Tag Archives: Nature

{Fall} My Personal New Year

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{A hike up Peeked Mountain, Monson Massachusetts 2009}

Yesterday we officially slipped into fall. I love everything about this time of year. I love boots and scarves and warm cozy jackets. I love hot drinks and hardy soups, crackling fires and cobalt skies. I love snuggling up on Sunday afternoons watching football and sipping a hot pumpkin latte every morning on the way to work.

{New Hampshire Pumpkin Fest 2009}

There is something about this time of year that always makes me reflective. The air is cooler, the days are getting shorter, and the whole world feels like it’s wrapping up in a warm, cozy blanket.

{The Height of the Land, Maine 2011}

Every day I notice how many more leaves blush in crimson or show off in gold. I watch them fall to the ground, one by one today, ten by ten tomorrow, and I think about how quickly the warmth and reflection of this season will pass us by. Soon enough we will be watching the snow flakes fall rather than the leaves.

I used to dread the transition from fall into winter. I used to think of winter as the end when everything is dead and over and there is nothing left to enjoy. But after long busy summers, I’ve started looking forward to the quiet days of winter. Instead of thinking of winter as the end, I see it now as a time of rest. The snow I once used to dread is now a welcome reprieve if it means life will slow down and leave us with nowhere to go for a while.

{Maine 2010}

I have learned to love this rhythm of the seasons. The leaves fall and we drift into winter. The snow flakes fly and we gather around warm cracking fires. Soon enough winter melts into spring and new life buds and blooms all around us. We soak up the summer sun until the leaves fall again and the world goes to sleep once more. The ebb and flow of the seasons is the quiet beating of the earth’s heart…tick, tock, tick, tock.

{A warm cozy fire to chase away the chill}

Today I sit by the open window with the cool breeze blowing in. I bid farewell to the hot days of summer and embrace the cool days of fall and winter. I reflect on the year gone by and plan for the year to come. I don’t cry over what we lose with the end of a season; I embrace what we gain with the next…with the ebb and flow of life…with the rhythm of the seasons and the tick tock of the earth spinning round and round through the seasons of life.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace

…

He has made everything beautiful in its time.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 & 11

Moments in Time

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I spent Labor Day weekend up in Maine with Darren’s family. My brother and sister-in-law, their two little boys, and Darren and I decided to go for a walk through the woods and pastures. The hot sun was showing off its power for the last days of summer but as soon as we ducked into the woods under the canopy of trees, the heat broke and the cool Maine air gave us hope of fall coming soon enough.

I love the woods.

I felt like Lucy stepping through the wardrobe into Narnia—welcomed by a whole world of sights and sounds just beyond us as we live our lives among cities and highways. How can the woods be so quiet even as they bubble over with the sound of bird’s song, crickets, streams, and the rustle of leaves? How can they smell so good? The sod mingles with the moss, wild flowers, and evergreens filling the air with a sweet, earthy aroma. The light filters through the leaves and everything feels soft and hushed, calm and quiet.

It makes me happy :]

We walked the muddy path hopping around to avoid puddles, crossed the broken little bridge over the stream, balanced along a fallen tree, and popped out of the woods into the open pasture drenched in sunshine. I told my sister-in-law that between the shadowy woods and pasture covered in wild flowers, I felt like we were in Twilight together…only we’re not vampires and we’re not in love…because that would be weird.

We all trekked across the pasture together through the knee-high prairie grass and milk weed. The boys took off in search of blueberries. The sun was hot and I didn’t feel like trekking anymore. Maya and I sat in the grass talking.

I sat there thinking that I would probably remember this simple moment forever.

It was just an ordinary day. Just a walk in the woods. But it was all so magical. The blue mountain peaks sticking up behind the trees. The smell of evergreens. The grass up over our heads as we sat talking. The yellow wild flowers drenched in the yellow sunshine as far as we could see.

It was ordinary and extraordinary all at once.

