New Year's Eve 2017

After a tasty dinner tonight, we've moved into games and movies to enjoy the time before midnight and the fireworks over San Francisco (lucky it is clear tonight).  We're seven here tonight and as I reflect on the year and the day today, I feel blessed.  It's not that life is perfect, but rather the love I feel from family and friends that makes my life good.  It's easy for me watching the nightly news and reading the NYTimes on my IPhone to feel despair at the harmful political decisions made last year.  But when I look at the life I have, I am blessed.  As I look at the year that has passed too quickly, I want to relish and focus on the good things.  I remember past New Year's Eves:  one in Copenhagen at the Niels Bohr Institute where we danced wildly and ate the hundreds of frikadellar I helped make; another binge watching all the Star Wars movies with family friends, quiet ones where I didn't even manage to stay awake until midnight.  Tonight is sweet with family relaxed all around, enjoying each other's company, everyone doing just what they want to do.  As I look to 2018, I wish everyone good health and happiness.  I hope we can learn to get along in our country, learn to talk to those who think very differently from ourselves.  I want us humans to take better care of our Earth home.  May 2018 bring blessings to us all.

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Christmas

A tradition the children and grandchildren remember and enjoy is going to the participatory Family Christmas Eve service at church.  They love dressing up as angels or sheep or cows or even wise men (though in 10 years none of them have chosen to be wise men).  They love having a part in the story and singing the old familiar hymns.  This year in response to my question about the modern language used (as opposed to the traditional Bible readings) one of our group announced loudly and clearly that the Christmas story is just another fable for her.  It got me thinking again about the meaning of Christmas.  Increasingly Christmas is about over-consumption, crass commercialism, shopping,  parties with lots of food, all of it just too much.  We all know that Christianity absorbed (syncretized) lots of other traditions, for example: the Christmas tree from the Druids; the feast at the winter solstice from the pagans.  Traditions have slowly been added over the centuries.  But as we used to say in church, the Christmas story might not have happened exactly the way we tell it, but it is still true.  There is at the heart of the Christmas story something beautiful and consonant with yearning in our hearts.  There is in all of us a wish for new life, peace and more light in these the dark times.  Going outside on the longest darkest night and looking up into the starry sky, our lives seem so small and insignificant in the dark Universe.  Humans crave meaning and the stories we tell give us meaning.  For me, the old old story of the mystery made flesh in a child born in the most humble circumstances is a great story.  I love the mystery part in it.  I love the humble mother pondering the meaning of her child's life in her heart.  I love the nature part of the shepherd's field with the starry sky and angels.  I love the fact it's not all explained.  The fact we are still talking about this child all these centuries later says to me there was something very special and true about his life.  It is for each of us to find the meaning of his life in our lives.  Looking deeply through the messy chaos of these days to the peace of Christmas, I treasure in my heart the handmade gifts shyly given by special grandchildren; the love given and received in our family and friends; the gift of being altogether sharing as we can the gift of presence of love and joy and hope and yes, for some even belief in the Holy Impossible.

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Finding the Joy

A week from today is Christmas.   For this last week of Advent, I've been thinking about Joy.  Joy is different from pleasure or liking something, it bubbles up from deep inside us.  It is said that Joy is an outward sign of the Spirit alive in us.  Yesterday, it was easy to see Joy in our grandson's face at his special birthday party.  It was at a place called My Gym that specializes in providing the space, the games, the total organization for a 5 year old boy's birthday party.  He was all smiles, a picture of dynamic radiating Joy as he soaked in the love, the fun, and the excitement.  Bob and I relished the hugs he gave us when he noticed us.   For some of us older folks, finding joy can be a challenge in these hectic days.  Days filled not only with anticipation and preparation of the big day of celebration, but also with sadness for Christmases past, now lost and gone forever.  Holding the tension of these two extremes can be exhausting.  Maybe looking for little joys in our daily experiences is a healing balm.  Maybe we need to let go of expectations and just notice what is happening, the Mindfulness approach.  A phone call from my sister makes my morning bright.  Finding Costco uncrowded allowed me to remain calm and focused and very grateful if not downright joyful.  Remembering our parents, siblings, and friends who are no longer physically with us can bring us joy too if we can focus on the love still there connecting us.  Joy can be found and when it is, I treasure it like a nugget of gold found in the mud of unexpected places.  This last week before Christmas, I will be on a treasure hunt for Joy.  P.S. Don't forget to look in your own heart!

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Behold the lamb

Last night we were invited to dinner at friends' home in Walnut Creek.  Before the meal, we were taken out to the barn to see the newborn lambs.  Clara, the two year old ewe, had given birth just a few days before.  Torsten told us of his awe at how the mother sheep knew just what to do, how first she licked their faces clean so they could breathe and how she changed her "language" to create a voice just for her babies, nudged them to stand up and helped them find her udders so they could feed on the colostrum.  He pulled us into the pen and handed each of us a lamb to hold.  They were wiggly, very warm even though the night was cold, and very soft.  The words from the Messiah came to mind, "Behold the lamb of God."  In that moment, as photos were being taken, I became very aware of the great gift of life, how we come into the world so innocent and helpless, depending on others to give us what we need.  On this second Sunday of Advent I will look with hope for new life.  Over the years, I have come to see that everything in the universe is in our world, good and evil, order and chaos, peace and war.  What we see depends on what we look at, what is in our awareness of our hearts and minds.  This week, I want to keep my eyes open to see new life.  This week, I want to let go of my fear for the future and my despair of the direction of politics in our country.  This week with hope I will look for new life.   

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First Sunday of Advent

Today is the 1st Sunday of Advent and I remember Sundays past.   Sundays at church when the organist played the Bach cantata "Wachet auf" (Awake, calls the voice to us). This Sunday's message is to be awake for signs of something deep stirring in us, something calling us to gratitude.  Gratitude is a good place to start preparation for Christmas.  Being able to actually notice our many blessings is the very beginning of gratitude and there is always something for which to be grateful.  For example, I am grateful for my amazing living body that is able to heal and sustain me, even as I grow old.  I am amazed how my body responds happily to exercise and healthy food.  My body responds to my thoughts too, if I am angry, fearful, negative, I feel down and grumpy.  If I am joyful, my body feels more alive and light.  I am grateful for our amazing earth home and it's ability to restore, to green up after the first rains of winter.  I am grateful for the comforts modern civilization brings me: good fresh food, clean water, heated houses and transportation that lets me go where I want, when I want.  I am grateful for the education I've had and the learning I am still doing.  I am grateful for family and friends.  I am grateful for good books and good music and chocolate.  This week I want to be awake to recognize all the blessings in my life and be grateful for them especially because the news is so bad these days.  A grateful open heart is a good way to approach Christmas.
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#Metoo

It's been more than a month since Hollywood mogul Harvey Weinstein was toppled by multiple allegations of sexual harassment and sexual abuse.  For once the women were taken seriously and the flood of accusations has just gone on and on day after day with more and more powerful men falling.  #Metoo has provided a platform for more women (and men) to tell their stories of abuse.  It's not just white men in public positions of power that are abusers.  Women (and men) in all walks of life have experienced sexual harassment and abuse in their work and lives.   I hope this time represents a sea-change in our culture so that such abuses are no longer tolerated.  Maybe everyone just had it, when an abuser was elected President and this is in reaction to him.  For me, it's shocking and yet it isn't.  When I was younger, I had an instinct to keep away from " the dirty old men" as I used to call them.  Lucky, I've come across just a few such men in my life experience.  One of the Physics professors where Bob was a graduate student was known, at least by the women, to be too familiar with the grad students' girlfriends.  There were male parishioners at a churches I served who used to try to feel me up in too long hugs and I had to duck away from them and make sure the hugs were shoulder to chest.  It represents a big can of worms concerning the accountability - what will happen to these abusers.  I hope women (and men) will keep coming forward to tell their stories and will continue to be supported for their courage and that such behavior is no longer tolerated ever, ever again.  Maybe I'm being too hopeful here.  It's been a long time going on.
I

