Dallas is not known for having lots of snow.  On the rare occasions Dallas HAS gotten some of the beautiful precipitation our city has literally shut down.  Northerners scoff and guffaw but the truth is we are ill equipped to deal with ice and snow as we do not receive it on any type of regular basis.  A few years ago Dallas had an actual, true “snow storm”.  It was the kind that felled 100 year old trees, knocking down power lines and yes, grinding the city to a halt.  We personally had no power for almost four days.  Logs in the fire weren’t cutting it and <gasp> our electronic devices were running out of juice.  The two survivalists in the neighborhood went on the grid long enough to crow about having generated power.  We could not even get out of our driveway.  The hill our house is on is steep and, under several sheets of ice, treacherous.  Snow blanketed all that had fallen within its path in a quiet that was almost deafening in its silence.  It was eerie … no humming, no buzzing, no white noise we’ve all become accustomed to; just white.  One by one neighbors began ambling out like baby hatchlings from their eggs:  wobbly and uncertain.  But no one had a better time than our wolfies.  To see them running over 30 mph through the snow was a thing of beauty to behold.  Everyone who watched was awestruck.  Our koi pond iced completely over and pictured here is our girl Cheyenne nosing around it.  The fish were schooling at the bottom and I think she was just as intrigued as we were.  English author J. B. Priestley once said:

“The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event.  You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?”

So as we are in the dog days of summer I thought it might be fun to revisit a time when everything was frozen.

I love blue jays.  They have always been my favorite song bird.  I know they are viewed as mean.  I see them as territorial.  Of course I also adore them because they’re blue.  But I did not learn until about a year ago their sound is meant to imitate a hawk.  Fascinating!  As a wolf lover I realize the importance of our apex predators as well as our keystone species.  Like the wolf, they are very intelligent and form tight familial bonds.  I think its brilliant that they use the hawk’s cry as a warning to other birds.  Anyway, I collect blue jay feathers — naturally shed of course.  I guess it’s a bit like seashell hunting in a land-locked city.  I used to have a lot of them artfully arranged in a pretty little bud vase until the cats went berserk and ate/mangled them all.  *sigh*  So I am now starting over and this time I’ll put them in my sitting room in my closet which I keep closed.  The Scottish playwright and poet Joanna Baillie once wrote, “A willing heart adds feather to the heel.”  Every time I discover a cherished blue jay feather on one of my walks I feel my heart expand and, for one brief second, it is as if my feet could take flight.  Some people find pennies lucky; for me it’s blue jay feathers.  Whatever it is one discovers unexpectedly that brings them delight and makes them feel fortunate … well who could not do with a little more of that?

At the request of a reader, I am attempting to document our toads in their various stages.  First I showed Daddy; now meet baby!  And there are more in the works.  These little guys are smaller than the size of a dime.  What a treasure!  They almost look like flies on the ground until you see them hop.  I cannot tell you how much I love them!  What an unexpected joy they have been not only for me but for my husband and daughter as well. They are wondrous miracles of God and nature.  Brazilian politician Jaime Lerner said this:

“There is no place in a city that can’t be better.  There is no toad that can’t be a princess, no frog that can’t become a prince.”

And so goes the magic of our little pond:  rife with possibilities and an endless source of mystery.  My little one isn’t afraid to hold them and delights just as I do upon spying them hidden in our yard.  And guess what?  I predict my girl will turn out to be the lucky one as I have been.  One who is fortunate to delight in nature and revel in the miracle of life.  In American Indian culture thought is given as to how decisions made now will impact the next seven generations.  I hope our home will be a sanctuary for the next seven generations and beyond.  Achukma hoke.

Dragonfiles:  I have always adored them.  My personal favorites of course are blue, but since we have gone all organic around our home and yard I have noticed these red guys coming around, and sometimes green.  A few things I have learned while trying to educate myself about them:  dragonflies took to the air long before dinosaurs walked the earth.  They are aquatic; with the families depositing their eggs on the water’s surface.  A dragonfly nymph breaths with gills at the end of its abdomen; so interestingly, the dragonfly nymph’s gills are inside its rectum.  They have excellent vision; nearly 360 degrees.  And they can see a wider spectrum of colors than humans!  Dragonflies are masters of flight, moving each of their four wings independently.  They can move straight up or down, fly backwards, stop and hover, make hairpin turns, and fly forward at a speed of up to 30 miles per hour!  Pretty fascinating stuff!  American author (under the pseudonym) Kim Harrison wrote:

“Go to sleep, baby, Mama will sing.  Of blue butterflies, and dragonfly wings.  Moonlight and sunbeams, raiments so fine.  Silver and gold, for baby of mine …”

Often we do go to sleep after looking at our little pond.  Such a source of magic and joy — with tadpoles, and dragonflies and all sorts of living things.

