“You’re making quite the mess,” Greta Goldfinch chirps at Sasha Squirrel who litters wall ledges with hickory nut husks.

Sasha sighs and notices a tangle of weeds growing under the seed feeder as Greta tosses millet and sorghum aside while searching for nyjer. “Perhaps…” Sasha spies sunshine highlighting Greta’s actions in shadow form, “you might check your own peck of chaos before commenting on mine?”

In the morning, I shopped.

In the afternoon, I visited my oncologist.

The Gail of 10 years ago surely would have picked another line. The posture of the young man scanning groceries in line 9 transmitted an I’d-rather-be-anywhere-than-here signal.

The last time he checked me out, he slid a glass container — perhaps more forcefully than intended — down the stainless steel ramp toward the bagger. Spaghetti sauce and apple juice met with a bang. Thankfully, their containers held fast.

The checker looked up at me.

I smiled, shrugged, and said, “All’s well that ends well?”

* In the space of a mere decade, I’ve continued to upgrade a mouse-like modus operandi that once had me scurrying away from people, places, and things emitting whiffs of potential conflict.

It has been just over ten years since I started writing stories. Writing stories has taught me that every day my thinking, being, and doing are writing the story of my life.

With my cart heavily laden, I chose my checker. If tomatoes and apples were to collide, I was certain I could handle it.

When I got up to the register, a cheerless greeting was delivered without eye contact.

“Good morning!” I chirped before asking the question I’d been practicing in my head. “How’s my favorite checker today?”

Oomph! A grimace accentuated his reply. “Terrible.” Yet in a second of pause, he caught himself, looked up, and gave me one of the brightest smiles I have ever seen.

“Your smile says otherwise.” The laugh lines around my eyes deepened. “Working your way up to bigger and better things no doubt!”

I’m four years post-surgery.

I continue to do my best to live up to something nurse Nikki said to me at one of my early chemotherapy infusions:

Dr. S enters the exam room. Since we first met, his children have aged out of grade school and into high school. I hope that my abundant health at today’s follow-up offsets some of the somber cases he might have seen throughout his day.

“How are things going?” he asks.

“I have two things for you today.” I can see this piques his interest because all I usually say at our catch-ups is that I’m good. I’m good. I’m really, really good.

“Okay. Let’s start with those.”

“I have a riddle… and gratitude. Which would you like first?”

“I’m terrible with riddles. Let’s start there.” (I know he’s not actually terrible with riddles because he figured out how to get me through chemo with less than cooperative blood counts.)

“What do you call a cow who just gave birth?”

Thinking… thinking… “I don’t know.”

“De-calf-en-ated.”

“Mmmm-hmmm. Good one.”

“And now the gratitude… I attended my fortieth class reunion a couple of weeks ago. A handful are dead… two or three from breast cancer. Thank you for everything you did — you do. I’m still here.”

As I drove home, I contemplated how cancer is one of this life’s challenges that has helped me grow into the kind of person who runs toward the change she wants to see in this world… instead of away from it.

Can you imagine?!

Could this be mere coincidence?

Or, are there invisible threads connecting… everything?

On Saturday morning I sat at the patio table measuring once, twice, maybe even nine times before allowing pages in the current book project to make the cut. Such effort is slow, tedious, readers-perched-on-my-nose, every-second-worth-it work. At some point, the little arachnid pictured above came trotting across the table.

Although exercising the muscles around my fortress of focus is a persistent work in progress, this was a wonder-eliciting spider that I simply could not ignore. “Well… hello there! Yes! You are exactly right. I do need a break.”

While maintaining eye contact with me, the chunky eight-leg trailed a translucent string of web from its caboose across the table, over my keyboard, and around the phone that had just snapped its photo. After several minutes of conversation (the spider talked by blinking and smiling at me), I was called away by Henrietta’s barkhowlbarkbarkbark. When I returned, my distraction was gone.

I typed ‘chunky, fuzzy spider with a white spot on its back’ into the search bar and learned that I’d been chatting with a Phidippus Audax, a Bold Jumping Spider. I enjoyed a few solid moments of glee over this new-to-me experience and then got back to work…

The next morning when I perused snippets of news from the 1440, I came across:

Having danced with a fuzzy Fred or Ginger the morning before, how could I not click?

In a few paragraphs, I learned that Bold Jumping Spiders have become TikTok darlings and… breeders are selling them as pets for up to $100 each? Wow.

Friendly, fearless, and harmless, Phidippus Audax are excellent ambassadors of nature.

