A DAY WITH THE DALAI LAMA

A Day with His Holiness, the Dalai Lama

As I prepare to go to another day of sitting, taking notes, listening intently as the Dalai Lama speaks, even when it is in Tibetan, I look around me at the strangeness of this place and I find myself amazed at being here, at having this opportunity, at being so far from my comfort zone 250 miles away. Only the Dalai Lama could have gotten me in the van and thru this traffic to a place I haven’t seen in over 40 years, and had no desire to ever see again, if truth be told. As the morning fog rises around me, I tuck today’s text book in my book bag and look around.
The monsters across the street rise tall in the morning mist, empty, strange shapes - a freshman level sculpture project gone wrong – sitting in the silence of the morning dew waiting for the hoards of people paying gobs of money to get locked in them to be turned upside down and twisted one way or another shrieking with fear or delight or the delight of fear that it must take to get on one of those monsters and be hurled around high above the ground. I look at them and think how strange they are and yet see a similarity between what seems unreal and our perception of what actually is real in the world. In a way Dorney Park reminds me of life and all that we are being taught, the question of reality and the choices we make.
I think about the monsters in my life, all of them created by me, by my choices, my actions, my thoughts. How, like the monsters at Dorney Park, they wait there in the morning mist, wait for me to decide which one I am going to ride that day, or if I will have the strength and knowledge, the courage to walk away from the amusement park that I call my life, to follow the Path away from senselessly repeating my mistakes over and over like the kids lining up again and again to be tossed and swirled around screaming half in fear, half in imagined pleasure on the monsters across the street – going nowhere but up and down, around and around. Cyclic existence. Samsara. Life.

One good thing about being across the street from Dorney Park is it makes it easy to find the hotel! The hotel is actually quiet in spite of being across the street from the Park, and it is clean. The staff is more than polite, anxious to please, they even used their computer to pull up maps for me and run them off to help me find my way back from the campus as campus security won’t let me go the way the GPS says to go. They took two way streets and made them one way putting me out in a place the GPS did not like. The maps are nice, but I was to discover the street names are wrong. Sigh.
The hotel breakfast is fair if one has no great interest in breakfast, but the coffee is good and I am back drinking it in great quantities, saving the Starbucks for the mountains, as it were, swilling the European Roast while trying to digest pages of print from our texts.
After a couple hours studying, the real morning starts with trying to merge into a lane of traffic and get over to the U turn lane. The voice in the box does not understand concrete medians and she gets upset that I am stupidly going out of the hotel to the right and not the left. At the end of I-78, we turn into the town of Bethlehem , or a little corner of it, the kind of corner that reminds me of what towns used to be like back in the 50s. In a couple of blocks, the GPS tells me to turn right and I do so with mixed feelings. That first day, I was shocked as the Box sent me down a tiny road and across a single lane wooden plank bridge with a few boards obviously in bad need of repair. I follow a few other folks with their Boxes on their dashes and the same voice no doubt telling them the same things she is telling me. The road makes several tight turns, maximum speed limit would be 15 mph if you were feeling real daring! Across another one lane bridge, this one steel and concrete, and in another mile we turn onto campus. The tranquility of these last 2 miles thru the woods and over a little stream helps calm my shattered nerves, still on high alert from the panic of driving on a 6 lane interstate sandwiched between 18 wheelers going at least 75 mph, an unbelievable pace for this country girl. I peel my white knuckles off the steering wheel, take a couple of deep breaths and prepare to meet the challenge of today’s lesson while wondering what kind of lesson I am learning just trying to get here each day!
It only takes a few minutes to pull the wheelchair out of the van, load it with blankets, notebooks and text books, a warm flannel shirt, the only warm thing I brought up to PA with me, and an assortment of pens in different colors and a pack of those sticky page markers for marking important pages in the day’s text. I check my pocket for the hundredth time to be sure my tickets are findable, lock the van, tuck the keys away, and start to roll up the incline to the arena.

We are studying, and His Holiness is trying to help us understand, 3 Volumes of the Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path to Enlightenment, (Lam Rim Chen Mo) by Tsong-Kha-Pa. When His Holiness fled Tibet as a young man, this text was the only text he carried with him. Tibetan Buddhist texts are written on long narrow paper, about 2 feet wide but only about 6 inches tall – kind of shaped like a big bumper sticker. He said it was his favorite text, he just had to take it with him. From time to time he actually read to us directly from the text then paused while his interpreter caught up with him and explained it to us in English. Sometimes he told us what page the translation was on in our texts. Pages quietly ruffled throughout the arena.

