Caleigh O'Shea's Blog, page 23

Dog-eat-Dog World?

God gives every bird its food, but He does not throw it into its nest.  ~J.G. Holland, American novelist and poet

Recently, I heard a raucous jabbering outside my window and naturally, I had to take a peek.

Some people would claim that’s procrastination, that I was merely postponing the writing of my novel.

I know better: it’s an innate curiosity about the world around me, something every writer needs.

Anyway, I didn’t see much except a splotch on the grass.

Which didn’t appear to be moving.

So what was making all the noise?

I wandered outside, and this is what I found (but I’ve got to warn you, it’s pretty disgusting!!):

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Did you see it? It was a dead baby bird.

Species undetermined.

Maybe it fell out of its nest too soon. Or maybe a cat got it.

My heart broke a little at its de-feathered condition, but I opted to leave it where it lay.

I couldn’t do anything for it, and I nearly retched at the thought of touching it.

I went back inside, and once again, I heard loud squawking (I’m embarrassed to tell you how many times I tried to spell ‘squawking’ here!)

This time, I saw this:

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A blue jay, hunkering in the limbs of a dogwood tree.

Right over the spot where the dead baby bird was.

Okay, I thought, maybe it’s the jay’s baby, and he’s expressing frustration over its untimely death.

Maybe he’s warning other birds about a stray cat.

I watched from the window, curious how this would play out.

Suddenly, the jay swooped down toward the baby and proceeded to eat it!

I kid you not:

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Certain my eyes had deceived me, I ran to my computer to Google ‘blue jays.’

And I learned jays typically eat insects and nuts. However, they have been known to eat eggs and nestlings of other birds.

Barbaric cannibals!

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And you can see he was quite intent on his feast.

Couldn’t have enjoyed it more if he’d whipped out a bib and napkin — and perhaps some lighted candles and dining music.

Yuck!

By the time he finished, I presumed he’d picked the carcass clean (no, I didn’t check!)

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Eventually, I returned to my writing, convinced that jays might be pretty colored birds but I’ll stick with robins, doves, and cardinals.

Who knew Nature was so bird-eat-bird?

Corny Time

If you truly love Nature, you will find beauty everywhere. ~Vincent Van Gogh, Dutch painter

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Happy Thursday!

The corn, as you can see, has tasseled. This is a crop of field corn near where I live. It’s NOT sweet corn, which features full, round, white and light yellow kernels and is planted for human consumption.

Did you know only about one percent of the corn grown on American farms is sweet corn? I didn’t either. But yes, the bulk of our corn is field corn, which you wouldn’t want to eat.

Field corn has dryer, more golden kernels (often with a small dent) and is processed for use in foods with corn ingredients (cereals, chips, etc.), as animal feed, or saved as seed for next year’s crop. It’s also used for non-food things like ethanol.

Sweet corn is generally available July through September, weeks before field corn. In fact, field corn stalks must completely dry out, the silks at the top of each ear turn dark brown, and the ears flip down with the silks toward the ground before a plant is ready for harvest (October-November, usually).

It’s a delicate balance, with farmers sometimes having to rush to get their crops harvested before winter sets in.

Speaking of time, I’m going to take a few days off — the Domer has promised to visit, and I understand there’s a birthday cake with my name on it! Don’t forget me — I’ll be back soon!

Sunday’s Gem — Bloodstone

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. ~Albert Einstein, German-born theoretical physicist

Legends from the Middle Ages declared the “Blood Stone” first formed during the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, when His Blood fell upon the green earth.

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Bloodstone slab — image thanks to www.gia.com

Long prized for its protective and healing abilities, Bloodstone is a member of the chalcedony family.

In appearance, it’s a dark forest green stone with blood-red spatters. Geologists attribute the green coloring to chlorite, amphibole, and pyroxene, while the red is iron oxide (typically hematite).

Ancient Macedonians believed Bloodstone could improve circulation, heal wounds, and detoxify the blood by transferring the healing powers of the sun into the body. Ground into a powder, Bloodstone was used to draw out venom from snake bites and toxins from tumors.

Used as a gemstone for at least 2,000 years, Bloodstone is sometimes called “heliotrope” by European authors and in 18th century and earlier works.

With a hardness of about 6.5 on the Mohs scale (ranging from 1 to 10), Bloodstone is found in India, Australia, Brazil, China, Madagascar, and the U.S. Typically, it’s cut into cabochons, wands, small sculptures, or tumbled.

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Tumbled Bloodstones. Image thanks to www.geology.com

Historically, Bloodstone has found favor in men’s jewelry, particularly in rings and cuff links. Often, it contains an intaglio with a family crest or some other such motif.

In India, Bloodstone has gained popularity as an aphrodisiac. Fine gemstone quality Bloodstone crushed into a powder for such use typically costs more than the same amount of stone in its rough form.

Metaphysical healers use Bloodstone to realign the lower chakras with the heart. Signs of an unbalanced base chakra include low energy and a feeling of flightiness. When the heart chakra is out of balance, healers say, the personality becomes controlling and critical.

Along with aquamarine, Bloodstone is the traditional birthstone for those born in March. It’s the zodiac sign for those born under Aries (March 21-April 19).

Feng Shui practitioners say Bloodstone utilizes Wood Energy. As such, it should be placed in the East and Southeast areas of a home or room, to enhance new projects and bring about abundance.

