This morning while drinking my first cup of coffee, I watched nature portray a mini movie about the cycle of life.
One of my best friends, Sabella, my German shepherd drop off, was in the midst of terrifying a possum. I watched the game from Sabella's point of view and also from the possum's.
It was no game to the possum, he was fighting for his life.
Sabella carried the possum to the front yard and laid it down in front of our living room window. Then backed off about 10 feet, laid down with her nose to the ground and watched as the possum pretended to be dead.
The possum was full grown and not nearly as cute as the picture above. To me, possums are one of the ugliest mammals in Missouri.
There is nothing a possum won't eat! It can never cross the same road twice without getting killed. I put it in the same class as a buzzard----necessary but not nice.
However, they have the patience of Job. When in danger, they play dead, unless absolutely forced to fight. They have huge mouths with lots of sharp teeth, but very small brains. They seldom use either effectively.
Today the possum was on his "A Game". I could tell by the way he looked, that he and Sabella had been at this game for quite awhile. He was looking haggard to say the least.
I went for my second cup of coffee and sat down to see how far this game would go. The possum was still for ten minutes. I thought it was dead, but Tommy assured me it was alive and plotting.
Sabella heard some crows caw, diverting her attention away from the possum for about five minutes.
It was long enough for the possum to feel safe. Slowly, the possum raised up on his feet, and began to actually walk in slow motion---one foot at a time toward my flower bed. He made it to the bed, only to have Sabella pounce on him.
She slung the possum around for a few seconds, pawed it a time or two and then threw it down. She went back over to her part of the yard, layed down and began her vigil again.
I thought the possum was dead this time. Tommy laughed and said, "That possum is fine, it is just playing dead so Sabella will leave it alone."
Hmmmm, he looked dead to me. I decided to feed the dogs and give the possum a chance to escape. It worked, when I returned to the house, the possum was gone.
I asked Tommy if he saw it get away. He said, "Well sort of, it made it out of the yard but not passed the school bus!!!"
Sometimes it is just not your day, today was one of those days for the possum!!
This is what I like about living in the country, you never know what nature will do. Let's face it, you will never see this scene play out in Starbucks!!
On the other hand, why would you want to?
At least every two or three years I reread Anne Morrow Lindbergh's book, " Gift From the Sea". It is a book that has resonated with me, since the first time I read it years ago.
I have probably read this book twenty times. For me,
it is one woman sharing with another woman a truth she learned about life.
They could easily be sitting at a small table, looking out the window of a small weathered house toward the beach. Sharing coffee, donuts and bits of their life. Mostly, just letting the ocean do the talking, to each of them in their own way.
The author slowly reveals a truth, and at times a very painful lesson for each of us to learn, "that a woman must come of age by herself--she must find her true center alone." This takes time. Anne, was a wealthy woman and still yearned for "alone time." She could afford to pay for it, but it was never enough. She, like most women longed for more and wanted it all.
For most women, including herself, this is almost impossible. We are caretakers, mothers, wives, friends, employees and volunteers. That leaves very little room for exploring oneself. However, sooner or later the day will come and the question will be asked by 99% of all women, "when is my time?"
Anne compares the stages of her life to the seashells she finds on her island. A place she goes once a year to be alone. A place to regroup, to clear her head and find that" wanting spot" inside her that never goes away.
I envied her every time I read that book until just recently. I wanted or longed to be able to get away from all the pressures of life for a week. A week of solitude 20 years ago, would have been worth a million dollars to me.
I loved my family, my life, but there were times I felt like I could not breathe. Everything was going so fast. There was no time to rest or relax for more than 20 minutes. I longed for a day alone. A day to do as I pleased--no strings attached. A week would have been indescribable.
Finally, I have found the time, the place and the space. For me it is a place that I eventually earned. After the children where grown and happy, I began to relax. I didn't worry as much about them. I enjoyed them as adults and friends.
I eventually retired from a job that I really did like. Tommy and I started a new phase in our relationship. We spend quality time together and apart. Each doing probably for the first time in our lives, things we really want to do, without having to second guess our motives or how it will affect someone else. This has become our "island time" of life.
It would have been nice to have had "island time" 20 or 30 years ago. Most people can't afford that luxury. I know I couldn't. However, the wait is worth it.
My life is mine now. I write when I want to, which has become my passion. It was always there. My life was just so loud and hectic I couldn't hear my muse. Now we spend a lot of time together.
The ideas that come to my mind, come so fast it is as though they are trying to play catch up for 30 years of silence.
The picture above is a sketch by Ron Berry of Naples, Fla. I have met him and he is a very gifted artist and a humble man. This drawing symbolizes for me this time in my "creative life". My time---at last.
One of my favorite people, Liz Jewell, made a comment the other day that absolutely sums up life--- "We can have it all----just not all at once." I love that quote. It is the essence of my life....for now.