Maya and I noticed we had settled right next to a big fat yellow and black garden spider and we were very pleased with our bravery for sitting there beside him, letting him listen in on our conversation, without panicking or running for our lives…that’s what I usually do around spiders…panic. kill. run for life.

The boys came back without any berries and I was a little sad they didn’t take longer; I was enjoying that moment…sitting in the grass over my head, talking with Maya and taking in the magic of the wild Maine mountain side.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said to “Live in the sunshine, swim in the sea, drink the wild air.” I think he was on to something, that Emerson.

{Darren is always getting into trouble with the littles…I love him for that}

{The End}

Summer Days and Life Lessons

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Earlier this week Darren and I went to the beach with our friends, Victor and Olga. V and O are in love with a beach in Rhode Island that Darren and I had never seen. So we all loaded in our cars and took of to see this spot we’ve heard so much about. A few minutes out from the beach we parked and climbed into Victor’s boat for the rest of the trip out to their spot.

I’m so glad they decided to share this place with us because it’s honestly the prettiest beach front I’ve seen in New England. I was completely mesmerized the whole day. As soon as we were on shore, I was busy walking along the water gathering shells and rocks and I even found a crab claw I plan on terrorizing Darren with.

{Such a happy couple}

{Earthy treasures from the sea}

There was bright green sea weed floating around and lots of the rocks had taken on the same lime green color—so of course I filled my pockets with them to haul back home and scatter around my house. Every time we go to the beach I look for little earthy treasures to take home and decorate with. My living room is filled with mason jars full of sand and shells from all over. There’s also a whole birch tree in my living room, because yes, I drag those indoors too :]

{I drug the tree in the house by myself and cut it in half on the kitchen floor with a hack saw…wahaha}

Darren sometimes forbids me from bringing any more nature indoors and I always smile like I’m listening and fill my pockets anyway. I think he doesn’t mind in the end because he’s always showing off our jars of sea treasure when we have company and telling everyone about the adventures that went along with each bit of nature we’ve brought back home.

Once we unloaded all our stuff from the boat and settled in on the beach, the boys decided to take the boat back out on the ocean exploring. Olga and I opted for staying on the beach with the kids and away from the wild ocean waves—we know too well by now how those boys like to drive the boat like it’s a water rocket.

{The boys}

The kids took off for the sand and waves and were quickly busy digging holes and building sand castles by the sea.

{The kids + Victor digging in the sand}

Victor and Olga are Russian. They have three children; the oldest is in school and speaks English perfectly. Their daughter hasn’t started school yet and only speaks Russian. And then there’s the baby who speaks, well, baby. They also have a little boy from the Ukraine staying with them for the summer and he only speaks Ukrainian. So there were three children playing together prattling off in three different languages and yet they understood each other perfectly. Childhood is simply a language all its own.

{All the world is magic when you are five years old}

Olga and I settled into camping chairs in the sand with our legs and arms stretched out hoping for a kiss from the sun.

Just me and Olga.

Olga scares me a little bit because she’s very pretty and put together. She always wears nice clothes and has her hair done. She even smells good…how ridiculous is that? I always walk away from my time with her feeling like a frump and loser who needs to get her life together. It’s not Olga’s fault I feel this way either. She’s very nice and doesn’t do anything to make me feel bad. It’s my own jealousy and insecurity that leaves me feeling this way and not anything she needs to change. I share this because I knew going into our little beach trip that I wouldn’t have any fun if I let my feelings about O intimidate me. I decided this time I wanted things to be different. I wanted to relax and give O a chance instead of putting her in a little box of perfection she may not herself want to be in.

