"I find it hard to believe that anyone would fire a weapon in a neighborhood not to mention with intent to kill an animal like a peregrine falcon." --Glenn Stewart, director of Santa Cruz Predatory Bird Research Group.
Today the San Mateo Times incorporated this quote into their article exploring the tragedy of two falcons shot by pellet guns in Oakland, CA. The birds are recuperating at the Lindsay Wildlife Museum's hospital. Falcon lovers throughout the bay area have created a reward in hopes of attracting informants.
As of Sunday, 51 homicides have occurred in Oakland, CA. Obviously, this well-intentioned gentleman does not live in Oakland if he finds it hard to believe a weapon would be fired in the neighborhood. I have no idea how many shots have been fired thus far this year, but nearly two people a week are found dead.
The speaker paused only long enough to contemplate the horrors of someone intending to kill an animal. Ummm...what about the horrors of killing another human being?
Ironically the homicides occur so regularly that they don't even make the news. The falcons made the news. Now, don't get me wrong I admire the falcon too, and I am not a proponent of shooting at them; however, for me, there is something critically wrong in a world where the injury of birds in one of the most violent communities in the country provokes comments like this.
Until value in human life is restored, society will be out of balance. (along with their budget)
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Fireflies
If my memory serves me correctly, a year ago we were cruising across the West closing in on our destination...California--like fireflies flitting here and there.
My new home greeted me late at night, and I still remember the sweet scent of Jasmine, as I stood beneath the moonlight.
Boxes, boxes, boxes were everywhere.
Ironically we were unpacking boxes last night. Some of the ones in the garage that just seemed too daunting to tackle. Last week I sorted through the last six boxes upstairs. These days I tend to recycle or toss quickly.
But this morning, as I sit here quietly with my tea...I miss my old neighborhood. I miss the woods. I miss all the kids playing. I miss the pool. I miss the friendly smiles and waves. I miss Mr. Lessor giving me a hard time about not wearing shoes. I miss the warm nights as the kids played hide and seek with flashlights. I miss the wide open yards that were shared generously...especially as I gaze out at my high fence.
Aaahhh...Pittsburgh I loved my stay with you and all the warm memories...and the fireflies!
My new home greeted me late at night, and I still remember the sweet scent of Jasmine, as I stood beneath the moonlight.
Boxes, boxes, boxes were everywhere.
Ironically we were unpacking boxes last night. Some of the ones in the garage that just seemed too daunting to tackle. Last week I sorted through the last six boxes upstairs. These days I tend to recycle or toss quickly.
But this morning, as I sit here quietly with my tea...I miss my old neighborhood. I miss the woods. I miss all the kids playing. I miss the pool. I miss the friendly smiles and waves. I miss Mr. Lessor giving me a hard time about not wearing shoes. I miss the warm nights as the kids played hide and seek with flashlights. I miss the wide open yards that were shared generously...especially as I gaze out at my high fence.
Aaahhh...Pittsburgh I loved my stay with you and all the warm memories...and the fireflies!
Monday, June 27, 2011
Caw! Caw! Caw!
The crow sits on my fence at 6 AM.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
He is waiting to steal dog food for breakfast.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I am ready to shoot the annoying bird. Illegal, I know.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I have briefly considered a scarecrow, but it would take up my whole Californian backyard.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I am not particularly fond of crows.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I remember sitting on my front porch swing in Montana with my little boy. We watched a couple crows swoop into a little ornamental tree in the front yard. The thick green leaves were accented with bright red buds. When the crows disappeared into the foliage, immediately the shreiking of birds reverberated through the street, as the leaves and branches shook violently. Then a small songbird fell to the ground, as the bullies flew away.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
Dead.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
My little boy asked me, "Why?"
