This is for the birds…
04 Jun 2026 3 Comments
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For the first time in several summers we don’t have a pair of nesting doves keeping us company on the balcony, so Kim decided to feed the East Lawrence forest instead. The treats were out for less than a day before word got around the neighborhood, “Hey, guys, they have black sunflower seeds up there!” so it’s working out swimmingly. Kim adds seed mix to the saucer repeatedly throughout the day, and he’s been patiently sweeping the deck every evening. Yesterday he let the saucer run empty and then we watched as the regulars came in and picked the floor almost clean as well, so yeah, even better. They make the same mess whether the saucer is on the table or the floor, so letting them police themselves in the name of sustenance seems only right.
A question for whatever hive mind may exist: Is it a law of the universe that once a person passes the 75-year line in the sand, they are hormonally required to develop a sudden awareness of and connection with the bird world? There are two of us here, one as absorbed and engrossed as the other, so it isn’t just a little old lady thing. I have theories but I’d rather see some feedback from anyone reading. Why this particular interest during this particular decade? What draws us to these small creatures? What is this sweet love we feel for them and their utterly helpless offspring?
We get an amazing number of visitors in a day’s time, comin’ in hungry. Then they likely all fly home to fill the craws of waiting babies, back and forth endlessly until they kick the progeny out to fend for themselves. We see doves, house wrens, sparrows, and other tiny feathered guys we haven’t ID’d from images yet. So far, the wrens and other littles are too skittish for pictures – they dart away the instant they detect motion – but Kim’s gotten other good shots.
A mourning dove getting right to the business at hand.
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None of them have any table manners to speak of but at least there have been no gang fights.
There’s water as well, and they drink a lot of it some days.
And then there’s THIS guy, whom we’d never seen up close and personal before. He’s likely a Swainson’s hawk, and he’s several times bigger than any of our regulars. By which I mean he’s 18 to 20″ long and has a 46 to 54″ wingspan when fully grown. Google paints him as somewhat benevolent concerning baby birds, but I’d trust that assessment only so far. Fun to see him this close, though.
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There’s a lot to like.
Ah yes, the New Year…
31 Dec 2024 Leave a comment
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This morning, because her words reached me and are doing their intended work, I’m borrowing from Rachel Alana (R.A Falconer), Midwives of the Soul, with deep appreciation for her gift.
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~ This year, dear friends, may we all lose weight!
The weight of expectations. The weight of self-criticism. The weight of disconnect that fills us with a deeper hunger. The weight of not always loving. The weight of a worn and weary world. Of not always accepting, seeing, and inhabiting this precious and sacred body that we’re in.
~ This year, dear friends, may we all exercise!
…our holy will! Our sacred sense of purpose. Our vision and hard-earned wisdom. Our discernment and our shining hearts. In ways that enrich connections, with our bodies, our souls and those we love. And even to the world. 
~ This year, ah yes… may we all start the work of quitting…
…that collective Kool-Aid. The negative self-talk. The small-assed living. That cacophony of cockatoo-voices that drown out our souls. And old habits: Those used to stop us hearing our pain, our disappointments, and all things much better loved, seen and accepted right down to the very bottom ~ and to find true freedom, through a connection with our deepest souls.
And…
~ This fine new year, (well, here’s the best…) May we all be rich!
Yes, utterly and completely rich. Wildly and unapologetically. Rich in love. Life. Connection with one another and all that really matters. Filled to the brim and bubbling over; more again and spilling over that. Full of laughter, acceptance, joy, and less of worry. Less of sorrow ~
Rich in renewed experience, of a whole new year!
Happy 2025, dear friends!
~Rachel Alana (R.A Falconer)
Midwives of the Soul
Into the long, dark night…
07 Nov 2024 Leave a comment
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ACCEPTANCE
by Robert Frost
When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud
And goes down burning into the gulf below,
No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud
At what has happened. Birds, at least, must know
It is the change to darkness in the sky.
Murmuring something quiet in its breast,
One bird begins to close a faded eye;
Or overtaken too far from its nest,
Hurrying low above the grove, some waif
Swoops just in time to his remembered tree.
At most he thinks or twitters softly, “Safe!
Now let the night be dark for all of me.
Let the night be too dark for me to see
Into the future. Let what will be be.”
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Poetry always, in all the ways…
22 Apr 2024 Leave a comment
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This is what you shall do; Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.
–Walt Whitman
Thoughts from a guest…
05 Feb 2024 Leave a comment
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NO ONE EVER TOLD ME
(Of the Glory of Growing Older)
No one told me
it would be like this—
how growing older
is another passage
of discovery
and that aging is one
grand transformation,
and if some things become torn apart
lost along the way,
many other means show up
to bring me closer
to the center of my heart.
No one ever told me
if whatever wonder
waits ahead
is in another realm
and outside of time.
But the amazement, I found,
is that the disconcerting things
within the here and now
that I stumble
and trip my way
through, also
lead me
gracefully
home.
And no one told me
that I would ever see
an earth so strong
and fragile, or
a world so sad
and beautiful.