In the nine years we have been married I have never seen my husband take an interest in anything that needed to be repaired or replaced.  I used to feel he should care more; now I’m glad he doesn’t.  I am particular, highly detail oriented, and ask lots of questions.  I also like that he trusts me to manage things and has complete confidence in my decisions.  My Daddy was a painter so I picked up a lot about all kinds of things going around with him.  He taught me to ask questions so I would learn and also not get taken advantage of.  I remember one time this guy got so exasperated he said the price could not possibly get any lower or he would owe me.  That’s when I dropped my natural distrust and decided the poor man was telling the truth.  We have a beautiful big kitchen window overlooking our koi pond and for the past several years it has been completely foggy.  I could never understand why; summer or winter it remained cloudy.  I cleaned it inside and out a thousand times to no avail.  Recently we got a window replacement advertisement in the mail and I decided to call.  It turns out we have double paned glass and the seal is broken.  Condensation has been trapped in between the inside and outside.  I grilled them about just fixing the seal versus having the window replaced.  This picture is a demonstration of our kitchen window now versus a new one with solar technology that keeps the house much cooler.  The difference was crazy and not only would it be better for the environment, our downstairs electricity bill should go down as well.  I was stunned to see Burk ask to see the demonstration again.  It was really cool; no pun intended.  They showed our old glass and how much sunlight was filtering through versus the new one which will actually make the view appear brighter but with no heat filling up the kitchen every afternoon.  And I confess I am looking forward to being able to see out of our beautiful window again for the first time in years.  They guarantee their work for as long as we live in our house; I thought that was impressive.  They also told me the outside noise would be greatly reduced.  No more lawn mowing whirring at 6 a.m. Saturday mornings or 11 p.m. pounding from the guy that tinkers with an old truck.  Mother Teresa once said:

“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness.  God is the friend of silence.  See how nature – trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence… We need silence to be able to touch souls.”

Maybe it’s silly, but I hope to see God more clearly through our new window.  I pray for keen eyes, a receptive heart, and ears which are open to the sound of silence.

My little one and I were in the grocery store recently when we each saw something that caught our eyes.  I began explaining to her about the Venus Flytrap plant and how it was carnivorous.  The gruesome little thing became fascinated and asked if we could buy one.  Then I found this adorable flashlight that’s a lightning bug.  He just makes me happy.  “Look, his rump lights up!”  I said and she giggled and snickered.  Right now the word “rump” is cause for hilarity at our house.  I took this picture on our kitchen window sill and began thinking how it was a metaphor for life in a way.  When something is bothering me I tend to shed light on it:  sometimes directly and sometimes indirectly.  I don’t always act though.  I wish I could trap and destroy my worries and problems as swiftly as our new plant catches flies.  San Antonio, Texas Christian author Max Lucado said:

“Become a worry-slapper.  Treat frets like mosquitoes.  Do you procrastinate when a bloodsucking bug lights on your skin?  ‘I’ll take care of it in a moment.’  Of course you don’t!  You give the critter the slap it deserves.  Be equally decisive with anxiety.”

Of course everyone has problems and I believe they really do make one stronger by having to go through them.  But I try and realize they are relative.  Some people are hurting and struggling in ways I cannot imagine.  Maybe I need to turn my little lightning bug away from myself and shine the light more on others; to pray for what they might be going through.  Wherever you may be in the world right now and whatever you may be facing, remember you are not alone.  God is watching over you and will see you through.  Turn your eyes outward and try to do for others; perhaps your own problems will lessen in return.  I am going to try and slap the bad worries away, focus on the calm goodness all around me … and not be bugged.

If you build it, they will come.  And they most certainly did!  Ever since we had our little koi pond made we have had some delightfully unexpected inhabitants; one of whom made themselves known right away.  Our first summer we started hearing these loud braaaaaping sounds at night.  They were very vocal and one would call, followed by another’s reply about a minute later.  Despite the volume under our bedroom window ascending its way heavenward I found their cadence lulling and, after a time, got used to it and fell asleep.  One afternoon I looked in the pond and discovered it was absolutely covered in tiny black dots.  Upon closer inspection I noticed they were moving!  We had tadpoles!  For several years I thought they were frogs.  I have since learned they are toads.  Regardless, I adore them.  Just look at this big sexy pictured here!  I love holding them and our little one pats them on the head.  Their songs stop in the autumn and they hibernate in the winter.  I know summer is here when they return.  Their babies have now had babies, and so on.  It is a cycle of life from water to earth; conception to birth.  Every stage is a joy, a privilege, and a miracle to watch unfold.  I particularly love when the tadpoles are almost fully formed but are still in the water because they have yet to lose their tails.  It is a process I suppose we all know but I find it fascinating nonetheless.  The Scottish author of “The Wind in the Willows” Kenneth Grahame wrote:

“The clever men at Oxford, know all that there is to be knowed.  But they none of them know one half as much, as intelligent Mr. Toad.”

