Spiritual Direction

Showing posts with label wildlife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wildlife. Show all posts

Saturday, May 3, 2025

I Didn't Think to Ask for Woodcocks

In honor of the 5 years of spring in this place we've been given.



I Didn't Think to Ask for Woodcocks

or the red fox in the field across the street
or the merlin in the front yard
and the fox sparrows in the back
or the tundra swans
or the bald eagle sailing through the yard
with prey clutched 
in its talons.

I didn't think to ask for toads
and tadpoles
and spotted salamander eggs
in the old backyard pond we inherited
or the raccoons who come 
to wash their food 
at night.

I didn't think to ask for the two columbines
or the ancient peonies
or the softest soil I have ever worked.
Or that I might bring
redemption to this land
and blessing to those 
who loved it
long before.

For all I didn't think to ask...

Thank You.



Wednesday, November 9, 2016

What a Buck in the Marsh Taught Me About Respect on This Morning After the Election


I am fortunate that I have the flexibility to walk the woodlands and visit the marsh this morning. Where else would I go on such a troubling day? I went into this election, determined that no matter the outcome, I would continue to do my best to live as salt and light in a world that always needs both. As an unashamed follower of Christ, I have and continue to attempt to live in accordance with what matters to Him...treating people with love, treating the Creation with care, and recognizing my dependence on the Spirit to help me to know and name my blindness and shortcomings.

But this morning, I have to admit that that determination comes hard. I am chagrined to realize who made up the voting block that has elevated our president-elect. I am sickened with grief and foreboding for what this outcome will mean for the earth, for the Creation, its creatures and all the humans who depend upon it for life, as the party elected will not hesitate to exploit it full measure and never look back.

I was thinking these thoughts, and wondering whether I had anything at all to say in this space this morning, anything gleaned from the natural world around me, as I walked along the boardwalk, when I heard the crashing and saw the dried cattails waving wildly. I had seen possible traces before of deer in the marsh, but was never quite sure. "How would they maneuver through the muck?"

But there he was, thrashing through the cattails, antlers entangled, seemingly struggling to find solid footing. I stopped immediately, as I didn't want my presence to spook him further and felt a surprising connection between that buck and myself, and with the rest of the individuals who make up this nation.  Respect for that buck and his need was instinctive, it came naturally. Respect for wildlife comes from the very core of who I am (perhaps more readily than respect for people, sometimes, I am disappointed to say.)

 As I watched and waited for him to make his way on to safety, I felt a visceral kinship with him in my own need for respect from others today and my need to offer others the same. Many of us are fragile this morning...those who voted other than the outcome, those who voted for it and are now wondering what they have done, those who voted in favor of it and are jubilant.  We all need to realize that many of us are in emotional turmoil and the need of the moment is genuine care and respect for one another. If you can't offer encouragement to those who are wrestling, at least do what I did.  Stay out of their way, give them space, and quiet and time to regain their footing and go on their way. 

This day and the days to follow will be what the nation builds upon as we face this new era. Let us grant each other the grace to be ourselves and to reach out to care for one another even in disagreement. Let us continue our hard work of bringing light into darkness, for everyone's sake.



Wednesday, August 31, 2016

End of August Noticing


What are you noticing as you walk out your front or back door lately? Where I live, it is still hot and humid, and though the weather forecast suggests that the heat will subside, temporarily, at least, I cannot yet believe it. Today, it feels as if summer will last forever, in spite of the abundant signs to the contrary.

There were voices missing from my early morning woodland walk this morning, voices I listened for, but did not hear. The wood thrushes who seemed to sing more lazily last week, did not sing at all today and it has been a while since I have heard the ovenbirds or orioles. Red-eyed vireos still questioned, however, and a handful of eastern wood peewees softly sang their musical "pee a wee", as if in greeting as I walked by. Blue jays are abundant, as their migration has begun and northern jays are passing through regularly, if the chorus of their raucous calls is any indication. The yard is full of hummingbirds - males, females and juveniles with fat little tummies, all feeding constantly, in preparation for their long flight south. It seems too soon to think about saying goodbye, and yet I know that in a few weeks other birds will come and settle in for the winter. It won't be long before the predictable arrival of white-throated sparrows and juncos and I know that I will miss them, too, when it is their turn to leave, next spring.