On the boat ride over to the beach I kept glancing over at her. She looked lovely. Her outfit was cute. Her hair wasn’t attacking her in the wind like mine was. I wanted to push her off the boat. No I didn’t…well, I sort of did :] But I decided I was going to do my best to open up and get to know her better that day. Usually I clam up and try to play it cool so she won’t figure out how not together my life is. But I knew I was being fake and frivolous and it was time to get past fear and insecurity. So after the boys left we started chatting…just our usual small talk at first. But then I started asking her questions and she asked me questions too. I thought I would be miserable trying to talk to her and open up but before I knew it the sun was dipping behind the sandy hills and were wrapping up in sweaters to stay warm. Olga told me about her life. She told me about some of the things that are bothering her and things that aren’t going right. She would stop sometimes, struggling to think of a word in English or how to communicate an idea from Russian to English. She told me I’m the only person she ever really speaks to in English and she feels silly when she can’t think of a word. I couldn’t believe Olga ever felt silly in front of me. I told her I forget words in English too and it’s the only language I speak :]

{Beautiful Olga}

I learned a lot about O that day and I learned a lot about myself too. I learned that as perfect as Olga looks and seems, she is a girl just like me. A girl with a heart that can be broken, feelings that get hurt, and fears that follow her just like me. I learned that I don’t need to try to be like Olga to have my life put together. I just need to be who I am, as imperfect as that may be. If I wear things because Olga wears them or say things because Olga says them, I’m not more like her, I’m just less like me. I cheat myself by thinking imitation will bring me any closer to who I should be. The truth is, Olga and I are very different people. We grew up in different countries and even in America, take part in very different cultures. She is six years older than me and the mother of three children. We are in very different places in life. How can I expect to know and be all that she is when we are so different in the very fibers that make us who we are? I realized that day, as we snacked on fresh fruit and treats from the Russian grocer, that my fears and insecurities are just that—fear and insecurity. There is nothing wrong with me and there is nothing unattainable about Olga; we are just different people. I’m glad I gave O a chance because I left the beach that day with a great sense of peace and confidence. Instead of feeling unattractive and inadequate, I left feeling inspired. Inspired to be the person I’m meant to be. Inspired to learn from the things I admire in Olga, not to merely mimic them. Inspired to grow and change…into myself, not into someone else.

{This is who I am, no one else}

The boys came back with the last rays of light and soon we were all marching off to get ice cream together. We sat on a wall with our ice cream watching the boats bobble on the water. There was a cannon like BOOM and people screamed; I laughed. Laughter is a nervous reaction for me. I have a feeling when the ol’ apocalypse gets here I’ll be laying on the ground giggling while everyone else runs for their lives. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism :] Victor said they do that BOOM to let everyone know it’s sunset. Olga joked about how we should probably know it’s sunset without a cannon going off and we all laughed. Of course she’s funny too…maybe I’ll push her off the boat on the way back home :]

It was a lovely day of sand and sunshine…and a life lesson or two as well. I’m thankful.

We left after dark. The black water looked like pools of ink as we glided over it. I wanted to dip my quill in it and write you a story, this story.


Nature and Emotion

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I didn’t realize until recently how deeply nature impacts my mood and emotions. I had gone for a walk in the woods and was taking everything in around me—the smell of pine, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the crunch of the leaves beneath my feet. I felt so alert and peaceful, so relaxed.

That’s when it occurred to me that the times I’m away from nature, cooped up in an office or at home, those are the times when I start getting stressed out and frustrated about every little thing. When I’m inside all the time, that’s when I start feeling down and start wondering if and when things are going to get better instead of seeing the beauty all around me.

When I’m outside, moving and enjoying the world around me, that’s when I see my life with a sense of hope and purpose.

During that walk in the woods, Darren and I decided to wade in the stream. We took of our sandals and walked in the ice cold water looking for wishing stones and marveling at the teeny, tiny fish. We climbed across the branches of a tree fallen across the water and planned out camping trips and days at the ocean. We dreamt up a house in the woods with a big yard and lots of room to move and breathe. Everything we talked about, everything we dreamt of had to do with nature and being outside moving.

