Woolly Mutts

Who will make things right. Or, maybe left.

I work in hippie-ville, and I say that in the most positive way possible.  For those unaware, I work in a not-for-profit fair trade store, meaning that everything we sell comes from about 50 different developing countries and the artisans are paid a fair, living wage to provide us with product to sell.  We also ask them to take care of their workers, children and the planet.  You can read more about fair trade on our website if you so choose. We have a wind turbine on the roof, frequently house concerts and green group meetings. Every flavor of organized religion (and probably a few that aren't organized), color, race and lifestyle choice walk through our doors at one point or another. In addition to our store, the building also houses the office of the esteemed Stanley Campbell and RUM (Rockford Urban Ministries). 

This pic makes Stan look a little intense, which he certainly can be, but in truth he is sweetheart and a champion hugger.  He is also a fierce activist.  He calls me Dearest (I used to think it was because he couldn't remember my name, but I'm pretty sure he's got it now), always says thank you and can talk anybody into doing anything.(the good kind of anything.)  The only person I know who wants peace more than I do is Stan, and that's saying something.  

Stan writes a weekly column in a local progressive newspaper.  You can read this weeks submission here. In the article he explains that he has the button pictured (click to embiggen) for sale here in the building.  Early in the day we had  already had signs of interest.  (For those local, if you want one ask at the desk. $3)  I have to admit that while I appreciate the sentiment and have nightmares featuring Sarah Palin I'm not sure I have what it takes to wear the button.

Here's what I love about Stan; HE has no problem with it AT ALL.He'll wear that button and hope you ask him why.  The whole oil spill thing just makes me crazy.  I'm torn between wanting to go down there and clean off animals until I drop, or find someone, anyone responsible and slap them silly.  But, exactly who is responsible? I mean, I'm all for hanging the CEO and any and all henchmen of BP by their toe nails, but really, who is asking for the oil in the first place. I am.  We are.  As Stan wrote in his intelligent column, if we drive or use petroleum based products we have to shoulder at least some of the blame.  Sure BP was hugely in the wrong to drill without a safety protocol to deal with events such as this, but if there was not such a huge appetite for the slimy, black stuff there would not have been a drill in the first place.  

Ah, the grim truth.  Stan had some great suggestions of actions to prevent feeling, or being powerless in the face of such overwhelming ugliness. Someone asked me today if I thought the spill was a sort of Divine wake up call. I can't answer that, but I think Mother Earth has tried to get our attention in countless more subtle ways and it appears that humans, in general, need to be reminded of our charge to care for her in bolder terms. 

As Ghandi said, we have to be the change.  Nobody else is going to make things right if we don't take our own personal responsibility.  Right, left, middle...it shouldn't take such a disaster to make us sit up and take notice. Take notice and take action.

More day - less night

Of darkness, I am not a fan.  Not even Simon and Garfunkel's declarations of long lasting friendship could make me love the dark, though it is a great song. I'm not sure I would say I am afraid of the dark and I have no recollection of some horrific childhood event that made me dislike it; I would just prefer light.  As long as I am home, it's all good, but I especially hate driving home in the dark.  Just one more little tick mark on the list of things that make me strange and wonderful.

Today is the Summer Solstice...longest day of the year.  More day; less night....yay!  I think I was probably about eight years old when I came across the Solstice in an encyclopedia and became somewhat fascinated by it.  At that age we spent all summers in northern Wisconsin deep in the woods so I rarely saw the sun actually set.  Too many trees.  That year I decided I needed to see the sun set on the longest day of the year so I packed up some snacks (for myself and any animals friends that might join me) a book, a blanket and a BIG flashlight so I could find my way back home.  Across the road a bit was what used to be cow pasture and I was fairly certain I would be able to see the sun set from a hill in that pasture.  (Why my mother allowed me to do this, I have no idea.)  At about 8:30 pm I took off in search of the sunset and to my eternal amazement, I found it.  I sat, wrapped in my blanket, on that hill until there was no more light in the sky at all.  All the glorious shades of yellow and orange and red faded into the horizon as I watched.  I made that same little journey several more times that summer, marking in a small notebook the time the day greeted the night.  Each time it came just a little earlier than the next and I could judge the coming end of summer by the shrinking length of the day.  

Somewhere along the path of growing up I lost the ability to be awed by the sunset.  I still find it beautiful, but now rather than being the glorious end of day, it signals the beginning of night.  Still, each Summer Solstice I remember that youthful journey to the sunset with a smile.  Perhaps my inner child is more resilient than I think.

*The little friend pictured above is, I think, a Jizo.  He was purchased at Pier 1 and they hadn't the slightest clue what he was, other than some sort of Buddhist statue.  A Jizo is a little similar to a Catholic Patron Saint as he is a guardian of children, women, and travelers.  Some also think he guards those in service jobs such as nurses or firemen. Jizo's qualities include unflagging optimism, fearlessness, and gentleness. He makes me happy each time I look out the window and see his peaceful face guarding my back yard.