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A little kindness goes a long way

After a stormy Sunday, this morning dawned bright and sunny, so headed out with a long shopping list.  I had eight different places to go.  But it is one moment that stands out from the 3 hour outing and I keep thinking about it.  As I was getting into my car by CVS, I had to wait as a couple about my age was getting into the car next to mine.  The husband gently helped his wife into her seat, stood there for a moment as she settled in and then helped her with her seatbelt.  As I watched him, I was overcome with his gentle kindness.  So I told him as he moved to where I was standing that he was very kind.  He shrugged and said, "what are you going to do, she has Alzheimer's."  In that moment, I was flooded with gratitude for my good health and sound mind, realizing it could be otherwise.  But even stronger was my gratitude for his reminder how little kindnesses make our lives sweet, no matter what else in happening.

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Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite holidays.  I love it's focus on being grateful and the gathering of friends and family together.  I love the hustle and bustle in the kitchen preparing the traditional feast of turkey and fixings.  I love the smells of fresh baking bread and roasting turkey.  Sitting here on Thanksgiving morning with my cup of coffee, I am remembering Thanksgivings past back even beyond my days in college to my family before we made our family.  I remember my mother's beautiful table with crystal goblets, sterling silver and the lace tablecloth.  Bob and I have shared 51 Thanksgivings, it's remarkable!  I remember the one in 1973 when we were on leave from Yale, living in my mother's house in Glendale, when the kitchen sink got plugged up and Bob had to do emergency plumbing in the kitchen while I cooked dinner, stepping around him in the middle of the kitchen.  I remember the many Thanksgivings we shared with our dear friends, especially the Knop's here in Berkeley.  I remember Thanksgivings shared with my dear departed brother Richard and his wife Miriam, others with my sister Kate and still others with Bob's brother, Paul and his wife Shelley.  It is indeed a day to be very very grateful for all the many blessings we have and we have too many to count.  This day, Bob and I will go over to Pt. Reyes National Park, to Abbott's Lagoon, and hike to the Pacific Ocean, then go to a nearby restaurant to have dinner.  Today, I feel the peace settle upon me and I am especially grateful to have a peaceful day to look forward to and for peace in our distressed country, if only for a day.

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Spirit's role in climate action

Yesterday, Nov. 13, 2017,  there was an Op-Ed piece in the San Francisco Chronicle that caught my eye- "Spirit's vital role in climate action."  Marc Andrus, bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of California, wrote on the importance of aligning one's deepest inner values with social action, in this particular case, climate action.  I found it interesting that such a "religious" perspective was out there for everyone to read.  For years, I've felt that any social action for justice must be undergirded by a deep awareness of spiritual values.  He writes "Within your heart are values, treasures really--compassion, courage, forgiveness, ambition.  These values and more will reveal themselves if you open yourself to them.  Our actions depend on these values.  Climate action begins within."  If we act out of fear or anger, our actions will turn negative and eventually we will burn out in despair.  In these challenging times when those of us who believe the data about climate change feel beleaguered and beat up, it is especially important that we connect to something greater than ourselves.  It doesn't matter if we call this God or Spirit or just our strong love for Nature.  It's not enough just to write a check or march or write to Congress members, first we must pause and connect inwardly to our core's deepest values.  Then, aware of these inner values, our actions can be sustained and powerful.   For me, whenever I go to the Botanical Garden, I feel a sense of peace flowing through me and I am calmed.  In touch with this peace, I am actually praying and it is from this place, as Andrus says that "climate action is prayer."  You can't have one with the other, the two parts, inner spiritual awareness of values and social action, must be linked for the most powerful results.


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A Walk in the Woods

There's so much bad news out there.  Another mass shooting, this time in a south Texas church, horrifies me once again.  It's  been a year tomorrow since Trump was elected President and it's been a hard year.  So today we took to the woods.  Hiking with two other couples, we enjoyed the amazingly colorful yellow, red and orange trees, the fresh cold air, and the peace of wild places.  It was a wonderful park we hiked in only half hour from E. Lansing.  We were alone in the park and passed only one other hiker on our 4 1/2 miles.  Walking along, I could literally feel the cares of the world slide off my shoulders.  Big views of natural beauty as well as small views, like bright leaves on the ground or the little beige thumb size frog that hopped across the path in front of me  brought me great joy.  My perspective on life was corrected as I realized once again how wonderful our world is and what a gift it is to be alive.  Trees do that for me.

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The Switch Witch

Bob has been walking Sonja to school in the morning.  He says she's quite chatty and they have interesting conversations.  The day after Halloween the subject of the "Switch Witch" came up.  She'd overheard a conversation we had with Arne while they were out trick-or-treating in California.  When I mentioned the huge piles of candy the girls had gotten,  Karna asked if the Switch Witch came here in Michigan?  For our California grandchildren, on Halloween night, the Switch Witch comes and takes all the candy away leaving presents in place of the candy.  Sonja told Bob, "I don't believe in the Switch Witch, I think it's Aunt Karna that takes the candy."  They pondered what happened to the candy after it was gone.  As they walked on, she pronounced that she did believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, but not in the Switch Witch.  She was dead certain about this.  This certainty even in the face of evidence to the contrary reminds me of our political situation, here in the United States.  Trump Republicans are certain of their beliefs and nothing, no facts, no arguments, will convince them to change their minds.  Democrats, too, have their beliefs (their lens on reality) that cannot be changed.  I wonder if the whole world is confused these days.  We've lived through years of very pragmatic and relativistic times, maybe people are just clinging to something to hold it as their rock of truth.  Never in my lifetime has our country and our world been divided with such hostility.  I fear for what is to come.
FYI:  the Switch Witch's candy is donated to the local school where it is sent to our servicemen overseas.