I’m delighted that my personal introduction arrived via direct experience.
I think it’s amazing that my acquaintance and I met as equals.
I’m grateful that both of us were free to carry on our merry ways afterward — because heaven knows that I already have a pet with four legs that gives me a run for my money! 😂

“Really Mom?!” squawks one of the brood.

“Another spider?” cries a second.

“Can’t you find us some snails or caterpillars?” a third grumbles.

“Or, a grasshopper?” the quietest of the crew mumbles.

“Ungrateful,” an exhausted mother mutters to her equally exhausted mate.

“This too shall pass?” Dad questions. “When they fledge, they will learn that freedom is always coupled with responsibility. We chose to make them… right now it is our duty to get them through their adolescence as best we can.”

On Hilo Drive, Henny displays a supreme sense of rhythm and rhyme. As a white SUV approaches from the north, my starlet leans her right shoulder into the ground, rolls on her back, and paddles her paws in the cool morning air. The shade from a monstrous maple enables a dewy sponge bath for the wiggling fourleg.

I make eye contact with a curly-haired driver whose mirth mirrors the sunrise. I smile in return as we both roll into our day with an unexpected turn toward humor.

Henny gets up, shakes, and resumes forward motion as if this performance of playfulness is all in a day’s work joy.

As we walk on I hear one Mourning Dove coo to anther, “And humans think themselves superior to animals? That dog is simply fabulous!”

A note:

The chance that they will see this is small, but I hope this shoutout to RN Jacob and CNA Maria touches anybody experiencing a need for medical care. Our systems might still be evolving toward good, better, best, yet I choose to believe healthcare professionals, when treated with trust and respect, will give their all to their patients.

Jacob and Maria — Thank you for the kind attention and care you gifted my 89 year-old father during his hospitalization. Thank you for listening to and for laughing at his jokes. Thank you for raising your voices so that he could hear with his bad ears.

Together we made the best of it.

Yesterday I popped into the pet store to pick up a bag of kibble. On my way to the back of the store, where Henny’s brand of bites are shelved, I perused a few displays of dog toys. In particular, I was looking for a toy that will float. In the heat of summer, we often take field trips to water features.

A black fur coat in summer can really slow a fourleg down. Dips and swims lower the heat index.

Not a single toy announced itself a must-have so I hefted a bag of dog food and headed toward the register. Wait, what’s this…

Never one to zip past an orange sticker, I stopped and dug through a bin of plushies priced to sell. There were cute green alligators and patchwork dinosaurs. Nothing grabbed me though, until… I came across the only smiling, denim bear.

“I’m her guy,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied. “She’s gonna be tickled to have a new playmate.”

Henrietta has always shown love via devoted attention to new toys. She mouths them. She rolls on her back and holds them between her front paws. She squeaks them until they lose their voice.

This morning, Henny upped her game. When it was time for our walk, she picked up her new friend and refused to put him down. When I tried to take him, she held her grip and turned her head.

“Okay,” I relented. “If you get tired of carrying him, I’ll carry.”

She held Bear for the entire walk. We enjoyed several rest breaks in the shade with Henny and Bear rolling in the grass. Sometimes I wonder what the neighbors must think of us, but then I ask myself… If we’re having a good time, what does it matter?

Henrietta didn’t choose Bear. Her gift was given by a Higher Power… which in this case, was me. :)

I’m taking today’s lesson as a reminder to pay attention to what I’m given — to love in equal measure — that which I receive.

Dani Diver and Chloe Clownfish focus on their metrics…

DD clicks her counter when she sights Chloe.

CC flaps a fin to mark the fifth diver she’s encountered this week.

The real magic happens when their eyes meet.

I see you transpires and… what really counts cannot be measured.

Dog — Sometimes all the bad stuff makes it hard to remember all of the good stuff.

Such awareness
leads to change
when action is taken
to rearrange.

Subtract dis
from heartening
to make space
for higher thinking.

Sam sidles up to the statue. “I’ve been watching. What are you? Panther? Cougar? Mountain Lion? For a killer cat… you’re painfully still.”

Silence

“This is really none of my business — your life is your life, yet somebody once gave me a gift. I feel joy in passing it on.”

Waiting…

“Here it is. Five words.” Sam licks a paw and slicks her whiskers. “Pick a project… and go.”

A note from LoveLetterist: The bronze crouching panther pictured above caught me by surprise in NYC’s Central Park. How could I not take a photo?

This morning I had fun… opening myself to a creative impulse to share the image.

Bernadette watches from the birdbath.

