Laura Young Photography

Fifth Wednesday Journal

I've just recently discovered Fifth Wednesday Journal and feel compelled to put it on your radar screen if you are a fan of photography, poetry and literature. Lovely.

Duck Dynasty

Not only is it my new guilty pleasure (we discovered it last night, the episode where they turned the RV into a duck blind), but it's also an apt description of my yard right now.

I was engaged in Iron Gardener: Battle Wild Roses when I looked up and saw the largest of the three mallard families we have on the marsh walking not five feet from me up the "stream bed" (a small ditch of sorts where storm waters run through our property to the marsh). Scott said they did the same thing this weekend when he was weed whacking the reed canarygrass to try to control yet another of our non-native invasive species.  Penny was out with me at the time but she's not really a bird dog so she just stood next to me and watched them (she was on a tether, so they were safe but if they had been, say, kittens, she might have decapitated herself).

They went their merry way and I kept at the roses and buckthorn and the usual cast of characters and after four hours of hacking and whacking I thought I'd gather the last wheelbarrow of weeds and take a break. To my surprise, just as I entered the path from the lawn into the woods, the ducklings were headed right at me. Because of the sharp corner they were about three feet from my wheel when I first saw them!  Mom stood there eyeing me as I froze while the ten ducklings veered off the path and under the honeysuckles toward the bird feeder to see what had fallen to the ground. I backed up and circled around the black raspberry bramble to the feeder and sat down to watch them. They seemed not the least bit concerned.

So, I went in and grabbed my phone and came out and now you can see them, too... (cell phone pics, no zoom, inches from my foot and then inches from the camera as I leaned in to snap their picture.)

I Take It All Back

Oh sweet Jesus, what in the heck was I thinking? "Such a small little life I have. Can fit it in a tea cup. I just hang out with my little lion and have fresh cut flowers all around me while I write."

The tip off should have been "as God is my witness, I am going to start pulling weeds soon." (Translation, I haven't got any clue what awaits me...or more honestly, I DO know and I've been intimidated and avoiding. Yeah, that sounds about right.)

It's been a couple years (easily) since I've REALLY been in my yard.

Wow.

First, I've been told by a friend who came to visit once that I really need to stop using the word "yard" because it only gives people the wrong impression. I just don't know what else to call it.

We have an acre, which includes a portion of a wetland marsh and is mostly wooded. I have some lovely hickories, red and burr oaks and a plethora of wild flowers (truly wild). I have thousands of trout lilies in the Spring. Also trilium, wood anemone, wild geranium, a tiny patch of valerian, 

a patch of Jerusalem artichokes that would take over the planet if I let it, 

beautiful expanses of Solomon's Seal and false Solomon's seal, elderberry and of course wild onions everywhere.

To this mix I have added hosta, astilbe, echinacea, lamium, irises, lady's mantle, black-eyed susan, lamb's ears, various spurges, day lillies, coral bells, Japanese ferns, bachelor's buttons, monarda...

most of this in cultivated garden areas in my "lawn" (mostly a mix of creeping charlies and various weeds that we mow).

 

Sounds lovely, doesn't it? (cell phone pics aren't fully translating it for you, I know. That cottony stuff all over is cottonwood fluff, btw)

It IS lovely. Even the weeds and invasive species like honeysuckle, goldenrod and queen anne's lace have been more blessing than curse.

Here's where it gets a little intimidating though. I also have buckthorn (a wildly invasive tree with a 99.9% germination rate I think), garlic mustard, poison ivy, wild roses (sounds nice until they show up everywhere with very nasty thorns), wild black raspberries

(I have an awesome patch we save for us to share with the birds, but it also comes up everywhere with wicked thorns), honeysuckle (which I just said was welcome, but it also kills whatever grows around it so I have to yank a lot out, too).

All of these are invasive, and most either scratch you to death or make you break out in wicked rashes (maybe that's why I look forward to pulling garlic mustard...it's so easy by comparison!). (Thought you'd like to see poison ivy and buckthorn together. My favorite combo.)

I have an acre.

I have just spent 3 very full days weeding, pulling, chopping, and sawing my way through undergrowth that was in the easier parts of our woods. I've calculated that at my rate of progress it will take me another 8 FULL days just to get the basic cleaning and weeding done. And I haven't even pulled any poison ivy yet.

(So, new writing won't be happening until I get that done and somewhere in here I have 5 photo and writing deadlines and installation set ups to meet/complete in the next two weeks. And, in case you are wondering, weeds don't wait to set seed. That old adage, "One year's weed is seven year's seed" appears to be accurate. Nature sometimes sets the priorities, no matter what our ideas might be about where to spend one's time.)

