About Squirrels and Napping

I walk on a bright, crackling Fall afternoon with two of my little dogs because the sun is so alive its rays virtually bounce off the vivid leaves of sugar maples, linden and box elder trees. Even the Oaks, so often dressed in drab taupes and greys this time of year, are decked in crimson and gold for this year-end party. The purple and white asters, too, are dancing with life as though summer were just beginning to make its appearance. This is a visual score that gifts my eyes with a most melodic symphony. Playing right along are the bumblebees, with their yellow and black shrugs, and the squirrels whose tails flick frantically as they gather and bury while Nature inMichigan still permits such activiy.

It won't be long now before Nature takes its well-deserved nap. It knows far better than most of us that all work and no rest is bad for the spirit, not to mention the body.

My own tendencies are to let this time of year weigh too heavily on me. I don't like winter. I don't like the restrictions it puts on my walks and bike rides. But, as I age, I have come to appreciate the luxury of rest. Nights of uninterrupted rest are hard to come by. I think part of my problem is that, in looking ahead to Winter --the season of white death and silence--I get impatient. Spring, the time of joyous rebirth, is way too far away to offer me any comfort.

When my daughters were young, bedtime always presented a series of challenges. None of them ever wanted to end the day. It was as if morning was so far away it could never be counted on arriving at all. To ask them to put a book down or a game away of to turn off the television was a request cloaked in meanness. Like many mothers I would bargain to bring the night on more gently with a bedtime story.

Many aspects of life can be improved with just a little rest. Relationships, careers, mealtime to name a few. Even exercise is more effective, I've heard, if we let our muscles rest between vigorous workouts.

So, instead of looking into the future and becoming depressed because it is too far off, I need to remind myself to enjoy the present for the good things it offers. I need to be more like a squirrel. Pack up some nourishment to carry my soul through the dark months...I have shelves loaded with good stuff I've yet to read; and, when Spring does finally arrive, know that enjoying it will be that much more refreshing and wonderful.

A Fitting Finish to Summer

Yes, four months since my last post. A very long span of time in some respects but really just a flash. Time comes and goes in flashes now and if I've learned anything over the years it is that the period between the flashes is what is important. So I meandered around the pond on a stellar Fall afternoon and allowed what I could see, smell and hear to take over the moment. To comfort me as my thoughts could not.

A maple tree as majestic as any at its most glorious moment. A gilded robe that it would soon let go. The flash at sunset.

A Red Squrrek and an Eastern Fox Squirrel are more worried about us than each other.

Ah! The beauty of a long camera lens. Neither the painted turtles nor the Wood Duck had any concerns about our presence.

I love these ducks!

How could this setting not bring comfort to a soul?

A box elder (I believe) on fire!

Can you spot the pair of female wood ducks in this lily pad flotsam?

So majestic.

And so proud...he's literally beating his chest! I don't think the turtles give a hoot.

Taking a regal bath.

These guys really do blend in with their backgrounds.

Our resident Blue Heron on the lookout from his favorite perch

A Grey Squirrel...yes grey...the result of melanistic genes. He's certain my dogs and I are going to steal his nut.

Female Wood Duck with her pretty white eyes.

Lily pads in the clouds.

And he's still bathing!

Bird Nests and other Spring Musings

Spring arrived here in March. Then, with a vengeance, Winter came back as if admonishing Spring for daring to tread on its sacred ground. My apple tree never blossomed this spring. It's quite probable my cherry never will again. My plum, it appears, is just patiently waiting for next year. And, my wisteria nearly gave up but is nosing its way through the tangle of my arbor with fragile, grey-green leaves. On the other hand, my peach tree blessed me with so many baby peaches it couldn't hold on to them all. Go figure.

But, beyond these discoveries of new life thwarted are two that have warmed my heart for the past month. A pair of cardinals built a nest in the vine that shades my dog run--before the vine even sprouted leaves which meant their little home was in full view of anyone with even minimal vision. I chuckled as I watched the mother sit on her eggs, face into the corner of our chimney, and wondered whether she felt safe because she couldn't see me even though I could see her.

Two weeks ago a fledgling appeared at the top of the trellis that supports this vine.  All afternoon both parents would stop by with food for the baby and in between visits he (or her) would sit patiently waiting. Trusting that they were not far away.

We have cats in our neighborhood. Lots of cats. And a hawk. I wanted to move the fledgeling to a safer place. One not quite so visible. But had to trust that nature has its own way of doing these things. Then, for a week I did not see the fledgeling again. Ach! I forced myself not to consider what might have happened. Then, sitting at my writing desk which faces the dog run I saw a brown bird perched on its picket fence. It was the baby, again taking food from its parents. Happy day for me! He's big enough now and strong enough to dodge those pesky cats and possibly even the hawk.

The other discovery came yesterday. I noticed a robin pecking away at the debris in our gutter. I thought maybe it was foraging for a tasty tidbit but actually it was finding just the perfect twig or two for a nest. The nest, I soon discovered, is wedged in the revitalized tendrils of my wisteria.

Spring and Winter can fight amongst themselves for supremacy of the seasons but guess what? The cycle of life is stronger then them both.

Unfinished Desires by Gail Godwin

There is a lot to absorb, even in the first few pages, of Unfinished Desires by Gail Godwin. Set ultimately in 2007, it tells the story of several women whose lives first connect at Mount St. Gabriel's, a Catholic boarding school for Girls in the mountains of South Carolina.

