Ever Heard of Waitt's Mount? Me Neither.

Never a dull moment in the life of a freelance writer. This morning I received a request from a Tony little design agency in Cambridge, MA. Could they use my photograph of poison ivy on a sign they were designing for a park?

As a poison ivy hater and park lover, I said sure, go ahead.

"It's called Waitt's Mount and it's in Malden MA.," the designer told me. "The park has been derelict for a long time and they are making it usable again. The panels will be near the parking area and tell the natural and historical story of the site. I can send you a picture when it is installed (not until next fall, I think)." You can see the proposed panel site about 20 to 25 seconds into this YouTube video, somewhere between the trash can and the gate.

Just think! A photo of poison ivy taken in my front yard (with my name in the credit line, of course! See those tiny white blobs along the upper left edge of the second photo?) is on a sign that will be located in the parking lot of the tiny geologic-outcropping-turned-park. According to the landscape planners, Waitt's Mountain was used by spectators to watch the Battle of Bunker Hill. Today the park boasts spectacular views of the Boston skyline. You can read more about the refurbished park on the architectural firm's website.

Cool, huh? Maybe I'll have to search it out some day. Or if any of my Fifes and Drums friends get to Middlesex County, MA, before I do, would you take a picture for me?

My blog post about "How to Identify Poison Ivy" seems to rise to the top in a lot of search engines, especially if you're searching for images. So far it's gotten more hits than any other blog post by the Williamsburg Wordpecker. I also wrote a post for Suite 101 about how to get rid of poison ivy that's been popular on that site too. Well, being a freelance writer isn't making me rich, but what the hey. Actually, if enough of you click over on my Suite 101 post, I might make fifty cents on this deal! Get clicking, folks.

Left Neglected

Did you think this was going to be about politics? Nope. I just want to tell you about a book I read. It attracted and appealed to me on several levels.

Left Neglected is a novel about traumatic brain injury and a condition I absolutely empathize with (more about that in a minute). Author Lisa Genova presents the main character, Sarah Nickerson, as a hard-charging businesswoman who is distracting by cell phone use and runs off of the Massachusetts Turnpike. After the crash and during the months of recovery that follow, she has an epiphany about quality of life and embraces awareness and change.

As a result of the insult to the right hemisphere of her brain, Sarah suffers left neglect, a neurological condition where she doesn't understand that there is a left side to any view. This is not a vision problem (the occipital lobe is at the back of the brain), but a consciousness problem. The left side of her body and the left side of everything she's observing just doesn't exist in her thinking. Of course, this derails Sarah's life. In addition to her former 80-hour-a-week consultant agency career, she has a beautiful family: she is happily married with three young children. Their lifestyle - home in a Tony Boston suburb, second home in a Vermont ski area, kids in private schools - is unsustainable without her sizable income. The first-person story follows Sarah's denial and coming to terms with her disability as well as the lifestyle changes she must make.

If the brain trauma had been to the left hemisphere of her brain, she would have lost her ability to speak. I was attracted to this book, of course, because I am a speech-language pathology student and will be taking a course in traumatic brain injury this fall.

I'm also interested in this book because I'm a traumatic brain injury survivor. I also had a hemorrhage in the right parietal lobe, but this and other sub-cortical brain damage left me with hemiparesis and hemisensory loss. My left side tingles and twitches and experiences no sensation: the left side of my scalp, tongue, ear, neck; my left shoulder, wrist, fingers, breast, ovary, hip, knee, toes. It's so weird. You could draw a line down the middle of my body from head to two and mark the left side as weak and neglected of sensory awareness of hot, cold, pain, or pleasure. I have a condition known as spasticity, where the muscles of the left side are constantly in a state of contraction. So, while I am painfully aware of my left side, I can empathize with Sarah as she copes with the life-altering circumstances and comes to terms with disability. My life was altered a little over 35 years ago, though, and I am still coping and coming to terms.

