little things

Summer in Ireland…. an opportunity for acceptance.

| Mairead

25 7a

(Raindrops…)

We’re back home again and I’m wondering what happened to the sunshine and hight temperatures. Just a few hours east of here the sun is shining and some people are complaining about the heat. They are perspiring from the inside while we are being precipitated on from the outside. At this moment I think it would be great to have sunny weather all the time but I know I’d get fed up with it. I know I’d start complaining. I know I’d start fantasizing about soft rain on my sun-burned face…. Wouldn’t it be so much more useful if I realised that what is here right now isn’t too bad? What is here right now is what someone else (even me on a hot sunny day) wants?

25 7b

(Ducks like rain)

There’s a quote from Eckart Tolle (The Power of Now), “When you are in a state of gratitude for what is … that is really what being wealthy means”. He’s talking about acceptance, when you are content with what’s right in front of you, you are rich. So I’m going to practice being content with this type of summer….. I’ll start with my thinking: I got a little too much sun in Bletchley Park and this cooler weather is very calming for the burning…. There’s no way I can cut the grass in this rain, I’ll have to do something more relaxing, instead…. Isn’t it great we have no flies buzzing in through every open window? It’s so much easier to go walking in this cool air….

25 7c

(Isn’t that pretty?)

Feeling richer already! Byron Katie (Loving What Is and http://www.thework.com) has lots of quotes about this, it’s her main theme, but here’s one…“I am a lover of what is, not because I’m a spiritual person, but because it hurts when I argue with reality.” So for today I’m not going to argue with the reality of the weather. The weather is all around me physically and visually, so making friends with it might be enlightening.

Love the soft rain dripping down your face, Mairead.

Hens are great teachers… listen to a hen today.

| Mairead

 

(The menu)

It’s very early in the morning as I write from our hotel in Swansea. I seem to have jet lag without crossing a time zone, probably the traffic noises, the pillow and the light peeping in around the curtain. We had dinner last night at an American Italian chain called Frankie and Benny’s. There were old black and white pictures all over the walls and on the menu of the original Frankie and Benny, who will be turning in their graves if they ever find out. It was an imitation of an Italian run American diner.

 

(The deals)

Our server worked hard entertaining us like an American server would and I was bothered when I realised we had no change to tip him. I left some euro. In this country the euro is fake money and next to useless, but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? Except I was thinking, “I have to give him a tip.”

(Hello real hen)

All this reminded me of my hair and the hens (most things remind me of the hens :)) How we humans imitate something (or someone) we think is great when all along there’s something great right under our hat. Sometimes we do the imitation so well we don’t even realise we’re doing it. We straighten our hair, we curl our hair, we comb-over our hair, we dress in a certain way, we act in a certain way, we step into a certain role and we pretend it’s us… We’re fooling no one and anyway the real us might just be a little more attractive.

(Hens get tired too and need to rest a leg)

The hens walk their own funny walk. They hug no one they don’t want to hug. They go to bed when they want to and they ignore all unwanted interaction. I’m on the hunt this morning for a hen-experience! An ordinary real Welsh cafe for my breakfast. One where my table might be a bit sticky to touch, might not be the same colour as all the rest, may even have a wonky leg… but the person serving me is real… and possibly a little cranky. And I’ll be paying attention to what it is I find attractive about that!

Be your own cranky self, Mairead.

 

Grow your own… dreams.

| Mairead

18 7f

(Ripening tomato)

There were a lot of things growing while I was in the Wilderness, tomatoes, courgettes, lettuce, weeds, to name a few. Each night as I watered the plants in the greenhouse I was able to notice their progress. At first I just noticed the one orange ripening tomato and little yellow flowers. Then I noticed a hidden green tomato. It was green so it blended in with the leaves. But then I started to notice the flowers as they turned from bright yellow into dull green… into tomatoes.