The novel opens with some women who graduated from the school in the 1960's as they surround their beloved (and now nearly blind) headmistress, Mother Suzanne Ravenal The women have convinced Mother to write her memoir about the school which closed in 1972 and which was Mother's home for over sixty years.  This is the last we hear of those women, which confused me, as the story then twists around a series of unfortunate memories of 1952 that preclude Mother Ravenal's one-year leave of absence from the school. Memories which creep towards, then retreat from, this year of the so-called disaster.

When Mother Ravenal is finally able to bring herself to face the pain of that year, she comes to a kind of peace with herself and with a much earlier pain that, like some festering thorn under her skin, she'd never fully understood.

I grew up in the Catholic "school system." I attended a private Catholic high school for girls run by nuns, so I get that part of the story. Of course I was a teenager as well so I get that. And I get a passionate attraction to a best friend. I just don't think these elements were put together in the most efficient manner. Too many side trips and side characters to step over along the way.

The story is well-written and does a sensitive and insightful treatment of adolescence--its clumsiness, its passions and its cruelties--as well as the origins of these frailities. But it requires so much focus to keep tabs of the dozens of characters, the multiple points of views and the revolving time frames. It ends, not with Mother Ravenal but with the three ninth grade students who were at the eye of the storm that led to Mother's abrupt leave from the school. I can't say the ending totally satisfied me. Not that I think a novel necessarily must adhere to a single character's story but that it needs to leave me with a sense that the characters have all reached a point of closure with each other. Too many of them did not.

Defending Jacob :A Review

Defending Jacob by William Landay is a real page turner! Faced with one of the worst possible scenarios...that their only child, Jacob, has been accused of murdering his bullying classmate...Andy and Laurie Barber struggle with losing not just all their friends but his career as district prosecuting attorney and hers as the ultimate suburban mom.

While Jacob is the titled character it is Andy whose story Landay tells. A man who, on the surface is a brilliant and successful prosecutor, is revealed to be quite vulnerable underneath. He struggles, not only with his son's guilt but also his own guilt over having possibly passed on to his son the "murder gene." The incident forces to the forefront a not-so-wonderful past that Andy has managed to conceal; a past which, in combination with Jacob's trial, threatens Andy's storybook marriage.

Defending Jacob is a crime thriller written with lyrical language not normally found in such fast-paced novels. It gives sensitive treatment to a close family not accustomed to being looked at under the microscopes of their upscale neighbors and friends. It gives a wrenching look inside a man who has lived a lie and been tortured by it. And, it gives an almost unbelievable and certainly horrific solution to the problem.

What Defending Jacob does not give us is much of a view inside the minds and hearts of Jacob or Laurie. It's a difficult task given the first person point of view which makes me think third person might have been more effective. My only other nit is that much of the narrative is repeated at one time or another throughout the story because of the frequent interjection of transcripts from the actual trial.

On the whole, however, it was a well-written, gripping story. I look forward to reading Landay's next work.

Learning To Swim by Sara J. Henry : A Review

     Since Sara J. Henry just won this years Mary Higgins Clark award at the Edgars for her debut novel, Learning To Swim, I thought I better turn in my review. This story plunges you into the icy waters of Lake Champlain right along with its heroine, Troy Chance, who is quite certain she sees a young child being tossed overboard from a ferry and jumps from the boat she's in to rescue this victim.
     Not only did she see a child but the child was tied so tightly into a sweatshirt that he had no chance of survival had Troy not made the daring leap.
     I liked the character, Troy Chance; the way Henry portrays her. Troy is more comfortable with guys (good since all the tenants in her boarding house are guys), loves a good meal and is skeptical of authority...all traits I can relate to! She is brave but also naive, she is physically strong but weak when it comes to abandoned children.
     Yes, there are parts of the story that are a bit far-fetched but they are definitely not impossible; and yes the ending is a bit contrived but it is a mystery written in an era where both belief and skepticism are routinely suspended.
     Most importantly this was a well-written novel with a great plot and a boatload of interesting characters. And, judging from how the story ended I would suspect there might be a few more mysteries for Troy Chance to solve before she is finished. I hope so, anyway!

The Truth About Delilah Blue : A Review

The truth about Delilah Blue is that it changes. It changes because even Delilah doesn’t know who she is. Her divorced and estranged parents have used Delilah to create their own identities because even these adults in Tish Cohen’s latest novel have no clue who they are.

A story loaded with identity issues, The Truth About Delilah Blue, weaves back and forth between the points of view of Delilah (renamed Lila Mack for most of the novel), and her father, Victor, who is Lila's caretaker and who is slipping into early onset Alzheimer's.

Lila believes Elizabeth, Victor's ex-wife and Lila's mother, abandoned her. Midway through the novel Lila learns the truth. That Victor actually kidnapped her to save Lila from an irresponsible mother. That he took her from Toronto to Los Angeles and changed their names to hide Lila from the authorities. So Lila's father isn't who she thought he was either.

I liked this story because of the issues it presents. Neither parent is portrayed as perfect. Far from it. But neither is portrayed as evil either. Instead Lila learns that both parents loved her very much and did what they thought was best. In the end Lila learns that she is not the unwanted daughter of her artist mother nor the victim of her law-breaking and eccentric father but Delilah Blue, a young girl struggling to grow beyond the hurts of her past to find who she really is.

I also liked the easy going style of Tish Cohen's writing as well as her descriptions of the settings and the characters. Only two things actually bothered me. The ending, which I thought was confusing and abrupt. And the art professor of the class where Lila worked as a model who I thought was a bit inconsistent. Or maybe it was just that he was the one character I didn't like!

Finally, I liked Slash, the ever present, urbanized coyote that seemed to relate to Lila better than any human. As a passionate lover of animals I found this thread weaving through Cohen's novel a warm and significant element.