sunlight as company for the dark pages.

Continue reading