Autumn has been my favorite time of year for as long as I can remember.  It seems like when I was little Dallas had more (actual) four seasons.  Now it feels like it goes from nine months of unrelenting pizza oven heat to three months of slightly below freezing cold mixed with bitter winds and, even more dreaded, ice.  This year we got a torrential downpouring of rain for almost the entire month of October.  Oddly, I didn’t mind it.  The prospect of flooding was concerning, particularly for folks who live farther south in Texas, but for me that was tempered with the hope of no winter wildfires which seem to rage worse every year people deny human culpability in climate change.  I love all of nature but the woods have always spoken to me the most.  While Dallas, Texas is not the Deep South, it does remain wooded and, blessedly, hidden pockets still exist untouched.  We took our wolfies for a walk in the woods by us and watching them was such a joy.  Wolves have a smell about 100 times greater than humans.  I told my husband and my child I could only imagine what all they were experiencing.  Our little girl experienced her first smell of a skunk and shrieked.  I explained to her that skunk had made its way through probably over a week ago, as its odor had mostly faded away.  Feeling the soft earth underneath my feet and listening to the sounds of the water rolling its way down the limestone in the creek was like a balm to my soul.  Sunlight dappled through the trees and it truly felt as if we were the only ones in the world.  From our little path nothing was to be seen or heard except Mother Nature.  Because of all the rain the trees have been particularly glorious … some only just now starting to turn.  Usually by this time they’ve already been blown off, quickly going from green to brown.  This month we have enjoyed a rich palette of bright yellows, deep oranges, and striking reds.  The best part is they have been kind enough to hang around.  The Austrian poet Georg Trakl once said, “I drank the silence of God from a spring in the woods.”  It may be my favorite quote of all time.  My heart always longs to go for a walk in the woods.

For years I thought this interesting creature was referred to as a “preying” mantis.  Of course I always knew s/he resembled that of someone who is bent at an angle with their hands folded, suggesting a supplicant position of prayer.  According to National Geographic, its scientific name is Mantis religiosa.  It is an invertebrate and has a carnivorous diet, hence my false assumption all these years.  They are formidable predators and are typically green or brown.  The mantis lie camouflaged, patiently waiting for their quarry.  Their triangular heads can turn 180 degrees to scan their surroundings.  Incredibly, they have 3-D vision and are equipped with the formidable agility of cats.  Early civilizations, including Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt, considered them to have supernatural powers.  I have always considered seeing them as a sign of good luck.  To me, they are both a living, visual representation of prayer as well as a reminder to pray.  Prayer is for all people, it costs nothing, and I believe it benefits all believers.  I love this quote from the great Mahatma Gandhi which says, “Prayer is the key of the morning and the bolt of the evening”; so succinct and yet so apt.  Wherever you are and whatever you believe, I say, “Let us pray.”

We are blessed to live next to a creek filled with all sorts of urban wildlife, from cottontails to coyotes and just about everything in between.  One adaptable critter I have always loved is the squirrel.  They’re cheeky little creatures and I enjoy watching them.  We have two bird feeders with seed designed to attract songbirds but no matter where I place them, those naughty squirrels always manage to find a way to get to the food.  After hearing jays recently I dashed out only to find the picture you see here.  I have long found it fascinating that blue jays mimic the cries of hawks to frighten other birds and competitors away.  Unfazed, he kept greedily shoving the seed in his mouth until he realized he’d been discovered.  My little one was laughing as I scolded him and he scampered off.  I made her a bet that in five minutes he’d be back.  So we went inside, set a timer, and waited.  Sure enough we returned to find him gorging himself again at the feeder; only this time he was hanging upside down!  The closer I got the more frantically he began stuffing himself.  I scolded him for a second time as a few mourning doves looked on.  Our little girl keenly noticed a large nest in one of our tall trees nearby; clearly he had made himself at home.  Squirrels are scatter hoarders, meaning they do not put their food supply all in one place.  This guy here was fervently stashing his reserves in two places that I could tell … in his cheeks and down his gullet.  The Australian actor Liam Hemsworth said, “How comedic are squirrels?  We don’t have squirrels in Australia.  The first time I saw a squirrel was at a meeting at Disney.”  I may have mentioned before that my husband hilariously and aptly refers to squirrels as “blub blubs.”  If we see one sacked out on our fence my beloved will say, “Look, he’s blubbing out.”  So my husband has managed to turn his description of squirrels into both a noun and a verb; yet another reason why I adore him.  We are animal lovers and our family does not wish the squirrels any harm.  As for keeping the “blub blubs” away from our bird feeders though, they have me going a bit squirrely.