On the positive side, the intimidation is waning with each wheelbarrow I fill. It feels so good to move my body again and get so many hours of fresh air and sunlight. And I am happily reminded that when I am physically active I never seem to crave sweets (even that awesome cheese coffee cake paled in comparison to fresh fruit.) 

And I do have company no matter how hermit-like my life can sometimes appear. The mallard ducklings are adorable (3 families), the great egrets and herons have been here, I had a frog keeping my company in the front garden, and the hummingbirds are back in town.

It really is a good life. But small...maybe not so much.

Creative Cottage Opens in Joplin, Grief Support Offered

Grief counselor, Ann Leach, was one of many who lost her home in Joplin, MO just one year ago. (We connected several years ago when she found my blog since I was writing so much about grief at the time.) She, along with her fellow residents, are picking up the pieces and working hard to rebuild their community. To that end, Ann, who had worked in the area of grief facilitation for many years, has now opened the second story of her home as a respite space for those dealing with loss and combines this with her services. There is a great writeup about it here. 

Here is a description from her site: "The Creative Cottage is located in the second story of my historic 105 year-old home and includes a private entrance, off-street parking, 2 bedrooms, living room, bathroom and a full kitchen. You’ll have access to my healing garden and be able to enjoy time on my spacious front porch. Special add-on packages are available for your healing journey, including time creating at a local pottery studio or time in nature on horseback. Each VIP package also includes 6 hours of personal coaching with me."

The space is also available for rental if you simply need a place to stay overnight on your way to/through town, so you do not have to have the need for her services in order to avail yourself of her hospitality.

This is why you need a Polish Mom to adopt you...

Our good friend, Claudine, who adopted Scott and I as her children years ago when we lived in the condo right beneath hers, once received a marriage proposal from my father when he tasted her kolacky (those buttery cookie marvels with the jam filling). Wisely she replied that she would accept his proposal pending a review of his finances.

We had brunch at her place yesterday (no that isn't her place in the photo, you nut) and she pulled out a cheese coffee cake that I would be dreaming about today if she didn't send me home with the leftovers. (There were only leftovers because I didn't think I should ONLY eat coffee cake.)  I am a cream filling girl. Custards, cannolis, eclairs...I don't have them often, because I don't have that strong of a sweet tooth but when I do get a craving that's what I search for. And I expect the real deal. Full cream, real vanilla...everything creamy and real butter in those flakey crusts. And no skimping on the cream filling, either.

Oh my oh my oh my. This was the best cheese coffee cake I've ever eaten. It is the Pasticceria Natalina cannoli (how can they have closed?!?!) of cheese coffee cakes.

I don't see the coffee cakes on their website but go have a gander anyway. I'm sure you'll find something tempting. Weber's Bakery on West Archer in Chicago.

Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor's Insights and My Right Mind

If you ever lend me a book, you should know that I usually end up reading it in the 5th year it sits in my stack, (Erin and Peter can attest to this). Of course, that may have more to do with the last five years than anything else.

I read Erin's copy of Jill Bolte Taylor's Stroke of Insight this weekend. You may have seen her TED talk. She is the neuroanatomist who had a stroke at 37 and, since she knew all about brains, her experience of it was one she was able to follow and 'study' from the inside out.

She had a stroke on the left side of her brain, which affected her language centers (among other things). In the process of wiping that side of her brain clean (well, knocking it offline for a while), she ended up tapped into her (our) silent right side of the brain, where intuition and big picture thinking and all that creative part of us is housed. The book is definitely worth reading and the implications are compelling to ponder.

One of the interesting aspects for me was her recounting of how her personality changed, and her "ego" got knocked out, especially in the initial months. Self-consciousness, feelings of separateness and individuality all kind of dissipated. She began to think and feel and perceive life, and people, in a much different way than she had previously.

And that led to a little "aha" moment for me. By no means can I compare her experience with mine in impact or scope, but in a subtle "I feel like I'm somewhere early in that same continuum" kind of way it's help me see that maybe, as I have focused myself increasingly on my photography and visual art (right brain), and have been diving into music (also right brain) that some of the changes I'm feeling in myself may not be coincidental. I've been attributing some of my shifting outlooks and perspectives to the losses of recent years and the changes in my life that cascaded out of that.

That might be too simplistic.

