Is Nature Merciful?

Living on a mountain, we see wild critters and not so wild critters. And sometimes we see crippled or maimed critters. At Lake Junaluska, there are ducks, geese, swans, and other fowl, and every so often, there is the maimed or crippled waterfowl—one day I watched a duck with a deformed foot hobble its way towards the water; the right foot was nothing but a twisted stump. The duck struggled and I knew that its time was limited, for even at protected Lake Junaluska, there are predators that roam in residential areas. I haven’t seen that duck in a while, but it could have moved to the other side of the lake; yes, that’s what I choose to believe. A goose at Lake J has a broken wing, and its been around for quite some time now—surviving.

And there is now a swan who has suffered injury—his wing is broken and he looks pretty raggedy. He was near where all the other waterfowl hang out, but the other day, GMR and I saw him across the other side. The Lake J people put some swan food for him and roped off a little area where he can feed. We watched as he struggled, and struggled mightily, up to the bucket of swan food, but he made it and he fed. The next day he was in the water, where his injuries are less apparent, and he was surrounded by ducks—for some reason, that made me feel better, thinking he wasn’t completely alone. Today the raggedy swan rested under a tree, not far from his source of food the humans provided. I have named him Raggedy Swan, which is not so great a name, but it has stuck there.

The crippled and maimed waterfowl at Lake Junaluska have a better chance of survival because of human intervention. We show our mercy many times through the animal world.

One day a few years back, I looked out of my window, here in my little log house in the mountain cove, and there was a little bird with a crippled leg. It had to hop about on one leg because the other one was crooked and bent back behind her. I watched that bird every day, until one day she wasn’t there any longer and I’ve never seen her since—did she die of natural causes? Did something get to her because of her weakness? Did she find another place to feed that isn’t as crowded by other birds at our bird feeder? I often wish she would come back because it was both painful and beautiful to watch her—I cannot explain that feeling of pity and respect and awe as she’d hop about on one foot, land on the feeder with one foot, perch on the tree limb with one foot.

There is a squirrel with most of its tail missing—in fact, there have been several squirrels with missing or stumpy tails. We call this big gray squirrel Stumpy, again--yes, we are not known for naming our wild critters with imagination. He used to run when we’d go outside, whereas most of the squirrels ignore us. But something changed. Now, when we meet him on the road while walking our dogs, Stumpy doesn’t run away, but stares at us while flicking that stump of a tail or once he ran up to me, as if laughing at me and our dogs who whined and barked.

I see these animals at Lake J and at our feeder and know that they may be surviving only because we are providing easy food. Take away that easy food and would they survive? Some people/naturalists may ask, “Should they survive?” They ask that because in the natural wild there is natural processes—the weak are weeded out and the strong survive. The weak do not breed or are not bred with because that weakness could be passed on, and if a wild critter is weak, it may not be able to feed itself, or feed its offspring, or get away from predators.

Nature isn’t merciful—or is it in its own way showing mercy? Of course, nature doesn’t allow for these thoughts, because it just is what it is. We humans interfere in nature because we can identify. We see a crippled or maimed animal and we empathize, we sympathize, we know how it feels, or know someone who knows how it feels or have a loved one who knows how it feels—we attach human qualities to nature; we anthropomorphize nature (look at what we do to our pets, particularly dogs--dressing them in clothing, etc. They become family members and have evolved their characteristics—through breeding or otherwise—to fit in with us. Or the commercials, cartoons, etc., where animals have human qualities).

Still, when I saw that beautiful proud Swan struggling to that bucket of swan food in its little protected area, I was grateful for Lake J’s intervention; I was filled with a joy that mixed with my pity and wonder. I might add that the swan, Stumpy the Squirrel, the lamed duck, the little crippled bird, all these creatures know nothing but the will to survive, they had/have no time to feel sorry for themselves, for it is in their nature to find a way to live until it is time for them to die, and then, nature will have its way, as it does with every living thing on this earth.

(Pardon me while I do a Testing one two three on the 'retweet' button )
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Google images -gieco gecko & http://www.guzer.com/pictures/boston_terrier_costume.jpg

Finding the center, the mystery, the child, the serene, in Yoga

Preparing to Yoga . . .