And I surely
didn’t know
I’d have
all this life
yet in me
or such fire
inside my
bones.
~Susan Frybort
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Out On a Limb
15 Aug 2023 4 Comments
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When I am very old I shall live in a tiny house
nestled in the arms of a generous tree.
I’ll sleep late some mornings, past ten even,
and wake to birdsong, filtered sunlight,
and coffee made by tree fairies.
My address will be known mostly to squirrels, birds,
and the occasional drone, with a path just witchy enough
to make a poser think twice before approaching.
The views will be so spectacular I’ll seldom be tempted
to reorient to ground level, and anyway there will be stairs.
Or maybe I’ll install a giant slide, because although I’ll be very old
I’ll never not be a kid.
My books will live with me, and there will be two kittens
who will snuggle me as my bones grow tenuous.
They’ll absorb the words I cannot speak
and absolve me of every shortcoming
because they will have no stake in any of it.
I will at last be thin again unless the birds have mercy on me with sustenance,
but it won’t be as I imagined so I shall henceforth, from today, honor my squishiness while it lasts.
Those who want to gaze upon my astounding wrinklyness,
under cover of having “coffee, or tea, or drinkies,”
will be turned away in lieu of those who know me.
The ones – you know who you are – used to my stubborn opinions mixed with naiveté,
the never-ending search for validation, explanation, justification, restitution,
the neediness that dares not name itself.
When I am very very old, I shall be wise.
I will comprehend mysteries.
I will know The Meaning of Life.
Or not. Time, as “they” say, will tell.
But won’t you be lonely? you ask.
Of course, isn’t everyone?
JSmith 08/15/2023
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Watch yourself, it’s HumpDay…
14 Jun 2023 2 Comments
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A glorious June morning is underway, full of promise if you’re here for it. My self-assigned mission today is two-fold: reading and writing. Reading for fun and profit, interspersed with terrifying moments of writing for angst and amnesty. BOWLING FOR AMNESTY! She has a working title, boys and girls… and, we’re ROLLING!
At more than three-quarters of a century into this preposterous human experiment, I should be able to state one thing with certainty, and it turns out I can: This whole thing is insane. We emerge as the most helpless of creatures on earth, claw our way toward adulthood, gain awareness of our frightening awareness, and scream our way to the grave, because… insanity. I ask you, is there more fun to be had anywhere? We’ll never know.
There are things we CAN know, however, and do. For instance, I know the following to be true:
I read the entire poem knowing I recognized that voice, and when I saw Mary Oliver’s name at the bottom I burst into tears of joy over unexpectedly meeting up with an old friend out here in the wilderness. We crazies find each other, in this life or the next.
The world has never felt more tenuous… more divided… less inclusive. So we must each do our part to counteract that state:
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Wherever you are as you read this, STOP. Sit very still and let yourself relax from your toenails up. If you’re blessed with quiet right now, relax every cell all the way to the top of your head. Breathe. It feels really good, so do it some more. While you’re letting it all go, have a soft little conversation with yourself: You didn’t make the world the way it is. This brokenness is not your fault. Breathe in. Accept the good and the right and the real. You know how to be kind. Do that. Breathe out. Reject the existential pain that permeates everything now. Let it go. One individual human heart can’t contain what’s out there, so we have to simply lay it down and accept that being here for it is enough. And when we feel somewhat healed and therefore brave… we bear witness.
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Truth vs whatever’s in second place…
19 Feb 2023 2 Comments
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THE DOORS
They stand erect in never-ending rows, each one offering a choice to make.
Some are dark, some bathed in light, all hold secret truths hard to unravel.
Here’s one labeled SILENCE. On which side, one wonders, there or here?
If I stand mute before it, will its stillness reveal wisdom and knowledge to my parched imagination?
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So many doors, so many choices, so little time for everything.
The endless labels insinuate themselves upon our consciousness and leave us breathless…
How, how, how to ever investigate the options before time runs out and the buzzer signals an end to the game?
In the face of forever, time constraints are unspeakably cruel in their finality.
**
On they march, the doors, each firmly closed and locked to those without a set of keys.
Or is it just one key we need… the Master?
Is the secret in the simplicity?
Do we muddy the waters with our psychic flailing, drowning the answers directly under our feet?
**
Those doors, with their often obscure labels, stand like accusers we didn’t know we had
And the shock and awe outweigh the confusion until we get our bearings.
What do they really want from us, these sentinels of judgment?
Couldn’t we all have a nice chat and figure it out?
**
Conversation doesn’t seem to be the plan… and think about it
Everything has been said, end of story.
Now run, read the labels, make those choices!
Be fierce and turn a knob or two.
**
Guess you didn’t notice, that one said OFF THE CLIFF.
Oh well. Climb back up and keep reading
Because somewhere, in some wall, there’s a door that says SANCTUARY
And it does not lie.
**
JLSmith 02/19/2023
Where Do You Go
09 Feb 2023 1 Comment
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When your sense of wonder slips away, where do you search?
Do you head outside? Breathe new air?
Do you go to the river and let its rot and decay
speak to you of letting go?
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Do you clutch the shards of pain that confirm you’re alive, you did not die?