I still do not know.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
The crow sits on my fence at 6 AM.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
He is waiting to steal dog food for breakfast.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I am ready to shoot the annoying bird. Illegal, I know.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I have briefly considered a scarecrow, but it would take up my whole Californian backyard.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I am not particularly fond of crows.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
I remember sitting on my front porch swing in Montana with my little boy. We watched a couple crows swoop into a little ornamental tree in the front yard. The thick green leaves were accented with bright red buds. When the crows disappeared into the foliage, immediately the shreiking of birds reverberated through the street, as the leaves and branches shook violently. Then a small songbird fell to the ground, as the bullies flew away.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
Dead.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
My little boy asked me, "Why?"
I still do not know.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
Little Feet
Once upon a time, long, long ago in China young girls' feet were bound tightly. The four smaller toes would be broken and wrapped tightly in bandages. Periodically the bandages would be tightened to pull the arch of the foot towards the ankle. The perfect length of three inches would assure a woman the title of golden lotus.
As I stood before this display of shoes at a local art museum, I felt a wave of indescribable emotion engulf me. Those tiny shoes would barely fit a toddler. These were the shoes Fred had tried to describe to me. The shoes his mother wore. The shoes his aunt wore. The pain he witnessed as he watched these two women navigate life with deformed feet.
Now I understood his tenderness towards his mother...for her hard, hard life. His story came alive to me in this moment, as I gazed at the beautifully embroidered shoes.
A few days early I had held their family portrait. I had noticed immediately that his mother's feet were tiny compared to her daughters' feet in solid Mary Jane shoes--and they were not even ten years old yet.
His aunt lived at a mine site in the Sierra Nevada Mountain range. She spent her life tending the little cottage and garden in isolation. She seldom left. The walk to town was too far. She would send her son. And amidst all her duties, she would carefully stitch her own shoes and embroider beautiful designs.
The culture complexities aside, these tiny shoes are a tribute to two strong women I have the privilege to know through the boy they raised.
As I stood before this display of shoes at a local art museum, I felt a wave of indescribable emotion engulf me. Those tiny shoes would barely fit a toddler. These were the shoes Fred had tried to describe to me. The shoes his mother wore. The shoes his aunt wore. The pain he witnessed as he watched these two women navigate life with deformed feet.
Now I understood his tenderness towards his mother...for her hard, hard life. His story came alive to me in this moment, as I gazed at the beautifully embroidered shoes.
A few days early I had held their family portrait. I had noticed immediately that his mother's feet were tiny compared to her daughters' feet in solid Mary Jane shoes--and they were not even ten years old yet.
His aunt lived at a mine site in the Sierra Nevada Mountain range. She spent her life tending the little cottage and garden in isolation. She seldom left. The walk to town was too far. She would send her son. And amidst all her duties, she would carefully stitch her own shoes and embroider beautiful designs.
The culture complexities aside, these tiny shoes are a tribute to two strong women I have the privilege to know through the boy they raised.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Ridin'
As the Harley roared down the road, I gazed at the setting sun through the redwoods.
Chillin' on a Friday night...literally. The cool ocean front moved in quickly across Skyline Drive and temperatures dropped. I was prepared...dressed in layers.
However, my legs were cold. By the time we arrived back home, I concluded it is time to buy those riding chaps I have been thinking about for years.
Wondering how I will look as a Biker Mama...
Chillin' on a Friday night...literally. The cool ocean front moved in quickly across Skyline Drive and temperatures dropped. I was prepared...dressed in layers.
However, my legs were cold. By the time we arrived back home, I concluded it is time to buy those riding chaps I have been thinking about for years.
Wondering how I will look as a Biker Mama...
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
30 Miles
The Boy Scouts hiked through Castle Rock State Park and Big Basin Redwoods on their way to the trails end--the Pacific Ocean. As the exhausted hikers felt the cool breeze and sniffed the salty air, their pace quickened. Soon the blue of their goal came into sight, and Kade deserted his 27 pound pack and hiking boots. The warm sand brought therapeutic relief to his weary feet. The cool waters lapped at his legs.