18 7a

(The yellow flowers turning as they become tomatoes)

Of course, I’ve done biology in school and I know that the bees and other insects pollinate the flowers and that’s how the fruit is created but seeing it happen in front of my eyes made me pause…. The same thing was happening outside with the courgettes. As the beautiful orange-yellow flower was dying it was being pushed forward by the growth of a little courgette plant. The courgette plants didn’t even have the benefit of the warmth of the greenhouse or the regularity of my watering (although the rain was pretty regular.) They just got on with the job with only nature to assist.

18 7b

(One of the flowers has turned into a tomato)

Each day as I wandered around outside, chatting with the hens or just experiencing the calm I noticed these growing things and I wondered what I was noticing. Was it the fading colours of young flowers turning into the nourishing strength of fruit and vegetable? Was it the power of nature that allowed the plants to do their thing? Was it the daily slow growth step by hidden step that resulted in bounty? Was it the cycle of planting a seed, feeding it, watering it, giving it light and heat, allowing it to produce?

18 7e

(The courgette… notice the little plant at the base of the flower)

Was it the intention of the grower, one day long ago who decided he really wanted to grow tomatoes and he took the first step and bought the seeds? When the grower returned to only one ripe tomato he told me that he had met a woman on his travels who had decided she wanted tomatoes. She took a lot less care than the grower and already within a very short time she was collecting and sharing lots of ripe tomatoes. She lived in a place with lots of sun. Growth is taking a little longer in Ireland this year… lucky us, we get time to enjoy every step of the cycle!

“….the best time to plant a tree is twenty years ago. The second best time is now…” African Proverb.

Plant your seed, Mairead.

Ode to the girls….

| Mairead

17 7a

(Contentment –  even with green hair)

I’m back home now and I’m hen-less and egg-less. Will go to the supermarket later for the eggs but we won’t be getting hens. Some people and animals come into your life for just a short time and then they leave. But not before passing on a message or a lesson. What I can remember best from the hens is their one step after the other approach to life…… Sure they were cautious, but once the danger (usually me) passed by or stopped and backed away, then they continued one step after the other.

17 7b

(Take the next step)

Another thing about the hens, they did their own foraging. Each day I presented them with a shovelful of feed and some “treats” but that wasn’t all they ate. They spent a lot of their time scratched around for tasty worms and insects. They could have so easily sat back and eaten the food provided but they took nourishment into their own hands, they maintained their independence and probably their good health.

17 7c

(Celebrate the mistake)

Although I let them out in the mornings (or in the afternoon if I wanted an egg) I didn’t put them back in their pen, they went back in themselves, in their own time. I locked the gate when I found them tucked up together in their house. And the eggs… whenever possible they left their eggs in a place of their choosing, where I never found them.

17 7e

(Find the beauty)

They remind me of Dr. Viktor Frankl who wrote Man’s Search for Meaning having survived life in a concentration camp. Everything can be taken from a man or a woman but one thing: the last of human freedoms to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way. Viktor E. Frankl.

He could easily have included hens, Mairead.

Cats, one mouse, a fox and two hens – it all ends well… oh, not for the mouse.

| Mairead

(Our favourite position on the sofa)

I was sitting on the sofa this morning writing when I heard one of the cats meowing. It was a plaintive meow. As both the garden door and the secret cat window were open I ignored him, but he increased the volume and the other two cats who had been asleep beside me on the sofa shot out through the door. As this is a little odd I put down my laptop and followed. There standing on the threshold was the third cat with a mouthful of mouse. I have no idea how he managed to meow with his mouth full but fair dues to him. I had been warned that there might be a few gifts brought into the house so I reacted fast and shut the door (and closed the secret window too.) I like my gifts covered in chocolate or made from inanimate materials.

(Isn’t she beautiful?)

When the coast was clear (of cats and mice) I went outside to consider the weather. I like to walk when it’s dry but I’ll also give it a go in a slight drizzle. There was no rain and it was a little warmer outside than in so, decision made. But first…. I checked on the hens. We are developing quite a close relationship, me and the hens, it’s mainly one-sided but I have patience and hope to win them over before I leave. The only reason I was checking was that I saw what I thought was a fox yesterday afternoon in the garden. Don’t foxes only come out at dusk? He ran off through the fence and I found the hens happily pecking in another part of the garden. After that I went out to check them more often and even locked them in early last night… just in case.