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Halloween

Halloween was brilliant, extreme and lots of fun this year.  First of all, I was designated to make Sonja's chicken costume.  Paula had procured all the parts: 6 white feather boas, 1 yellow feather boa, a tee shirt dress, red tennis shoes, yellow tights and a chicken hood.  I sewed the cord in the boas on to the dress.  It took me one full day plus a couple of hours.  I muttered.  I sputtered.  The last stitch was completely just as Sonja walked in from school on Monday.  She was thrilled with the outcome and her joy made my work worth all the effort.  We had an early dinner to be ready to walk downtown for the "Great Pumpkin Walk" at 5 o'clock.  Kids from the area trick or treat the shops.  This year just after we left home, it began to lightly rain, then the rain picked up and the wind too and it began to hail, then it began to snow as the temperature plummeted.  A frigid cold front pushed through for half an hour.  We took refuge in the The Wild Goose Inn (the only B and B in town).  Paul ran home to get the car and picked up Bob and me.  Paula and the girls, every hardy, went on with umbrellas.  We met up and continued to trick or treat as the rain stopped.  It was an extreme weather extravaganza.  Tuesday, Halloween night, was clear but really cold.  Paula finished decorating the house( she loves to decorate for Halloween).  She put the carved pumpkins out on a bale of hay, lit the tombstone and lay a scarecrow with a pumpkin head on the ground.  The house had orange lights and big spiders all around.  After the tornado siren sounded at 6 pm, they went out with the girls plus a neighbor girl to trick or treat in the neighborhood.  Bob and I stayed to pass out the candy.  70 cute trick or treaters came to the house.  My favorite, besides my granddaughters of course, were a suffragette dressed in a beautiful turn of the 20th century long lacy dress who gave me a paper listing work yet to be done for women's equality and small skinny boy in a yellow tee shirt who told me he was Captain Kirk.  He had no jacket or bag for his candy, but pointed to the van when I asked him where they were.  His parent drove him from house to house!  The girls returned to pour out their candy and sort it out but neither one particularly liked all the candy.  Instead they ate apples and cucumbers.  Paula takes the bulk of unwanted candy to give to her students.  All is all it was a great Halloween.



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Forty Years of Friendship

Forty years ago this year, we went to Israel, to the Weizmann Institute for part of Bob's sabbatical.  There, we became friends with our French downstairs neighbors, Martine and Jean Weissenbach.  Our friendship has spanned these forty years.  Over the years, we've made many visits back and forth and our children regard Martine and Jean as their Parisian aunt and uncle.  Last week, they made the trip from Paris to Detroit for a week long visit to celebrate our forty years of friendship.  It was fun to show them our favorite Michigan sites.  We went to an MSU football game, toured the campus and visited the Broad Art Museum. We went east to Detroit (on three different days) to see Greenfield Village, the Henry Ford Museum, Cork Town (Detroit's historic district written up in the Michelin guide) and the African American Museum.  We went west to Grand Rapids where we visited the Meyer-May house, a wonderful Frank Lloyd Wright house and Meijer Gardens and then on to South Haven and the shores of L. Michigan.  Most of all, we enjoyed spending time with our dear friends and celebrating our precious friendship.

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A Football Game

Football is a big deal in the Midwest.  Folks from all over Michigan come into E. Lansing on football days for the game.  People even buy houses and apartments here in E. Lansing just so they'll have a place to stay on game weekends.  Paula says it's because there's not so much else to do around here.  Yesterday Paul and I took our French friends from Paris who are visiting us to the MSU Homecoming game for a real American experience.  Early in the morning we could hear the drum corps from the Marching Band playing in the downtown.  The town grew crowded and by noon our neighborhood was completely parked for the 3:30 game.  It was a perfect day, 75 degrees with hardly a cloud in the sky.  We walked the path along the river toward the stadium following the crowd like fish in a stream.  The wide green lawns of the campus were filled with tailgating parties.  People in groups were playing a bean-bag tossing game, barbecuing, eating and drinking in every available space.  Everything--the tables, the chairs, the ice chests were green and covered with MSU logos.  Everyone was wearing green or white MSU shirts, little babies in MSU shirts, old men in green and white striped over-alls.  We got to the game in time for the beginning of the spectacle as the MSU Marching Band, nearly 200 strong, marched out double stepping with a quick hop every other step.  They filled the field and played a 5 minute concert. The cheerleaders and Pom Pom girls and the mascot, Sparty came out too.  Last, but not least, the MSU team ran out of the locker room, emerging through a fog cloud, like Demi-gods.  There were 74,114 people at the game cheering the team.  Indiana just quietly appeared on the field.  The MSU fans impressed me, they are loyal, well behaved and serious in their cheering.  The first half of the game was truly lack-luster.  There seemed to be no offense, but no matter, the fans still cheered and stood up for each MSU first down.  When the many television breaks and time-outs happened, the cheerleaders came out on the field and did amazing gymnastic tricks and Zeke, the wonder dog, caught frisbee after frisbee in thrilling leaps into the air.  At the half, the score was 3-3.  In the second half, Indiana scored two more field goals and so with 6 minutes left in the game the score was 9-3.  Finally MSU scored a touchdown and the crowd went wild!  We were ahead, 10-9!!!  Another touchdown by MSU clinched the game.  We won 17-9.  We joined the masses flowing out and walked home, happy for the whole amazing football experience.

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Welcomed with Love

Yesterday Bob and I travelled to E. Lansing as we do twice a year to visit our family here.  We were greeted with a grand grand welcome, squeals of joy and big hugs from our two granddaughters here and the Stokstad male greeting from our son (a hug and three pats on the back).  We put our suitcases in our house (next door to theirs) where Sonja had hid a pumpkin she picked out for us.  We had to hunt all over the house to find it, guided by her excited hints of "hot", "cold", "burning hot", to the closet where it was hidden.  Erika had picked out flowers for us and Paula had cleaned and set up the bedroom for our French guests, arriving today.  She stocked the house with gourmet food like I never buy.  What a treat!  Later, over at their house, Sonja read me her latest story and I was amazed at her literary prowess.  Erika played us the National Anthem on her clarinet which she is learning to play in 6th grade band.  After the girls went to bed, Paul showed us all of us latest pottery - microwave popcorn poppers and juicers plus lots of mugs - all amazingly beautiful and perfectly made and Paula caught us up on all the latest happenings.  Best of all was the feeling of being wanted and welcomed with such love.  It surely makes me very very happy to be here in E. Lansing.

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Fire

It was windy up here Sunday night.  Very windy.  Bob woke up after 3 am, smelling smoke.  Going out on the patio, he saw the sky lit up over the nearby trees to a ghostly red.  He got me up and we went outside to assess the situation.  At first, there seemed no fire trucks, but then they started coming up our road and parking on Ajax Place, the next street up the hill.  I counted 5 trucks, plus police cars.   There was a brush-grass fire between the houses and the Golf Course Road.  It was freaky to be standing out on the dark street chatting with other very concerned neighbors.  At one point a policeman was walking up and down our street making sure everyone was awake.  He told us "we should evacuate, but it's not mandatory."  We checked on our housebound neighbors letting them know we were here to help.  Thankfully as time went by, the red glow eased and it seemed that the fire was under control.  By 5:30 we came in and ate breakfast and went back to sleep.  Bob walked up there this morning and said the area is still full of fire engines and crews cutting back brush that might fuel any flare-up.  It burned an area where we walked last Spring with Sonja and Erika less than a block from our house.  This fire, our worst fear living here, really made us realize how vulnerable we all are in the face of fire.  Thank goodness for all the fire fighters who came from far and wide to help put it out before it could burn up all our houses!

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Guns and Drugs

It is a time of rapid cultural change.  Most of us hate big changes.  It unsteadies us causing us to withdraw in pain or to just hold on or perhaps harden our hearts.  I think our country is sick.  So much attention, so many resources of money and people have been spent to stop the Islamic terrorists, but it is home grown white American men who are responsible for the gun massacres that occur with sickening frequency.  Gun lovers say it isn't the gun, it's the person that pulls the trigger that is the problem.  I agree they are a problem, but I know if our country was not awash with guns, there wouldn't be so much gun violence, so many gun-caused deaths.  And now the sickening epidemic of opioid caused deaths and opioid addiction afflicting many white middle class communities is revealed for us all to see.  We thought drug addiction was mostly a problem for poor minority communities.  The News Hour last week had an in-depth week-long series about this big problem.  Guns and drugs.  Our country is sick.  Institutions I love are crumbling. The national office of my church, the UCC, has just cut its staff once again, deeply threatening vital programs.  All churches are shrinking.  People are increasingly isolated from each other on their I-Phones, with superficial social media a poor substitute for face to face relationships.  I fear for a future I cannot yet see while what has been is becoming lost and gone forever.  More disruptions, bigger and worse ones are coming.  I fear what our very unstable lying President might do.  What has been is being destroyed, what will take its place is unclear.  How hard it is to hold on in these chaotic trying times.

