Mom's love flies in on the wings of a butterfly

Mom had a huge love of nature, but butterflies held a special place in her heart.  She often wore colorful clothes and jewelry decorated with them.  As a child I learned many of the names of particular species of butterflies and moths from her.  Every time I see a butterfly, I think of her and smile.  Mom has used butterflies as her messengers on several occasions to let me know that she is sending her love.  I wrote about one of them in an earlier blog. http://hollykallie.blogspot.com/2014/03/its-year-2000-and-i-have-run-away-from.html

Today marks the 13th anniversary of her passing.  Of course she wasn't going to let the day go by without one of her butterfly winks.  I woke up this morning to find a butterfly kite left by a dear friend on a bench outside my door.

My friend knew that mom loved butterflies and that this was the anniversary of her journey into spirit.  What she didn't know was that mom also dearly loved making and flying kites.

I must have been about 10 years old when mom mischievously let me skip school on a warm and windy spring day.  She had more interesting plans for us.  That morning we built a huge kite that was taller than I was out of wood and a flowered silk fabric she had purchased.

I remember that day so clearly even though it was over 50 years ago.  We walked to a nearby park with our kite and a huge spool of heavy string.  I remember launching the kite and how the wind took it so quickly up into the sky that we had trouble holding on to the large spool as it unwound.  Very soon it was a speck high in the blue sky above us.  We ran out of string and for a wild few minutes the kite danced around above us as we hung on for dear life and laughed ourselves silly.  The wind was stronger than we anticipated and in a little while the string broke.  We watched the kite as it drifted down out of the sky a few blocks away.  Then we ran giggling all of the way to retrieve our beautiful kite where it had landed not too far from my school.  It lived to fly another day and I never got caught for skipping school.

In honor of mom today, I knew I had to go fly a kite and share the story of my mom, her love of butterflies and our day of kite flying and laughter with my granddaughters.  So the girls and I put mom's kite together.

And went to a park to let it fly.

And also went to a really beautiful field high upon a hill.

And hugged a very huge tree.

And climbed another tree.

All in honor of my mom, who taught me the names of all of the butterflies and birds, how to climb trees, build forts, fly kites, swim like a fish and fly down snow covered slopes on skis.  Thanks mom.  Your love shines on.

Natures lessons and advice from a Rhino

I was feeling a bit down tonight for no discernible reason.  I knew I needed to get outdoors and get moving. So Baxter and I took a walk down one of our favorite country roads.  Nature had some lessons to share.

Tiny daisies grew in profusion along the road.  They thrive in the dry gravelly soil that is next to the hot asphalt and nowhere else.  I was humbled by their beauty.  "Learn to bloom where you're planted," they sang.  "You can thrive and be happy no matter what."

I stopped to inspect some vines that climbed up an old cedar tree beside the road.  Intertwined and strong, they held each other up and reached unimagined heights with the help of the ancient tree.  I thought of all the wonderful, complex and sometimes tangled relationships that make my life worthwhile and how much we all depend on each other.  "Love and appreciate your family and friends," they whispered.  "We're all in this together. You're never really alone."

After that, I enjoyed a sunset ride around the lake in the peddle kayak.  I stopped and chatted with some friends at the end of their pier.  It was warm, calm and peaceful.  On the way back I took a picture of "Rhino Point" which has been called that for decades for obvious reasons.  "Spend time enjoying the view," he muttered.  "It really IS the whole point."

The lure of fishing and catching memories

Two weekends ago, we had a little belated birthday party for one of our grandsons at the lake.  He wanted to go fishing with his dad, grandpa, little brother and a friend.  The day started out rainy but cleared up upon their arrival.  The fishing was very good that day and they had a great time.

But the best catch was right off the end of the pier just before dinner.  The birthday boy landed a big beautiful sunfish.

He and his brother proudly showed off their catch and then released it back into the lake.

The only glitch was when little brother jumped the gun and blew out the candles on his big brother's birthday cake leftovers, but we quickly lit them again and did a retake.