After the first day we started arriving on campus around 8 AM before the long lines started. It takes a while to get thru security, as bags get searched, we get wanded, and the ticket gets read by a scanner. After a couple of days, the guards recognize us and greet us as there are only a few of us coming to class in wheelchairs. There are vendors set up outside as well as in the lobby with tables of books on Buddhism and Tibet. There is a table of T-shirts, posters and mugs. I ended up buying an extra T shirt as the temp in the arena was in the low 60s. Each day I ended up wearing at least 4 shirts, my regular clothes, a T-shirt from the class over that, and my old blue plaid flannel shirt from the back of the van over that. My little meditation robe was wrapped around Anna who did not bring anything nearly warm enough and refused to wear a T shirt. People were bringing blankets from their hotels! One guy had a big beach towel he wrapped up in. By the third day, everyone had on socks. One girl wore a parka! It was really cold. Hands clutched warm cups of coffee or tea. We settled in, quietly visited with each other, shared stories about the morning’s traffic, looked for friends, or just sat quietly and watched the monks and nuns come in swirling their voluminous robes around them as they settled into their places along the stage on either side of the Dalai Lama’s seat, an elaborate elevated chair raised about 6 feet above the stage floor.

As the crowd gathered, one could not help noticing the differences and yet one could feel similarities as we were all travelers on a Path headed for the same ultimate Truth. There were great differences in ages and ethnicities, in sizes, shapes, colors and clothing styles; there were monks, nuns, and lay people, the rich and the struggling, college professors and students sitting side by side. But there was something different – a difference in the way everyone treated everyone else – a politeness, an obvious showing of respect. There was no pushing or shoving, everyone seemed to smile at everyone else. As a person in a wheelchair, I have been places where I have actually been pushed to the wall or into furniture, but here, everyone seemed anxious to help either by making room for me or by asking if they could be of any assistance. Strangers, they were total strangers, yet not one remained a stranger for more than a second or two.
Personally, I am almost as terrified of crowds as I am of highways and traffic. Each day there was between 2,000 and 3,000 people in a relatively small arena, yet it never felt like I was in a crowd. I felt like I was among friends, we just did not know each other’s names yet. I never felt “crowded.” Again, the word politeness is the only word I can think of, or that word missing in so much of today’s culture, respect. Maybe even the word kindness…

As we sat and waited for His Holiness to come onto the stage, people talked and visited, the hum of voices reminded me of standing under my redbud tree when it is in bloom and filled with bees. A steady hum… a gentle sound in spite of there being at least 2,000 people all in this space. Then suddenly, there was silence, total absolute silence as the group rose to their feet, pressed their hands together, and bowed in reverence and respect. I am not sure if any of us were even breathing! We stood in this perfect silence, slightly bowed, as He made His way across the stage, bowing to the people on stage, to the audience, turned toward his seat and the huge wall hanging of Maitreya, did his prostrations, rewrapped his robes and climbed up the stairs to his seat. I found myself envying the monk who stood behind the steps whose shoulder His Holiness held onto as he climbed to his seat. As he sat, there was only the muffled sound of 2,000 people silently sitting down and waiting. No one spoke.
The mornings began with chanting from one or more of the groups of nuns and monks sitting on the stage with His Holiness. Some of the Sutras were chanted in Chinese, some Tibetan, one day Vietnamese, and on the last day one sutra was done in English. On the second day, the chanting in Chinese was beautiful but seemed to go on forever. When they finally finished he said “Thank you” as he always did, but this day, he added, “A bit long.” The audience cracked up. His Holiness has a wonderful sense of humor and frequently chuckled about things and at times made jokes. Even when they were in Tibetan, his chuckles were so infectious, the audience chuckled along, just like we’d understood his words.
Each day as he greeted us, he chatted a bit about something as if we were all just sitting in his living room. He often teased someone about something, yet he became totally serious when discussing worldly problems, war, suffering. On several occasions he addressed the differences in religions in the world and the basic goodness of people and everyone’s desire for happiness. He mentioned the wonderful people who are Chinese and do not wish other people any harm. He talked about Islam, and that most Muslims are peaceful, loving people. Everyday started with a little lecture about nonviolence and loving each other, treating each other with respect, living mindfully, remembering the laws of karma, cause and effect, and that we all had been related to each other in some other time and place. I asked the guy sitting next to me if that meant we had been related before and this was just one big family reunion. He said, of course! And then reminded me he was my mother! He, Jeff, is Jewish, and so became my Jewish mother asking me everyday why I hadn’t called the night before! I guess his wife thought we were nuts! Or maybe she is used to this sort of thing! I was blessed to have them sitting next to me!