(A little treasure)

Then when I got up this morning I considered leaving them in their pen but because I had locked them up early and I could see them waiting, looking in the direction of the house anticipating their freedom – I chickened out…. and opened the pen. It seemed cruel to keep them in when I wasn’t completely sure there was danger. So there I was checking them again… but I couldn’t find them. I searched every bit of the garden, no hens. Panic started to set in and I searched again for signs of a crime scene (feathers and fluids). Fortunately, nothing. Before yesterday I had no fear for the hens and never stopped to notice where they went during the day. I tried to remember where I used to see them but it was always in different places coming into view just as I rounded a corner. Not today.

(I didn’t get a picture of the fox but this is a deer I saw later… that orange colour, that’s the deer)

How was I going to tell their humans? How was I going to cope with the emotional fallout – mine, I mean. Then I remembered my goto person with hen experience and I called Denis. He was very reassuring, mentioned hiding places in the garden and fence-hoping for possible juicy worms outside the property. He suggested garden search first followed by road to neighbour’s house search, followed by boundary search while wearing wellingtons, rain coat and employing a special hen call – CHuck, chuck, chuck, chuck. So, I got dressed up and had hardly reached the greenhouse when I met the girls rounding a corner. Oh the joy! I cheered and ran towards them hoping for a hug… they stopped in mid step, one leg raised…  I stopped. They stared…. with a look I interpreted as Wait right there, we’re only here because you called, what have you got for us?

(Safe)

So I ran back to the kitchen and gathered what I thought would be treats for hens and laid them out in the grass in front of the girls. Not sure if my obvious loving demonstrations are causing stress in our relationship or possibly they don’t like sunflower seeds, carrots and porridge because they didn’t eat my offering, they just kept staring at me.

I am so happy but I think I’ll keep them locked up, Mairead.

Sunshine, water and an excellent lawnmower.

| Mairead

(Some blue sky)

Yesterday provided a few little challenges for me… or maybe I provided them myself. It was sunny again so I figured this was a perfect opportunity to cut the grass. Two days of rain followed by a day of sunshine caused a grass growth spurt and I could only imagine how much taller it would grow if left unattended. (Maybe that was my first mistake… imagining something bad.) So, I put down my reading and went in search of the lawn mower. It was a petrol one and I’d used one before so I pressed the button in the front three times, moved the safety handle to the main handle and pulled the string. It started first time, excellent. That was the last excellent of the experience.

(This tree is the cat’s favourite scratching post)

Although I did notice that the garden was big, I only noticed it in an appreciative way… what great space and what wonderful possibilities. I didn’t notice it in the square yardage kind of way. I had completed about a tenth of the area when I decide to take a break. Thinking I had been cutting for at least an hour I checked the clock… twenty minutes had passed. Even though that probably indicated the whole job could be finished in three and a half hours and not ten, I still felt disappointed… it would feel like ten hours! This might have been a good time to stop cutting the grass. Instead, I had a big glass of water along with a couple of pages of reading and then returned to the job.

(Seedlings in the greenhouse)

A few more twenty-minute slots (remarkably I always seemed to be ready for a break in twenty-minute slots) and I came across a conundrum. In order to water the plants in the greenhouse there was a garden hose running between it and the outside tap. It ran across the lawn. When I realised it was in my path I wondered what the best possible course of action might be. I wondered would I un-plug the hose and lay it beside the lawn until I had finished cutting. I wondered would I just ignore it – it lay in a shallow groove which could mean it had been in place for previous cuttings. I wondered would I lift the lawn mower over it, like lifting a buggy up over some steps. I wondered all this while continuing to cut the grass. (Notice I didn’t stop to make a decision…. I continued to cut which was also a decision) And before long I was cutting more than the grass. I cut the garden hose. It was spectacular and very wet (the water pressure here is excellent.)