Finally, I have to mention that this book is of interest to me on another level. The main character is a lot like mine in Waterfront Property. My Laura Callahan is a b-school grad who's wearing high heels and working 80-hour weeks. In her case, a visit from a lawyer is life altering. The information he relates takes her back to her family's land and history, and then, her epiphany is of an environmental sort. I wonder if Lisa Genova's literary agent will be interested? There's no way to know but to query. When I told my husband about this bright idea last night he queried me on what I'd do if she's interested. He knows I'm slammed right now with teaching and with grad school, not to mention a few dangling consulting jobs. We'll see. It's my TBI-related frontal lobe syndrome - impulsivity and lack of reasoning skill - that sends me tumbling forward.

What is the Purpose of Life? What is Karma?

I listened to a piece about Choprawell this morning on Morning Joe. Apparently, Deepak Chopra and his children are making the rounds of the news and talk shows to promote their new YouTube endeavor. Of course, I spent the next couple of hours listening to a dozen of the Choprawell video postings.

Many are worth talking about here, but the piece on the purpose of life and living your karma was of particular interest to me because of my late-in-life career change. I continually feel that I have to justify it to myself, especially when many of my friends, including my husband, are retiring. I am having trouble with the concept of retiring because I am following my karma.

What am I talking about? What is all of this karma nonsense? I've excerpted from Chopra's purpose of life YouTube, below.

What is the Purpose of Life? What is Karma?

Your Karma is your higher purpose

The higher purpose of all life is
     to reach enlightenment and total freedom from conditioning

To reach our Karma
    we exist to fulfill our unique talents and abilities

By fulfilling our unique talents
     we fit into the unique ecosystem
     like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle
     where no pieces are missing

When we fit into the ecosystem
     we feel joy
     and lose track of time

When we fulfill our unique purpose in life
     we serve

Our purpose is
     to feel an alignment with our Karma
     serve the ecosystem
     and experience wholeness

Our larger purpose is
     to reach enlightenment
     which is unity consciousness
     our true identity

When we learn how
     to be
     to love
     to create
     to serve
     and ultimately to exercise subtle intention
          in choices
          and awareness
     we become the evolutionary parts of the universe
     and find our true mortality

from Deepak Chopra

Because I grew up in the Baptist tradition and because many in my family and many of my friends find similar wholeness through their Christian beliefs, I also found Chopra's piece on beliefs worth mentioning and linking here: What is Belief and How Does It Shape Reality? Even before I was aware of Chopra and Eastern philosophy, I felt this way about beliefs: that they are limiting. This piece reiterates and speaks more eloquently about beliefs as limiting one's reality.

Reality is the whole realm of possibilities. When we decide to believe in any one concept as reality, we limit or cut off so many possibilities for awareness and achieving happiness, our karma, and enlightenment.

Ground bees?

Ground bees? Nope. Yellow jackets.

I hadn't thought about the little buggers I called ground bees in quite a while. A neighbor who cut my grass back in 1995 got stung and I've been careful about that spot in the backyard ever since. We've seen the bees from time to time, but not the hole. I guess they moved their entrance to someplace a little more out of the way.

Through the loop

But Ken found it yesterday. Ouch. He came indoors, followed closely by three more bees, which we quickly swatted down. He got the ice and I got my magnifying loop for a better look. I Googled on ground bees and quickly found a lot of contradictory information. I could deduce from the mishmash of sites that our nemesis probably wasn't a ground bee and may be a yellow jacket.

About that time I spied Ken marching back toward the hole with a gas can. I jumped up to stop him just in the nick of time, just after reading that one should NOT POUR GASOLINE into the hole. Kerosene maybe, but BY ALL MEANS not gas. AND not during the day when they are active. Although several sites shouted back at me to not pour gas into the nest, none explained why. Research for another day. But never mind. I came back to the computer to Google up yellow jackets .edu, with the .edu added so that my results would provide some more credible information than just any old blog.