Sometimes His Holiness spoke in English, sometimes Tibetan with Dr Thupen Jinpa translating. Jinpa has been his translator for 23 years. I have videos of him as a much younger man with beautiful raven black hair. Now it is the color of mine! Or should I use the term multihued??? Possum colored? There were 2 big screens up on either side of the stage with whoever was speaking, chanting, or translating, sometimes with a split screen. On the bottom fourth of the screen, there was a running translation, theoretically in English, I assume from a voice recognition program which, given the accents of the speakers, probably did an amazing job, but when it screwed up, the words were often downright hilarious! Sometimes you could hear the audience suppressing a laugh as the butchered text appeared on the screen. Norah, Jeff’s wife and I frequently nudged or looked at each other or just groaned in amusement at the spellings on the screen. Some words were just simple slips, like psycho analyst but others were not even close to the intended words. Mostly I worked on watching His Holiness himself or the interpreter and not the screen so I did not get too distracted.

When he spoke in Tibetan, one’s mind was, of course, free to wander a bit. Surprisingly, mine did not wander far. But one thought kept coming back to me… I wondered about the crowds of people who had gathered to hear Jesus, especially those there for the Sermon on the Mount. How many of them realized the Greatness in their presence? How many of them felt the humility and awe of being in such a Presence? It was apparent from the respect shown by this large crowd that the people gathered in this arena on this occasion did feel something if only for those 8 hours and for that day.

After a couple hours, His Holiness would announce he was hungry, it was time for lunch. As he stood to exit the stage, once again there was that sudden total silence, like someone had hit the mute button on the remote, as we all stood, bowed with our palms pressed together in absolute silence until he was out of sight behind the curtain.
Lunch was an experience. I mention it only because it became a significant experience. There were vegetarian sandwiches available, the Portobello being especially nice, salads, fruit, and one hot Asian dish for those who wanted to stand in line waiting for an hour. There was no place to sit, most folks just sat on the floor as far away from the long lines as possible. There was a big tent outside but it was too far for us to try to go. After a couple of days, we figured out the easiest thing was for me to wait in the arena so we did not have to lug our books and blankets around, and let Anna go get lunch and bring it back to our seats. That way we had a place to sit and a spare chair or the elevated floor behind us to sit the tray on.
Lunch usually lasted about 2 to 2 ½ hours. After eating, time could be spent shopping for more books, or wandering around visiting. It was so cool to meet some of the people I had been seeing in the teaching videos and DVDs and to have a few minutes to talk to them. Each day people would try to get in to the ground level stage area to get up close to the nuns and monks, take forbidden pictures when no one was looking, and push for a space up near the barricade that separated the audience from the people on the stage and His Holiness. People begged and one woman even tried to bribe one of the security people into letting her stand back in the area where His Holiness had to walk thru to get on the stage. For the hundredth time that week, I heard the speech about how tight security was, not only the local cops, campus police and campus security, but there were dozens of what we called “Suits” walking around, security forces from the State Department that even sat on either side of the stage when His Holiness was there, escorted him on and off the stage, and walked the perimeters of the seating areas, floor and bleachers. Just trying to get in the place meant getting past at least 50 obvious security people and who knows how many others in plain clothes.
One of the reasons security was so tight was because there were demonstrators standing outside shouting at the Dalai Lama on Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. And, let’s face it, there are some nutty people out there. I was told that the Chinese government paid this group of people to follow His Holiness around and try to harass him. So the Dalai Lama did not take his usual stroll among the people, and we were kept a safe distance from him. Consequently, there was also that 4 foot high barrier set up on the floor to keep people from getting too close to the stage.