Before we are born, there is nothing but possibility. The entire world a mystery, and everything before us and after us a mystery, our lives stretching out into the unknown. Our mistakes not yet made. We have not touched or been touched, we have not experienced anything outside of that small world where we grew into what would be a little human being.





Little Norah Kathryn--you are now born. You are experiencing, tasting, touched and being touched. The whole world stretches out huge and wide and wonderous...of course, your world is still small, for now. You are the center of your universe and of your parents' universe, and of those who love and adore you.



Child's Pose . . .

It's hard to feel stress and worry when you are in child's pose, your back vulnerable and tender facing out to the world, your face hidden away where you can hide emotion if you so want, or you can release and let yourself be childlike again--an infant, an innocent and trusting being. Little Norah Kathryn lies innocent and trusting. Her parents and those who love her will cradle her, vulnerable and tender.



I bend and curl into child's pose, and let the stress and worry filter out from my toes, my fingertips, the top of my head, and I leave my back exposed and vulnerable--like my little Norah Kathryn, I know nothing but that moment pressed around me as atmosphere. I protect my organs, cradle my heart, liver, stomach, I lean my forehead to rest the heavy thoughts.

Rising up, I stretch my body - there is only the feel of my strength, my organs are soft but active as I rise, my face relaxed, my bones solid, my marrow holding secrets, my tendons stretching, my feet bare - toes spread, my arms and legs reaching reaching reaching.

And at last, I rest...finding a place, like Norah Kathryn does, where I feel safe. That calm and quiet place. The restive. The serene. The warm and tender place that feels like Home and Belonging. I rest . . .

Namaste.

google images: http://mindfulyogapa.com/images/classesBanner.jpg
'http://planetgreen.discovery.com/food-health/images/2009-06

(Please visit Friday Shoot Outs! I haven't had time to keep up with them, so I had to have my name taken off the list -but, it is such a wonderful idea and I still enjoy those who are continuing to do Friday Shoot Outs - give them a holler!)

Scenes from a Marriage: Trust, Sacrifice: could we all do that? . . .

(this is a repost from my old MSN blog--I'm feeling the pinch and need to get my arse to work on MSNDOEIS--Make second novel deadline or else I'm screwed )

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One morning while GMR, Not Quite Fat Dog, and I walked Lake Junaluska, I saw an elderly couple coming our way down the paved path; it was really as if they were standing still and we were walking towards them. The husband held onto his wife almost as if hugging onto her, but instead he was guiding her as she slowly made her way. Her left arm was limp at her side, with the fingers curled inward almost clawlike, and her sluggish steps were pigeon-toed. Her eyes turned inward, clouded, as she made those deliberate steps. Her husband stayed close to her, measuring step for step, never taking his eyes from her. I didn’t say “Good Morning,” for it felt an intrusion, but simply passed them, leaving them to their privacy.

A week and a half later, I saw them again. The woman still walked slowly, her arm still at her side, her fingers still curled; however, this time her steps weren’t as if she were trying to pull them out of mud, and the toes weren’t pulled inward as much. And in those eyes this time, I saw a flicker of something—hope? Her husband was still close by her side, this time only holding tightly onto her arm, still guiding her. He glanced up at me and I smiled; he smiled briefly and then was all hers again. The woman never looked my way; perhaps afraid to take her focus from the path ahead.

Three weeks passed. Off in the distance, I could see a couple walking toward us, but I wouldn’t know it was the elderly couple until they came close, and when I saw who it was, I smiled. This time, the woman’s steps were livelier, toes forward, and though her left arm was still at her side, she was moving it back and forth a little, and, the fingers weren’t curled in as stiffly. Her husband only lightly held onto her arm, cupping her elbow. Her eyes glittered, a smile lit up her face. Her husband smiled, too. And they both looked at me as I said, “Good Morning!” The husband answered, “Mornin’!” and the woman gave me a beautiful smile, and in that smile I saw hope and love and determination—her face shone with possibility. They both looked as if they had just shared the funniest, greatest joke they’d ever heard, as if they were about to laugh aloud at the absurdity of it all.

They passed me by, and I turned to look at them. I thought about sacrifice. I thought about how lucky some people are to have each other. What would have happened to this woman without this man to hold her up until she grew strong enough to hold herself up?

