"Who can know what effect our smallest acts of kindness may have on others? Perhaps the most important contribution of Mother Teresa, who serves the most destitute and neglected, is that she instills in those who have been abandoned the realization that they too are loved."
~ Sant Darshan Singh Ji Maharaj ~
Panda Pig's Peace Sanctuary exists so that abandoned, neglected, sick, and dying guinea pigs may experience that they, too, are cherished and loved!
This was the view from our window when we lived on the Wildlife Refuge.
Our city view does not resemble this. But we are creating our own Refuge
because we guinea pigs are rescuing mom, and IT IS GOOD.
Yum Yum here. Confession: it is fall and we are not "home" on our wildlife refuge waking to migrating geese and birds we are accustomed to hearing prepare themselves for their long journey south, as we eagerly await mystery visitors from the arctic who will make our little corner of the world their very own this winter...
long-necked swans; the rare totem snowy owl...snow geese and whomever else Mighty North Winds unexpectedly blow our way! Serious windstorms begin in November and marching out with binoculars to survey our ever-changing landscape is like Christmas morning every morning! And the swans...O!
those talking swans who conversate in nuanced tones amongst one another at dawn and dusk. Sigh.
We endured our first summer in the city with as few complaints as possible. We hardly remember a moment of it, thanks to Molly's Owl Box and our many new MOD friends and visits from our precious Seattle friends who even took mom up to Mt. Baker one day where she hiked snowfields in her walker. We are considering rigging it up with skis this winter...! OOH-La-La! We can only survive if we get a shot of altitude and 5,000 feet (our tummies filled with Uber-Lattes and snacks) always does the trick!
Fall in the city: a new Challenge completely: how to compensate with gratitude our memories of...walking trails strewn with fallen leaves of gold, red, and purple, discovering wasps nests which, by winter, should be vacant enough to pull off some of their delicate grey paper for use in art work, smiling as beavers leave long, graceful wakes upon Scudder Pond's surface as they buttress their lodges at dusk, bald eagles soaring by our windows, long branches in their sharp talons as they winterize their nest up high in the cottonwood tree, for endure November's gales blow a Fierce wind! And, of course the sight of first snow atop low-lying foothills...and alpenglow twilights with only a sliver of new moon. The crunch of newly fallen leaves beneath our feet...And thus, a new spiritual challenge: Live in gratitude for our new city home, knowing that we are exactly where we belong, finding the precious secrets amongst our street people and ramshackle alleyways.
Perhaps the camera will help?
Are we homesick? Like crazy we are! We can no longer smell imminent storms: It can drive one mad for the tell-tale fragrance when North Wind plays hide-and-seek, ceases to fill one's senses with the Promise of Drama: whistling, raw fierceness roaring across fall's browning open marsh, flattening cattails; the coziness of power outages luminated by candlelight while kitties and guinea pigs all snuggle beneath quilted blankets to keep one another cozy as one Arctic blast after another blusters it's way down from Alaska through the Fraser River Valley, oblivious to international borders... We are dying here, senses deadening to protect us from an urban environment in which we find so little poetry, our longing for home intensifying: learning spiritually to surrender to "what is" an intensifying exercise in humility, endurance, and faith...my art friend and former neighbor's blog reminding us of Paradise Lost as she keeps her awareness open to the entrance of beauty in all forms of natural expression. Thank you, Amanda. We sooo miss you and Oboe!
Are we homesick? Who knew it would hurt this much in fall...perhaps if it snows in the lowlands, shuts down the city, and we can cross-country ski to Cafe Adagio for mocha lattes it would take away some of the sting? But not for long, never for long. Our hearts are in the high country, alongside John Muir, our birthday keepsake, and Stickeen, his faithful companion.
sure hope mom remembers the popcorn...
and the answers to all the trivia questions so we get fun prizes like - oh, i dunno - maybe a first edition of "Stickeen"
because it's my favorite book and i think mom would like reading it to me...so here I wait, on the glass ice cube of
Waiting Patiently, which is not so easy when you are still a baby and Molly Friday Movie Night is a whole day away!
hope mom let's us help her with the answers since we've read "Molly the Owl" ten times already and have only
eaten - NO! Admired her Molly the Owl bookmarks for their edibl- -- uh, no, admired their "aesthetic loveliness" (chomp, chomp) yeah, their beautitude!
NOTE TO SELF: substitude "aesthetic loveliness" for "wow, that tasted good, mom! got any more Molly the Owl bookmarks left?" yeah, that's good, yeah, gonna use that! Know she has more, just where? where?
Hi, it's me, Mac Nut, and this is one way we start our day: If not on mom's lap, we's running around, eating together on the floor. At least me and Raj. He's the only one who lets me chase him without trying to bite me, so he's my only RunAbout friend. But we's pretty happy, him and me, especially when mom is playing the "Here's fresh lettuce game!" Wheek!
So, GOOD MORNING!
From Mac Nut and the Herd. (Yum Yum slept in all cozy in his sleeping bag since we went from the summer we didn't have past the fall we didn't have straight into winter and there's already snow in the mountains: WheeeeK!)