While Tommy and I were on vacation we spent a lot of time at the ocean. Every second we could squeeze in, we were there.
My idea of paradise, has an ocean with the whitest sand and the best sea shells. Where each night at the pier, a crowd gathers to watch the sun set and give a cheer as it slides slowly into the ocean.
On our second trip to the pier, we started out walking together. However, somewhere along the way I lost Tommy and did not know it. He was originally walking on my left side--a little behind me. He wanted to wait for Lisle, our son-in-law. I was in a hurry to get to the beach. He stopped and I kept going.
We were one of the first ones there. The sky was azure blue with white billowing clouds. It was a perfect looking morning. There were no more than 20 people in my sight. Mostly older people--all shapes and sizes.
Plenty of room to enjoy and not be part of a huge crowd. I am jealous of my time with the ocean. I want to soak up as much as I can, for as long as I can. I know in all probability it will be a year before I see her again.
I was so excited. As I walked along I was in the process of telling Tommy what I planned to do, when I turned to see that the man I was talking to, was not Tommy.
I said, "Excuse me, I thought you were my husband". He had a delightful accent and said, "I am a husband" I laughed and said, "Yes, but you aren't my husband" Then he started laughing, "No, no my wife is on the beach, we are from Portugal."
They were in the United States for the first time. His English was good. His wife did not speak any English that I heard. They were an older couple probably in their early 70's. Both of them were small in stature and had eyes that had laughed a lot in their time together.
His wife played in the surf and enjoyed the sun's rays. He spent most of his time in a chair not far from his wife, just enjoying the view.
They were a fun couple to watch. Eventually the heat became too intense and they moved under the dock, not far from where I sat.
She wanted an ice cream cone. He bought her a chocolate double dipper and a strawberry slushy to drink. They shared a soda, ice cream and some laughs. It wasn't long until they were back in the sun and ocean. They showed the familiarity of a couple who had been together for a long time. An easiness that comes with age and time spent together.
I was about to get in the ocean again when a young couple came strolling by, hand in hand. Both of them were tall and lanky, with an easy going stride and a quick smile for strangers.
The older couple and I watched them stroll by. They whispered to each other and then looked at me and nodded. I smiled and nodded back to them. Each of us remembering for a minute how it felt to be very young and lean; able to wear spandex without a single doubt.
I snapped a picture of the young couple. We gave each other a thumbs up and laughed.
I sincerely hope the young couple enjoys life as much as we have....as much as the older couple probably have. And when it is their turn to sit on the beach and watch a younger version of themselves walk by, to be able to smile, be thankful and give a thumbs up to a life worth living.
My mailbox is over 50 years old.....and looks every day of it!!!
It was here when we bought our home 32 years ago. It has been painted three times. Once when we first moved in, and then about 15 years ago, we turned it into a covered wagon. I painted it yellow and Tommy put on wheels from one of the girls broken baby buggies.
The last time it was painted, we sprayed it silver so our name and 911 address would show up in case of an emergency.
I wanted to plant flowers around it, day lilies to be exact, but Tommy didn't want them. He was afraid the mail carrier would get stung by a bee. He is so much nicer than I am. That never entered my mind. I just wanted a pretty mailbox. However, I agreed after I thought about it.
I usually decorate it for holidays. This summer I just let it go. It was too hot most of the summer for me to do much of anything outside.
One of my postcard friends wanted a picture of my mailbox. I took one and when I saw the picture, I remember thinking, "That is the ugliest mailbox I have ever seen---and it is MINE!!!"
I showed the picture to Tommy and he was almost as shocked as I was. Funny how people get used to looking at the same thing day in and day out. Somewhere along the way, they just stop "seeing" it at all.
We went to Fulton yesterday and bought a new mailbox. It hasn't been put up yet. I was sitting in the swing thinking about what all that old mailbox has been through and all the news it has held for our family.
The whole history of our lives in Missouri has at one time or another passed through that old container. Birth announcements, party invitations, cards from people all around the world, scholarship awards and death certificates. It has run the gauntlet, from unemployment checks to social security checks and every other check or bill known to man.
Usually, the news has been good. I remember the day we received our deed to our home. It was finally paid off. We were jumping around like two kids. One less thing to worry about. One BIG achievement for us as a couple.
We will probably put up the new mailbox today. I am taking the old one out to my "hippie" spot--Matlache and I think I will turn it into a bird house.
It has served it's purpose with us. I do wish I had taken better care of it though. For the birds, I think I will paint it red and put some decals on it and let them finish the decorating, as I am sure they will do.
In the Spring there should be new life in it--that is always a good thing.
Life goes on, people, places and possessions change. That is the cycle of life. We can't stop time or hold on to everything. Most of life is spent--letting go.
At 3 p.m. today when the mail runs, I intend to be in the swing. I know my mail lady will be surprised and probably relieved that we have a new mailbox. Knowing her, she will probably turn in our driveway and give me some grief about the fact that it took us over 30 years to "update".