I think I shall continue to watch and listen … and learn from Mr. Toad.  So far I have observed not to get stuck, to allow people to help if you need it, and to sing from your heart.  I think those are simple but difficult tenets to put into practice.  If anyone ever asks where I learned some of my life skills, I shall say I aquired them from a load of toads.

I realize I have blogged about our koi pond before.  And, posting daily, I will probably do so again.  I have to say I think this is the best picture I have ever photographed and I was just outside feeding the fish.  I can see how the famed French Impressionist Monet was obsessed with light and shadow, the reflection upon the water, and the blooms themselves.  We were lucky enough to tour his home in Giverny (which I will blog about later) and I was fascinated to learn he would paint different parts of his pond every day consistent with the movement of the sun so as to try and capture the same light each time.  I recently introduced my little one to Disney’s Pocahontas and I am reminded of the beginning lyrics to “Just Around the Riverbend” where Pocahontas sings:

“What I love most about rivers is:
You can’t step in the same river twice
The water’s always changing, always flowing

Perhaps that is why I love our little pond so.  There is always something different to admire:  the way the water flows down the waterfalls, the ripples they create, the way the surface dapples when it rains, watching the fish languidly swim, fanning their fins in between the lily pads; noticing the pond’s reflection in moonlight, the sunlight, and marveling at its quiet stillness when it has almost completely iced over.  A continual source of comfort and joy; it replenishes my spirit and is simply a reflection upon peace and beauty, and taking the time to slow down enough to savor it.  Wherever you are I hope this finds you reflecting over coffee, or wine, or tea and enjoying some down time yourself.  Maybe you have a good book or will be taking a long walk.  Regardless, I wish you your own time and place to find your tranquility in bloom.

As a child I was fascinated by this sweet smelling tree that seemed to grow everywhere.  I used to close my eyes and rub its fallen silky plumes against my cheek.  Pictured here is a tiny survivor that still rises out of the remnants of one that was once much bigger and lives on the back of our property in the alley.  It is a treasured heirloom that has grown higher than our fence and graces our yard, bending daintily toward our little koi pond.  I was upset to learn years ago they are now considered “trash” trees and one can hardly find them anymore unless they’re growing wild along the creek banks.  According to what I could dig up, (no pun intended) they were introduced to this continent as an ornamental about 250 years ago and it has established itself across much of the eastern United States.  Apparently it has been called the “Messmosa” and that is part of why it is now considered unfavorable.  Next to the magical Weeping Willow, it is the most charming tree I know.  I have also blogged about the enchanting “wooden rose tree”, as we call it, (the Deodar cedar) and I find the Redwoods to be the most magestic of them all.  William Blake, the English poet, once said this:

“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way.  Some see nature all ridicule and deformity … and some scarce see nature at all.  But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.”

We are lucky to have this delicate, fragrant tree along with our mighty oaks.  I believe I would like another Mimosa as I go back outside to sit under our fig tree and admire it.

Our yard has lots of anoles.  Sometimes they’re green; sometimes they’re brown.  I can tell the males from the females because they have the red throats that protrude when they’re trying to attract a mate.  Since I have just pretty much imparted the sum total of my knowledge I have attempted to edify myself with a bit of research.  Anoles have adhesive lamellae on their foot-pads for crawling along walls, much like geckos.  Though they are often referred to as the American chameleon, they are unrelated.  Their color change is a result of body temperature, stress, and activity rather than just blending in.  Oh, and the flap of skin that hangs below their neck is called a dewlap.  Not only used for attracting females, it can be flared for territorial displays as well.  Anoles are native to the southeastern United States and the Caribbean.  I had forgotten they also have tails which drop off their body when grabbed, allowing them to escape.  They will grow new ones in time although they are usually shorter.  Anoles feed on cockroaches, spiders, moths and grubs, so they’re beneficial to have around.  I think they’re cute critters and I enjoy seeing them sunning around our yard.  American author Elizabeth McCracken said:

“It’s an amazing thing to watch a lizard fold a moth into its mouth, like a sword swallower who specializes in umbrellas.”

Leaping lizards!