There is a custom from Tibet of offering a scarf known as a Khata to a Lama or respected teacher which has to be folded and presented in a specific way. Generally the Khata is taken by the Lama and blessed and then placed over the giver’s bowed head. Google Khata and read the meaning and about the ritual. Well, people were lined up with khatas and malas (prayer beads) and things to be blessed, but no one was being allowed even close to His Holiness. I had emailed his official site, in India, and asked how I could present His Holiness with a Khata, and they in turn gave me the official phone number in NYC. I called that number with my request and got another number, eventually connecting with his right hand man in the States who travels with him and makes all his arrangements. His name is Tashi Wangdi, and he gave me his cell phone number and told me to call him when we all were at the arena. And so I did. He explained security was very tight, the university and secret service people were not letting anyone even close to His Holiness. But, he took my name and cell phone # and said if he could work it out, he would give me a call.
The last day of the teaching was half over. My Khata was still sealed in its plastic bag in my purse. I had given up any hopes of getting it blessed. Anna left for lunch; the arena was down to probably only a hundred people or so, so I rolled my wheelchair over to the rail closest to the stage to get a better look at the flower arrangements. A man came out from the back to speak to a couple of people down near the corner of the stage. As he turned, I recognized his face (don’tcha just love Google?) and I called out, “Tashi!” He turned and looked up at the railing above. I introduced myself and repeated my request. I guess he saw the sincerity in my face and that I was not just a groupie type autograph hunter, and he said he would see what he could do. He spoke with security. They came to the floor beneath my perch at the railing, so they would recognize me, talked to me for a minute, and decided to let me thru.
The long and short of it is – at 1:45, the chief of police gave me an escort to the backstage area where His Holiness comes thru the curtain, and we waited. As He came thru the curtain surrounded by the Suits, the audience fell silent, standing and bowing. He did a short detour to where I was standing, bowed, holding my Khata. He beamed the most beautiful smile, took my face in his hands, pressed his forehead to mine, said something in Tibetan, took the Khata, blessed it, putting it to his head, and placed it around my neck. He said a few more words, held my hands, patted my head, and I am sure it took only a second but time truly stood still. I thanked him as profusely as I could since I was beyond speechless. I sat back down in the wheelchair as he climbed up onto the stage. I should have remained standing, I suppose, but I swear I was afraid my knees would buckle. Tashi then came into view. He, too, was beaming at me. I thanked him, also. He looked pleased to have been able to get me back there.
The chief pushed me back to the elevator and to my seat. The security person for our section asked Anna how I’d managed to pull that one off! He was impressed.
As far as I know, from what security told me, I was the only person in the arena to get beyond the barricades. I did not see anyone else manage it though many tried. He did bless some people who were standing next to the fence outside where he entered the building that first day, but once he was in the building, no one got near him. And after that first day, security kept him covered. So from what I was told and saw, I was the only one in the arena to get to present him with a Khata. Anna is sure others did too, but I didn’t see it. And it doesn’t matter. Whether I was the only one or I was one of a thousand, not important… I was and am so blessed.
Whereas previously we had all been sitting huddling under shirts and blankets, I was suddenly burning up. It would have been interesting to take my temperature! I was on fire! I took off the heavy flannel shirt and tried to cool down. I stayed toasty warm the rest of the day. I am sure there is an explanation for that, but I don’t know what it is. All I know is, that experience was higher than any high I have ever experienced. As I finish writing this, days later, the high is still there. I have been touched by Pure Love and I have no words to describe it.

The monsters in the park are far away now, but my own monsters still lurk around the corners. Hopefully, maybe I have a better understanding of them and their reality. My six days studying with the Dalai Lama are over, but there is something that will stay with me forever, or at least I hope it will. The studying will continue, the desire, the motivation to get my act together is there, not just from a Dalai Lama high, but because he told me to think, to reason it out. Buddhism is not a religion of blind faith – doing something just because someone told you to believe, to do it; it is a philosophy, as the Dalai Lama said, “It is the science of mind.”

LAST NIGHT'S STORM, THIS MORNING'S EXCITEMENT

Ma Nature put on a good sound and light show last night, and apparently she also let loose with a brief puff of wind. This shot is crooked, but it shows the length of the tree. Apparently, the wind gust was only 32 mph, at least at a neighbor's a half mile away, but it was enough to snap a gum tree off and dump it in the driveway, the top just barely landing on the order van. More firewood for my neighbor!