It’s been a week since I’ve seen the elderly couple, but when we walk the lake area, as we did this morning, I will keep a lookout for them. I want to see her progress. But, mainly, I want to see the look of this couple. I want to know that sometimes, somewhere, somehow, some marriages look like this one does: holding each other up, keeping side by side step by step measure by measure. Trust—that’s the word I’m searching for. And sacrifice. And maybe love is in there somewhere.

How exquisite.

Namaste.

(google image from http://www.starfishcircle.com/.a/6a00d83479fc3f69e201053649d42d970b-320wi)

Little Norah Kathryn -- AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! She's so cute ... can't wait for next month to see her!

The coons come calling - how was your evening?

How was your evening? Did you accomplish what you wanted to from your day yesterday? or was it like mine, where you felt as if you spun your wheels in a big ole mound of sand-throwing sand all over and not doing much of anything else!

This is Sarah's mom holding Norah Kathryn after her first bath - she has a mohawk *laughing* - I can't wait to hold her. ....
Last night I snapped some photos from my porch. It was an almost full moon - the coons came to eat from the squirrels feeder and our dogs were going nuts - but as you can see, the raccoons couldn't care less! haw! First one, then the other, came to eat-ignoring even big Jake's scrabbling on the porch railing.

I just liked the way this one came out....moon and chimes were the only things that showed up when I snapped a pic of our cove.

I have so much to do - so, I'm going to get busy this morning -- after I have one more cup of Deep Creek Blend. Need to get busy on Rose & Thorn (submissions nuggets!) and need to complete my edits on Secret Graces. If I want to spend good grandbaby time in Oregon next month, I best get my arse in gear! lawd!

So, tell me about your evening - what did you see when you looked out of your window, or stood on your porch, or looked out of your front door?

By the way - Small Footprints is putting up links to Winter Shopping Extravaganza on her Reduce Footprints blog - go by and check it out. She is mostly focusing on handmade items - go see! I'll be putting up the links to our blogging community shopping in the next few days.

South Louisiana will feed feed feed you . . .

While in Baton Rouge for the Louisiana Book Festival, I did not for moment go hungry . . .

Go to South Louisiana and you will be fed, you will be fed often, and you will be fed cheerfully. They think if you are not living in South Louisiana, you are starving, you are lacking in what is known as "good eating." Go to South Louisiana and be prepared to taste—taste the spice (which is not only pepper and cayenne and Tabasco as some “not Louisiana” restaurants seem to think, but the spices, the heat, the eclectic mix of spice and imagination), the gulf shrimp, the oysters, the crawfish, the catfish, the boiling frying grilling blackening, the jambalaya, the gumbo, the etoufee, community coffee, bread pudding, George's, Louie's, Don's, Hymels (which is part grocery, part bar, part gas station), Mike Anderson's and Ralph & Kacoos been there forever restaurants, the bait stores that are also groceries with cheeses and wines and Stage Plank gingerbread, french bread, po'boys—even hamburger po’boys . . . yes, they will feed you.


Don't say "Well, I'm a Flexetarian. I’ve just about given up meat . . ." Say that in South Louisiana? Ha! You will be told you must have meat for protein! You will find meat on your plate. They don't see it as meat—South Louisianians see it is Needed, a Requirement. I do not eat pork, and this causes the raised-up eyebrows. No bacon? Nope, no bacon. No hamhocks? Nope. No sausage? No no no! Step into a restaurant in South Louisiana and you may not find a vegetable on the menu, unless it is cooked with fatback or saltpork or a big hunk of poor little petal puss the pig.


Some restaurants fry fry and more fry, everything on the menu is fried, even dessert. Oh, but if you indulge as you will indulge because everyone is saying "Eat eat eat! eat eat eat! eat eat eat!" then you will never go back to plain ole fried food again—did I say Spice is King in South Louisiana? And even the smallest most awkward looking eatery knows how to cook with those spices, and knows how to fry.

Don't you Dare go to certain chain seafood restaurants that boast a big ass lobster on their sign; no no, not in South Louisiana, although you mayfind them occupied down there anyway by tourists who do not know better; however, for sale signs abound in chain seafood restaurants; oh, but I'm sure even those chain Scred Bropster type places put the South Louisiana touch on their food.