I dreamed a dream of days gone by.

Last night I dreamed of Dunham Lake.  I was floating on the cool water with the sun on my face.  The loons swam nearby and the eagles flew overhead.  It was a remembering dream.  Memory imprinted in the cells of my being as the perfect place in the perfect time.  A place that I know and that knows me.  Or knew me, once upon a time.

Dunham Lake, near Siren, Wisconsin is where my father's parents immigrated from Sweden and Norway and where my parents eventually retired to. I spent every summer and Christmas holiday on that lake from the day I was born until my parents sold the place when I was in my thirties.  I grieve it's loss like I do any loved one lost to me. Perhaps more so. Dunham Lake, and the woods surrounding, were my best childhood friends, sanctuary, teacher, and protector. 

But here's the thing; I've dreamed about my lake a million times and each time I wake up feeling sad and lonely.  Today, I woke up feeling peaceful and grateful to have the privilege of such a memory and the opportunity to dream of it in such detail.  What changed?

For the past two weeks I have been meditating 3 times a week.  I found a Gaiam DVD, "Meditation for Beginners".  It begins with 15 minutes of yoga followed by 20 minutes of guided mediation and the honest truth is I pretty much suck at meditating.  My brain cannot stay focused on my breath for more than a minute without wandering off in all directions.  During the meditation the guide talks about how the positive results of this practice may not be readily apparent, but after time you will begin to see subtle changes in your life, emotions, dreams, or sleep patterns.  I have to admit that my response to that was to be a little skeptical.  After last night I'm beginning to have a bit more faith in the process.

The discipline of meditation does not come easily to me.  Just the act of sitting still for 20 minutes makes me a little crazy.  As with any thing new, time and practice lead to improvement (I hope) and I'm a little excited to see what other changes may come about from this new venture. 

Goodbye to Summer.

I don't think that I could ever be truly happy living in a climate that did not have four distinct seasons.  There is something about each one of them that is worth looking forward to and for me, Fall is the finest of them all.  I love the cool evenings and the changing leaves; the way the earth is getting ready to go to sleep for the winter.  Yesterday I went out with the camera and took a few pics of the last faces of summer.

There are only a few traces of pink Echinacea left.  The birds have been busy feasting of the leftover seed heads. 

My mother used to call these "Indian Paintbrush", and though I'm sure that isn't the correct name, the colors are so intense that one could imagine them being painted on. 

The little blue flax are still standing strong amidst the other drying grasses in the labyrinth. 

The alien looking milk weed pods, of which we have MANY, are still a month or so away from popping open and letting their silky little seeds fly in the wind, but in the meantime they are making a nice shelter for a spider.  Spiders are always welcome in our gardens.

You may have to click this one to get the full effect of the mess the squirrels are making int he front yard under the oak tree.  We have a hard winter to look forward to if the squirrel behavior is any evidence.  They are literally risking their lives (the dogs would love the opportunity to spoil their fun) to spend as much time as possible in the oak tree gathering acorns.  In the process they chew off little branches of leaves that litter then entire front yard.  I don't really mind much.  I hope they can find enough food to get them through the cold months.

Today I am going in to the shop and we are going to completely redo the displays.  Move furniture, bring up new product and I will have my first opportunity to put my own stamp on the clothing section.  I think this is a more-than-on-day kind of job, but we'll do the best we can.  I'm so excited! 

An open letter to our neighborhood late night party people.

Dearest Teenage Cool Crowd,

   Just a quick note to bring to your attention that our field is not a garbage dump.  I realize that in your illegal intoxication it may be somewhat difficult to distinguish between a trash can and whatever is outside your car window when you open it, but I just know if you tried a little harder, you could master this one.  The trash containers are generally located around fast food establishments or gas stations.  Our field is where we run and play and mow and I have to say that it gets on my last nerve to have to get off the mower and throw away your trash.  I have no interest in what you ordered at McDonalds (a perfect example of where a trash can could have been found) or how large the Slurpy was you almost finished.  I especially dislike the large glass bottle of booze that you jettisoned so no evidence would be left on your person.  Not cool, Dudes, not cool at all. So lets try and find some courtesy in that young, reckless soul of yours cause I gotta tell you, karma is real and what goes around comes around (even Justin Timberlake says so).  Start racking up those karma points now for a much happier future.

Peace, Love, and Happiness,

The crazy hippie chic who lives on the corner

And while I'm on the subject of pet peeves and trash,

Dearest Smokers,

     Perhaps it has not been explained clearly to you, but the world is not your ash tray.  I swear if I see one more person open his/her car window and throw out a cigarette butt I'm going to lose all good sense, ram their car and make them eat that disgusting thing. Same thing goes for those that drop it, step on it, and then walk away. I understand that it's a hard habit to kick, but not unlike the teenage party crowd, a little courtesy please.  I'm quite sure that ash trays have not been banned from the planet.  If you have to light up, keep your butts to yourself.