COUSIN BOO

From time to time I feel compelled to do an article on people that are my heroes, role models, or just plain super people, IMHO! In the past, I have mentioned people who have accomplished amazing feats in spite of great physical hardships, feats that I probably could not do if I had all my body parts working in perfect harmony. In our world of today it seems like so much emphasis is on youth. Since my youth is a distant memory, I now look towards people who are no longer in the blush of their springtime yet are not only hanging in there, but are still running on overdrive and doing a damned good job at it!
As I have gone thru 60 odd years of life (and some of them have been odder than others) I have had the good fortune to get to know some amazing and wonderful people. One of them is my cousin Boo. Boo’s real name is Frances Long. I am allowed to tell you that she is now 82 years old. Boo is now a widow, her husband, Jack, was a totally cool guy, but you didn’t want to play cards with him! He’d whup your butt, but have you rolling on the floor laughing while he did it. One of the best things about Jack was he encouraged Boo in her love of and pursuit of MUSIC. Not little letters music, but MUSIC. Boo has been writing, and recording music since forever, and teaching music in her spare time. Boo’s first gold record was sung by the Mills Brothers, I think… back in 1967 . I was barely a puppy then. I remember seeing the record on the wall in her music studio.
She has had a number of songs on the Country and Pop national charts. She received a BMI Award for the number 1 song, “Room in Your Heart” co-written and recorded by Sonny James who also recorded her song, “More Than Ever.”
The Alabama Country Music Association nominated Boo Writer of the Year in 1987. Boo was 61.
In 2001, she won the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Gospel Songwriters of Alabama, age 75.
Boo has a Certificate of Merit for the Top 1% from the International Song Contest sponsored by Billboard and KFC.
She won first place in the Mississippi song contest sponsored by the Mississippi Poetry Society, and won 3rd place in the Tennessee Poetry Song Contest in 2001.
The World of Poetry has recognized her with 39 Awards of Merit and the Golden Poet Award for 1986, 87, 88, 89,90, 91, and 92.
Boo has her own music company, Jacilyn Music – see jacilynmusic.com.

Boo just sent me a CD with 20 songs on it. She seems to think I hate some of her music, but I don’t. I just prefer some kinds of music to others. If I had a choice of going to a Bach concert or a Gospel Sing, I would, no doubt, head into the Bach auditorium. On the other hand, if I knew they were performing some of Boo’s music, I would be there in the front row! Actually, I am listening to Boo’s CD as I write this. She included some stuff she KNEW I would really love, some easy listening instrumentals that I will probably put on my computer to listen to again and again – maybe copy to a disc I can use in the car. Boo emailed me to tell me she was sending me a CD.
“I ALSO SENT YOU A C D WITH 20 SONGS ON IT.... DIFFERENT GENRE ... AND AVOIDED THE GENRE I KNOW YOU WOULD HATE. I LIKE ALL THE SONGS.... BUT THEN I WROTE THEM.... HOWEVER I HAVE WRITTEN BUNCHES OF SONGS I DON'T LIKE AT ALL. MAYBE YOU WILL ENJOY A FEW. I HAVE 36 ALBUMS SO FAR AND 3 PENDING ... I HAVE TO GET
ON WITH IT... AT 82 I REALLY DON'T HAVE THAT MUCH TIME TO WASTE SO I DO THE THINGS THAT PLEASE ME MOST. AND RECORDING & WRITING MUSIC PLEASES ME MORE THAN ANYTHING. I DO STILL LIKE TO EAT BUT IT DOESN'T TASTE AS GOOD AS IT USED TO. I THINK THAT COMES WITH AGE. SOME THINGS I REALLY LIKE ARE MOSTLY THINGS I SHOULDN'T EAT ANYMORE... WHY IS IT THAT WHEN YOU GET TO THE POINT WHERE YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT TO DO.... YOU CAN'T DO IT ANYMORE? DOES THAT MAKE GOOD SENSE?”
Boo has even written a song about my little Possum, PITA. It is the coolest song! Boo’s albums include children’s music, country, easy listening, Christian, holiday, and comedy.
Let me make this clear, the only music I actually hate is Gangsta Rap with its words of violence and disrespect for women or any “music” that seems to focus on the F word. Since I believe our thoughts are our prayers, our music would be our hymns. With that in mind, I don’t think music should sound like a curse. Some of Boo’s music is a bit silly, but I am sure God has a sense of humor and would definitely approve! Boo’s F words are Fun, Family and Faith, not necessarily in that order.