Herewith I provide you that more credible information so that you don't have to believe this humble blogger. How about a fact sheet posted by Mark Moran of Island Creek Elementary School in Alexandria? At his site I learned that "Eastern Yellow Jackets are probably the best-known wasps in Virginia, as well as the least-liked. This is most likely because yellow jackets are responsible for about one half of all insect stings." Of course! Visitors to Colonial Williamsburg encounter these babies around trash cans on Duke of Gloucester Street all the time. Everybody around here has a story about being stung by a wasp in Colonial Williamsburg. I wince every time I remember my sweet little 3-year-old daughter sitting out on Market Square drinking her Sprite when, . . . Her Dad raced around looking for someone with a cigar or cigarette because he'd heard that tobacco drew out the sting. Anyway, you can download a coloring page or an up-close view of a yellow jack on the Fairfax County school's web page. Good job, Mark!

I found a page on the Penn State site with information about management. I was glad to find out what the Extension Service had to say about pouring down the wasp hole after reading about everything from kerosene to hot water with Dawn dish washing detergent to lit tiki torches. At night, of course. So here's what Penn State Extension has to say:

"Eastern yellowjackets can be considered a beneficial insect because they reduce populations of unwanted insects such as earwigs and caterpillars. Therefore, unless the nests are located close [off] an entrance to a building, in the ground of a lawn that is mowed, or in any area where the public is likely to encounter them, the nests can be ignored."

Okay, well here's where it's a problem for me, you know. They said what I felt in my heart. I'm a card-carrying treehugger. And as an admirer of Eastern philosophy I know that yellow jackets are sentient beings. All life is interconnected. So can we just leave them alone? Maybe not. I forgot to tell you that the reason my husband found the nest has to do with a leak in our basement. Funny, but we hear the water trickling down the basement wall during rainstorms just about where the wasps are nesting and that's why we looked there. We really have to fix the leak, especially after 5.5 inches of rain the other day flooded the garage and my husband's man cave again.

So, let's read on. What else, Penn State Extension?

Vespula maculifrons (Duke.edu)

"Those individuals without medical concerns and with a degree of daring can kill the colony by dusting the nest opening with an insecticide during the nighttime. The nest should be scouted during daylight to determine the best approach that will not disturb the yellowjackets prior to introduction of the insecticide. DO NOT stand away from the nest and dust only the exterior of the entrance as this will anger the colony and increase the risk of stings during the next several days. Effective control can only be achieved by stealthy approach and then liberally dusting the material directly down into the nest opening. It is advisable to wear long sleeved clothing, long rubber gloves, goggles and a dust mask to protect yourself from any insecticide that blows back out of the opening . . . launder clothes and take a shower immediately after application. Products containing 5% carbaryl dust such as Apicide® [are] currently labeled for this type of application."

One more reference, this one from Duke with some cool close-up photos, as above.

I think we're going to try the hot water down the hole method tonight. You know, insecticide.

On Awareness

I have just returned from 6 weeks of summer school and practicum experience at James Madison University, as required by their master's program in speech-language pathology. In readings and in practice, I have thought about the dictum of Rhea Paul and others to create in the child an awareness of their language.

Between the demanding summer now past and what I sense will be a demanding fall, I have 4 weeks to adjust and realign. I am reading Coming to Our Senses: Healing Ourselves and the World through Mindfulness, by Jon Kabat-Zinn. Mindfulness meditation is a skill I plan to hone as I acknowledge what is (climate change, species decline, politics, over consumption, etc.) and live in the learning and doing moment.

And so, awareness. I live in awareness and I help children become more aware. Kabat-Zinn includes a chapter on awareness and I quote from it some pieces I want to remember:

"Awareness is immanent . . . but it is camouflaged, like a shy animal. It usually requires some degree of effort and stillness if not stealth even to catch a glimpse of it . . . You have to be alert, curious, motivated to see it. With awareness, you have to be willing to let the knowing of it come to you, to invite it in, silently and skillfully in the midst of whatever you are thinking or experiencing. . .

". . . This willingness to embrace what is and then work with it takes great courage, and presence of mind."

Mission Accomplished: Strawberries

Ken with our 8 quarts of berries!

It's that time of year and the strawberry fields were calling me. Ken and I caught the Surry Ferry after lunch and headed to College Run Farms to pick our own. Between picking them in the field and washing and sorting them at home and taste-testing along the way, I think I've gotten more than my daily recommended allowance of vitamin C for today. Yum. Oh, and we had some homemade strawberry ice cream at the farm too, of course. Extra yum.