I told Darren what I had realized during our day in the woods. I told him I thought being outside enjoying nature and being physically active had a huge impact on my mood and emotions. He said he thought the same was true for him too. The more time he spends inside sitting still, the worse he feels. The more we get outside, the better we feel about life and ourselves.

There is something so artificial about the way we live indoors. The way the fake air feels when its air conditioned or heated is nothing like the warmth of sunlight or the crispness of a cool breeze. The television and music we saturate ourselves with is cheap entertainment compared to the sound of leaves rustling, streams bubbling, and birds chirping.

We went camping a couple weeks ago in Vermont. At night we sat around a campfire roasting marshmallows and laughing with friends. I sat there by the cozy flames looking up and marveling at the night sky—a black canvas poked through with light from other worlds. The smell of the smoke, the sound of laughter echoing off the green mountains—mmmm, there is nothing like it. There is nowhere else I would rather be.

So the next time I get restless or feel down, I’m taking off to the woods. This won’t always solve the problem, of course. Moods and emotions are deeper and more complicated than a birds song can sometimes solve. But maybe stretching my legs and breathing fresh air will solve the problem without anything else needing to be done. And even if it doesn’t, I think I’m more likely to figure out what does need to be done when I’m outside moving and enjoying nature than I ever will cooped up inside breathing the fake air.

Driftwood

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DSC_0563

The driftwood tosses about in the sea

Worn by the waves and the turbulent water.

It looks like the end for the branch or the tree

But it’s just the beginning of beauty perfected.

The storm hews the edges, rough and ugly

Smoothing and softening each imperfection.

The salt and the sun bleach out stains dark

Cleansing and purifying in waters deep.

The wood, smooth and white tell a story

Of hot heat and waters deep.

Each line and each mark attest to the voyage

Of battle scars and beauty born in the rough waves of life’s journey.

Life is no different. We are tossed and beaten by trials. We are challenged and changed by the crashing waves of heartache. But in our heartache we are made perfect. The waves smooth out our rough edges, the heat cleanses and purifies our blemishes. We are wrinkled and scarred by the journey, but in the end, we are softer, smoother, and better for the deep waters and crashing waves that tossed and perfected us along the way.

Perspective

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I spent Saturday exploring Plymouth, Mass where the Pilgrims first explored this land. In the late afternoon, a storm blew in over the ocean. A fierce wall of slate gray clouds stretched like reaching hands over the face of the water bringing darkness and chill of cold air over everything it touched. I stood by the bay awestruck (and a little scared) by the clouds billowing and changing overhead. There’s no view quite like a storm at sea. You stand by and watch as in slow motion the storm reaches and stretches consuming every sliver of sunshine and blue sky in its path. Huge swaths of rain fall and wave like ribbons. I stand on the bay snapping pictures of the ever-changing sky until the winds blow hard and the drops begin to fall–then it’s a race back to the car before the torrents let loose and all the slate gray from above comes splashing down below.

Today I’m home caught again in the ruckus of a thunderstorm. The rain falls fast and hard as the gray clouds zip by overhead. But today I can’t see the storm–only the rain and the sound of thunder. There’s no panoramic view or way to gain perspective on all that rumbles above. I couldn’t see the storm coming and I don’t know when it will leave.

Isn’t life the same? If only I could stand on the bay and watch life stretch out before me. If only I could see the story beginning to end–dark though it may be and threatening, at least I would know. I would know when to stand in awe snapping pictures of the overwhelming beauty and when to run for cover from the heartache and hurt. But life doesn’t give us warning or panoramic views. Life doesn’t tell us when heartache is coming or when it will leave. We stand in the storm seeing and hearing only the rain and thunder–not the beauty and majesty of the clouds that bring our trouble. I think of the storm at sea, and try to remember that even trouble falls from beauty and brings beauty in its wake. The storm lasts for a season and at times we believe we will be consumed–but we won’t. There is brightness after the rain. Rainbows to bring light, color, and the hope of a promise.