This same period of time has seen me really recruiting my right brain into engagement with the world in a much more prominent way that has been true in my life to date. (And it is interesting that I found myself very naturally taking photos like these as I have been processing grief. I didn't do it this way because I thought it was a good idea or would be interesting or seemed to fit in an obvious or linear way, like a clever and bizarre art project to represent something about loss. It's just that I felt deeply pulled to these images in a way that I didn't have a choice about. It's like, even in the middle of a bunch of bottle caps and pebbles, which you finds swaths of for miles on the beach, I could spot the butterfly immediately, as though it had some magnetic pull to me. I couldn't not see those dead animals, no matter how small, and I couldn't not take those photos. It was all "on automatic" for me.)

In some ways that Jill describes, but again much, much less dramatically, energy feels different to me than it did 3 or 4 years ago. I feel sensitive in ways I didn't quite feel before. My sleep patterns are very different. My dream life is very intense. Even my journalling is different (I use unlined pages now for the first time and what I write looks a lot more like mind-mapping, as though I simply can't write in straight sentences anymore when it comes to my journal-type processing.

What I thougth was just an intolerance for clutter and getting sick of dealing with stuff stuff stuff with all the estate clearing of recent years was actually hitting me harder on an energetic level than anything else. I wasn't really describing it that way because it didn't occur to me to put that kind of language on it. It's easier to relate to people saying "my house is a mess and I have GOT to get it cleaned" than to say "the vibe is sublty off here and I need to take that vase and this book to Goodwill". That's the thing, I've had plenty of people here in the last few months and I doubt "pig sty" has come to any of their minds when they've come here. Even my closets, while packed, weren't unmanageable. So it isn't that my house was looking like Hoarders or that I was needing an organizer or anything. It was just that I would sometimes spend a few days working on photography and then I would find that I had to move around the decor in my home. Or, less obviously related, I'd have to go through my closet and pass on a bunch of clothes. Suddenly a perfectly good sweater that was neatly folded  and minding it's own business in my armoire, unseen most days, HAD to be put in the "give" pile. And the burst of fresh energy when I did that was remarkable for me.

And it wasn't like an OCD compulsion (OCDish behaviors definitely run in my family). It isn't that I couldn't rest until the sweater was out of the armoire or anything. It's just that once I recognized that the energy of something in my space was "off" I knew it was just a matter of time before I moved it through my space. And again, this isn't bad stuff or broken, old crap. It's just stuff that was no longer "me" for whatever reason. And the more I've scanned my environment for things that are either not right or maybe just a little too neutral, and have changed them for what IS right, it has really helped my creativity and my overall feeling of peace here. This place feels more and more restful and sanctuary-like all the time.

It goes back to the 'environment as self portrait' concept. Maybe it's really an energetic self-portrait that I'm creating (and maybe that's the most important kind).

Now, I must turn my head from the blog but I will leave you with this. If you haven't been to Jill's site, you are missing all kinds of interesting stuff, like the link to this crazy, beautiful video:

Mother's Day Smile

I just have to share this. My sister-in-law, whose stunning platinum hair I covet, is here with my mother-in-law. My mother-in-law is 93. Could she be cuter or more stylish?

The answer is no. No, she could not be.

More on "A Small Life"

I was starting to answer Peter and Erin's comments on this post and realized my comment was becoming another post.  Here's it is:

Okay, your mutual point is well taken. Small isn't insignificant (even if it is accurate). I guess I'm just looking out at those people who are working full time, or who are raising kids, or are driving somewhere every day, or who have been diving into experiences like travelling and buying all kinds of new technonology (while I, ipod-less, listen to cassettes in my 11 year old car) or who are going to movies and restaurants and cultural events of various sorts, and some people are doing all those things simultaneously and I find myself in awe.

Barbara Barrows and I were laughing about it, how we can't multitask at all anymore and how lame our days can sound to people who are living a more externally active existence. She said telling someone, in answer to a question about what she's been up to that "I'm changing my world view. Oh, and I wrote a poem about a chicken" just doesn't seem to get conversations moving. Of course, depends on who you say it to, but still, I could relate.

We talked about her snapping turtle poem and how the big event of that day was seeing a dead turtle on the road when for most people the drive to work is actually the incidental activity of the day, a mere bridge between the legitimate activities one engages in.

