Caleigh O'Shea's Blog, page 22

This Christmas

Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmastime. ~Laura Ingalls Wilder, American writer

To be a child at Christmastime!

To once again behold this world

With awe. And joy. And hope. And love.

Or to be an adult at Christmastime!

Shopping for gifts and wrapping them, too.

Cooking the meal, cleaning up, and sneaking a nap.

Or to be a bush at Christmastime!

Covered in white, listening to the universe.

Perhaps shivering a bit under the snow.

Note: Whatever your role this holiday season, I wish you and yours a most blessed Christmas, with a happy and healthy 2021 to come! I’m taking a wee blogging break — back soon.

Tree as Teacher

If you would know strength and patience, welcome the company of trees. ~Hal Borland, American author

I woke up to snow on Wednesday morning!

Just a dusting — maybe an inch — but perfect for getting in the holiday spirit.

Actually, this Southern gal prefers sunshiny days, with temps in the 70s, though Central Illinois isn’t famous for that in mid-December.

Still, looking on the bright side, it didn’t stick around long.

And before it took off, I glanced out a window and caught sight of this tiny tree.

No taller than the length of my hand yet looking for all the world like it was saying, “See? I can be a Christmas tree, too!!”

Hang in there, Wee One — perhaps one day you might.

I got to wondering how something like this had sprung up seemingly overnight.

I didn’t plant it. I don’t recall seeing it over the summer months.

Yet there it was: healthy, tiny, and full of life.

And yes — Christmas Joy.

Part of me was tempted to hunt for a tiny red bow to adorn its branches, affirming in my clumsy way that even tiny trees are valuable.

But it was doing just fine without my intervention.

There’s a lesson here, I’m sure.

Even the smallest among us can teach us about strength, patience, and persistence.

Attributes we’ll need as we travel our path in life.

Now you might call this a weed (and perhaps it is), but I prefer to see it as an evergreen.

A gift.

Beautiful and perfect in its miniature state.

We’ll see what it looks like come Spring.

Hungry Hawk

When the stomach is full the heart is glad. ~Dutch proverb

Here I sit, watching and waiting

For something to move in the field.

I’m not choosy; I’m not rating.

Whatever moves will be my yield.

The corn is gone and all revealed:

Tender mouse, squirrel, and bunny.

Oh happy day, the bell just pealed,

Dinner is served and it’s yummy!

Note: Poetry form is Huitain.

I Got Balls!

Learning is a treasure that will follow its owner everywhere. ~Chinese Proverb

I’m probably the last person in the civilized world to learn this — and if you’ve known it forever, just mosey on down the road, trying not to snicker too loudly — but laundry is lots more fun when using wool balls!

What are wool balls?

They’re about the size of a tennis ball, white wool in material, and are designed as a natural, reusable fabric softener for the laundry.

Now for years, I’ve bought those dryer sheets that supposedly smell good and make your laundry soft, less clingy, and less wrinkly.

And I thought they were doing a good job.

Because my clothes did smell good, and things felt soft enough.

But recently, I read online that there’s some kind of chemical in dryer sheets. Something that coats your clothing with a greasy substance and actually makes your towels less absorbent.

Say, what??

How many loads of laundry have I done over my life to date? And I never realized I was putting nasty chemicals onto my clothing and linens via dryer sheets.

No wonder I have allergies!

So when I read about the wool balls, I knew I had to give them a try.

I bought a two-pack and tossed them into the dryer with a full load of clothes.

They made an interesting thumping noise when they hit the sides of the drum, but generally, I didn’t find that annoying. I kind of liked the idea they were rolling around in there, separating the washed items so they’d dry more efficiently, thus saving electricity and money.

When the timer sounded, I opened the dryer, and my clothes were soft. Towels were fluffy and absorbent. No static cling. No wrinkles. And not much lint produced on the screen-thing.

BOOM!

And I didn’t have to search all over the place for that wadded-up dryer sheet either.

Yep, I’m a happy customer.

Now it’s your turn — have you heard of wool balls? Have you tried them?

Message from Beyond

We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love. ~Germaine de Stael, French-Swiss author

Hi, Everybody!

Dallas here, coming at you from the Rainbow Bridge. On what would have been my 14th earth birthday.

You simply would NOT believe how gorgeous it is here. The colors are amazing, way beyond what you’d imagine. And I’m able to see them ALL, not just yellow, blue, and gray.

There’s continual music, uninterrupted by commercials, and everybody (even those of us with a bit of hearing loss on earth) gets to hear the style they especially love.

There are gentle breezes, glittering mansions, clouds, and the Creator.

Best of all, there are cookies. Lots and lots of cookies.

And doughnuts.

With no worries at all over putting on weight . . . ever!

And no need to perform to get ’em either.

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Me, Dallas, June 2018

When Mama told me it was time for me to go to the Rainbow Bridge, I confess I felt a bit afraid.

Well, maybe more than a bit.

Who wouldn’t be, you know? It’s not a place I’d been before, and something told me Mama wouldn’t be leaving with me.

Speaking of Mama, I know she’s sad. I’ve seen her tears, and I feel her heartache. But I don’t want her sad fur-ever. This is a wonderful place, and I’m happy to see my friends and fur-kin. So I’m counting on all you good blogging buddies to keep her spirits up, ‘k?

I understand some folks claim dogs don’t go anywhere after their earthly lives end, but if you ask me, that’s just plain silly.

I mean, Mama often told me she saw God’s goodness in me when I was alive, so why wouldn’t I continue reflecting that in Heaven?

Nobody suffers here. No hunger, no thirst, no aches and pains, no more tears. And none of that pandemic-thing either.