God may come in storm clouds dark, fall on us in trials and pain–but there is beauty in the panorama of it all. If we could stand on the bay and see his plan–see his purpose stretch out in fierce beauty from beginning to end–then we would understand. Then we would be awestruck at his divine plan. We would stand in the falling rain, and though we may be afraid of the storm clouds and thunder overhead, we would see there is a beginning and an end–a purpose stretching with beauty and hope through all the dark clouds and rain drops that beat around us.

Though you stand in the thunderstorm and see no plan. Though your heart is broken and overwhelmed. Know, always know, there is beauty overhead. Know the rain falls from beauty and brings beauty in its wake. Know, always know, there is a plan.

Dandelion

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Oh, Taraxacum officinale, you whimsical hippy flower. You start out golden and vain–sunshiny hair blowing in the wind. You grace spring early–hurrying the snow on its way, standing tall before the other flowers have courage enough to poke heads through the cold, damp sod. You are called “dent de lion”–lion’s tooth, with lion-like mane of fierce, unruly hair. But your life is short-lived, dear dandelion. The sun begins to warm and your sunshiny hair begins to fade. Your glowing mane turns fuzzy frenzy. The soft breeze blows your soft hair away. You are gray and balding. Hippy flower that you are, will not submit to the rules of age and even in balding you delight in your own magical way. Each lock of hair a magic wand in the wind. You let down your hair–sprinkling it across the land, through the woods–like mystical fire flies flitting through the night. You proud, vain perfectly perfect hippy flower.

dandi blue

dandi green

 

Busy As a Bee

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The husband and I spent this past weekend in Maine. Darren’s dad runs a bee pollination business taking boxes and boxes of honey bees to the farmers to make sure their crops are pollinated and ready to produce yummy, beautiful fruit. We go up twice a year—once in the spring and again in the fall to help Darren’s dad load and unload the bees off the truck. The bees have a pretty posh life—they get to spend the spring and summer in Maine when the weather is warm and lovely but never quite hot or humid. Then when the air gets crisp and the leaves begin to turn, the spoiled honey bees get loaded in their bee boxes back onto the truck and are whisked away to do a little tanning in Florida for the winter. You wouldn’t want them getting too cold, you know :]

With spring’s early arrival, the farmers are edgy and impatient about having the bees brought early just in case the blossoms go by quickly. You can’t blame them—if the blossoms aren’t pollinated, the crops will be lost. So as soon as the bees were pulled off the truck from Florida, the boys loaded them right onto another truck to begin deliveries. Here’s Darren driving the truck:

My father-in-law wanted to know if I wanted to ride along with them to make the deliveries—I love riding along so I jumped in the truck between him and Darren. The boys were rushing around trying to make sure they had everything they needed for the trip. My father-in-law asked me: Kari, what are we going to forget? Something important, I say. Something critical, he says. Oh well, we pile in the truck and are off. We get several miles down the road and my father-in-law says, The map. We forgot the map. Darren asks his dad if he knows where we’re going and how to get there? I hope so, says my father-in-law and we just keep on going. After lots of guessing and a couple of turnarounds, we made every delivery.

I love riding around with the boys. To avoid taking the time to stop and eat, they munch on gas station fare all day—I had a Twix, a Rice Crispy Treat, an ice cream cone, and my favorite pizza from Papa Johns—why wouldn’t I ride along for all that? :]

Here’s Darren zipping around in the Bobcat moving bee hives into an apple orchard.

When the boys were at each delivery stop, I sat in the truck and ate up a couple more pages of Walden Pond. I didn’t want to risk getting stung, you know, and it was really cold out too! I took pictures from inside the truck to avoid getting stung–see Darren in the mirror?

Here’s a cranberry bog with berries from last year taking a dip. Darren’s dad helps pollinate the cranberries used by Ocean Spray so if you’ve ever tasted Ocean Spray then maybe just maybe you’ve tasted some of his bee’s hard work.