I don't fish anymore, but I remember fishing with my dad when I was a child.  My parents built a tiny cottage on the other side of Golden Lake when I was 4 years old.  They only kept it for 5 years, but over 60 years later, I still have vivid memories of those summers.

Dad loved to fish and even after the cottage was sold, he kept a boat and took me fishing with him often.  He was a quiet man and looking back on those times I remember rocking gently in our boat and fishing for hours.  Few words were needed.  We were content to be out on the lake together, waiting for a bite.  I loved those times with him and wish we could have had more of them, but dad has been gone now for 30 years.

Recently a dear friend of mine who is Catholic, arranged a Mass to be said in his honor and asked me if I wanted to attend, even though I haven't attended church for many years.  Only that morning, I had seen on Facebook that my cousins still celebrate their dad's birthday, even though he has been gone a long time.  He was my dad's brother, and I thought how nice it would be to do the same for my dad.  It turns out that the Mass was scheduled on July 16th because that was one of the few dates they had open for Mass requests.  It also turns out that July 16th is my dear dad's birthday.  He would have been 97.  Perhaps it's a coincidence, but I prefer to think that dad is still looking out for me.  So, we are going to church and then out to breakfast to celebrate.

Happy Birthday, Dad!  Thanks for sharing your love of the lake with me.  It is alive and growing.

Addie and the Magic Water Carpet

We had a quiet 4th of July at the lake.  When my 3 sons and daughter were younger, it was not unusual to have a couple dozen extra kids around on most summer weekends.  The lure of the lake is not to be denied, especially when lots of water toys and good food go along with it.  30 years ago, I would spend Thursday grocery shopping, Friday cooking, and Saturday and Sunday feeding the crowds.  Monday and Tuesday would be spent cleaning up the house and catching up on laundry.  If I was lucky, Wednesday might be open to a few moments of quiet reflection.  Then on Thursday it started all over again.  Looking back on it, I remember it as being great fun along with a lot of work.  In retrospect, I know it really pleased me to see my kids and their friends having such a good time.

My children are all grown now, and one son and daughter have families of their own.  Most often our weekend gatherings include some of the grandkids.  We celebrated our 4th of July weekend on Sunday the 6th.  I still do most of the food preparation for the family gatherings here.  Three huge pans of Chicken Divan were ready to pop in the oven when the gang arrived and other contributions were brought along to add to the feast.

No day at the lake is complete without an afternoon of shenanigans out in the water.  Whenever my 3 sons or my son-in-law are around, the grandkids know that much mischief will ensue.  In other words, if you don't like being flung around in the water, you better not even think of putting on your bathing suit.

This year we were sure that little 1 1/2 year old Addie, our newest granddaughter would not be ready to join in the usual water mayhem that the 6-8 year olds love.  Seems that we were mistaken.  She couldn't wait to join in.  No worries....there was a "responsible" adult standing near her at all times.  She especially liked the big blue magic water carpet.

Even after a tumble off of it into the lake, she kept begging for more.   She also likes being flung high into the air which helps a lot if you are going to swim with your dad or your uncles.  In other words, she fits right in!

They all worked up quite an appetite for the feast which was followed by ice cream sundaes.  As the sun set over the lake, little Addie and her two big brothers were tucked into the car for the 30 minute ride home.  I was told that she was asleep 5 minutes into the trip.  Looks like we are still making happy memories at Golden Lake, even after all these years.  I am a very lucky woman!

A breath and a prayer

I was raised Catholic back in the 50's.  Prayer, as I saw it, was a type of desperate pleading to a judgmental higher power, because we were all unworthy and powerless.  It stopped making sense to me many years ago, as I started to question who I was and what God really meant in my world.

Over the years I went on a quest by attending other churches, studying different types of spirituality and even spent time with some wonderful Native American friends attending their ceremonies.  I think their belief that we are all one and that everything is connected made the most sense to me.  I still have a sacred Golden Eagle feather given to me by them, a healing stone acquired at a Sundance Ceremony and some sage that I occasionally pray with when I am moved to do so.