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Las Vegas

We all woke up to the horrible, terrible, awful news of a massacre in Las Vegas.  Over the day today, the story has come out.  An older white guy, a gambler, holed himself up in a hotel room, with multiple guns and rifles mounted on tripods and lots and lots of ammunition (all legally bought) and began to shoot people at an outdoor concert like fish in a barrel.  They say he probably wanted to commit suicide, but who knows.  59 dead and 529 injured is the current toll.  What is our country coming to?  The massacres of innocent peoples just keeps happening and will keep happening, year after year, until the guns are taken away.  I'm ready to give up my 2nd Amendment Rights for gun safety, but the powerful NRA will never let that happen.  The Republicans will never let any gun legislation pass.  Nothing is going to stop this parade of horrors.  No changes.  Kai Risdahl on NPR's radio show "Marketplace" said there are more places to buy guns in our country today than there are Starbucks in the whole world.  My most cynical, compassion fatigued self says well there are too many people in our world.  How can I keep from becoming cynical when this just keeps happening?  What will it take to turn our guns into plowshares?

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Remembering

This morning I preached at the San Rafael church I served for 4 years.  I've been deeply retired for 4 or 5 years now, which means I don't even want to do ministerial things like preach or lead retreats so this was a stretch for me.  The sermon was titled Remembering.  In it,  I recalled some of the great things this little church has done over the years.  What I came away with was a sense of the great love so many showed for me.  Maybe that is the best of all.  Ministry is all about love and how wonderful to have that be remembered.  When I made the switch from teaching to ministry, I remember some of my students asking me why I was leaving teaching.  I replied that I had figured out that the energy of my teaching was my love for my students and for my subject and I wanted to be in a place where I was able to talk about that love.  They looked at me blankly and said, "but we knew that."  How had they seen that, I wondered?  When I began serving churches, it was clear that the congregations just needed to be loved and so I did that among other things.  It was a privilege and also a challenge to love even the most irascible people.  Maybe, just maybe, the secret of life is love.  Maybe, just maybe, when we love others, we forget about ourselves and open to love.  Love is catching, like yawns.  When someone around us is loving, we tend to become more like that.  As a docent at the Botanical Garden, it is my privilege to share my love/passion for the plants and the natural world with the children and adults on my tours.  The Botanical Garden is now one of my happy places where I go and get filled up with energy and peace and love.  I am so very grateful to be in places where love can be shared and grow.

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Mendocino County Fair

We went to the Mendocino County Fair and Apple Show in Boonville yesterday.  The drive up the Redwood Highway (aka Highway 101) was beautiful with golden hills dotted with vineyards and coast live oaks.  As the fog burned off, the temperature was perfect in the mid-70's.  At first, the Fair seemed small with not many people.  Then we realized we came in the back way, through the Exotic Animal (snake) exhibit.  There were a variety of food booths, selling mostly fried food, a Carnival Park full of rides for children, the requisite animals, the hall of ribbon winning vegetables and fruits, another hall of ribbon winning flowers and gardens and best of all, a hall of Wool and Fiber Arts.  In this last hall, at one end, there were four or five rows of chairs around a stage where sheep were sheared as the entertainment.  It was inspiring to me to see all the various fleeces and brightly colored wools for sale.  I couldn't resist buying some.  After three hours at the fair, our friends texted us and we met them and followed them to an apple farm down the road to Philo and then on to nearby Hendy State Park, an amazing redwood forest.  Walking through the thousand year old redwoods, it felt like being in a cathedral with streams of light coming down to the quiet peaceful forest floor.  It was a great day up North.

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A Really Good Day

Day 6 was our first great day on the tour.  Each of the 3 gardens we visited was outstanding and they were all close to each other and our hotel so we spent little time in the car.  What a delight!!  We stood in line at the first garden, Wakehurst, an affiliate of Kew Gardens in London, to get in at 10 am.  There was way much too much to see on it's 500 acres.  It is the home of the Kew Garden Millennium Seed Bank.  It was a very impressive facility, extensive, with a brilliantly interpreted viewing for public viewing.  It houses more than 2 billion seeds from 180 countries.  But the walled garden was my favorite.  It is my favorite garden seen so far because it was all in glorious flower but the beds weren't edged with hedges so the garden had a sense of freedom about it.  Beyond, we wandered beyond past vast green lawns with different trees of varying shapes, sizes and colors delighting one's eye. I could have spent all day there.  Next we went to Sussex Prairie Garden.  One of the founders of it, Pauline, explained the Garden's history to us.  She said "we're just ordinary people, not Lords or Ladies" but they were extraordinary horticulturists.  The Garden is 8 acres of grasses and prairie flowers planted in curving beds.  I asked her what her favorite flower was and she immediately answered Rudbeckia because it is "like sunshine on the ground."  The Rudbeckia stole my heart.  Lastly we went to Nyman's, a National Trust Garden with a spectacular Summer border garden on a long walk leading to the house.  In the parlour of the house there was a piano with a really, really old lady sitting at it.  I asked if she played and she played a Schubert piece for us.  Watching her very deformed arthritic hands, I was very inspired by her.  We need to keep doing what we love as we get old and share it with others.  Erik and I walked to a pub about 1/2 mile away for dinner, finishing up a really wonderful day.
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English Garden Tour

I'm at the end of day 5 on my English Garden tour.  I haven't written sooner because it has been too hard to put into words the experiences I'm having.  On one hand, the gardens we've visited have been greatly varied and mostly beautiful either in the small details or the grand scale or both.  I find I'm viewing gardens differently.  I look now for contrasting colors or textures, for foliage variation and for complementing plants.  I've been looking for "garden fairies" in one form or another in honor of my Michigan granddaughters.  I found some the first few days, but there have been none these last two days which has made me sad.  What has surprised me is the large amount of time we spend each day in the car, speeding down narrow leafy lanes with dappled light and screeching around scary curves where there's only room for one vehicle.  We seem to be crisscrossing Sussex and Kent in the South of England, going back and forth from one garden to another far away.  The traffic has been terrible adding to time spent in the car.  But the camaraderie between the other participants and me has been fun.  Tomorrow Erik comes and we will spend the last four days together exploring more gardens here in Southern England.

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Free Speech

I leave today for a 10 day trip to visit gardens in the South of England so I won't be demonstrating on Sunday in Berkeley.  The question for me has been if I were here, would I participate?  After letting this question marinate for several weeks, I decided a few days ago, I wouldn't march to the Park where the neo Nazi, white supremacists are holding a rally.  The Berkeley mayor has urged people to stay away.  The Berkeley City Council has given the mayor new powers to aid the police in keeping the public safety.  The alt-right is itching for another violent confrontation.  Our minister is still planning to lead a contingent from our church to the site, singing hymns and waving posters of love and justice.  Am I afraid?  Yes, I have to say I am.  Do I feel there are other ways to protest?  I do.  I pray for the safety of our church group and all others who choose to participate in this latest Berkeley face-off.  I am interested in the tension between First Amendment rights (Free Speech) and public safety.  Such interesting times we live in!