I have never minded the rain.  However, as I have gotten older, on a vain note I have never cared for it either.  It gives me straight, frazzled out strands.  My little one, on the other hand, always has enviable, thick, perfectly spiraled tresses which cascade effortlessly down her back.  I cannot count how many times people have referred to her as having “princess hair.”  People often think she and I have the same curls; I like to quip mine is curtesy of a curling iron from Target.  The more humid it gets, the more magnificently her ringlets abound.  I believe her mane is curtesy of my husband’s maternal side.  Darker hair always seems to be thicker and my husband has the most glorious shock of locks I have ever seen.  I love his hair and have worked for over a decade to keep him from shearing it all off every chance he gets.  Almost every other man his age (in their forties) would KILL for his impossibly thick, dark waves.  Our little one has even remarked that most dads in her class are “either grey or bald.”  I have never said a word about it — the kid comes by that honestly.  My own daddy had beautiful jet black hair that never revealed his scalp.  I am not suggesting that balding men or men who have shaved their heads are unattractive.  I am just saying that for me, I prefer a clean-shaven face and a full head of hair.  The funny thing about my husband is, he’s like a fastidious cat who cannot STAND to get wet!  He does not want his hair wet, his clothes wet, or his shoes wet.  He hogs the umbrella and frankly is not very chivalrous on rainy days.  My child of the sea, on the other hand, adores the water; she embraces it.  More than once I have seen her gleefully turn her little face toward the heavens and relish the rivulets running down her body.  I have always made do without coats and umbrellas, but in Paris on our honeymoon I bought a chat noir (black cat) umbrella from one of the small magasins.  I love it so much I have refused to use it.  Meanwhile my husband loses umbrellas like socks that mysteriously disappear in the dryer; never to be seen again.  I was thumbing through catalogues when I happened upon this fun discovery pictured here.  Instantly falling in love with it, I called to order one.  Upon its recent debut, my umbrella has delightfully surprised people who assumed it was a bottle of wine, and it has already brought me an immense amount of pleasure.  The American poet Langston Hughes is quoted as having once said, “Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse and cool the earth, the air and you.”  My little one adores the fresh, cleansing smell of rain; just as I did as a child.  Now as an adult I have discovered a reason not to w(h)ine about a rainy day.

Our little one had President’s Day off from school and Daddy was able to get the day off as well.  I had no work either because all my clients were at home.  And so it was with great anticipation that we went to visit the Dallas World Aquarium, located in old warehouses in the middle of downtown Dallas.  What they have been transformed into is nothing short of amazing.  One minute you are in an urban North American concrete jungle and the next you are transported seven stories up inside a tropical South American jungle surrounded by a myriad of native plants and animals to that region.  First is the Orinoco rainforest, which has everything from birds in free flight to an unenclosed three-toed sloth hanging out by the bar.  Pygmy marmosets can also be found as well as an anteater.  Winding our way down, we made our way to my personal favorite, El Lobo Del Rio, “The Wolf of the River,” as the the giant otters from South America are known.  They are the largest of the thirteen species found throughout the world, and are a pure delight to watch.  Unfortunately, they are now threatened with extinction largely due to the commercial value of their beautiful pelts.  They were heavily traded in the 19th century and, coupled with their habitat reduction, their numbers have been severely depleted.  Once you make your way down to the first level you may observe from beneath the great waterfall an Antillean manatee munching on Romaine lettuce, as well as huge, Shovel-nosed catfish and Arrau turtles all swimming around to the wonder of visitors.  In the aquarium portion you can see glow in the dark jellyfish that are mesmerizing to watch as well as a Night Reef teeming with Flashlightfish whose eyes glow in dark.  Seadragons resembling seaweed float by on the bottom of another exhibit.  Colorful Caribbean fish swim in and out of coral reefs and, from the cool waters of British Columbia, you can see a Pacific giant octopus, sea anemones, sea stars, sea cucumbers, and urchins.  Next you can step outside and catch the antics of the Cape of Good Hope’s black-footed penguins.  The climate in Dallas is similar to that of their native South Africa.  Returning back inside the journey continues as you enter into the Mundo Maya.  But first you must traverse an incredible clear, wide tunnel where sharks swim all around you and sawfish pass languidly overhead.  At the heart of the exhibit is the Temple of the Jaguar.  It is a multilevel exhibit which allows for the great cat to go outside at will.  There is a Ceiba tree, thought by the Mayans to be the “Tree of Life,” as well as cycads and tree ferns, primitive plant species abundant during the age of dinosaurs; the Mesozoic Era.  Also to be found, standing five feet tall and with a wingspan of eight feet, is the Jabiru stork, among the largest flying birds in the New World.  Sadly, these graceful giants are threatened or endangered throughout their Central and South American range.  The Dallas World Aquarium states part of their mission is “to help instill an appreciation and understanding of our interdependence on the Earth and its fragile ecosystems” and is committed to multiple conservation efforts, with many of the species they house being part of a cooperative breeding program with other zoos in the United States and throughout the world.  Some involve specialized breeding groups which may be reintroduced into their natural habitat.  Loretta Lynch, the 83rd American Attorney General of the United States, said ”We all have a responsibility to protect endangered species, both for their sake and for the sake of our own future generations.”  Zoos are thankfully evolving and some are becoming bastions of protection for both the globe’s flora and fauna.  On this day we were fortunate enough to have traveled the world just by a short car ride, seeing a host of creatures thriving.  We were able to do it all without even leaving the city of Dallas on our tropical staycation.

