Some time ago the city of Dallas placed a ban on plastic shopping bags; personally I was thrilled.  I think if you wanted one you had to pay a nickel.  And then suddenly they lifted it.  After that grocery workers began double bagging and throwing them at you like confetti.  “IT’S FREE!” they would gleefully exclaim.  According to National Geographic, last year over eight million tons of plastic were dumped into the ocean annually; EIGHT MILLION TONS.  I personally strive to reduce my ecological “footprint” as much as I am able.  I have receipts emailed, we recycle everything we possibly can, and we never EVER waste.  The last was simply my upbringing.  My folks came up during the Great Depression and I learned the value of not discarding anything in haste.  However, I have lived among the wealthy long enough to know they simply eschew taking home leftovers.  One thing I have always loved about my husband is, despite his monetarily fortunate upbringing, he has never been ashamed to ask for a “doggie bag.”  I remember when we were in Guatemala several of us wanted to feed our leftovers to the stray dogs (as we had no way of eating it later) and the look of abject horror that crossed our tour guide’s face.  He informed us there were people who could use our food.  Pulling over, he gave the remainder of our lunches to a thin, blind man and I heard him say, “God bless you” under his breath.  I will never, EVER forget that.  If my daughter loses something, she does not get another.  I was reared that way out of necessity; she is being reared that way out of responsibility.  For shopping, personally, I prefer the “permanent” bags and it is the easiest thing in the world to keep them in your trunk.  I have insulated ones, some for shopping in the mall, and some just for hauling.  I went to the car and pulled a few out for this picture.  My favorite bag in the world is my “Chat Noir” bag you see to the left.  I got it in Paris (they are SO far ahead of us) and I confess I love it so much I do not even use it.  However, I use the rest almost daily.  The fox you see is the only one I paid for and it came from Cracker Barrel.  I use it for holding socks whenever my little one goes to bounce houses and other play areas which require them.  I keep my own fox socks in them for whenever I wish to join her.  The “I Love Paris” I got on our last trip to Paris and it is great for holding things like creamer and butter.  Below that is a grocery bag I bought for a dollar that has the Dallas skyline on it.  The bag holds a lot and makes me happy.  It is hard to see but the bag underneath came from our beloved Naples, Florida, so when I use it a bit of sand, ocean, and sunshine it accompanies it.  Along those lines, the bottom cloth bag I got free in Mexico.  Burk and I were in a “museum” which sold tequila.  After sampling several shots on an empty stomach in the middle of the heat of the afternoon, of course I fell in love with what I would discover would be the most expensive.  I confess I am a words person and not the sharpest knife in the proverbial mathematical drawer.  So I had an inkling the darn stuff must have been expensive when they said I got a “free” bag with it.  We have only found one place in the United States where we can order it now but I always smile when I use the bag and think of our trip and how naive we were.  You cannot see it well by this picture but there is a bag people are so impressed with that came from Neiman Marcus; it was free with the purchase of my cosmetics.  I suspect it is because it looks like real leather, but thankfully it is plastic.  I was fortunate enough to get my cloth Chanel bag the same way; free with my purchase.  It is now our taekwondo bag.  The American novelist and travel writer Hanya Yanagihara said:

“Every traveler knows too well the endless quest for the perfect travel bag: the one that’s stylish enough to carry through Paris, sturdy enough to tote around Peru, and – most important – doesn’t make your shoulder sag even before you’ve loaded it up with everything you need for a day of sightseeing.”

I take pleasure in knowing I am not further damaging our environment, and, as I go about shopping, I know it’s all in the bag.

The other day I had just finished a run when we passed by the park.  “Mama!  Can we stop?!”  My work was done for the day and dinner was cooked.  With the weather so unseasonably beautiful there was no excuse in the world not to.  When I was little I used to LOVE making mud pies!  First I would mix the flour (dirt), add milk (water) and then shape it into old aluminum foil baking tins my mother let me have.  I would set them in the sun to dry and about half way through I would get a stick and make lattice patterns on top.  Then, after they were baked and had “cooled” I would cut them into pieces and serve them at my fine dining establishment, the “Elle-Eh-Belle-Eh-Shangri-La.”  (It should be noted that even as child I had a love for French; this was as close to it as I could get.)  At the park when my little one started playing in the sand I brought her a stick and sat down with her.  Another kid spilled part of his water bottle in the sand and it triggered my memory.  Just like that my imaginary childhood fine dining establishment was reborn.  Soon we had a small gathering of about dozen little boys and girls all wanting to know how to make mud pies.  I gave them stirring instructions after someone procured a bucket.  They all worked together while I sought out something to use as a surprise special ingredient.  When I was a kid they had these horrid box shaped hedges everywhere that would stick you unmercifully and they produced red berries.  I hated them and that is the extent of my knowledge.  That and I was told not to eat the berries.  Anyway, I found these blue berries (juniper maybe?) and decided it would be perfect for our pie.  The kids whooped with delight as I dropped handfuls of them into the mix.  “It’s a blueberry pie!” my little one exclaimed.  For the better part of half an hour I watched at least three different races of children all smiling and working side by side on their pies.  How funny that something I loved so much as a child had been completely forgotten, packed away, and buried under the responsibilities of adulthood.  The British novelist John le Carré said, “Writing is like walking in a deserted street.  Out of the dust in the street you make a mud pie.”  This is perhaps one of my favorite quotes on several levels.  Thanks to my little one forcing me out of my grown-up mode, I rediscovered an old love.  But the best part will be turning over the running of my beloved restaurant to her.  Long live the Elle-Eh-Belle-Eh-Shangri-La.