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The Eclispe

Thick dense fog shrouded the Berkeley hills this morning.  No eclipse viewing here.  We collected our viewing devices and drove east to our friends' home on the flanks of Mt. Diablo in Walnut Creek where the sun was supposed to shine.  The traffic was heavier than usual, we thought everyone was doing what we were, driving away from the coast.  Whenever the sun broke through the clouds, people pulled over to the curb, got out of their cars and stood gazing to the sky with special sunglasses or cell phones.  There were groups of families in parking lots, kids on top of cars with matching sunglasses, everyone watching the eclipse. It is wonderful to feel the people of our nation united and excited about something other than politics.  No science deniers around this eclipse!  I find the eclipse language compelling:  the path of totality, penumbra, heliostat.  It sounds like science fiction, but it's not, it's real.  Our friends were out in their driveway with a neat binocular set-up to put the solar image on a paper (see the photo).  We brought our tools:  Bob had several welding helmets and I had a cereal box pin-hole camera.  The sun looked like a crescent moon that grew thinner and thinner.  When we reached the 75% coverage of the moon over the sun, the light dimmed perceptibly, the temperature grew cooler and it became quiet.  The chickens paid no attention to this though.  It is humbling to view such an awesome event.  Our conversations reflected who we are:  Bob was engaged in a discussion about the physics of light and the intricacies of special relativity.  I wondered about our place in the universe.  It was truly a privilege and joy to participate in this celestial event.

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These Dark Days

Terrible news again last week!   First, the dangerous escalation of rhetoric between our President and Kim Jong-un, the two acting like crazy adolescent bullies but with nuclear weapons not just sticks or guns.  How dangerous that Trump has so many generals advising him.  Then the terrible news out of Charlottesville over the weekend made more horrible by Trump's lukewarm condemnation of violent events.  The alt-right cheered as they heard support from our President's words.  The images of white supremacists marching Friday night with torches chanting Nazi slogans were chilling as were the images of violent confrontations between armed groups that left one dead and many with injuries. White supremacy is an evil concept.  Our Founding Fathers stated that all men are created equal.  We've fought the Civil War, the North won.  But the rubble from Reconstruction and Civil Rights remained and festered. These perpetrators are domestic terrorists and I condemn their violence with all I have in me.  It made me again wonder what I would have done, had I been in Charlottesville?  Would I have joined the line of locked arm clergy or passed out water or spiritual care to those thirsty or hurting?  It turns out I don't have to idly wonder at all.  The alt-right is planning a rally in Berkeley on August 27 and many are again expected to gather and wreak havoc here.  Our minister is organizing a counter-march.  Once again I face the challenge of whether to stay passively committed, watching from afar or to put my body in the line for what I believe.  Could I put my fear aside?  Would it make a difference if I were there?  I know it would make a difference to me and maybe that is all that matters.  


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Terry Tempest Williams

Listening to Forum this morning on the radio, I heard Terry Tempest Williams interviewed by Michael Krasny.  She has been an inspiration to me for a long time.  The gentle quality of her voice as well as her eloquence spoke of the power of her spirituality of the land.   She said that we must go deeper than politics to what unites us and one thing that powerfully unites us is the land, the National Parks, the wild places we all share.  We are all responsible for protecting and caring for these common sacred places.  I heard her speak a phrase "the spirituality of climate change" that got me thinking.  Given that there are so many of us (6.9 billion people now, 9 billion predicted in my lifetime), each of us must take the responsibility to use less, to leave a smaller footprint on the Earth.  What each of us does matters.  Given that we are beginning to experience the effects of climate change with record high temperatures, droughts, extreme weather and rising sea levels, we must do more than rub our hands together and bemoan the changes.  It is up to us, there is no one else.  It is our sacred responsibility to do our part.


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Markleeville

"Drink in the beauty and wonder at the meaning of what you see."
Rachel Carson.

We've spent the better part of the last week staying in a very small and funky cabin at the Carson River Resort near Markleeville on the Eastern slope of the Sierras.  We have been part of a group organized by our good friends, Nancy and Larry.  The group all stayed at the Resort together.  We shared meals, divided up cooking and shared some activities.  Our friend Larry is the main force behind this week.  He's been coming up to Markleeville for more than 60 years at the end of July.  There has been beauty in the group's generous sharing, in the many conversations, in seeing the history some bring to this week.  I wonder what brings meaning to any place, time or experience?  Most of the group (but not us) spent mornings bicycling long routes in the area.  Nancy, Bob and I explored beauty of the high Sierras hiking a bit on the Pacific Crest Trail.  The many high Sierra wildflowers were at their peak.  I wonder about the meaning of their beauty?  I wonder about the beauty and power of the thunderstorms that cooled us off every afternoon?  I wonder at the meaning of sharing what you love with others?  I think whatever meaning is here in this stark wild and beautiful place, we bring with us and it informs what we see and experience.  

Fog

This morning the fog is in, covering us with a thick layer of wet cool air wafting over the trees and roofs in our view in little puffs.  It's totally white out the window now and the temperature is in the low 50's.  There's a famous saying around here from Mark Twain who said "The coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco."  I remember the first July we spent in Berkeley, thirty-seven years ago, we never saw a blue sky because we were totally socked in by fog for the whole month.  It's like living inside a cloud.  I wondered what kind of horrible place was it where we'd moved?  Now, I find a foggy morning a great relief.  It usually comes in after a few days of really hot weather, our natural air-conditioning system.   It's a pleasure to watch the white cool air slowly roll in through the Golden Gate and bend north over the Bay engulfing Richmond first then working it's way south towards us.  The hot air rises up because it's lighter and then the cool denser air from over the cold Pacific Ocean is drawn in.  Now, I love foggy mornings.  I love the security I feel of being held by the cooler denser air.  I love the way the sunlight streams through the breaking up fog in the later mornings.  I love the silence from the fog damping down sounds. Funny how my ideas have changed living here all these years.    

Horseshoe Art

Bob has become a horseshoe artist in the last four or five years.  He has been incredibly focused as he has created all manner of things out of horseshoes in his increasingly crowded workshop.  Candelabras, wine racks, tables, hooks, door knockers, picture frames, business card holders and his current fascination, bottle openers, are some of his creations.  They fill our storage area.  Today I went with him on his "collection run" out to some nearby horse barns.  It was a beautiful day and the scenery was magnificent, rich golden rolling hills, punctuated with dark green oaks and bay trees and a blue blue sky.  There was not a house in sight.  In the eleven miles from our house to the first site, I counted 84 bicyclists.  At this first place, Bob met the owner and was given a tour of the facility, including a huge metal working shop.  The guy even liked to make things out of horseshoes too.  I watched the hooded horses in their dusty pens, stomping and brushing away the flies.  It was very quiet and strangely peaceful and I found myself contemplating the mysteries of time (if all there is is the present moment, then how did I get so old?  It must be we are on some trajectory spiraling forward, I concluded).  Bob returned, happy, with two buckets of horseshoes.  At the next place I was intrigued watching a ferrier with his portable propane forge and big horseshoe avail pound two red hot horseshoes to fit the waiting horse.  I still don't know what is so fascinating about horseshoes, but they are bountiful and free and maybe that's enough.  