So here is the point in this blog – and I haven’t even come close to making it yet – Boo is definitely one of my heroes in life. Not because of her music. Not because she has written some of the nicest songs I have ever heard, and even though a big part of my admiration for her is because at 82 she is still writing and recording and supervising the production of her music, that is still not all of it. Boo is one of the sweetest, most loving women I have ever had the pleasure and honor, to meet and know. She has the most infectious sense of humor – I swear she will have you in stitches in 2 minutes. Look at the picture of her standing in front of the window at the top of this post. See that hint of a Mona Lisa smile? See the laughter in her eyes? The beauty of her soul just shines thru and she can’t stop it! I just had to share it with you. Besides, she calls me her favorite cousin... or do I call her my favorite cousin???? Or do we both... well, you get the idea... As the kids today would say, Boo rocks.

Doesn't she look so well behaved and proper?????? That's not to say she isn't, mind you....

WHERE YA BEEN?

Answer - if I am not out in the garden, I am out politicin'! Well, not really... Last week we went to the State Democratic Convention (I have given up on the Republicans and this time it is the last time. I ain't comin' back!) I have never ever been involved in poitics except to complain like most everyone else - but this time, things have gone too far. I will not get into my deepest feelings, but I have to say - I have jumped to the other side. HE may be a WAR president, but I am for PEACE. Bring our kids home. Anyway, for those of you who have never seen me or those of you who have not seen me in YEARS - here I am with probably our next governor, Brian Moran. Now I am still listening to the other candidate, the jury is still out, but this guy impressed me.

Needless to say, it is that time of year where every spare minute in the morning is spent outside pulling weeds, cutting grass, cleaning up whatever needs to be cleaned up... All I can say is I wish the grass would grow in the yard as well as it does in the garden! This morning I picked peas, again, and dug my onions. See the carrots behing the peas? And the grass in the peas?

The tommy-toes needed more tying up. It is exciting to see the little ones on the vines. These are the cherry tomatoes.

The yellow wax beans are almost ready to pick. This is the first year they have made it to the picking stage. The other time I grew them, I did not have a fence around the garden and so the rabbits or deer ate the whole crop. I think I got 3 beans.

The deer also ate my blueberry bushes down to stubs this last winter because I took the netting off them and did not get it back on fast enough. That was one of those weeks when I wasn't able to walk out there, let alone do any work. Oh well. So, this is the only bush they did not eat.

This fall I am going to have to build a net cage for the raspberries. I think I have gotten 4 raspberries this year. But, so what. Half the fun is just having the plants and thinking I am going to maybe get something to eat from them! The other half is knowing I have well fed birds, deer, and rabbits!

The deer have eaten most of my neighbor's hostas. So far, mine have made it this year - but this one was chewed to the ground last year. It has struggled to come back and even bloomed this year. I really didn't expect it to make it so I had planted a pansy there last fall. This is the combined bloom! A bigger blue hosta is only a couple of feet away. I have noticed a number of leaves coming down during the last couple of thunderstorms. This yellow leaf must have landed on the hosta last night. A yellow leaf! It isn't even officially summer! Wow!

Next, the lilies!

A MAGNOLIUS DAY

Yeah, I can spell better than that... but that is what a neighbor of mine says... "It is a magnolius day!" It is the time of year when not much seems to be happening in the flower garden and things are just starting to happen in the veggie garden - I actually have tiny peas in those pods, for example. But, it is the time of year when the magnificent magnolias are in bloom. Oh how I love magnolias. Yes, they are messy to clean up after, but who isn't? Its nicer than a litter box or certain people's smelly sox on the floor. I won't mention any thing more about that! The cactus has just opened! What a yellow!

I have been busy in the yard trying to get half way caught up with the weeds and briars. I was doing real well, too, but my doctor grounded me. Well, the pain grounded me, I am just so stubborn I need someone "in authority" to actually say the words for me to understand it was time to back off or I would not make it to my class next month with the Dalai Lama - and this is a chance of a life time, so I'd better not blow it! But the weeds, honeysuckle, wild berry bushes, poison ivy, baby locust trees, sumac and such can really take over a yard if given any opportunity. And they really do take over the old stumps where I can't get in too close with the mowers. That pile of stuff growing on this stump is over my head! So... I have to get in with the hedge cutters and serious branch clippers and heavy duty rake. It is a tough job! See the little magnolia tree next to the big tree? OK, it is not that small, it is 8 feet tall - but it was completely buried under honeysuckle, VA Creeper and any other weed that could grow out there. The briars grow up into the trees and cover the azaleas and camellias if given a chance. Can you even find the azalea under all that stuff?? It is in there, right under the briars. These briars came out of the trees around the azalea. It was like playing tug o war with a tree! I had to quit when I got as far as the poison ivy.