It’s no wonder the koi were going crazy yesterday.  We had a high of 86*!  This is February for heaven’s sake.  Bah!  We need a deep freeze to kill harmful mosquitoes; not to mention the fact that it is supposed to be winter.  Koi cannot be fed in wintertime when temperatures are low but because it has been so hot they’ve been asking for food.  You can tell by this picture how hungry they were.  I even had to fish up (no pun intended) their summertime vittles instead of their spring and fall blend (which is made to be digested more easily in cooler temperatures.)  Our colorful little carp clan here is Clem, Cleo, Cleaven, Claire, Claude, and Chloe.  (Yes, I have a penchant for alliteration.)  And they were ravenous!   I am going against the groundhog this year and predicting an early spring.  I heard blue jays with their hawk’s cries and the songs of my mother’s favorite bird, the cardinal.  A squirrel trying to drink from our waterfall was chattering at me as I sat on our stone bench feeding the fish.  I looked up at our fig tree and noticed it was beginning to bud.  Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons,” came to mind, one of my favorite pieces of classical music.  My daddy used to say time and tide wait for no man.  The American author Gary Zukav said:

“The coming and going of the seasons give us more than the springtimes, summers, autumns, and winters of our lives.  It reflects the coming and going of the circumstances of our lives like the glassy surface of a pond that shows our faces radiant with joy or contorted with pain.”

So rather than lamenting this “winter’s” inevitable passing, I shall cast my thoughts to spring.  And, like our koi, just keep swimming.

Well my dream of having a White Christmas was turned upside down as I was in shorts today.  It was a pleasant 70 something degrees and kiddos of all sorts were venturing out to try their new gadgets.  One of my runs was working across from a park and I felt I would be the worst mother in the whole wide world if I did not make the time to stop.  With a skip and a “whoopee!” my little one went running toward the jungle gym.  I found myself contemplating how playgrounds now are full of wood chips as I dislodged one out of my sandals, making my way to where my baby doll was calling for me.  “LOOK!  LOOK MAMA!  LOOK!” and not only did I look, I snapped her picture before she turned back right side up.  Nothing beats the serenity of nature, and going to the park is a timeless way of slowing down.  I really try not to use my iPhone outside unless it’s to take pictures of my little one.  So often as adults we do not live in the moment.  The Hungarian born American graphic designer Tibor Kalman once said, “I’m always trying to turn things upside down and see if they look any better.”  Standing there the day after Christmas in weather approaching the ’80’s I decided to just follow my little girl’s lead, and embrace the upside down.

We are blessed to have a lot of trees around our house.  With that, I have learned, comes responsibility.  They need to be pruned for city code reasons and safety issues, their roots need to be flared to stay healthy, and one has needed to be cabled to hold up its great branches without snapping.  Then of course there are the leaves.  I actually love them but I now know they clog the gutters and can damage your roof if you do not have them cleaned.  We try to have them cleared out twice a year.  Our downspout was completely full so we definitely needed it.  I drove up just as the gutter guy was leaving but I had a chance to speak with him.  My daddy always taught me to ask questions because that’s how you learn.  The American actor Nicholas Cage said, “Every great story seems to begin with a snake.”  Turns out he found a dead three foot copperhead in our gutter!!  If there’s one thing that completely freaks the hubs, it’s snakes.  I tend to view them as helpful, but then again I’ve never been good about knowing venomous from non venomous.  Buldging my eyes, I asked him if he was sure.  “Sure it’s a copperhead or sure it’s dead?”  I just nodded mutely.  He said it was yes to both.  I was wondering how on earth a venomous snake could have possibly wound up two stories on our roof.  A friend of mine who has a very smart teenager said a bird probably dropped it.  Well that makes sense.  “Where is it now?” I asked trying not to look around trepidatiously.  “Oh it’s in the back of the truck with the rest of the mulch.”  Repressing a shiver I thanked him profusely (I’m sure snake handling is not part of his job) and I felt great giving him a nice Christmas tip.  I have learned from this experience one never knows what might turn up in the gutter.