A Visit

How can one express the joy of having family visit?  Paul and his two daughters came for a week long visit.  We were on the go the whole time.  Arne and his family met us on three of the days.  Arne took Bob, Paul and me to see La Boheme and we all greatly enjoyed the opera from the fantastic box seats Arne got us.  The cousins had good times playing creatively together at the Children's Creativity Museum in San Francisco, at the Lawrence Hall of Science in Berkeley, at the Exploratorium in San Francisco.  We celebrated my birthday with a BBQ and cake and ice cream.  The girls created a Rock Show, creating a museum-like display of rocks Elsa brought and they found together in our yard.  The signs had both common and scientific names the girls made up.  For me it was special to teach the girls how to play the card game "Spite and Malice", a competitive double solitary.  Our sons remember my mother playing this with them on her many visits.  Now four generations have enjoyed playing this game.  It's all about enjoying each moment and creating memories I hope will last the girls' whole lives.  Maybe there is nothing so wonderful as seeing one's own children doing things we did with our children.  Life moves through our generations.  

Reading the News

Reading the newspapers this morning made me very sad.  I Things aren't right in the good ole US of A.  There has been a five part series on homelessness in San Francisco in the Chronicle.  It is an increasingly visible problem I encounter every time I take BART into the City.  There are many visible homeless around the Civic Center area, really almost anywhere one goes downtown.  The stories about tent encampments in family neighborhoods was very disturbing.  In one of the richest cities in America, this problem is without an easy solution.  It is as if there is a whole class of people that are just discarded, like trash.  Then there are the stories of our President's latest inflammatory tweet defaming newspeople for criticizing him.  I want to know why he was watching television at 9 AM, doesn't he have anything better to do?  What he says/tweets has lowered the level of civil discourse in our increasingly divided and angry country.  Finally there are all the stories about the GOP Health care bill.  I simply can't understand how any Senator could support cutting Medicaid to so many vulnerable people while tax breaks are proposed for the few richest among us.  I am sad.  

Seeing with New Eyes

The Garden ladies came for lunch today.  Bob said he'd not seen me so relaxed before when people were coming over.  Did I want him to spread the mulch, clean up the outside of his workshop?  "No," I said, "they're coming to give me garden advice.  I want them to see it as it is."  They did see it with new eyes.  They loved the little dwarf peach tree that's grown by the stairs for 25 or 30 years.  I hardly notice it except when it bursts forth in amazing bloom each Spring.  Hmm, easy to overlook beautiful things when we just get used to them.  They loved the shady part of the garden around the apple tree, admired my cymbidium - I hardly notice them and mostly I see the assorted clutter in the area. They admired the grouping of pink flowers on the patio.  They loved the space.  After lunch (everyone brought their own so it wasn't much work for me) and apricot tart, we headed down into the big bad Western yard.  They thought I'd used the space well, planting so many fruit trees, since it is so hot down there.  Hmm, I did something right?  They envisioned wide stairs with big planter boxes beside the stairs, a lovely idea for thwarting the gophers.  Overall, they didn't see the garden as such a disaster as I do.  It was a gift to hear how they saw it and to realize I overlook so much that is right about the garden focusing too much on what I don't like.  It was indeed a gift to have the Garden ladies to lunch and besides we had such fun.  

Garden ladies

The Botanical Garden ladies from my propagation section are coming to lunch this coming Thursday.  I invited them months ago to come see my garden and to give me advice.  Now I am feeling mildly panicked at the prospect of these experts seeing what is here.  My eyes see all the weeds I missed pulling, all the gopher mounds and excavated tunnels laying the ground barren, basically all that I think is wrong.  I hope they see with different eyes, eyes that can imagine possibilities where I've become discouraged.  I do practice seeing what is beautiful in the garden each morning and find great pleasure in this.   The summer garden has treats of its own.  The boysenberries are big and luscious.  I see Bob grazing on them when he walks by going to his shop.  The plums are just about ripe even if the tree is half shaded by the overgrown butterfly bush.  The garden is a metaphor for life, it takes tending to keep it up.  There is great restorative power in my garden and healing comes from paying attention and tending it.  Each season has its rewards and its challenges, just like my life.  

Identity

This week I've had a number of lovely thought provoking conversations with friends over coffee, lunch, email and even at the propagation bench at the Garden.  I'm blessed with so many thoughtful caring people I can call my friends.  As I reflect on these conversations, one question stands out to me.  I was asked "Who are you, really?"  I had been talking about how it is hard to remember, even imagine, having been a minister or having gone to Seminary in my 50's.  I look at the detritus from that life, my books, knick-knacks, pictures and it all seems so very long ago.  I've shed that identity rather like a snake sheds its skin exposing the vulnerable soft skin underneath.  Who am I really?  When I became a minister I worked hard to let go of my teacher identity (adults don't like to be taught very much I learned in church).  Now, progressives seem to be stuck on identity politics.  One is defined by the things one does.  My wonderful church seems increasingly stuck on gender identity politics.  Yet, there is more to a human being than what one does.  I resist being only identified by my skin color, my gender, my culture, my professions, my lifestyle, my accomplishments, or my failures.  Maybe a gift of growing older is that one sees more clearly one's true identity.   I'm not distracted by the busyness of my former life.   I like what the poet Rainer Maria Rilke said:  "One is identified by what one loves."  I want to reflect on what it is that I love.  Maybe just even say I love therefore I am.  

Forest Bathing

Thursday in the Botanical Garden, my co-docent told the girls about "forest bathing."  It is a practice used in Japan to promote health and healing and involves taking leisurely walks through a forest to absorb, I don't know what, the vibes or the atmosphere.  I like the concept of being in the forest promoting my healing.   It is cool, shady and peaceful in the forest but there is more.  It's a mystery to me what that more is, but whatever it is, is something special.  At the gym in the Commit to Get Fit month, I attended a seminar where the presenter spoke about the healing powers of being in nature.  Maybe it is being in contact with the Earth that is healing.  I know that even picking cherries from Arne's sour cherry tree is healing. I've been picking cherries for the last three mornings and it gives me such pleasure to do that.  The tree stopped producing cherries during the drought so I thought the tree was dying.  This year with all the rain, it has produced a crop of cherries.  I thank this old tree, being productive and giving the robins and me cherries one more year.  Gratitude is healing too.  

Back again

Due to unforeseen and unsolvable (by me) technical difficulties I haven't been able to post any blogs for a while.  Today I want to write about a tour I helped lead at the Botanical Garden.  It was a warm sunny morning when I got to the Garden.  My Docent friends were gathering, chatting, catching up on what each had been doing while the 2nd graders from a Chinese School in Oakland arrived.  They were rambunctious as 8 year olds tend to be:  running around, getting their ya ya's out as my daughter in law calls it.  They settled down for the Introduction and soon the group was divided up.  Elisabeth and I had 4 girls, adorable in their uniforms of blue skirts and white blouses and extremely well behaved.  Soon it was clear the school hadn't prepared them with any prior studies of plants, but the girls were very curious. They peered at cactuses, wondering why some of the small ones were so old.  They loved looking at the Japanese Pond, walking joyfully through the tree fern forest, touching the fuzzy soft moss on redwood trees and smelling fragrant leaves from the herb garden.  After I pointed out that I was older than the Coast redwood tree we had just studied, the girls began chatting about their great-grandmothers.  One said, my great grandmother walked out of a war in Korea.  Another said her grandmother walked through a war in China.  A third had a relative that had been in the Viet Nam war.  I reflected how fortunate those of us who've lived our whole lives in the US are.  We have never experienced a war.  I looked at these bright young girls, bilingual in Chinese and English, and thought that they and their families bring us a deep sense of gratitude for our country and appreciation for the peace and prosperity and opportunities we have here.  In these days, when politics so drags me down, it is beautiful to see our country through different eyes.  