My 75 pound boy is so slender that his backpack couldn't be cinched tight enough around his waist, so it slowly rubbed his back until blisters formed on the first day. To alleviate the soreness on the next days, a layer of moleskin was applied and covered with duct tape--never leave home without it!
My little boy's accomplishment makes me proud, but I really am happy to have him home again. I missed him. Though the night he returned, he set up his tent and repacked his belongings into a new pack...preparing for the next hike while the blisters were still oozing. Dedication.
My 75 pound boy is so slender that his backpack couldn't be cinched tight enough around his waist, so it slowly rubbed his back until blisters formed on the first day. To alleviate the soreness on the next days, a layer of moleskin was applied and covered with duct tape--never leave home without it!
My little boy's accomplishment makes me proud, but I really am happy to have him home again. I missed him. Though the night he returned, he set up his tent and repacked his belongings into a new pack...preparing for the next hike while the blisters were still oozing. Dedication.
Monday, June 20, 2011
My volatile relationship continues with the grocery store.
Like...
As I stand in the self-checkout the clerk approaches me and takes the bottle of wine out of my hand and demands to see my ID. Delighted I immediately complied. Evidently I look younger when I don't have my children in tow.
Dislike...
I ask the big girls if they woould like to try the limited edition Doritos that are vintage packaged (from my childhood).
"But mom, aren't they expired?" my delightfully sassy daughter inquires. Her mischievous grin begs my forgiveness, as her sister giggles.
Moral--go to the grocery store alone.
Like...
As I stand in the self-checkout the clerk approaches me and takes the bottle of wine out of my hand and demands to see my ID. Delighted I immediately complied. Evidently I look younger when I don't have my children in tow.
Dislike...
I ask the big girls if they woould like to try the limited edition Doritos that are vintage packaged (from my childhood).
"But mom, aren't they expired?" my delightfully sassy daughter inquires. Her mischievous grin begs my forgiveness, as her sister giggles.
Moral--go to the grocery store alone.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Dad
On my wedding day 19 years ago with my dad. In a simple dress that fit perfectly because my mother made it. It was trimmed in the lace my grandmother crocheted. I wouldn't change anything that day. It was perfect.
The June grass was green and lush along the prairie riverbottom. It was the day after my father's birthday. He spent his birthday mowing and hauling bales to the wedding site and anything else to appease me and my mother.
As we walked to the altar...it was merely a majestic cotton wood tree that survived the hardships of the prairie only to rise again. I remember the song, Daddy's Hands, played. It is still one of my favorites.
Before we left, my dear friend captured a few more photos as the clouds rolled in. I love the hazy moment, as it transcends time--in my mind I can see my great-grandmother pausing on the prairie with her new husband.
Now the man in the hat bequeathing a gentle kiss is a father too. Today he is hiking the coastal mountains along the Pacific Ocean with his son on a 30 mile backpack trip that started yesterday.
My father is farther away, but he is always close in heart.
I remember Daddy´s hands, folded silently in prayer.
And reaching out to hold me, when I had a nightmare.
You could read quite a story, in the callouses and lines.
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind.
I remember Daddy´s hands, how they held my Mama tight,
And patted my back, for something done right.
There are things that I´ve forgotten, that I loved about the man,
But I´ll always remember the love in Daddy´s hands.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
"A California tumbleweed," states my second daughter a bit matter-of-factly.
I scan the road. The prairie has the biggest tumbleweeds ever, so I am curious.
Nothing.
I keep searching.
Nothing...except a plastic bag tumbling down the sidewalk.
Ah-hah. Sarcasm. I got it!
Love her sense of humor. Just like her daddy.
And...maybe there is a reason Californians are trying to ban plastic bags.
I scan the road. The prairie has the biggest tumbleweeds ever, so I am curious.
Nothing.
I keep searching.
Nothing...except a plastic bag tumbling down the sidewalk.
Ah-hah. Sarcasm. I got it!