As I have often stated I never had the privilege of living in a house until I got married.  One of the things I instantly loved was our big, sliding kitchen window.  Growing up we had a tiny, enclosed galley kitchen.  My mother cooked incredible meals in there made from scratch, but I longed for a kitchen window that looked out upon a yard.  After we bought our house I begged my husband to let us put in a little koi pond, and now every time I am at the sink I have a view of double waterfalls, our five beautiful fish swimming languidly in the water, and often water lilies in bloom.  A great black wolf statue stands majestically at the top of the falls, and to his side is a large white statue of St. Francis of Assisi, the Patron Saint of Animals and Ecology.  He is depicted in such a way that he appears to be smelling the flowers, with his head turned facing Gubbio the wolf.  It is serenity by its very nature and when I open our kitchen window I can hear the soothing sound of water flowing over the huge rocks.  In the mornings I often hear birds singing or the chattering of squirrels.  On summer nights I can hear the rhythmic, deep “brrrraaaaaaap” of toads calling to one another.  And I love to watch dragonflies drinking from the pond.  Before this the only thing back there had been a solitary fig tree.  We built our pond around it and I had the workers use the three massive slabs of leftover stone to make me a bench underneath the branches.  As I name all my trees, he became known as Mr. Figgy.  I spent over a decade watching him bloom and grow.  In the summers I’d watch him become so bushy I learned to prune him.  In the fall the three of us delighted in watching the squirrels gorging themselves on the literal fruits of his labor.  This last spring I taught my child how to climb him.  My daughter has adored Mr. Figgy and I had visions of building a tree house around him.  Then the arborist delivered some devastating news:  Mr. Figgy was getting long in the tooth.  He had already been treated for some type of borer worms.  We thought he was better but then she pronounced he now had mold.  “Oh NO not Mr. Figgy!” my little one cried as I silently echoed her sentiments.  My mind traveled back to that book “The Giving Tree” I’d read so often as a child.  With great sadness, I realized Mr. Figgy did not have much left to give.  And so I gave the order, feeling like a cold-blooded killer assassinating a beloved friend.  I wish I had taken a picture of him.  My little one and I went outside, told him what he’d meant to us, and then said good-bye.  “Can we keep a piece of him?” she asked.  And then we heard the chainsaw roar and could not bear to look.  After it was quiet I got a call from our gardner who said, “he had something for his Princessa” and so I called my little one outside with me.  The picture you see here is what he gave her.  It is literally Mr. Figgy’s heart that was cut from one side of his base.  Manuel said he had done nothing to shape it but when he noticed it was so perfect he wanted us to have it.  I love what Saint Basil, the 4th century Greek bishop of Caesarea, once said:

”A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds.  A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.”