Lowly Liverworts

This morning I led a small group of Berkeley 6th graders on a Plant Evolution tour at the Botanical Garden.  I had been preparing for weeks and had the route mapped out in my head.  I'd been over and over the groups of plants I wanted to show them.  I had thought up questions to ask (docents are supposed to use the Inquiry Method of teaching).  I put on my black t-shirt with the picture of Charles Darwin on it.  I imagined the students eagerly on their knees peering at lowly liverworts, interested, even amazed at the unremarkable looking plants.  Liverworts are named for being liver shaped, while wort is Old English for plant.  They are green, flat, probably no more than 1/2 inch in diameter and only a few layers of cells thick.  These plucky little plants are descendants of the very first land plants ever.  We hurried  to the creek, where the liverworts grow.  I wanted to be first at the one place where I knew they grew.  Then we moved on to moss, then to club mosses, horsetails, ferns, cone-bearing plants and finally the flowering plants.  The students were wonderful, interested and full of curiosity and questions.  We ran through what I had planned and I let them choose what they wanted to see next.  We went to see the carnivorous plants and the sensitive plant that folds up when you touch it.  Finally I took them to the Cloud Forest to see the bright red and yellow "Monkey Hand Tree" flowers.  As we approached the meeting place, I asked each of them what they enjoyed the most in the hour and half tour and I must say I'm over the moon with happiness that 3 of the 5 named seeing the liverworts.  It is a real joy to take the students to some of my favorite places and to get them to see how wonderful a plant is when you know something about it.  

A Dinner in the City

Last night we went into San Francisco to have dinner with a friend of ours, a college classmate of Bob's who was briefly in town.   Going into the City is always a treat, but this was special as we got to see their lovely Marina condo.  He graciously showed us around it and shared a delicious Zinfandel wine with us.  Before we knew it was time for dinner.  He told us there are at least 30 restaurants within a 10 minute walk of their place.  Talking over dinner was wonderful, to share back and forth what we've done in the last year.  I was particularly struck by his telling of a conversation, he and another classmate of Bob's had in which they asked each other what the purpose of a spiritual life is.
One said "being present and acceptance of what is," while the other said "just acceptance is the key."   I thought about that and said, "for me, being kind is high on my list."  Going home on BART, we got onto the train car and Bob found a seat right away.  I didn't and moved to stand by Bob.  The fellow next to him, a quite scruffy looking skinny young guy with a skate board, saw me and immediately stood up and offered me his seat.  I profusely thanked him for being so gracious and he shrugged and said "of course."  As I watched him, I thought about how you just can't tell what a person is made of by how they look.  As the train went under the Bay, a woman walked up and down the aisle begging for money to get home.  We instinctively averted our eyes.  I noticed that the guy with the skate board was the only person who pulled out his wallet and gave her a dollar.  I thought for me the Golden Rule is the key to my spiritual practice:  "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."  Humbled by my hardness of heart, I thought if everyone followed the Golden Rule, as the young man did, our world would surely be a better kinder place to live.  

The Plant Sale

Today I volunteered at the Botanical Garden Plant Sale.  It's a twice a year event that I avoided for years and years because it seemed too crowded.  But now I know better.  WhenI step inside the gate at the Garden, a sense of peace flows over and through me, that draws me in and makes me very happy.  That's why I love volunteering in the propagation section.  I call it my "playing in the dirt" time.  It's a great group of Bay Area lively gardeners.  Some days, we wander the garden to take cuttings from Salvias and other plants growing in the Meso-America section.  Then we prepare them to go into the mist house in perlite filled pots where they stay until they've grown sturdy roots.   We then transplant them into 4 inch pots and nurture them with plenty of TLC and water until the Plant Sale.  There are many other sections that do the same thing.  All our cuttings are of plants you can't buy from nurseries.   Many are rare and endangered.  I love being at the Plant Sale.  Everybody is happy.  There are plenty red wagons filled with plants and folks with their arms filled with plants.  People stop by to chat and to admire and learn about our babies.  To select a plant to buy is an act of vigorous imagination and verdant hope.  It's a win-win event:  all the proceeds go directly to support the Garden's activities.  The good-will of the many many volunteers that come together to make the event work so smoothly warms my heart.  So much hope.  So much love.  So many beautiful plants.   Imagine the gardens!

The March

It was April 22, 1970, the first Earth Day, when I led a lagging group of 9th grade girls from Day-Prospect Hill School on a march around the then very polluted port of New Haven.  Who knew nearly 50 years later, I'd be marching to support science?  Who knew Global Warming and Climate Change would be such an issue?  Who knew science would be threatened, disrespected and unsupported by our President, policy makers and many of those who elected them?  It was quiet, an almost somber mood, going in to the City on BART.  But the crowds of people at Justin Herman Plaza pepped me up and gave a sense of something exciting was happening.  Multitudes of folks milled peacefully about admiring each other's signs and tee shirts, everyone taking photos.  A sweet young woman passed out free Cliff Bars.  One man commented to us this wasn't like the 60's because he hadn't smelled a whiff of pot.  We never did smell any.  It was a crowd of smart, serious hard-working people.  I noticed it was also a mostly white crowd, like the Women's March.  We began to move right on schedule at 12:30 and joined the throngs moving into the sluggish flow on Market Street, right behind a large group from the Exploratorium in matching black tee-shirts.  At one point I had tears in my eyes, saddened our country has come to a place where we need to march in support of Science, rational thinking and even evidence and facts.  The march was peaceful and the pace picked up as we moved along, so it took only an hour to get up to Civic Center.  I'm happy people all around the world marched in support of science (our son Erik marched for Science in London), but I'm sad we had to march to support science.  What is our world coming to?

Marching for Science

I am marching in the Science March in San Francisco today on Earth Day because I love our Earth and want it to be inhabitable and rich in diversity for my grandchildren.  "Global warming is real" and "There is No Planet B" are the signs I'll carry.  I love learning about the Earth and her processes.  I want my grandchildren to grow up with awe and wonder and curiosity and to understand how the process of science works bringing us closer with emergent truth to the truth of the natural world.  I want them to respect rational thought.  "Value Knowledge, Science is Truth" and " Science is True, even when Politicians and Corporations deny it" are the signs Bob will be carrying.  I care enough about Science to join the crowds I so dislike to make this statement.  

Humility

I wouldn't say I'm a confident Docent yet.  Yesterday's experience wasn't what I expected or prepared for.  The experienced Docent and I had spoken on the telephone days before and instead of just giving me a 15 minute segment of the hour-long tour to lead (as was suggested by the Big boss), she offered to let me start leading the tour and then we decided we'd switch off, like a tag team.  Well, it didn't work out that way. The 5 Kindergarteners we were assigned were bigger, stronger and more energetic than I had expected.   The lead Docent started out strongly in charge and never gave up tight control of the wiggly group.  The kids' attention span was measured in seconds, not minutes.  They ran in different directions without the slightest apparent provocation.  They all were happy and agreeable, just out of control much of the time.  It was like trying to contain exploding firecrackers.  I tried on two early occasions to offer a teaching, but soon realized it was better for me to round up the wandering boys.  Overall I suffered from the lead Docent's surprisingly difficult experience leading the tour.  My wisest self calls yesterday's first challenging tour, "a learning experience."  I hope I'll get another chance sometime soon.  