Love her sense of humor. Just like her daddy.
And...maybe there is a reason Californians are trying to ban plastic bags.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Last Day
Beneath the California sun, I warmly watched my son receive his promotional certificate, as he bids elementary school farewell today.
Though it was in the moments of celebration I enjoyed watching the kids most. The hastily scrawled signatures and big smiles were shared generously away from the flashing cameras.
My favorite moment of the day was when the boys delightedly unwrapped their present from Mr. Tim who served as a classroom aide. He loved ice breakers, and the kids were always pestering him to share with them. To mark their special day, he brought each child a neatly wrapped gift...their very own package!
My son adored the clever gesture.
These are the moments that bring a lump into my throat. Mr. Tim shared his trademark with the kids. It was not elaborate or hasty. It was a simple token, but he shared something of himself (symbolically) with each child--as he had throughout the year. The boys moved too quickly for me to capture the unwrapping, but I appreciated Mr. Tim's attention to detail. I like to think he reflected on his memories of each child throughout the year, as he carefully prepared their surprise. His heart is that big.
I suspect as the years slip by Kade will look back and remember the man who gave him the Icebreakers and that warm smile. An imprint for the heart.
Though it was in the moments of celebration I enjoyed watching the kids most. The hastily scrawled signatures and big smiles were shared generously away from the flashing cameras.
My favorite moment of the day was when the boys delightedly unwrapped their present from Mr. Tim who served as a classroom aide. He loved ice breakers, and the kids were always pestering him to share with them. To mark their special day, he brought each child a neatly wrapped gift...their very own package!
My son adored the clever gesture.
These are the moments that bring a lump into my throat. Mr. Tim shared his trademark with the kids. It was not elaborate or hasty. It was a simple token, but he shared something of himself (symbolically) with each child--as he had throughout the year. The boys moved too quickly for me to capture the unwrapping, but I appreciated Mr. Tim's attention to detail. I like to think he reflected on his memories of each child throughout the year, as he carefully prepared their surprise. His heart is that big.
I suspect as the years slip by Kade will look back and remember the man who gave him the Icebreakers and that warm smile. An imprint for the heart.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Yesterday morning, I headed over the bridge to the East Bay to explore the world of campers for our crazy summer road trip. I invited the man with the money to accompany me, and fearing for his wallet, he managed to escape from work briefly to join me!
Afterwards, it was nearly lunchtime, so I suggested we should dine together (gasp). A drive down the street lead us to a shopping plaze that appeared to have a few options, but as we circled the plaza we discovered that every entrance to a neighboring business complex was blocked by cop cars with lights flashing and solemn men in uniform vigilantly watching.
Undeterred by the neighboring activity, we pulled into the plaza and sat down in a little restaurant that was still prepping for the lunch hour. As our food arrived, so did the sound of choppers. Somehow, I can't recall the taste of the food, but I can tell you my stomach was starting to knot as Ron and I exchanged apprehensive looks. Interestingly, the restaurant workers didn't even seem to notice as the copter hovered back and forth.
I stepped out of the restuarant a bit tentatively. All around us folks were attending to business as usual merely glancing occasionally up at the sky beneath the roar.
As I drove away, I thought about my quiet prairie childhood where I could hear the crickets in the shade during the day or lay on the hillside with my brother and watch the clouds shift shapes as quickly as our imaginations.
Afterwards, it was nearly lunchtime, so I suggested we should dine together (gasp). A drive down the street lead us to a shopping plaze that appeared to have a few options, but as we circled the plaza we discovered that every entrance to a neighboring business complex was blocked by cop cars with lights flashing and solemn men in uniform vigilantly watching.
Undeterred by the neighboring activity, we pulled into the plaza and sat down in a little restaurant that was still prepping for the lunch hour. As our food arrived, so did the sound of choppers. Somehow, I can't recall the taste of the food, but I can tell you my stomach was starting to knot as Ron and I exchanged apprehensive looks. Interestingly, the restaurant workers didn't even seem to notice as the copter hovered back and forth.
