Immersions Archives - Page 23 of 31

Butterflies Worth Befriending

So much depends on the angle of light, and the way you squint.
—Margaret Atwood

Butterflies, for instance . . .

How would you caption this photo?

Little bug, big attitude? Walk softly, and cast a long shadow? Dracu-fly wannabe with serious Cape Envy?

I almost missed this miniature drama at my feet. Dreamer noticed the lone butterfly. I chose where I would stand in relation to the light (a mindset I hope to keep cultivating).

Photo-ops surround us, waiting to be absorbed. Received, rather than taken.

Even for rookies, like me. [Read more…]

Windfall: Urgent, Instant, Demanding Joy

by Laurie Klein 24 Chiming In

Windfall —”an unexpected gain” — who wouldn’t want one?

Oh, have I got a story for you, a tale worth a roomful of candles and cake . . .

S.O.S.

One week ago the local adoption agency phoned our eldest daughter, mother to our 16-month-old grandson. The agency’s request was urgent, the need, dire.

A struggling newborn in the Deaconess Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) needed someone to help her learn to eat. Hopefully, to thrive. Overworked nurses wanted someone calm and caring to hold one tiny girl, coax her into life. Would our daughter come?

She and her husband weighed the risks. There were many.

Still, she went. Stepped right into miraculous, heart-wrenching chaos for five days. We met our newest little one in NICU that first evening. Ashen and frail, with an awkward feeding port in her skull and cords snaking off to various monitors, she looked like a small electric doll. [Read more…]

Space: Creativity’s New Frontier?

by Laurie Klein 26 Chiming In

Space

Day 1: I wake to the heady pine scent of Christmas—the morning I’ve dreaded (backstory here).

Our trees are falling. Heartwood splinters like gunfire.

Out in the air-conditioned Forestry Bobcat with its whiz-bang red Masticator, the contractor we hired knocks over bug-ridden pines. Each living, still-photosynthesizing tree explodes. Detritus sprays 300 feet.

Goodbye, fairy-tale forest. Farewell, shadowy habitat for owls, deer, small furry critters. Our once-magical backyard seems doomed.

Our contractor follows another man wielding his chainsaw against the larger victims of pine bark beetles.

Their plan seems haphazard, the destruction acute.

I can hardly bear the new emptiness.

Absence hurts. [Read more…]

Last-minute Beans, Lasting Truth

by Laurie Klein 6 Chiming In

Yesterday’s Beans

Beans headlined my last-minute grocery list.

Elbows flared, an older man blocked my way. His stance was wide, his reach, long. He radiated ownership, as if these were his beans, and he examined each one, stem to tail.

I needed two handfuls, pronto.

Ragged shorts, crumpled canvas hat, one tube sock at half-mast—he didn’t look like a chef. Those focused hands might have belonged to an eccentric composer seeking the lost chord: the epitome of crunch, sweetness, savor. Shine.

I headed for Dairy, impatient yet curious. Was Mr. Persnickety entertaining a V.I.P.? Perhaps he was painting a still life, in oils, and he needed fresh props.

When I circled back, The Green Bean Guy was gone. [Read more…]

Spontaneity: Type-A Writer Gets Real

by Laurie Klein 20 Chiming In

Spontaneity: nice idea. Tough, though, for those with Lists. Those who don’t want their plans disturbed.

Finish article
Scour kitchen
Shower
Immerse in novel

This is Plan A. Also Plan B.

And probably C, judging from my testy response to my mate saying, “Let’s drive to Mt. Spokane!”

Disturbed by his interruption, I look up from my keyboard and probably glare.

“Great day for a picnic,” he adds, grinning. “I’ll pack the car.”

Joining him means a second, longer list:

Abandon article
Ignore Code 3 kitchen
Postpone shower
Change clothes
Slather on sunscreen (i.e. baste self in 50 SPF mayo)
Drive for three hours

Above all, forgo today’s Action Plan. I waffle and sputter.

Did fear write My List? If so, nothing worthwhile will bloom from my efforts.

When did I relinquish spontaneity?

Truth and Timing

At this point I remember a friend and I recently agreed, online, to each spend time enjoying nature—this weekend. It’s Sunday afternoon. Our agreement is public: As long as there are electrons, our words are out there. Talk about motivation.

Besides, what might I miss if I stay home and work?

I dress too fast, buckle myself into our vintage car. Then I notice my outfit: B&W paisley pants, t-shirt with colorful stripes, green fish, and blue swirls against black water.

En route to my closet again for plain black capris, I do the shoe-shuck dance. A last breath of delicious AC, a final gaze at my chair and books.

Today I will practice spontaneity.

Dreamer has the top down, engine running. I settle back to watch clouds. We haven’t been to the mountain in ages.

Nearing the summit, ivory splendor stuns us. It’s glorious! In forty years, we’ve never seen Beargrass bloom on Mt. Spokane.

I almost missed out on wonder today.

Muscle and Delicacy

Once home again, I read about Beargrass, also called pine lily, Western turkeybeard, soap grass, and quip-quip. Showy blossoms crown hefty stalks. Per plant, up to 400 buds the size of a fingernail will unfurl.

Stamens sport long violet filaments, like movie stars in chiffon scarves.

And this: Beargrass blooms in five to seven year cycles. No wonder I’ve never seen it here!

Moving up the stalk, firework blossoms open, altering the flower’s overall shape . . .

from sphere
to cone
to cylinder.

Muscular stalks bolt from a wiry nest of leaves. One source describes leaf veins as parallel “keeled rib-lines.”

I think of my own muscles, grown soft from weeks of travel.

And what about spiritual stamina? Can plants mentor people? Could I become “disturbance tolerant”?

Beargrass survives forest fire, drought, frost, and avalanche.

Beargrass thrives almost anywhere, from summits to dense forests to sea-level bogs.

Sacred Spontaneity

Is today’s List sacred?

Can you let at least part of it go, make time to be surprised by creation, and the Creator?

NOTE: A couple we met on the mountain said this is a banner year for Beargrass.

If you live near Spokane, cross something off your list, take a camera, some snacks, and go see it.

Or head outdoors wherever you are, see what you find . . . I’d love to hear about it.