Mr. Figgy was so much more than a tree; he was a dear friend whom I aspire to be like more.  I am immensely grateful we have something so special to remember him by.  Mr. Figgy gave us all he had:  his buds in the spring, his shade in the summer, his fruits in the fall and, in the winter of his life, he gave us his heart.

Each day I pick my little one up from school and we pass a house on the corner of an intersection which has brought us immense joy.  Situated on the edge is a deer which, to our delight, always seems to be dressed for the occasion.  At Christmas he sported a Santa hat and my little one and I were tickled to see the deer rocking a New Year’s hat for 2018.  What has captured our fancy the most, however, is how you see him pictured here.  Cleary he is between holidays and yet he is wearing a festive scarf and ear muffs.  My six year old and I have HOWLED as we’ve passed by.  Clearly someone cool lives there who is dressing him according to the season.  Recently I decided to ring the doorbell and inquire about the deer on the corner who is so nattily attired.  An 81 year old woman named Nancy responded and informed me that “Bob” the deer had been in her yard since 1990.  She wanted a deer that her first grandchild could ride and he is named after her brother-in-law Bob.  Multiple attempts have been made over the years to steal him, but her husband cleverly placed him in cement and had him rebarred for good measure.  Somewhile ago a heart wreath was placed around his neck for St. Valentine’s.  Another time Nancy came outside to discover dear Bob had been cheerfully festooned with Mardi Gras beads complete with a sequined mask.  She said someone volunteered to outfit him for St. Patrick’s Day this year.  Since no one has claimed the patriotic holidays of Veterans’ Day, the 4th of July, and Memorial Day I have requested them.  Bob has acquired quite the collection over the years.  He already has rabbit ears for Easter, an inflatable raft and sunglasses for the hot summer months, and even a Hawaiin lei.  And the two-leggeds are not the only ones who have noticed.  Nancy says she has gotten to where she can identify a lot of the various dogs who bark at him as they pass by.  “Bob has been to rehab like me,” she said as she told me of the repair she has done to his front and back legs.  She has learned to mix cement to fix his signs of aging and has also painted him several times to keep him looking good.  I greatly admire this widow for staying active and maintaining a playful sense of humor.  Wayne Dyer, the American motivational speaker, once said:

”The child inside of you knows how to take things as they come, how to deal most effectively and happily with everything and everyone it encounters on this planet.  If you can recapture that childlike essence of your being, you can stay ‘forever young at heart.'”

So what adventures are next for Nancy and Bob?  I can only say, “Oh deer!”

After Christmas and before the New Year, my husband, daughter, and I took a little road trip to San Antonio.  Our little girl could not remember her first road trip there and we wanted to go during the holidays because the lights are so magical on the river.  On our return, my husband had the brilliant idea to visit Natural Bridge Caverns.  I had been before with my parents and also once with my husband, but realized our little one had never seen them and six seemed like a good age.  She adores science and we all love geology so we hoped she would love it.  The outside temperature was in the teens, which is cold for the southern part of Texas.  As we waited in line, I felt like all the other tourists that stood there shivering and huddled against each other were questioning my sensibility as a mother.  She and I, both hot natured, stood in only long sleeves with no coat.  After a five minute wait our group began the slow descent into the caves.  Discovered in 1960 by a group of four college students, the natural limestone bridge extends 60 feet.  The average temperature inside is 70 degrees but I would submit it is a great deal warmer with the humidity.  And my little family does not take heat well, the hubs included, despite us all being natural Texans.  The Natural Bridge Caverns are the largest known commercial caverns in Texas, located in the Hill Country.  Turns out the humidity rate is 99 percent and no one seemed to be giving me the side-eye as they all quickly worked to divest themselves of coats, hats, and scarves, which they now would have to carry for the next hour.  The deepest part of our tour was 180 feet below the surface, and our entire journey was paved with the slick, slow trickle of rainwater traveling though layers of rock as it had for millennia.  The water flows and drips, causing the formations to retain a waxy luster which I tried to capture in my pictures.  I explained to my little one about stalactites versus stalagmites, and much of our tour centered around her trying to pronounce the difference as well as to remember them.  I am proud to say by the end she had it somewhat mastered.  I also noted some of the adults had rings of sweat around their shirts as my little one continued comfortably upon her scientific quest.  Before leaving the last “room” in the caverns they had cleverly (and thoughtfully) set up water fountains produced by the cave’s own natural water.  It was wonderful!  The American writer and nauturalist Diane Ackerman said:

“Just as our ancient ancestors drew animals on cave walls and carved animals from wood and bone, we decorate our homes with animal prints and motifs, give our children stuffed animals to clutch, cartoon animals to watch, animal stories to read.”