(Great sprinkler… not so great garden hose)

I changed my clothes and then continued to cut the grass but my heart wasn’t in it. I was imagining how the plants in the greenhouse would die because I couldn’t water them. I’d seen two watering cans in the shed but what if they were the special watering cans used only for weed killer, there might be some weedkiller left in them, I couldn’t use them either. I was very glad of the distraction of a phone call from my friend. In a very unsympathetic tone she asked Why would you cut the grass? I’m going back to my Stop Thinking Start Living book, it’s possible I’ve been thinking too much….

Oh for the simple life, living in the country with some cats and some hens…. oh yea, Mairead.

Who let the hens out?

| Mairead

(The girls)

I woke late this morning because I’d had a very disgruntled feline visitor during the night who needed to get outside urgently (at least that’s what I think he was saying) at 3.45am. It may take me a few more days to understand the routine. I’m out of sync with the hens too, I forgot that they won’t lay eggs unless I leave them in their pen until noon but I let them out at seven yesterday morning. When I arrived here on Monday there was a lovely warm brown egg waiting for me. I know I could have bought eggs in Tesco when I was gathering supplies but the thought that I could be eating my own (well.. not exactly my own..) produce was enough to stop me. Now I want to make pancakes so I’m going to need another egg. I have a feeling that the hens like getting out early so I’ll have to be strong and think of pancakes.

(Are these edible?)

When I did wake this morning the sun was shining – yea! I was beginning to think there would be non-stop rain for my entire visit. Last night I was cold enough to light the stove and grey enough to watch the TV. I’m glad to report that I have not been sucked back to TV-land (was there always so many ads?) in fact I think I might be frightened away from it altogether. Between the (bad) nine o clock news and half a scary story about a con man in America I was feeling very nervous climbing the stairs to bed.

(Is there a con man around that corner?)

Fortunately, I’ve been reading Stop Thinking and Start Living by Richard Carlson so I went to bed and slept. Actually that book is very interesting, it talks about how we are constantly thinking and we don’t even realise it. It’s like we’re listening to a radio station in our head. Unfortunately it’s a station full of bad news and cutting remarks… about me (or you – if it’s in your head!) It wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t continue the thought and add to it, with more bad news or meanness towards ourselves. The solution? Notice the thought and let it go. For example, last night I might have had the thought, it’s very scary being here alone when there are so many con men around. So as soon as I realise I’m thinking this I pause and choose to think of something else, something useful to be thinking while I’m alone. Like, I’ll read my nice book about a woman reading her dead friend’s journal! (It’s called The Unfinished Work of Elizabeth D by Nichole Bernier and I’m really enjoying it.) Thinking is very useful but not when it scares and saddens us.

Think something nice about yourself, Mairead.

Report from the Wilderness.

| Mairead

(River on one side)

I’m out in the wilderness for a while….. and I don’t mean metaphorically. I’m living in the middle of the forest with a lake on one side of the road and a river on the other. There are hens in the garden, cats in the house and goldfish in the bowl. Although I haven’t seen them yet there are also deer over the fence.

(Beautiful flora, foxglove I think)

I arrived about an hour ago and unpacked my life. It’s been interesting to see what my life consists of….. computer, phone, food, clothes, stuff to wash and soften (!) my skin and hair, books (even though there are hundreds of books here) and crafting materials. Apart from feeding myself and the animals I am free to follow my heart’s desire.

(Lake on the other)

When I choose to come here I did wonder to what purpose I would use this wonderful opportunity. Would I write a book? (Probably a bit optimistic it will only be two weeks!) Would I learn to paint? Would I go for long walks? Would I learn some new vegetarian recipes? Would I read a full book in one sitting? Would I go back to watching TV? Would I sleep? A lot? What would I love to do while I’m here?

(A path running through the middle)

Turns out I probably don’t have to answer those questions in advance (although I do have to bring the ingredients to do any of them.) I can just allow my choice to unfold… a little at a time. At this time my heart’s desire is to write.

What’s your heart’s desire, at this moment? Mairead.

PS Both my mother and mother-in-law’s heart’s desire is more words in the blog (well I think that’s what they meant, “..the pictures are alright but…”) Ask and you may well receive….