A real Docent

For the last 8 months I have been taking the docent training course at the University of California Botanical Garden.  We met each week for 3 hours.  There is a lot to learn, over 11,000 different plants in the garden with plants from all over the world.  The first half of the course was overwhelming: the presentation by the various horticulturists of their different areas followed by walks through their areas with the plants pointed out.  I could never remember all of them.  Then in the second half we began to practice how to lead tours from tours for adults to tours for school children.  The Garden is one of my favorite places on earth.  It is very beautiful in all seasons and as I've grown familiar with all the different paths and nooks and crannies, I've grown to love it even more.  The docents I have discovered are "my tribe", folks who love the garden and love to share it with others.  Yesterday a small group of "new docents" met at the garden to walk around showing each other things we've learned.  As I reflected, I thought that's one of the things I most enjoy doing, walking through nature with people who also enjoy it, looking at different wonders, sharing what we know.  This morning push comes to shove and I'm to help lead my first real tour of kindergarteners.  I'm surprisingly nervous for someone whose taught for so many years.  The day is foggy and drippy and wet.  The flowers will be droopy, the paths soggy, but I'm looking forward tapping into the children's bright enthusiasm and teach them plants are alive!  I love to learn each time I go to the garden and today seems like a big learning opportunity for me.  

Easter

It's Easter week, Holy Week, the week before Easter Sunday, the day the Church celebrates the resurrection of Jesus Christ.  This week for the Christian Church is a really big deal, the biggest happening of the whole year.  Christianity is all about Easter.  I find it sad that Easter for kids is about dyeing Easter eggs, hiding and hunting for them, chocolate bunnies and Easter baskets.  For adults, maybe there's a dinner for all the relatives in town, maybe not.  For me, Easter tells about the possibility of new life.  It's about taking the time for self-reflection to consider what it is in our lives we'd like to see renewed, filled with new life, and usually for that to happen we have to let something else go.  I remember one Easter when I was a minister preaching that message and then giving the congregation the opportunity to come forward and light a candle to represent the light of the longed for new life.  I expected a handful to come forward, but to my surprise everyone in the congregation came forward.  It took a whole extra hour.  I remember a long line of people waiting and an altar over-filled with candles burning bright.  We all need new life.  In this dark and hurting world we need the new life of kindness and compassion and justice and truth and many more things.  In my mind I see a long line of all humanity coming forward to pray for new life.  That's what Easter means to me--new life.  

A Glorious Week

It's once again quiet around the house, but last week it was a bee-hive of activity when our two Michigan granddaughters were here for a week long visit.  I made up a schedule of the day by day activities planned and put it on the frig.  Keep them busy and they will be happy was the idea and it worked.  Two days were spent with good cousin time.  But overall, nature activities dominated.  We took them tide-pooling to Moss Beach one day and to Muir Woods and Muir Beach another.  We went on an otter spotting trip in Elkhorn Slough on a pontoon boat and then to the Monterey Bay Aquarium where one of the girls proudly told the docent at the splash zone "we went REAL tide-pooling."  On the rainy day we went to the nearby Lawrence Hall of Science and then to a movie (which surprised us with its cost and loudness).  Parents reported the girls had a great time, which we already knew.  They were happy here and there were lots of very sweet moments.  Memories were made that will last a lifetime for each of us.  What a gift to be trusted with the care of precious grandchildren!  

Sweet Anticipation

Tomorrow our Michigan granddaughters arrive to spend their Spring break with us.  I just made up the beds and will soon go pick flowers to put in their rooms.  I've stocked up on snacks and their favorite foods.   I've got a calendar showing all the activities day by day on the door of the refrigerator.  We've got a really busy schedule.  On the list are some of their favorite Berkeley activities:  going to the park with the really long cement slide, going to the library, going to Fat Apples for breakfast plus I've put in a few nature excursions.   We're going tidepooling, on a nature hike in Muir Woods (we'll lie on our backs and look up at the tallest trees there are), and we're going on a pontoon boat ride to see the otters in Elkhorn Slough.  Plus we're planning two days for the cousins to get together and play.  Anticipation is so sweet.  I hope my energy will keep up with the busy plan.  It is wonderful their parents trust us with them and give us this amazing opportunity to create lifelong memories for us all.  We are so very fortunate.  

Spring

Stepping outside this morning to gaze about in my garden, I felt the warm sun on my face.  Everything still very wet from the overnight rain sparkles and glistens.  As I listened, I heard many different birds calling.  I saw a pair of California towhees rush to hide in the bushes by the fence.  I think they are checking out the site for their nest.  The buds on the apple tree have broken open and leaves are beginning to appear.  The Spring flowers are bright and pretty, red, blue, pink and white.  I thought how wonderful our world is, how beautiful the restorative cycles of nature are.  And yet, I can't let go of my frustration and deep concern over the politics in Washington.  The horrible Trump budget proposal clearly shows his values and intentions.  He wants to destroy many institutions I value.  I am fearful he will take our nation to war against N. Korea.  I can only be consoled by the knowledge it is very hard to change an institution as big as our government.  I trust the judiciary and the main stream press as checks against the power of the executive.  Resistance is the order of the day.  I will write more postcards.  

Urban Releaf

This morning I volunteered with a group from our church to plant trees in Oakland with an organization called Urban Releaf.  It felt good to work to dig a big hole with others, to carry buckets of soil and mulch.  I loved watching little girls plant the pretty perennials with authority that comes from experience.  All that we needed was provided by the organization, shovels, trees, good soil, mulch and water and of course the trees and perennials.  Together we planted 7 trees in downtown Oakland.  I asked the guy in charge where they get their money and he said mostly cap and trade from the state.  Check out the organization, it seems like a good one.  It felt very good to do something for the city of Oakland, for the environment.  The trees will be there long after I'm gone.  I love planting trees!  It is such a hopeful, constructive activity.  

Birds are Still Singing

This morning I got up and went outside to check my garden.  Flowers are blooming profusely.  Birds are singing.  And I thought, they know nothing of politics.  Nature consoles me.  Politics is the source of my anxiety, fear and frustration.  The Republican administration seems intent on destroying the government as it has been for the last many decades.  Destruction is so much easier than creation.  Greed is so much easier to sell than sharing or caring for the weak and vulnerable.  Now we have the proposed Republican replacement for Obamacare (call it Trumpcare); Scott Pruitt, climate change denier determined to destroy the E.P.A.;  Betsy DeVoss, hell-bent to undermine public education: these are examples of the destruction about which I speak.  Yet I will persist in my resistance in any way I can figure out to do so!   But Nature, too, is struggling against enormous changes.  There aren't as many birds as there used to be.  Extinction of species is increasing at an increasing rate, especially with climate change and rampant habitat destruction.  We, humans, are not meant to be just takers, we have the responsibility to do what we can to take care of the natural world.  We don't even know all the ways we humans are dependent on the natural world.  Let us take our heads out of the sand and wake up!


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