Gulls at the Ferry dock

Of course, I miss Hidden Brook Farm in Toano. As far as I can tell, it was the last pick-your-own strawberry farm in James City County. Farmer Hunt died this past year and his family decided to discontinue farming. The thing about going to Mr. Hunt's was that you could always come back with honey and eggs and whatever else he might be selling that day. He will be missed. His farm and his love of farming have slipped away.

The 1st strawberry from my garden

Now it's back to the strawberries. I'll consult some of my old recipes. Ken has gone to the store for pound cake (instead of shortcake) and other dinner ingredients. Two of our boys will be here for dinner to enjoy them with us. And I'll take some strawberries and cake to Mom and Dad when I visit them tomorrow.

P.S. The strawberries in my garden are ripening too. I picked and ate the first one (pictured above!) this morning. Delicious.

Good Karma

Good Karma filled our home when Ken's friend, Frank, a Buddhist monk, spent Saturday evening and Sunday morning with us. Frank and Ken were high school friends and they and their Northern Virginia track team buddies have started to get together from time to time to remember their youth. Their get-togethers usually coincide with Frank's trips home from Thailand.

On this trip, Ken brought Frank and his mother here to spend the night before proceeding to Wilmington, North Carolina, where Frank's mother is moving to be closer to her other son. On their way south, Ken will take them to a Thai monestary in Carrollton for a visit. Ken is earning merit, Frank says, due to his kindness.

I have been intrigued by Buddhism since becoming friends with a Buddhist man in 1995. I learned from Xavier and have read a bit, but fresh conversations with a monk have nudged my curiosity and understanding along. I cherry-pick concepts that appeal to me. Multiple lives. Selflessness. Simple living. Community. Good Karma. Frank is a forest monk. As a Master Naturalist, this appeals to me. Yes, the forest, nature, does have a calming and mind-clearing effect. In the words of John Burroughs, "I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order."

March Blooms on Our Wedding Week

Wedding Day Morning

When my daughter announced that March 24 would be her wedding day, I never imagined what a beautiful day it would be. Oh, of course the day was beautiful inside! But it was unexpectedly beautiful outside as well. Redbud and dogwood lined the Colonial Parkway for those traveling from Gloucester to Williamsburg. New leaves painted the sky bright green -- an appropriate tone since the wedding colors were navy blue and Granny Smith apple green.

Wild Columbine

On Tuesday before the wedding, on my way home from teaching school in Gloucester, I stopped at Green Planters and discovered that many new perennials were in stock. I bought blooming Jacob's Ladder to intersperse with my early-blooming Golden Ragwort. The owner told me that many more native plants were expected on Thursday, so I stopped there again. I bought Virginia Bluebells, Creeping Wood Phlox, and Cinnamon Ferns. They fit nicely with the blooming Wild Columbine and, of course, Daffodils that have been blooming since late February. I planted through the twilight, until dark fell and the first guests arrived.

Our family gathers around

My husband found the perfect quote for me in a comic strip that appeared in the Washington Post that Thursday: "In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt" (Margaret Atwood). A little bit of it was still under my nails, freshly manicured on Friday in a opaque shade of buff pink.

On Saturday it rained midday, hard enough to wash the church parking lot. Streams yellow with pollen carried it away just in time. The bride was told that rain on your wedding day is a sign of good luck. As the guests began to arrive, so did the late afternoon sunshine.

Southern Toad

It's 9 p.m. and still 70 degrees outside on this unseasonably warm night. Through the screen door I hear the call of a lone Southern Toad. According to eNature they emerge from their burrows after twilight to forage for insects. They breed from March to October in temporary water pools. It's been raining a lot lately and the yard is full of soft spots, so this must be an excellent time for mating. Ah yes. I believe I hear more than one now.