Go to South Louisiana and they will feed you, then after you are so full you can only pat your tummy and say "Please, no more! no more!" (I actually got tired of eating! I actually got sick of food! Imagine!) then they will take you around and show you their Place. Don't go in June, July, August, September unless you are used to 150% humidity and near-100 degree heat—the combination that leaves one wilted and a bit sick to one's stomach. You only THINK you know how hot it is; you only THINK you know what heat and humidity is; you will KNOW it once you spend a summer's day in South Louisiana. Here's a way to know how if feels: go to your local gym and step inside the sauna turned up high; sit there for an hour and when you come out drenched in sweat, about to puke from the heat, well, that's a South Louisiana summer you step out into. So, when you go, in the spring (which can still be quite hot) they will show your full-stomached self around. They will say—

see our grandfather oaks? their branches touch the ground, the moss blows in the warm breeze. see our cypress and cypress knees? see Louisiana State University and the Fighting LSU Tigers and their Golden Girls and the Marching Band, the white pelicans that come in winter, the brown pelican that is the state bird—Louisiana-the Pelican State. see Huey Long's phallic symbol (okay, I call it that, chances are your guide will not say that . . . they will call it the Baton Rouge State Capitol Building). see the unique architecture? the swamps? the gator? the white croaked-calling egrets? the stately blue heron? see the mardi gras beads still hanging from the trees and wires? see the church, see the steeple, open it up and see all the diversified people.

Go to South Louisiana and they will feed you, not just food, but feed your soul and your eyes and your spirits. It’s a place like no other, that I can guarantee you.

FOR THOSE WHO ARE ASKING WHAT A POBOY IS: That photo above of the sandwich with the fried shrimp spilling out of it is a poboy. You can make a poboy out of any kind of meat or food- but you need the right bread - good french bread - where it's kind of soft and fluffy on the inside, but crispy on the outside, so you bit into it and it crunches but doens't fall all apart or break apart. You can have it "dressed" or not dressed - dressed means like having tomato and lettuce on it versus not having L&T on it - if I say I want it "dressed" - I know it'll have everything on it - lettuce tomato, mayo, maybe onion in some instances....

(google image from: www.poboyexpress.com)

Catching up, more photos of little one, and who is doing NANOWRIMO?

GMR's sis and friend left this morning. So now I must catch up!

Catch up on Secret Graces manuscript.

Catch up on emails.

Catch up on the Rose & Thorn Journal (if you haven't been by, go take a peek and let us know what you think).

And catch up to do on how I was posting about my Louisiana Book Festival trip to Baton Rouge.

And of course, looking at bunches of Norah Kathryn's photos! I can't wait until my trip to Oregon to see her, and Daniel and Sarah. December can't come soon enough.

So, while I am catching up, I leave you with a few more photos(above), and I will return to my regularly scheduled posts tomorrow *smiling*

I wonder - what do you need to catch up on? Do you have deadlines looming that have you a bit nervous? Or are you smoooothhing your way to deadlines or accomplishments?

Also, any of you doing Nanowrimo? I've never done it, but I have written a novel in 30 days a few years ago - it was the coolest thing ever! I had no limits, no boundaries; I just wrote for the joy of writing. I am curious to see who out there is doing NANO and where you are in your word count... GO GO GO!!! Tell me how you are doing!

Another peek at little NOrah Kathryn in Daddy's arms, & Forehead Butt Society

Daniel, Sarah, and little Norah Kathryn....yes, I am turning into "one of those" who keeps posting photos of her new granddaughter *laughing*

Forehead Butt Society Inductoreenee: Charles Dickens! Who has a double forehead butt, but I guess he can be a part of our prestigeeoose soocietry of forehead butters. Down with Botox! Show The Sign of creativity and all things whoompa loompa doodly doo, as Granny Kat does, by loving your Forehead Butt!

I have company on the mountain in the cove at our little log house - GMR's sister and friend are here until tomorrow, so I hail a hello and a hurry up and gotta go *MUWAH* - I am so so so loving the comments - Yes, I am a proud Granny Kat! Isn't she adorable - teeheehe in her little halloween cap, sleeping on Daddy's chest.

I lifted this from Gumbo Writer's blog - A photo of Angie, Me, and Cynthia at the Louisiana Book Festival! :) You can barely see my Forehead Butt (unless you click on it to enlarge) but it is there!