Wandering and Wondering Along the Boardwalk

At first glance, the marsh looked almost barren, particularly at low tide. Broken cattail remains dotted the mud flats and the bare branches of silky dogwood and buttonbush appeared as frozen as the ice that clung to the Potomac River shoreline.  As I braced myself against the biting wind, the bright February sunlight did little to warm me and I puzzled, yet again, at how the waterfowl swimming and feeding just beyond the ice can live, and even thrive, in the cold.

The boardwalk runs between the river and the tidal marsh, at the intersection of the two ecosystems, and offers abundant opportunity to observe the life of both.  There were not many ducks in the marsh but, on the river, several species were feeding, splashing and calling with abandon.  Furthest out were the diving ducks-the common mergansers, hooded mergansers, American widgeons and buffleheads and for the most part, each species swam alone, not mingling with others not of its own kind. Closer in to shore were the dabbling ducks, the mallards and black ducks whose bottoms we often see as they tip their heads underwater to feed. This area of the Potomac is rich in the aquatic plant life, fish and crustaceans that sustain the waterfowl who make this area their winter home and the boardwalk is an excellent vantage point from which to observe and learn more about them all.

Though I enjoyed watching the waterfowl, my attention turned to the bald eagle pair perched on a large, bare sycamore nearby. The female should be laying her first egg any day now and, though I believe I know which nest they will adopt, I won’t be sure until she is sitting still for a while.  I have come to quietly watch and wait and, perhaps, to discover.

Absorbed in the eagles, I slowly became aware of new activity around me. The dabbling ducks were on the move from the river into the marsh.  Initially, a few pairs of mallards flew over but, shortly thereafter, groups of eight and ten followed, wings whistling softly as they passed overhead and disappeared into the channels between the cattails. Within a short time, the two hundred mallards and black ducks who had been on the river had flown into the marsh and the seemingly lifeless wetland was alive with sound and splashing and what seemed like joy in returning home.  I puzzled about their mini-migration and realized that it had to do with tidal ebb and flow. I had arrived at low tide and the marsh was drained.  While I focused on the waterfowl and eagles, however, the river slowly and steadily streamed in and, at some definitive moment, the marsh held enough water for the mallards and black ducks to resume maneuvering and feeding in their favored setting. 

I was reminded, yet again, that there is always, always something to be learned when venturing outdoors, whether we live on the border of wild lands or in a suburban community. Wherever we are, we are given daily opportunities to expand our understanding of the natural world, simply by opening our eyes and minds and by paying attention. As we take them in, these opportunities grant a renewed joy in discovery and lead us into a more deeply held understanding of the land and its ways. They connect us to life beyond our own and yet, if we are willing to accept them, invite us into a life of wonder, a life that becomes our own.

Solstice Respite

I began this day, wanting to write something about creating safe spaces for ourselves and those we encounter during these troubled times. I wanted to offer words of encouragement to keep working for the well being of each other and to offer illustrations of community and sustenance from the natural world. But I can't seem to find the words, as I made the mistake of looking at the news a little while ago.

And so, all I can offer today is the invitation to step into beauty, as I did this morning. Best would be for you to step outside and into whatever beauty you are afforded where you live. But I offer these pictures of what surrounds me in this place.  

Do not make the mistake of thinking that these images are of frozen lifeless, and barren landscapes for they host an almost infinite number of birds, hidden in the shelter of the grasses, cattails and tangles. Maybe there is an analogy there for us, waiting to be written on another day. 

In these moments as you look, breathe in deeply, feel the frosty air, hear the geese and ducks, woodpeckers and sparrows that are not in the pictures, note the muted hues of tans, and browns and grays and how they play together. Mourn if you need to, be renewed and gather strength for what lies ahead in your day. Breathe a prayer of thanksgiving for life, in all its forms, and a prayer for its protection, as well.

Blessings to you, on this day of the winter solstice.

Challenges to Mindfullness

I used to assume the qualities of quiet reflection and watchful mindfulness went hand in hand but, at times they seemed to be at odds. Sometimes, in fact, being mindful is just plain hard...Like this morning as I walked along the Potomac, thinking deeply about the past, the future and the present, and almost missing the strident calling of what turned out to be two flittering, agitated golden-crowned kinglets. Padding along the dirt road,my thoughts were turned inward, focused on some needed internal discussions and prayer time, and at the same time, reaching for the solace of the autumn glory of the woodlands that surrounded me.


Once the high-pitched voices overhead finally caught my attention, my focus shifted altogether to alertly waiting and watching, and the only matter on my mind was to identify the singers. Familiar as I am with golden-crowneds, what I was hearing did not register and so, after a short time of intense concentration, I was rewarded with the sight of two irritated kinglets obviously disgruntled with each other. I wondered from whence they had come and to where they were bound on their migration, and I wondered what was troubling them so on such a bountiful morning.

The most unexpected benefit of birding is that it calls for and returns me to mindfulness. When I pull the binoculars to my eyes, all other thoughts fade into the background and I am left fully with and in the moment. Sometimes I think that the more unsettled I am, the more refreshing are these short breaks in my ponderings. The natural world calls to me and as I answer, God speaks to and comforts me through what He has created. For a time, t

he moment is enough.

Mindfulness

I've been reading and thinking lately about living life mindfully and this evening I decided to look up the word and discern whether I was understanding its meaning correctly. The words "attentive" and "aware" were most often used as definitions, but usually there was the implied "to" or "of" attached. I didn't find the word used in the context of defining one's life, but maybe those "to's" and "of's" really are the key, after all.

Early this morning, as I have been doing lately, I took a walk down to the river.  The farm and river are quiet then and there is ample opportunity for observation and for thinking. It is a good time to be mindful of what is happening around me - of the tide, of the summer singing insects, and of the voices of which birds are or are not present. It is a time to be mindful of the bounty of late summer and to be thankful for the land that feeds all living things right now.

However, even as I thought I was being aware, I learned a new lesson about mindfulness.  Sitting on a favorite log and looking up river, I saw a few Forster's Terns gracefully whirling and plunging  into the water, as they fished.  From up river, the fog began to roll in and the landscape before me grew increasingly fuzzy. While I could still see in the distance, I thought to look through my binoculars and there, beyond what I could see with my naked eyes, were dozens of terns flying to and fro.

How does this pertain to mindfulness? If being mindful means paying attention to what is present, it also mean paying attention to that which is present, but not always visible. I am learning that living life mindfully means being aware of God's presence in any and every situation I find myself.  It means being attentive to His voice and the leading of His Spirit as I go about the seemingly mundane affairs of day to day life. I am very sure that I will have much more to learn as I try to live a less distracted and more intentional life, but I am thankful for the gift of these insights this morning, and for the terns.