I stepped out of the restuarant a bit tentatively. All around us folks were attending to business as usual merely glancing occasionally up at the sky beneath the roar.
As I drove away, I thought about my quiet prairie childhood where I could hear the crickets in the shade during the day or lay on the hillside with my brother and watch the clouds shift shapes as quickly as our imaginations.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Miss you
The feel of your little head resting on my shoulder, your warm little body, the gentle whisper of your breath as we rocked together for your morning nap.
Time stopped as I paused to enjoy your sweetness baby girl!
Monday, June 6, 2011
The Sands of Time
Little feet explore the sand.
Sandy smiles.
The tide rolls in under the setting sun.
Uh-oh-- cold feet!
Cousins treasure the moments!
And a little footprint leaves its imprint on all our hearts!
Sandy smiles.
The tide rolls in under the setting sun.
Uh-oh-- cold feet!
Cousins treasure the moments!
And a little footprint leaves its imprint on all our hearts!
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Life with Baby
As the darling baby girl lay on the floor rolling and exploring, she started complaining a bit. Her ever-attentive mama talked to her and told her "Good Job!" as she rolled into a better position.
Chayse was sitting nearby, and stopped, "Wait? What did she do?"
Chayse simply couldn't figure out what warranted the praise.
Then Aunt Kristi shed light on the issue, "Everything she does right now is a good job."
Chayse was sitting nearby, and stopped, "Wait? What did she do?"
Chayse simply couldn't figure out what warranted the praise.
Then Aunt Kristi shed light on the issue, "Everything she does right now is a good job."
A Day in the City
The day started with a trip through the city and over the infamous hills to the Golden Gate Bridge. The sun was just starting to emerge from the clouds, and the breeze was surprisingly warmer than I had anticipated.
Then we were off again for a decadent ice cream sundae at Ghiradelli Square. The famous chocolate maker creates fabulous ice cream treats. Plus all this touring makes a girl hungry! Lunch first? Completely over-rated! The littlest bug couldn't partake of the sweet treats, but she was fascinated by the operation of the equipment. She studied it intently. Hopefully she has it figured out and is ready for business soon!
One must be wary of pick-pockets in the city, as Nikela learned first hand!
Then we cruised down the crazy curvy Lombard Street.
Finally, we arrived at Pier 39--Fisherman's Wharf. The harbor seals bark and fight like kids.
Finally, we paused for lunch next to a window overlooking the bay with panoramic views of the Bay and Golden Gate Bridge.
A delightful day of San Francisco adventures drew nigh and it was time go home, much to Miss Kaiya's dismay.
Then we were off again for a decadent ice cream sundae at Ghiradelli Square. The famous chocolate maker creates fabulous ice cream treats. Plus all this touring makes a girl hungry! Lunch first? Completely over-rated! The littlest bug couldn't partake of the sweet treats, but she was fascinated by the operation of the equipment. She studied it intently. Hopefully she has it figured out and is ready for business soon!
One must be wary of pick-pockets in the city, as Nikela learned first hand!
Then we cruised down the crazy curvy Lombard Street.
Finally, we arrived at Pier 39--Fisherman's Wharf. The harbor seals bark and fight like kids.
Finally, we paused for lunch next to a window overlooking the bay with panoramic views of the Bay and Golden Gate Bridge.
A delightful day of San Francisco adventures drew nigh and it was time go home, much to Miss Kaiya's dismay.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Landed
My sister arrived safely at San Francisco International Airport with a bouncing baby girl in her arms. As I scanned the crowd and walked, I suddenly realized my sister was right beside me. She looks exactly the same, except now she has a fluffy baby in her arms and a diaper bag slung over one shoulder, so, you see, she really doesn't look the same at all with the new accessories. She wears motherhood beautifully, though!
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