I found my fur-mama, fur-daddy, and fur-sis real fast. They got here a long time before I did and were glad to show me the ropes. I also found a lot of the people and dogs I’d met and gotten close to on earth.

I think they were happy to see me, as I was them.

Mama would have called it old home week!

You know, I loved my Mama and family fiercely when I was on earth, and I expect it will be a long time before they join me.

Mama has lots of things to do before then.

I hope she’ll have many more dogs to love, though none of them will mean more to her than I did — she didn’t call me her Soul Dog for nothing!

Woo Hoo, I hear the angels are serving pizza, so gotta run.

Any furry body you’d like me to look up for you??

Standing Out

I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do. ~Willa Cather, American writer

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How do you like my pretty dress?

It’s red, as you can plainly see.

In it, I become a princess.

No crown, no robe, no throne for me.

Too soon my leaves are going to flee

And all my branches will be bare.

So share my joy with utter glee

And when I’m nude, try not to stare!

 

Note: Poetry form is Huitain.

 

Cycle of Life

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, American essayist and poet

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Frost

Whitens

Fallen leaves.

Outlines their veins,

Bestows a beauty

Gone since they turned color

Earlier in the season.

Something sad about the Autumn

When trees become bare and look like sticks.

As they prepare to rest for several months.

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Don’t cry because leaves are not here today.

They served a purpose and now they’re gone.

Nestled together on the ground,

Sheltering grass and insects,

Enhancing the landscape.

Perpetuating

And renewing

The cycle

Of life —

Mulch.

Note: This poetic form is a Double Etheree.

Sudden Joy

Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man. ~Rabindranath Tagore, Indian poet, writer, and more

Because of the pandemic, I’m still having my flute lessons outdoors.

In a public park, six feet away from my teacher.

It’s been trying, weather-wise.

One day, I was bundled in a winter coat and carried along a portable heater to ward away the bitter, damp wind.

Another day, I was so busy swatting bugs and wiping my mouthpiece of sweat that I barely strung musical phrases together.

But this weekend was glorious — sunny and warm, with just a hint of a breeze.

Best of all, the park wasn’t busy (meaning I didn’t have to fear an audience’s criticism!)

Do you know how pretty a flute sounds outdoors?

It does. Take my word for it.

Or take the word of this tow-headed boy of maybe three or four.

He, his sister, and their mom were visiting the playground, and I hadn’t even noticed them until I heard spirited clapping during one piece I was playing.

I felt myself blush, and my teacher said, ‘See? Others appreciate the music, too.’

And, as if to make double-sure I knew how much he liked the sound, he dragged his mom closer and clapped even louder.

‘He really likes your music,’ she said.

Wow.

His sudden joy humbled me and reminded me what a privilege it is to be able to bring so much happiness to others.

I hope this pandemic ends soon so ensembles can return to live concerts.

And I hope this child will always be a music-lover.

Our world needs his kind of enthusiasm.

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies. ~Author Unknown

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7:20 a.m.

As

Sunlight

Appears, we

Can see changes

In our surroundings.

Twenty minutes apart:

And the leaves begin to glow.

The sky becomes a denim blue,

And color washes over our world.

A new day has dawned for us to enjoy.

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7:51 a.m.

We are each gifted in a unique and important way. It is our privilege and our adventure to discover our own special light.  ~Evelyn Dunbar, British artist, illustrator, and teacher

Note: This poetic form is an Etheree.

Redbud — Tree or Shrub?

When life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, show life that you have a thousand reasons to smile.  ~Author Unknown

What’s a homeowner to do when landscaping doesn’t go the way it’s supposed to?

When trees that are supposed to grow tall, don’t? When things planted as trees become shrubs instead?

Two years ago, my sis and I gifted our mom an Eastern Redbud for Mother’s Day.

Since Sis lives far away, I was in charge of picking it out, getting it home, having it planted, and caring for it.

Thus, it became my tree, and I’ll admit I tackled the responsibility with diligence.

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May 2018

At first, it was more of a stick than anything else. I got it in February when it was devoid of leaves, but I had hopes it would live and thrive.

We chose a spot in the backyard, where Mom could enjoy it and I could tend it. Which I did: watering it, staking it so it would grow straight and tall, and making sure pests didn’t bother it.

That Spring, it produced a few flowers, but it seemed to come into its own in the Summer, when its leaves became a lovely shade of heart-shaped green.

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July 2018

The next Spring, I was rewarded with a profusion of tiny, lavender-colored flowers encircling my tree’s trunk and branches like a lacy garnish:

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April 2019

Summer came, and I was able to remove the stake, delighted my tree could ride without training wheels. Its trunk grew chunky (nearly 3 inches in diameter), and healthy leaves enveloped its crown:

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October 2019

Then 2020 showed up.

We all know it’s been a challenging year on many fronts, and extra time on my hands meant I could devote more attention to my tree.

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April 2020

But when a scorching summer sun and scanty rainfall caused its leaves to shrivel and turn brown, I consulted a tree expert.

I pointed out that numerous branches had sprung up at the ground near my tree’s trunk, and those looked fine. It was the “parent tree” that looked sickly.

‘We’ll just chop it down,’ he said, and before I could blink, two years of nurturing vanished!

When I finally found my voice, I asked if the tree would survive — even as a shrub.

‘Probably,’ he said. ‘If not, we’ll cut the rest down.’

Over my cold, dead body, I thought, deciding then and there to guard my shrub to new life.

I’ve been watching and hoping since then, and so far, so good.

Its leaves are HUGE — nearly the size of a dinner plate! — and it’s growing wild and free, thanks to cooler temperatures and some much-needed rain.

Mom regularly asks me when I’m going to shape it into a tree again, but I’m holding off.

Why mess with a good thing?

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October 2020