That being said, to your points, and in fairness, there are people who completely understand that sometimes the drive is the thing (life is a journey, etc etc), and who appreciate the poet's sensitivities (and sensibilities). And then again, a lot of people are just trying to manage basic life activities like getting groceries and planning a work presentation and trying to cut the lawn before the neighbors start picketing and helping their kid with ADD finish their math homework and maybe they see living a life in which the big event of the day is cleaning a closet and writing 3 pages as "nothing". Or, if not exactly "nothing" then at least kind of "soft". (My farmer uncle has very clearly indicated that he thinks I live in an "airy fairy" world and will some day have a rude awakening when I have to face the "real" world. He said this while I was caring for my dying father, so I'm not sure what he thought I was avoiding in life, but still, he thinks my life is ridiculous.)

And it isn't that I feel my life is insignificant or too soft or small, or that I feel defensive about it (even when I'm talking to my uncle, whose perspective I certainly appreciate). My life is how I created it. Kids never would have fit into this life for me. Living in an urban environment would not have fit. Playing video games doesn't fit. Nor does drinking pop or buying a new car when the old one still runs. Being a caregiver did fit. Having an acre of barely tamed yard fits. Thinking over a poem while washing dishes fits. Listening to Ram Dass tapes while ironing does too.

I think a lot of people would find my life extremely boring, honestly. On the other hand, I saw two mallards walking down the middle of my street this morning (having walked up my driveway from the marsh) so maybe there are some people who would love to be able to say the same and look wistfully toward my existence. In the end, it's nothing to judge. It's just that I know my life would drive some people as crazy as their lives would drive me, so I want people to know I'm not recommending my life to them.

For those who felt my life was in more alignment with theirs in the past, I just wanted to acknowledge that it may not be anymore and may never be again. Back when I was more 'monkey with a gun' like, I think people watched to see what crazy thing was being cooked up when I would have an online hiatus because I always came back with some big burst of something. This is different. It's not a hiatus, it really is a shift to a different kind of life.

Maybe what I do want to advocate for people is alignment. The more into alignment I bring my life with what I value and who I am and what I am sensitive to and fed by and what brings out the best in me, the better I feel and the better able I am to meet the world in a positive, open way. I meet it less often, but the quality is higher. That's good for everyone. Somedays my big trip is to the post office, but I love my post office clerks and it's become like a social thing for me when I go there. I like having a life where my post office feels like the set of Cheers. I know that most people don't have that kind of relationship with their post office (if they even go in to the post office anymore, since you can do it all online these days).

So, I feel a bit like I'm going against the flow of society. It's like Kay Ryan's Backward Miracle. I feel like most of the world is at this huge buffet and sampling so many wonderful foods while I have a piece of toast with olive oil and salt on it for breakfast (which I do, with tomato if I can find a good one). The thing is, I see people eating while driving and they may eat more variety in a week, or even a day, than I do, but I know I taste that toast and I don't know if that's true of the guy eating the breakfast burrito on the highway.

So, the acts and external scope of my life are small but the awareness is big. When I let life creep up in scope, I have a hard time sustaining the awareness and appreciation so I keep scaling back.

Who wrote about the monastery and how their downfall was having too many cereal choices in the morning? I can't remember who wrote about that, but I had to laugh because it's so true. Sometimes I think I may have set myself up to have very little money just to avoid that very problem.

Bernie Siegel talks about what permissions diseases grant people, like being able to say no, take better care of themselves, or take more time for 'the little things'. I feel really grateful that it didn't take a disease to give me that permission. Just a few deaths and a career that fizzled out on me. (lol)

Since it wasn't a disease that lead to my lifestyle changes I faced a bit of a dilemma this past year. I think you can use "well, I'm a cancer survivor" longer than you can use "my Dad died" and certainly longer than "my good friend who was suffering for a few decades died" if you find yourself in need of permissions like that to choose a new way of living. So, with this sense of an expiration date on my permissions (like I had a temporary visa to visit "Airy Fairy Land" but didn't qualify for a green card), I was feeling a little pressure to get back in the saddle after my deeper grieving was waning.

I just couldn't remember which horse I was supposed to put the saddle on.

And none of the horses seemed to want to be saddled so they kind of kept their heads busy with sniffing alfalfa, pretending not to notice me.

So I sat in the field watching them and took some photos and started to write.

And strangely enough, in that field there is not a gun or a monkey to be seen.

 

Kid's Drawings Turned into Stuffed Toys

So awesome. Follow the links for a whole bunch of pictures that will crack you up. You can commission them to make stuff from your own kid's art.

This golden retriever deserves extra ear scratches for this one.

Beautiful Interview with Maurice Sendak

Grab a hankie...

http://www.npr.org/2011/09/20/140435330/this-pig-wants-to-party-maurice-sendaks-latest

(And when you want some excellent chuckles, go to youtube and watch his Colbert interviews. Hysterical.)