As I went through my day, I felt that this evening would be a good time to bring out my special feather, stone and sage.  I will light the sage and bless myself and the universe with it's scented smoke.  As it wafts out into the into the evening sky over the lake, I will send my prayers and love along with it,  knowing that they will come to rest as gentle as a butterfly in the hearts of the intended.

But I discovered today that there is another way to pray that requires no artifacts or effort.  It is as simple as breathing and perhaps the most profound.  At a gentle yoga class, as we were being quietly directed to focus on our breath, I found myself thinking of those that I wanted to send blessings to....... and suddenly I felt my breath become their breath.  Then my breath became one breath with everyone else that was sending love and light to them.  We were one breath and one prayer.  Connected.  It was a powerful moment.

As the class ended we sat with our legs crossed and our hands folded to our hearts.  The final words were, "May you be happy.  May you be healthy.  May you be peaceful.  Namaste."  It was the perfect prayer and it was as simple as breathing.

Thoughts on love from my swing

I have had a deep and singular love for one small place on this big planet all of my life.  No matter where I have gone over the years, I eventually felt an undeniable call to return to my sacred life-giving lake.

I have a special place to sit where my mind immediately grows calm.  I am no longer thinking as my senses completely tune in to my surroundings.  My tree swing hangs from a big maple tree a few feet from the water's edge.  Part of the ritual involves having my bare feet connect to the earth in the grass beneath me.  It is believed by some that the earth has healing properties that are conducted through your bare feet.  I know that this place heals me everyday.

The unique smell of my lake wafting on a summer wind always engulfs me in a wave of emotion akin to love. The sound of it's waves lapping on the shore is surely the sweetest music I shall ever hear, and the countless sunsets I have witnessed from my swing never lose their magic.

Sometimes I wake in the middle of the night to sit in my swing beneath a dome of brilliant stars.  It is so calm that I can hear the owls calling to each other in the woods across the water and the frogs singing far down in the marsh.  This is my church and my God, and I am one with all of it.

Perhaps this lake is the love of my life.

Paddle board yoga next to the veggie patch

My tiny cottage is crawling with young construction guys and in a huge mess.  They are mostly in my bedroom, tearing it apart and putting it back together.   I am definitely not complaining, mind you!  But I had to use my imagination to figure out how I was going to fit a yoga routine into my day.

Since I am on a fitness kick, I left the mayhem to ride my bike around the lake early this morning.  The 6 mile trip was glorious and I came back ready to do yoga.  Then I realized that the only place I could possibly do that was on the living room floor......right where they were trudging back and forth to haul boards and stuff up the bedroom stairs.  Have I mentioned before that my dear little cottage is rather small?

I sighed, gave up my idea of yoga and went out to water my new little raised veggie garden bed.  I love my sweet patch of lettuce, radishes, onions and tomatoes.   I also have some totes of peas and cucumbers on the steps going down next to the cottage.  The cottages on this stretch of the lake are very close together, each having 50 feet of sandy frontage.  Most of the owners are rarely here which pleases my reclusive self a lot!

Peas and Cukes!

We have two new stand up paddle boards in our tiny lakeside yard, courtesy of my son-in-law.  I tried one over the weekend and enjoyed it immensely.  I actually looked online this morning for paddle board yoga classes and found some on a nearby lake in July.  I can see myself falling off the board often and making a complete fool of myself, but it still sounds like lots of fun.

Anyway, as I was watering the garden,  I looked over at the boards and realized that I could do paddle board yoga right here in my yard.....and I might not even fall off.  So, Baxter and I had a heavenly half hour yoga session accompanied by the sounds of birds and waves lapping on the shore, right next to my sweet little garden.  I did some Downward Facing Dog, while Baxter chose his version of the Sphinx Pose with his favorite stuffed squirrel. It was a stellar experience!

                                             Then I picked some radishes for lunch.   Life is good!