Then, too, we have had a couple bad T-storms lately and lost a few branches. Who is going to clean this up? Spook? Punkin? Doesn't look like it, now does it? Not a lick of help from that department.

So, I thought I would try to look at the bright side of things... I was able to walk out in the yard and take a few pictures of the few things that are blooming... my sole surviving hollyhock (why can't I keep hollyhocks???) a few pansies the deer haven't eaten... The Peace rose is starting its second set of blooms. Soon the blueberries will be ripe. I can almost taste them! One of my Buddhas has almost disappeared behind the English daisy plant. I am going to have to see if I can split that plant up this fall. I hope you appreciate the effort it took to take these shots... not just the walking, but this is the first day of needing the A/C in order to breathe, but I also graciously (well, maybe not) fed this years first batch of starving mosquitoes to get these pictures. You're welcome!

The END of MAY

The end of May... where has it gone?????

As we get ready to finish this month, I have been asked about Snuffy who had surgery for a tumor on the underside of his tongue. He is still eating baby food (at a buck a jar!) and is finally gaining back a bit of weight (at 3 jars a day!) He still has trouble getting the cat food down, even when it is in his specially elevated dish. But, he is happy and still with us, 10 years longer than we ever expected.

Out in the yard, a new peony has opened. I am real excited because I have not had much luck with red peonies here in Virginia. We have TONS of peonies at the house in PA, but I will miss them this year as we will not get up there in time. I will be studying with the Dalai Lama in July and so will wait to go to the Poconos after I have finished at the University. So I am thrilled that this one opened!

The shed is done. I still need to find a latch for the doors, but am not going to drive 60 miles for that! It will wait. The Mountain Laurel is open. The climbing rose is blooming as is the Peace rose. The clemetis is beautiful this year. That is St Fwankie behind the clemetis. The robins have fledged. Look carefully. How many do you see? There were 3 of them in this tiny nest! You can see 2 of them in this picture. I scared them yesterday when I went out to fill the feeders. They blasted out of the camellia, one went up into the tree, one ran to a bush, and one ran out into the road. Now most of you know I can barely walk, let alone run! But I went out in the road after the littlest robin. OMG! Have you ever tried to catch a baby robin? But, I kept going finally scooping him up about a mile away. Well, that is what my knees and back said... and put him safely back in the nest. The feeders remain empty. sigh.

It is Memorial Day week-end. Pray for Peace. Pray for healing. Pray someone will find a way to bring our troops home. Pray the killing will end. Pray for healing, for all of us. Have a safe and thoughtful week-end.

MORE FROM MAY

MORE FROM MAY

First, let me start with trying to get another picture of the “arm in the tree!”

I took my trusty little Nikon outside to get the picture while the sun was right and looked around to see what else was in bloom so I could get a few more flower shots. As I was focusing on an iris out front, there was a sound I have learned only too well living on this street – metal on blacktop. My road is a narrow, bumpy turtle back road. People drive by here much too fast, many of them hauling boats. If you are a regular on this blog, you have seen pictures of boats that have come loose and jumped the drainage ditch, slid up the bank, and have landed up in my yard. I am trying to understand why people forget to put the pins in or fasten the chains or in some way secure their boats – but it seems many of them do not. Anyway, I heard the metal on road sound and looked up in time to see a boat dragging on the road, the truck stopping, and the boat run into the truck. Smack! If you look closely, you can see the tree with the “arm” right behind the boat. After they got the truck and boat out of there and on its way, I ventured out in the road to get a closer pic of the “arm.” Good thing as it is now covered with leaves and tiny white flowers.

Meanwhile, in the rest of the yard, the plants are struggling to recover from a heavy rain and lots of wind. The iris took a beating, but a couple of new ones have managed to come out and are upright. The Siberian iris is amazing this year. This all started with just one plant. They are tiny but ever so sweet.

I am watching the mountain laurel slowly open. I think I enjoy the buds as much as the blooms!