Early March Blooms

Golden Ragwort - first blooms

On March 28, 2011, I took photos of the flowers, shrubs, and trees in my yard and wrote about them in a blog post so that I would have a record of botanical progress to have for year-to-year comparison. Well, as I said in last weekend's post about a Mourning Cloak Butterfly, 2012 has been a year for the record books. Today, when I looked around the yard, I saw Golden Ragwort beginning to bloom and it is pictured here. (The photo of Golden Ragwort in full bloom that I inserted in another post last year was taken on April 19, 2011!) So, yes indeed, things are blooming earlier.

Pulmonaria (Lungwort)

Another plant that I mentioned was blooming on March 28, 2011 in last year's post was Pulmonaria, or Lungwort. Like daffodils, which have been blooming for several weeks now, the Lungwort is native to Europe and Asia. I've watched these plants with interest, of course, (my yard was appropriately full of blooming Daffodils on St. David's Day) but  they are not native to North America and I've really been paying closer attention to my native plants. I want to see how they are reacting to climate change.  (In which, the polls say, more people now believe.)

Wild Columbine

Another native plant that I saw sending up shoots and preparing to bloom on March 28 last year was Wild Columbine. Yes, the same plant in my yard is just about at the same point in its preparation to bloom this year, but more than 3 weeks earlier. In another post from last year, I noted that I was enjoying watching Wild Columbine bloom in April.

The botanical progress that I documented last year showed trees leafing at the same time that the native plants were blooming. I'm not seeing that this year, but the buds are fat. Any day now.

My daughter is getting married in 3 weeks. Will the Dogwoods and other trees be leafing out by then? I do remember that on my first wedding day, 28 years ago on Derby Day in early May, the Dogwoods were beautiful in Williamsburg!

Mourning Cloak Butterfly

Mourning Cloak Butterfly

The temperature in this part of Virginia set a record yesterday. I saw 84 degrees on my computer's Google gadget, but the paper says it only made it to 82. Anyway, that's still about 30 degrees warmer than the average temperature in February should be.

So, you can imagine my surprise when a butterfly swooped by and landed in my garden. And wouldn't you know I had my camera in my hand? I snapped a quick shot of the phenomena and downloaded it today. But a little research proved that this was not, however, unusual. Did you know that the Mourning Cloak is the state butterfly of Montana?

I would guess this has to do with the fact that the Mourning Cloak is a sign of summer that our northwestern friends cherish on a snowy day. Ahh! A butterfly in the snow. I recommend an article in Nature North to those who wish to learn a little more about this bug. The long-lived butterfly overwinters and hibernates. When it emerges, it mates and dies soon after.

I hope my little Mourning Cloak finds a friend.

Savoring the Smell

My nephew's wife wrote a melancholy blog post this morning that would, I suppose, make any mother teary-eyed (Savoring the Smell of Baby For This Too Shall Pass). Those quiet moments with your baby. Rocking, nursing, knowing that it's cold outside but feeling safe inside. You're so close to that little one.

Leigh Ann is smitten by her baby and joyfully dotes on him. Mark, Leigh Ann, and baby Sam have recently returned to their home in Tennessee after spending time with my sister and her family for the holidays, which included a celebration of the baby's first birthday.

Funny. Before reading her post I'd just come downstairs from savoring the smell of my son's room. Actually, I hadn't thought of it as savoring at the time, but I guess that it was. Leigh Ann is right. The baby room smell and feeling did pass. My 22-year-old son left this morning after spending his Christmas break with us, home from graduate school, a 12-hours drive away. His room had been a mess for two weeks. But when I opened the door and stepped into it this morning I was met with the sight of clean floors and tabletops. The only mess was his rumpled bed . . . that I can't stand to launder just yet. It holds the impression and the smell of him. I want to hold on to the feeling of his being here just a little bit longer, to savor it.

I tried not to cry or over-do my goodbyes this morning because, after all, isn't this why we raise them so carefully? So that when they go, we feel they are ready and able. We let them go because this too shall pass and there will be a next chapter and a next.

We took his crib out of the attic for our first grandchild to use this Christmas.We've left it up in the guest room, formerly my daughter's room, and look forward to a visit again soon.

Savor on, Leigh Ann. It's the wonderful purview of motherhood. Hold your children close in body and hold on to the memories. The rooms will change, but you can close your eyes and take those memories out to savor again as needed.