She calls out to Dan who wrings his paws under the daylily. “What’s the twoleg doing?”

“Dunno. Dunno. Dunno,” he chatters, “but I don’t like the looks of it.”

The twoleg secures a Slinky® toy to the rodent’s birdseed buffet line with a zip tie, dusts her hands, and pats herself on the back. “Take that!” she calls to the fourlegs.

The hours until sunset are spent surveilling and scheming.

“We’ll sleep on it,” Dan suggests.

“Good idea,” Bernadette closes her eyes and drifts into dreams of sunflower seeds.

Up with the sun, Dan stands below his breakfast, lunch… dinner. He decides to go for it. He shimmies underneath the new contraption and takes hold of the shepherd’s staff. He ascends easily, but finds the exit tricky. The shiny, silver contraption does not hold still! He slides down the pole to reassess.

Bernadette sashays out from under the boxwood. “I’m gonna have a go.” She shimmies, climbs, and paws the bouncy gizmo with a rear leg. “Child’s play!” she cries as she launches herself though a separation between the bars. She grasps the feeder’s metal mesh. “C’mon Dan. If I can do it, you can too.”

Last week, country mice (me and the muses) got to visit the city.

We saw many of the main attractions, including, but not limited to… Grand Central Station, Statue of Liberty, Ellis Island, Brooklyn Bridge, Central Park, St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Rockefeller Center, Chelsea Market, Times Square, Broadway, oomph! — my quads are cramping from just typing about it. 😁

Today we’re savoring (and documenting) a few of our favorite things.

Friendship: I traveled with a lifelong friend and got to meet a virtual friend (Zoom calls since 2020) in person. Technology is grand and has broadened my life, yet… there is nothing quite like breathing the same Central Station air together.

Nature: The morning we walked uptown on 5th Avenue toward Central Park, a flock of pigeons zoomed above and through the morning pedestrian commute. A scream-laugh of surprise escaped me unbidden and as I turned to watch the birds depart, I found several others smiling along with me.

Joy is truly found in the smallest moments.
Humans — We are nature, too.

On a subway trip I spied a white feather underneath the bench across from me.
How’d that get there?

Awareness: Exiting Central Park, we came across the famous restaurant Tavern on the Green. As we stood looking at the menu, deciding whether or not we’d like to lunch there, I listened to the muses chattering in my head. Urania exercised her frugal nature and noted the size of the crowd while Thalia begged for the experience. Calliope weighed both sides and cajoled Urania into stepping up to the hostess station. Overcoming and harmonizing with our rational thinker often yields delicious rewards!

Attention and Connection: The rooftop of our accommodations had a coffee machine and ample outside seating.

There I experienced:

a grandfather who whose grandson loves the theater.
That day they were planning to see their fourth Broadway show.

a retired NYC police officer who now lives in the Carolinas.
He graciously told me about his experience on 9/11.

a woman who appeared to be praying.
Her t-shirt referenced Romans 12:2, which I felt compelled to explore.

For better or worse, our habits of thinking, being, and doing build the days of our lives.

A travel guide can be of great use, but gold is often found beyond.

Hey T.S. — What?!

Poet’s are so dang annoying because rather than telling us what to think, they invite readers to co-create meaning.

(Huh… Perhaps that’s trust?)

I can totally relate to Eliot’s hesitation regarding hope and love.

Who hasn’t gotten something they longed for and found out it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be?

Where I’ve often been snagged is in the patiently waiting department.

More than a handful of times I picked up a short sleeve of acrylic paints only to get to the register, turn around, and return them to the shelf.

A few months ago I stopped telling myself No! and bought them.

They are bold and bright, contrasting with the soft and muted vision I’ve long held of my self. Kinda like how I used to hate poetry… until I started writing like a poet. 🤷🏻‍♀️

What if our biggest mistake is…
getting trapped inside of what we think we know?

Not much to look at, yet… process proceeds toward potent plumage.

“Good morning!” Stork flaps. “Do you know the way to San José?”

“Which San José?” Betty the Baltimore Oriole asks. “Florida? Mexico? Costa Rica?”

Stork checks her delivery ticket. “California.”

“Sorry. Can’t help.” Betty warbles through a mouthful of grape jelly. “Never been there.”

When I round the corner to fill the squirrel feeder with bird seed, I’m stopped short by sunlight illuminating the hummer’s ruby throat.

“Oh! Good morning.” I half-whisper. “Take your time. I’ll wait.”

He sips and stops, sips and rests, then sips some more.
Perhaps this is a water-cooler opportunity?

“How was your weekend?” I venture.