Not so much, peace, love, and happiness,

The asthmatic hippie chic who has no patience for rude behavior.

Have a nice day!

Wierd Weather.

For me, the odd duck, summer isn't good for much.  I despise the heat and, even more so, the humidity.  I have been dreaming lately of a blinding snowstorm.  But, it is a fact of the seasons and I choose to live in a place where I can experience all 4, even if I'm not so crazy about 1.  Not bad odds, really. This summer, despite the usual heat (and I apologize to my Texas friends and relatives since I know my version of heat and yours are completely different animals) we have been getting some interesting weather.

Late in the day yesterday we had a storm front move through that made me a little uneasy.  I'm a fan of the thunderstorm, but this one felt malevolent.  Amazing Husband was in the middle of his commute and it was heading in his direction.  There were constant breaks into regularly scheduled programing for the weather guy to make strong suggestions that we move to a lower level away from windows.  The rain came, the winds blew, tornado warnings were issued.  Wrigley Field was evacuated and O'Hare Airport made all travelers move to a safer level of the airport.  AH made it home safely and then..... a rainbow.  This was the second time in about a month that we've seen a rainbow late in the evening.  This picture was taken about 8:00 pm.  Actually, it was a double rainbow, but the outer bow was more faint and difficult to photograph.  We stood outside in the rain and watched the leaves of a cottonwood quake in the wind as the lightening continued beneath the rainbow.  You can't beat Mother Nature for great entertainment.

This morning we are all well and damage, at least in our area, is minimal.  One more month of summer.....one more month of summer....one more mon.....

They rocked in LA.

Amazing Husband lived in the Los Angeles area for about 15 years, in fact he was living there when we met.  We sort of keep an eye out for happenings there just because it's a significant place for us.  Don't think we'd ever want to live there (who can afford it?) but there is a sort magical quality to California in general.  Anyway, I heard on the news that there was a 5.4 earthquake there today and mentioned it to AH.  His response was, "yawn".  Just goes to show you how everything is relative. :-) I think I'd sit up and take notice if things were falling off the shelves.  Clean up on aisle 7.

Welcome Spring!

Happy Spring one and all!  Today the calendar indicates that we can officially say that we have survived a long winter and Spring has arrived.  Just for the record, I had absolutely NOTHING to do with the latest forecast warning of up to 8 inches of snow tomorrow.  Nothing.  Being clear here....it wasn't me.

Just saying. 

It will melt fast.

Sorry.

The squirrel wars continue.

I'm beginning to think that nature is giving us hints that the coming winter might just be a force to be reckoned with.  The birds clean out the feeder in record time and the squirrels, the squirrels have completely lost their minds. 

That's Cooper in the picture, and to be honest, this is how Cooper likes to spend his day, just watching the world go by.  He watches cars, woofs greetings to passing bikers or kids walking home from school.  Some of the skateboard kids know his name and call back a, "Hallo, Cooper!".  Some people turn and walk the other way cause he's a big dog and they don't know he's completely harmless, unless he steps on your bare foot and that hurts. A lot.  What you can't see in this picture is that there is a squirrel in the tree.  Just where the branch juts out to the right sits a furious squirrel that has been hurling squirrel insults down to Cooper for a good hour.  Coop couldn't care less.  He is patient dog and he can wait. And, Coop knows that Samten is just out of sight also waiting, although not so patiently, for the squirrel to take a crazy chance, which he will evenutally do.  I don't think the two of them have caught a squirrel yet, but it sure isn't for lack of trying.  I think maybe the thrill is in the case and not the capture, because Sam is fast. How many acorns does a squirrel really need to make it through an Illinois winter?  Do they know something we don't?

I snagged this video from Cute Overload.  Be sure to watch all the way to the end.

 

Everything needs a home.

These are my mud shoes.  I wear them in the garden, usually in the spring, when the earth is damp and anything that touches it shares in the mud.  I almost never bring them in the house.  This year many weeks went by as they sat forgotten on the deck rail.  Not forgotten by everything, though.  A wise spider has created a clever web that goes between both shoes and then up to an impatiens plant that is sitting directly behind the right shoe.  When it rains, or the night becomes cold, Spider takes refuge inside my shoe.  The right photo is a little fuzzy, but you can see him there hurrying away from the threat of my camera.  Knowing that my dirty, muddy shoes are the frame posts for Spider's home is a nice feeling.  I certainly don't need them right now and he is more than welcome to all the bugs he can catch from the garden just on the other side of the railing.  I'm happy that he has a dry place to be in the rain.  Soon enough the bitter cold will come and Spider will go where all the spiders go in the winter and I will reclaim my shoes.  In the meantime, a shoe could ask for worse than to be a shelter to a small piece of nature.