After all the work was done, Darren and I took off for a little date in Freeport. We walked around the outdoor shops and wandered through the flagship L.L. Bean store drooling over rich people camping gear. Here’s Darren with the giant Bean Boot (he has a real pair of Bean Boots that look just like this…um, only smaller).

We are busy. The bees are busy. Life is just as busy as the busy little bees.

bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Not Without Light

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On Sunday, Darren and I drove home from Maine with our two little nephews in tow. One of the boys was chattering from the backseat about the moon and about how dark it would be at night if we had no moon. The other nephew confidently informed us that earth has two suns and there was no convincing him otherwise–but that has nothing to do with this conversation :] My nephew’s chatter about the moon lighting up the night made me think of Genesis 1:16

“And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also” (KJV).

It is interesting that in nature, as in life, God does not leave us without light. In the dark of night, God gives us light–even if just enough to find our way through the surrounding blackness.

I believe nature gives us a glimpse of God–of his nature and character. Like the words of a writer or the strokes of an artist tell something of their creator, so the restless ocean, the bird in flight, the sweeping prairie grass each tell something of their creator–of the Divine Artist who painted and wrote them into existence. God didn’t have to paint light into the darkness; he could have left us to wonder through the blackness until the sun’s return–but he didn’t. He gave us the moon and the stars with just enough light to give hope of the sun’s return.

The same is true in the blackness of our lives. There are dark days, sometimes dark months and years. But even in the darkness, there is light and hope. Sometimes the light is dim, veiled, hidden behind the clouds and difficult to find–but it’s there, it’s always there. God, the painter of light, creator of sun and moon, gives us his light–his hope and peace in the darkness.

If you are prodding in the darkness, feeling lost and unsure, know the light is there–behind the clouds, behind the heartache or uncertainty–the light is there, it’s always there.

“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” C.S. Lewis

Life In My Slippers

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Well kids, it’s been a busy week and I’m glad to finally have time to sit and write again. We’ve been preparing for our big annual audit at work and I feel like all I’ve done for the last two weeks is sit behind a desk filling out paper work. When it would all get to be too much, I would walk over to the big window in the office and just take in the changing spring-kissed landscape. We’ve been in a dance with the weather here lately–one day is a warm breeze and a cobalt sky, the next is rain drops and jackets. Every time I’m certain spring has finally settled in for good, I wake up to another cold day and bare branches not brave enough to put out leaves. It reminds of me of Robert Frost’s words about this time of year here in New England:

“The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still,
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.”
From the poem Two Tramps in Mud Time

Yesterday was the final day before the audit and everyone at work was rushing around trying to tie things up. One of the girls I work with needed a break from the bustle and went outside for a bit then came back with the cutest little stem of white bell-shaped flowers. She walked around work showing it off like a brand new baby and had everyone smell how fragrant it was for such a tiny thing. Then she got a tiny little cup filled with water and left it on her work table–I think we all enjoyed having a little piece of nature inside with us, especially on such a beautiful day when we all wanted to be outdoors. Actually, my boss wanted to be outside so much that he just took the day off and spent it out on his boat. He came in to work after 9:30 last night in shorts and flip-flops looking like a new man–it’s amazing what a little time outdoors on the water does for the soul.

The husband had to get up early this morning for the audit (I get to stay home and avoid the mess since I just work in the office, hehe). When I came down to the kitchen this morning, I was greeted by a cute little pink flower in a tiny little vase sitting on the windowsill…Husband picked it for me and put it there before he left–he’s a keeper, that one.

Now that I finally have a day out of the office, I’m faced with a mountain of laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, etc. Oh well, I would rather face the laundry than another mountain of paper work. Besides, I get to beat around the house in my slippers sipping coffee and rocking out to OneRepublic and Adele–all is well at the Andrews’ joint 8]

Well, I apologize if my ramblings about everything and nothing bore you–I’m just too fried to talk about anything important today…next week, I promise.

Enjoy your weekend and get outside if you can!