Courageous, but quiet, he simply blinks at me.

“Mine?” I’m not ready to give up on this connectication possibility, “Well… mine was kind of exciting. My email got hacked and — I went to the urgent care to have a tick bite evaluated. New experiences — that’s what I’m choosing to see.”

Ruby nods at the squirrels who patiently wait for their breakfast, then zips off into the wild blue. I pour seeds into the tube feeder and think I hear one squirrel ask the other,

Caleb Crow
carries
keys of note.

One caws death;

another caws life;

and the third caws:

“Renewal is
Nature’s way.”

I’ve convinced myself that the neighborhood crows know my habits and are trying to tell me something. For a couple of weeks now they’ve been cawing at me from the treetops and performing eye-catching flights of fancy that refuse to be ignored.

Isn’t it kinda funny that a congregation of crows is called a murder? 😂

Unfortunately, I don’t speak crow.
I can often be challenged by my native tongue… English.
What exactly was Edgar Allen Poe trying to communicate in his poem about a raven?

When I’m not sure what crows or poets are saying, I use my God-given imagination to make up meaning that suits me.

Yesterday I enjoyed a conversation with my friend and fellow wordsmith . We talked about Jay’s daily challenge to build meaning in his days. From my perspective, he not only survives, but also finds ways to thrive, while a hole in his brain continues to snatch away pieces of who he used to be.

Jay said, “I’ve learned I cannot bring my past into my future.”

I’ve created a story for myself about the neighborhood murder. The crows are offering a spring reminder to examine my habits.

What’s serving me?
What’s keeping me small?
Where might I die, so that I can more fully live?

Oh… and today’s title?
When I choose to believe the Great Mystery wants me to live a rich and fulfilling life, I am alone…
nevermore.

Henrietta rounds the bend — fast-twitch muscles firing on all cylinders. I count three bowling balls with wings aiming for clearance over the tree tops and marvel at their ability to take flight.

“Thanks,” the wild turkeys squawk, “for nothing!”

I guess you do what you gotta do when being chased by a predator?

Last week I picked up a sleeve of cheap acrylic paints.

Here’s what the muses had to say after painting the image above:

“This stuff sucks!” Thalia tries to get the glop off of a bush. “It’s like painting with plastic.”

Urania queries the World Wide Web — What is acrylic paint made of? — “That’s because you are!"

I’m no watercolor master, but I have found a certain level of comfort with the medium which is likely why I feel called to push myself to explore beyond…

Like wild turkeys, we too, can do hard things.

“Will you be building in the burning bush again this year?”

With a generous collection of spent leaves and wood chips, and without arms to carry them, the bird answered with action instead of chirps. She flew off heading north.

Recently a friend shared, “I try to pay attention to what I am paying attention to.”

I like to hang onto such wee-sized wisdoms.

I filed this one between
follow the energy
and
lead yourself first.

“Oh… hello! I might have missed you completely if I didn’t see a turkey dash this way. Your camo is tip-top. Did you see the bird?”

Fourteen watchful eyes and fourteen well-tuned ears drank in our presence.

Henrietta sat down as if she’d been invited for tea.

Deer, human, dog, and time held still.

When Henny and I took a few slow steps down the trail, one doe followed.

We stopped.
She stopped.

We walked,
She followed.

It felt pretty magical.

I hope something like that happened in your day, too.

Use it!

I recently watched a clip of a Master Class given by actress Helen Mirren. She was talking about acting, and yet in just a few short minutes I heard lessons that extend beyond movie sets into the sphere of living a human life on our pale blue dot.

She said something like:

Sometimes there will be things that really bother you. It’ll be too hot or too cold. You’ll have to sit, or wait. All I can tell you is: Use it.

Yesterday, Girl and Dog were given an opportunity to practice just that.

Home from a romp at the marsh, Girl notices something above Dog’s eye. She goes to brush it off and finds… torn flesh. Her first reaction (an avoidance manuever) comes from Monty Python: ‘Tis but a scratch.

On closer inspection, the hole is quite significant and there is a troubling flap of unattached fur-covered flesh. Much to the dismay of both parties, Girl and Dog climb back into their truck and head off to seek care from a professional.

This really bothered both of them, yet together they transitioned through awareness and acceptance… to arrive at action.

Henrietta is gonna be fine, although she really does not like the cone.

Today’s love letter is our way of using it — turning our tiny tragedy into a tiny triumph.

We’re sharing because… perhaps there is something you want to avoid, too?

Face it.
Use it.
Overcome.
You are made from the good stuff.