This is our first freeze of the season and we were lucky.  We don’t have icy roads; it is just cold and dry.  I am used to hearing the trickle of our little fountain and when I went outside I realized why our lion was silent.  I stared in rapt fascination for a second as it is not a common occurrence in Dallas to see anything frozen solid.  Every year I pray for a white Christmas although it has only happened a handful of times that I can recall.  Snow is a rarity but I fear with human induced climate change the weather everywhere will get freakier.  We went from 71* to 17* in less than 24 hours.  That’s saying something even for Texas.  One minute I’m in shorts; the next sweats.  Rarely do I find any type of weather gloomy.  I realize northerners snicker, but I do not like the combination of sleet with freezing temperatures.  The South is simply not equipped for it.  Admittedly, I think it is easier to live where the weather is less harsh.  I admire people who live in Alaska and are plunged into darkness for most of the winter.  My little one loves the rain; I always tell her God is watering His garden.  The American writer Anthony J D’Angelo said,” Wherever you go, no matter what the weather, always bring your own sunshine.”  What a great life quote.  I think that is far better than going around freezing.

I have noticed that kids in strollers are getting bigger and bigger these days.  And by that I mean older and older.  It is a phenomenon that only seems to be occurring in the states from what I have observed.  We have taken our little one out for walks since she was in what we called “the pizza oven.”  It was a part of the stroller that was more of an insulated bassinet for infants.  She was graduated from that to a car seat “basket” and then on to a reclining chair complete with cup holder and snack tray.  Personally, I think she has just gotten soft.  Why should she walk?  And so she hasn’t.  Today was the day we cut her off — cold turkey.  OH the outrage!  The indignation!  The INJUSTICE!  Who would carry her snacks?!  What about her water?  Her daddy and I pretended to ignore the hollering and the drama of it all.  She countered with a sit-down strike.  We just kept hooking up the wolfies and then I asked if SHE would like to walk Chin Chin (my late mother’s one-eyed Shih Tzu.)  Her tears tried instantly, she stood up, and proudly proclaimed “YES!”  “Well BABIES can’t do that,” I said, striving for nonchalance.  “You’re a big girl now.”  And so began our very first family walk where all three of us were actually walking.  She was able to take in more without the cover of the stroller and feel more as she was propelled by her own two feet.  She paused to collect leaves and we brought them home to put in her leaf book.  We just took the short loop over a bridge that crosses over our creek but it was still a little over a mile walk.  She only showed signs of getting tired right before we got home.  I think she did well for her first time out.  The Scottish-American naturalist John Muir once said, “In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”  I think that is just what we all did … on our first real walk.

Hooray for the first day of autumn in Texas!  I can actually open the kitchen window without it feeling like a blasting hot pizza oven!  Our screened in porch is letting in a chilly, invigorating breeze.  With the exception of the pervasive scent of cinnamon in stores everywhere (I am allergic and it gives me vicious migraines), I believe autumn is my favorite.  No one is freezing and the threat of mosquitos is thankfully gone.  My beloved calls this “wolf weather” and it really is.  Cheyenne and Dakota just prance on our walks around the creek.  I wonder how much more glorious it must be for them, given their far keener sense of smell.  This is the best walking weather and we are blessed to have one of the best walks to enjoy in the city.  It is actually going to get cold enough to start a fire!  We never had a fireplace growing up and there is absolutely nothing in this world that can beat the smell of wood burning in cold air.  I love pinion the best but we burn mesquite or any other type of wood that is sustainable.  A parting thought for today:  the ancient Greek rhetorician Athenaeus of Naucratis said, “Old wood best to burn, old wine to drink, old friends to trust, and old authors to read.”  Happy fall y’all.

I absolutely love walking bridges.  I have adored them for as long as I can remember.  I thought I would be in heaven when we went to Venice on our honeymoon because of all the bridges.  While I am so incredibly thankful to have gone, I discovered my heart is with the bridges of Paris.  I stood on a bridge today overlooking this creek with my little one contemplating the serenity of nature and the changing of the seasons.  I have learned to savor these precious moments of beauty as I recognize their value.  One of these days I want to travel to Arkansas or New England to see the leaves change.  It is something my mother always wanted to do and she instilled that love in me.  The American three time Olympic gold medalist in cycling Kristin Armstrong said:

“When the seasons shift, even the subtle beginning, the scent of a promised change, I feel something stir inside me.  Hopefulness?  Gratitude?  Openness?  Whatever it is, it’s welcome.”

I love that.  Saying good-bye to summer today, we are waiting to welcome the beginning of autumn tomorrow.  There are four seasons and four directions.  Each has a time, a cycle, and a purpose; from the rising of the sun to the setting of the moon.  Eternal and changeless are the seasons.

I went outside to feed the koi when I noticed my little one had lined up these rocks on our bench.  I found the sight of them so soothing I decided to snap a picture before returning them to their place by the pond.  I have seen pictures of stones stacked serenely against the backdrop of running water.  While these rocks are not vertical, I found them calming nonetheless.  A cairn is a manmade pile of stones and the word itself is derived from the Scottish Gaelic meaning “calm.”  The French Saint Francis de Sales, Patron Saint of Journalists and Writers, once wrote:

“Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit.  Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset.”

This is not an easy thing to do but I think it is worthy of striving for.  As we enter into the rush and bustle of the holiday season I want to try and slow down, focusing on what really matters.  I want my little one and I to spend some time outside with the rocks.  We can learn a lot from them, like how to be zen.