As happens in late summer, spider webs are everywhere these days. Some are strung across trails, as if the spiders know that insects are as appreciative of flying in open space as humans are of walking there. In fact, one can't walk any of the wooded trails this time of year, without repeatedly running into sticky, silken strands. Other webs are large, intricately patterned circular structures that may be spun 15 feet off the ground. When covered with dew, and hit by the first rays of sun in the morning, they look to be made of diamonds, glistening in the trees. 

The late summer roadside and meadow flowers are coming into bloom, and all are covered with pollinators of all kinds. Joe-pye weed billows into tall pink clouds and grows lush in the ditches along the roads. Hyssop-leaved and late thoroughwort are becoming a white haze that sets off the bright yellow rough-leaved goldenrod and various beggartick species. White wood aster is blooming in the woodland edges and soon will be joined by blue-stemmed and zigzag goldenrod, followed later by the tiny-flowered white frost asters that are the primary source of pollen and nectar as the growing season winds down. 

The trees are also beginning to foretell the coming of autumn, though more subtly than they will a few weeks from now. While black gums and sassafras are the first to boast a few bright red or yellow leaves, black walnut foliage is the first to fall in profusion. Their descent is just beginning, golden leaves fluttering and twirling softly to the ground. The yellow poplars are beginning to color, as well, and here and there is the crimson of solitary red maple leaves, early to turn, for whatever reason.

These are days to savor, despite the heat. It is a time of abundance for all...ripened berries and plenty of insects for the birds, still-green leaves for the many cricket and katydids who are still singing mightily, nectar and pollen for myriad pollinators, acorns and hickory nuts for deer and squirrels. It is a time for gratitude for what the earth can provide, if allowed to and, for me, gratitude to the Giver of all, for allowing me to share in the life of this land and its inhabitants.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Starting Over Again


Next month, it will be five years since we moved to Accokeek. We started out in this house, moved to the farm for three years, and now are back to where we began our life in Maryland. Now and again, I experience a fleeting remembrance of that initial wonder at living in this local landscape of woodlands, wetlands and fields all around us; of bald eagles, osprey, hermit thrushes, pileated and red-headed woodpeckers as common daily experience. It was about this time in February when my husband and I first explored the nearby boardwalk running between the almost-sleeping marsh and the Potomac River, and I realized that a long-held, but almost forgotten, hope to someday live near a wetland was soon to be fulfilled.

The last year has been one of the most challenging of my life, as we faced the need to move from the farm I had hoped would be our home for as long as we lived in Maryland. Lately, I have been more closely examining just why the prospect of starting over, yet again, has been so traumatic and, recently, was led to an article that finally brought clarity, and with the clarity, an understanding that allows me to move forward. The author of the article had been raised in a military family, as had I, and, like me, she moved every two or three years of her life, never putting down roots or thinking of any place as home. When she was faced with moving from the first little house she ever owned, it caused the same aching anguish that I experienced when we moved from Pennsylvania, and again, when we moved from the farm back to this house. It wasn't that the places we were moving toward were not filled with possibility and promise, but that, for the first time in our lives, we belonged to a place and a place belonged to us... a place that held and nourished us, that vibrated with memories lived and made, that was ours. 

Sometimes, just affirming our emotions and the origins from which they spring is enough to grant us the freedom to move on. I am tentatively working towards believing that home doesn't need to promise permanence in order to be a place of belonging in the now. Come spring, the house in the picture will be alive with the native plants I have tucked into the landscape, even in the depths of winter, and the creatures who will come to visit them. That some of the plants and shrubs I planted here three years ago have survived, and even thrived, is a most welcome gift and a reminder that nothing we do is ever lost. We may no longer be able to see the effects of our labors, or of our loving, but surely the good that we do will surely continue to ripple out, blessing the world, its creatures and its people in one way or another.