We will joke about it as she hands me the mail. I just thought of something, I talk to her all the time and I still don't know her first name. Today, I will ask her.
Over the past few years I have found that I enjoy looking for and taking "mirror images". For me they have a beauty all their own.
In a way, I am taking a picture of nature's own photograph. The image is there. The oddity caught by an outsider, while nature paints her own canvas.
Here are a few of the many "mirror images" I have taken and collected from friends and relatives. Lisle Lewis, my son in law, and son of my heart, gave me some beautiful shots. Florida, because of all the water is a photographer's paradise.
These are pictures of dawn and sunset. Pictures following an afternoon storm and various other times of the day. Each one repeating the same story---nature's art work told twice.
Lisle took this picture of a Royal Poinciana found on Marco Island. The fluid colors of the reflection remind me of a Monet painting.
This shot does not do the scenery justice. We were driving along and spotted a red waterlily. I jumped out of the car, ran in a strangers back yard and snapped the picture. The next day, there were two red lilies but we decided not to push our luck.
I bought this postcard. I loved everything about it. I would give the photographer credit but I have no idea who took it. Whoever it was, was blessed twice. Once to be in the presence of such beauty. And twice to capture it so beautifully on camera.
There could be no photo story told without the ocean. Why I live in a land locked state I will never know!! The ocean does for me what nothing else can do. It relaxes my mind and lets creativity flow. It erases anger that has built up inside of me without me even being aware.
I love it and fear it at the same time. Like everything in my life there is always another side of the same story. Some day, I know in my heart I will live by the ocean, if only for a short time and I will thrive as never before.
Two of the 20th century's biggest news stories, were reported to me by the same mental patient, I had known for years. Each time he told me the news, I did not believe him.
The first news break was when the Soviet Union had it's revolt. The t.v. was on in the large day room and slowly but surely the ward was coming alive.
Patients and staff alike were drinking coffee, trying their best to get motivated to begin life in a world completely opposite to the world at large.
I was taking the regular morning B/P's on the scheduled patients, that for medical reasons needed this procedure done.
Charlie comes running up to the desk window, all a buzz about the" Soviet Union is collapsing" I remember telling him to "lay off the coffee for awhile, he was getting too hyped up."
He was rather aggravated with me for not "jumping at the news." I was busy, and truthfully I did not believe him.
This is a man who sees ghosts, talks to the Pope and travels with invisible chickens. He is likable, just not all that competent in his reporting of what he sees and hears.
He came back in just a minute saying "Please, come look at the t.v. You have got to see this!!!! There are soldiers and tanks everywhere."
I grabbed my coffee cup and followed him to the day room. Sure enough, everything he was telling me was the truth. We sat down and by now the day room was getting full. Not a word was said by anyone but the news broadcaster.
Usually the ward is quiet in the mornings, but there is always someone who wakes up in a bad mood or in another world. If they did that day, they kept quiet. None of us could believe what we were seeing. On a mental ward for the criminally insane---that is a BIG deal!!
After about 30 minutes, it was time for breakfast. Our daily routine was about to begin. I turned the t.v. off, promising we would watch it later.
Charlie looked at me and said, "See I told you so----I am not crazy ALL the time!!!" That was debatable, but that morning he was spot on in what he said.
The next news break from Charlie was Aug. 31,1997. I was once again coming in to work. He is waiting for me at the desk. He headed for the door as I came in, I gave him one of those "don't cross that line look" and he stopped and waited for me to get to him.
Charlie said, "Princess Diana was killed this morning in a car wreck!!! She's dead, Vicky, she's dead!!" I was numb. I really didn't believe him.
She was too young and vibrant to be dead. Charlie was in the coffee---again.
I put my purse away and started to work, when Charlie came back to the desk. He said, "Please come see for yourself." By this time everyone was talking at once and it was all about the accident.
I once again grabbed my coffee and ran to the day room. All eyes were glued to the t.v. Charlie and I were watching unbelievable truths. He in his world, me in mine. We didn't say anything for the longest time. It was hard to absorb this fact. It was making Charlie nervous to watch the news. He bit his fingernails to the quick. I told him that everything would be alright---eventually.
Finally he says with a smile, "See, I told you it was the truth!!! I'm not crazy ALL the time." We both laugh at that, remembering the last time he said that exact same thing to me. And I still think to myself, "That is debatable."
It has been 14 years, since Princess Diana"s death. What a waste of a young life. So much has happened in the world.
Today for some reason I wonder who Charlie is reporting the news to. I guarantee there is someone, somewhere saying, "Now Charlie, wait a minute or give me some time, or better yet," Now Charlie you know that's not true." More than likely it will be, "Hang on a minute while I get my coffee!"
When they finally get to the t.v. and see for themselves, Charlie will feel vindicated and just a little smug. After all, he's not crazy all the time, according to him. To me, it is still debatable.