Our little one was crushed we did not see any bats along our tour but the guides did point out with their flashlights where a bunch of bat dung hung copiously and somewhat gracefully, way up high and far removed from where we were.  She insisted upon taking a plush animal with her and I thought back to how often I had done the same as a child.  I have always connected with animals and I was lucky enough to marry a man who loves them just as much.  We are rearing a child who lives with wolf hybrids, cats, mice, turtles, and koi.  Neither her father nor I were particularly surprised when our little one begged to have a plush bat from their gift shop.  Steering her toward a less expensive mouse, we realized that, like us, she had gone bats in the caves.

I believe I have mentioned my little one has gotten big enough to go on longer walks with us now.  We talk, and for once I’m not staring into my iPhone.  Around a creek we make a circuit, simply enjoying nature, as we delight in her mysterious, fresh, earthy smells.  Right now is a very precious time because autumn in Dallas is such a fleeting season.  The leaves on our many trees are turning red, orange, and yellow.  As we walk, the wind will gently blow a few down to earth in front of us, laying them at our feet like precious gems.  We have found acorns, pecans, and different types of seeds and pods from trees which I lament I do not know.  There is a little bridge we cross over where we like to pause and reflect.  I told my little one that creeks were the highways for wildlife, and she was fascinated as I explained to her that they used them to traverse the city, seek shelter, and to eat and drink.  I have seen coyotes, owls, raccoons, turtles, songbirds, possums, armadillos, hawks, and tree rats — which frankly are adorable.  We have heard the rustle of frisky squirrels chasing each other around the barks of large trees, and have witnessed the majestic sight of a predator bird’s broad wings spread gracefully in ascent.  When the creek is high we have heard ducks quacking, and this time of year we have seen the V-shaped flight of wild geese silhouetted against the sunset.  Having a child has helped me rediscover slowing down and savoring time … especially outside.  We have examined rocks and felt the first chill of fall in the air.  It’s a time to tune out and tune in, to feel alive and savor the wonders of Mother Earth.  My little one found this leaf on the ground and handed it to me exclaiming, “Mama, look!  A heart!  I want you to have it.”  “Thank you so much!” I said, thinking she already had mine the moment I knew I was carrying her.  John Muir, the Scottish-American naturalist and early advocate for the preservation of wilderness in the United States once said, “Keep close to Nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods.  Wash your spirit clean.”  I hope we all remain close to nature’s heart.

In my little one’s class right now they’re studying bats.  I love that there was a poll taken on whether they’re creepy or cute and cute won.  Bats are mammals whose forelimbs form webbed wings, making them the only mammals naturally capable of true and sustained flight.  I find that fascinating.  After rodents, bats are the second largest order of mammals, representing about twenty percent of all classified mammals worldwide.  Bats mostly feed on insects, but some, such as flying foxes, eat fruit.  Bats are present throughout most of the world with the exception of extremely cold regions.  They perform vital ecological roles of pollinating flowers and dispersing fruit seeds.  Bat dung has been mined from caves and used as fertilizer.  It is a shame that in many cultures they are associated with darkness, death, witchcraft and malevolence.  Bats have incredible senses and their echolocation is a perpetual system where ultrasonic sounds are emitted specifically to produce echoes.  By comparing the outgoing pulse with the returning echoes, the brain and auditory nervous system can produce detailed images of the bat’s surroundings.  This allows them to detect, localize, and even classify their prey in complete darkness.  Incredibly, bat ears are so sensitive, they can detect the fluttering of moth wings and the movement of ground-dwelling prey like centipedes and earwigs.  I used to joke under my breath that my mother had the hearing of a bat.  To which she would reply from another room, “I heard that.”  The Nobel Prize winning American novelist Ernest Hemingway said, “I like to listen.  I have learned a great deal from listening carefully.  Most people never listen.”  I think that holds true today.  I know I have formed opinions and like expressing them.  However, I think I shall strive to listen and become more batty.