Or try to efficiently sweep them away before they’re seen?
Have you learned to let go of what breaks you
and embrace what will heal you?
**
Do you walk in the rain, letting it slide down your face and mix with your tears?
Do you hang out in spots where people talk, over coffee, but not to you?
Do you hope strangers miss your anguish
while those who love you feel it in their bones?
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Where do you go, what do you do?
Have you lived yourself into honest answers yet?
Have you loved yourself into truth
or are you okay with whatever’s in second place?
**
JLSmith 02/09/2023
A gift from last Christmas…
16 Dec 2022 Leave a comment
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Finneas is a brother to Billie Eilish and has worked with her from the start of her career.
How do you know
If you’ve done everything right?
Is it the love you have at hand
Or the cash you kiss at night?
How do you know
If it was worth it in the end?
Did every second really count
Or were there some you shouldn’t spend
On anything but anyone you love?
Was this the life that you were dreaming of?
A movie night, a yellow light
You’re slowing down and days are adding up
So don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s only a while
It’s not worth the anger you felt as a child
Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s not long enough
You’re not gonna like it without any love
So don’t waste it
I’m unimpressed
By the people preaching pain
For the sake of some small gain
In the sake of someone’s name
I’m unprepared
For my loved ones to be gone
Call ’em far too often now
Worry way too much about mom
Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s only a while
It’s not worth the anger you felt as a child
Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s not long enough
You’re not gonna like it without any love
So don’t waste it
It’s family and friends, and that’s the truth
The fountain doesn’t give you back your youth
It’s staying up too late at night and laughing under kitchen lights
So hard you start to cry
Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s not long enough
You’re not gonna like it without any love
So don’t waste it
–Finneas O’Connell
Sail away…
01 Dec 2022 1 Comment
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We could live aboard a ship
Hip to hip
And lip to lip
And if we ever lose our grip
We’ll go right back
To lip to lip
*
And if our anchor doesn’t hold
If we drift and get too cold
If we falter, we won’t fold
We’ll go back to lip to lip
*
If we sail for many days
Go too far and get too crazed
I will gladly spend my days
Sailing lip to lip
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Lip to lip
Lip to lip
On a big fat sailing ship
I would gladly spend my days
Sailing lip to lip
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Let’s get aboard a big fat ship
And we’ll go sailing lip to lip
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Composed by Kim Smith October 30, 2020 while attempting to achieve optimum weightlessness in the spa tub.
Autumn, I really love you…
23 Sep 2022 Leave a comment
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Totally Zen start to the day, sitting in the predawn darkness while rain pounded against the windows and the trains going through town sent out their lonesome danger-laced greetings. “We’re here, beware. You, though… sleep on, all’s well.” Kim’s 6am PickleBall group fell apart at the last minute, so he came back home and I ended up with an Einstein’s bagel out of the deal. For lunch we made a Ramen noodle stew that will end up in the rotation… perfect on a rainy fall day. All is indeed well.
Speaking of which, before we get too far into holiday shenanigans…
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This morning the U.S. is in constitutional crisis, teetering between the democracy we’re trying to keep, and the fascism being foisted upon us… but I can’t get into that, my beautiful fall day would be wrecked and so would yours. It’s exhausting, the outer circumstances and the things we all deal with on a personal level, and sometimes it feels like I’ll never not be tired, so this resonates…
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Fall carries its own brand of generosity, with its colors and schizophrenic weather and its assurance that it really is okay to let go. Its intrinsic melancholy is oddly healing and it feels like home.
Breathe…
08 Sep 2022 3 Comments
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She sat at the back and they said she was shy,
She led from the front and they hated her pride,
They asked her advice and then questioned her guidance,
They branded her loud, then were shocked by her silence,
When she shared no ambition they said it was sad,
So she told them her dreams and they said she was mad,
They told her they’d listen, then covered their ears,
And gave her a hug while they laughed at her fears,
And she listened to all of it thinking she should,
Be the girl they told her to be best as she could,
But one day she asked what was best for herself,
Instead of trying to please everyone else,
So she walked to the forest and stood with the trees,
She heard the wind whisper and dance with the leaves,
She spoke to the willow, the elm and the pine,
And she told them what she’d been told time after time,
She told them she felt she was never enough,
She was either too little or far far too much,
Too loud or too quiet, too fierce or too weak,
Too wise or too foolish, too bold or too meek,
Then she found a small clearing surrounded by firs,
And she stopped…and she heard what the trees said to her,
And she sat there for hours not wanting to leave,
For the forest said nothing, it just let her breathe.
Author: @Becky Helmsley
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This breathtaking poem was shared on Facebook without accreditation, which google fixed for me, quickly finding Becky for the documentation she must have. The poem’s title is BREATHE. Reverse Image Search failed me utterly, however, so for now Tree Woman will remain anonymous.
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The sweet discovery I made, three lines in, is that BREATHE is written in the same meter as Billy Joel’s “She’s Always a Woman to Me.” So yes… you can sing it! And if ever a poem needed to be sung… LOUD… it’s this one.
Playing for Time 
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