Two years ago my underground oil tank started to take in water. We put in an above ground system, hating the appearance of this huge tank sitting out back, and it cost a fortune to fill it the first time. Little did I know what a fortune it would take to keep it full! Then, some of the residents on this fine shore got the idea of going around to people’s homes and liberating their fuel oil. Locks on the tanks mean nothing if you have the strength to wield a pipe wrench. So, a few members of the community went to Wal-Mart where you can buy big 10 gallon plastic tanks with long siphon hoses on them, and at $4 a gallon, discovered a new business venture. So, for the cost of a full tank of oil, many people are building sheds to cover their oil tanks. Hopefully mine will be finished this week. Out of sight, out of mind. At least that is the plan.

You all have a good week! Take time to tell your flowers you love them! And maybe a person or two...............

EAGLES AND OSPREYS

It has been a while since we visited our bird families on the blog. Thought you might like an update. The baby eagles are in the branching stage, which means, for those of you not into bird watching, they are venturing to the edges of the nest and even out on a supporting branch, and engaging in a bit of wing flapping. The camera is not set up to show them away from the nest, but this shot shows how big the wings have grown on the older chick.

The ospreys have not done so well. We had quite a storm last week-end, I know I got over 4 inches of rain. It was very cool and windy. As you can see from this picture, there was a lot of tidal flooding, and there still is a lot of high water in places. Well, at the peak of the storm, Mama left her nest. I guess it was too much for her. She was gone over an hour. The eggs got chilled and then a crow spotted them and had lunch. She and Papa are still mating. He is still feeding her. She sat for a while on the broken shells but finally figured out there were no eggs there anymore. Sitting and wishing would not bring them back. It is doubtful they will have another clutch as it is late in the season, and they got off to a late start. At first I thought there was a new egg, bottom left corner of the nest, but she has ignored it and it, too, has disappeared.

TOO WEIRD

IS THIS MONDAY MORNING OR WHAT?

First, I wanted to share a few um, slightly unusual pictures with you, and my blog kept translating everything to Hindi. Well, that is pretty to look at, but just a tad hard to read. Anyway, here are some strange little pictures that just don't fit in any particular category.This lovely lady was at the entrance to the motel at Smith Mountain Lake where we stayed when we celebrated Caleb's birthday. See her earring?
Washed my sneakers the other day, put them outside to dry. I long ago learned to check for critters before I brought any shoes back inside, and there was this little critter! See him? A Praying Mantis. In a Nike. Well, the cat tries to stick his head in there all the time, so why not a Praying Mantis? And then, there is the arm in the tree... can you see it? Sleeve rolled up almost to the shoulder, see the elbow, hand????? If it ever stops raining, I will take this shot again and get closer to it... Among my favorite creatures in the Hobbit series were the Ents, remember them? I am sure this is one of them!

MORE FROM THE YARD

I don't remember the peonies blooming this early... but what do I know? But they sure look nice with the azaleas beside them.The fringe tree is even prettier - hard to imagine. A new iris, strange colors... and the white iris could have its own blog this year - plus, it is so fragrant!
A lady stopped by today and said she loved my yard and the way everything looked so natural. Said she like formal gardens allright, but my gardens were "so comfortable, the kind of gardens you can dream in." Whatever that means. Mostly I dream about having all the weeds pulled... The grass cut... the mulch moved... no poison ivy (or piesin ivory as the old folks say.) She said my gardens smelled so sweet! Well, the holly is in bloom. I assume you know girl holly from boy holly. The boy holly smells real sweet right now. Then there are the Locust trees - super sweet!Sorry, it was real windy when I took these pictures, but you get the idea, and this was shooting up into the tree in the evening. The digitalis doesn't seem to have any fragrance but it sure is pretty. It just pops up wherever it feels like it. I just let it grow.. A number of years ago I found this old fashioned rose growing wild out in the woods behind my house. I moved it just before they cut all my pine trees down. It smells like roses used to smell at my Grandmother's house. The Columbine just pops up wherever it wants to also. Azaleas and Iris, iris, iris. This is a young magnolia tree my dear friend Jackie gave me. It is now taller than I am. They say it takes 15 years for them to bloom. I am counting. Spook is giving it a pep talk here. This was a shot of Spook, so it is not a great shot of the tree, but I decided to include it anyway. Also, in apology or explanation for the darkness of some of these shots, it was evening, and it was very windy. The cats followed me and my visitor all around the gardens. Great company, cats.