Bloodstone is said to be an excellent stone for those suffering from a potentially fatal illness, imparting the courage to fight and face one’s death with dignity.

Clean Bloodstone with warm soapy water and a soft cloth.

Note: The claims here aren’t meant to take the place of medical advice. They’re based on folklore and other sources, and likely “work” best if one’s belief is strong enough!

Growing a Novel

It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.  ~Edmund Hillary, explorer, mountaineer, and one of two climbers confirmed to reach the top of Mount Everest first

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The

path lies

straight ahead.

Put one word down

and then another

until you reach the end,

confident along the way

that you’ve written the best story

you can under the circumstances.

And won’t it feel great to finally finish?

 

Staring at a screen, forsaking playtime.

Growing a novel isn’t easy.

Maybe that’s why others don’t try.

Stop complaining and fretting!

Tackle the task at hand.

Watch the word count grow

as you write scenes

and chapters

someone

loves.

Note: This poetic form is called Double Etheree.

Pandemic Puppies??

Money will buy you a pretty good dog, but it won’t buy the wag of his tail. ~Henry Wheeler Shaw, American humorist

As those of you who regularly read my posts know, my soul-dog Dallas went to the Rainbow Bridge as March 2020 ushered in the COVID pandemic.

At first, I didn’t want a new pup. Didn’t want to look at puppy pictures, didn’t want to reach out to ask breeders questions.

I was grieving, and I knew I needed time to do that properly.

But Domer kept sending me photos of cute dogs he’d see online, and a childhood friend sent me pictures of the new pup she got after her older dog died (reminding me of Baby Dallas and what I was missing).

As the pandemic wore on, it became obvious that only another pup would heal the hurt in my heart, so I tentatively tested the waters.

I was starting from scratch — didn’t even know which breed I wanted.

I browsed the Internet, checked the local classified ads, even looked over dog rescue sites.

Nothing seemed to click.

Perhaps it was too soon, I decided, and stopped searching for a while.

Gradually I’ve returned, but what I’m seeing now terrifies me:

Wait lists full. Puppies sold before they’re born. Breeders who won’t respond to messages.

And puppies that cost at least 100 percent more than they did merely six months ago!

It’s not just in the States either. The UK is having its own puppy shortage and so is Canada.

And the unscrupulous are seemingly everywhere, scamming the lonely during a time when buyers can’t actually visit breeders, see the pups, and look over their surroundings.

What breaks my heart is the fear of what’s going to happen to these “pandemic puppies” once the virus resolves, adult humans return to work, and the kids go back to school.

What becomes of a pup suddenly left home alone for hours on end?

How many people, deciding Fido is too much trouble and expense, will simply drop him off at a shelter, or dump him beside a country road to fend for himself?

A puppy isn’t for a pandemic (or for Christmas); it’s for a lifetime! And it’s tragic when those of us who are ready to make that commitment are shut out by circumstances beyond our control.

Upwards of $2,000 for a companion puppy, not a show dog??

Sorry, that’s nuts!

Hot Stuff

You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive. ~Author Unknown

Think you’re hot stuff, don’cha?

Zipping around in your souped-up car

Shimmering silver body, slightly elevated rear

Muffler announcing your presence better

Than trumpets proclaiming royalty’s arrival.

Think you’re hot stuff, don’cha?

Baseball cap turned backwards on your head

Heavy metal music pounding its rhythmic beats

With wailing vocals sufficiently intense

To pry the dead right out of their graves.

Think you’re hot stuff, don’cha?

Pulling to within inches of my rear bumper

As if you’re eager to hop in my back seat

And join me for a little spin around town.

Refusing to move over to another lane

Even when I deliberately slow to a crawl.

Think you’re hot stuff, don’cha?

Forcing me to change lanes

Forcing me to lose my temper

While you swoop around me

As if I’m in a car park or some driveway

Woolgathering or taking a siesta.

Think you’re hot stuff, don’cha?

Approaching that traffic light beside me

Then flipping me the universal sign

Of disdain. Of anger. Of disrespect.

Then zooming off in a cloud of exhaust.

I can be as crude as you, fella

But I choose not to

Not because of you

But because of me.

Still think you’re hot stuff, don’cha?

Note: Details changed to protect the guilty.

Hang in There

To give vent now and then to his feelings, whether of pleasure or discontent, is a great ease to a man’s heart. ~Francesco Guicciardini, Italian historian and statesman

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Emotions swirling

Like clouds skudding o’er the sky

Best to say nothing

Wordless Wednesday

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us. ~Iris Murdoch, Irish and British novelist and philosopher

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Sunday’s Gem — Obsidian

Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. ~Albert Einstein, German-born theoretical physicist

Feeling under stress? Suffering from pain or a wounded spirit?

Then get yourself some Obsidian!

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Tumbled black Obsidian stones, approximately 1″ in size, $2 each. Available at https://www.el9shop.com/product/black-obsidian-tumbled-stone/

Obsidian forms when molten lava cools quickly into glass before crystallization can take place.

Known as a “mineraloid,” Obsidian typically appears in jet black. Other colors include dark brown, gray, or gray-green, depending on which trace elements occur with it.

Obsidian is found throughout the world in areas of geologically recent volcanic activity. Thus, no specimens are found east of the U.S. Mississippi River.

Sometimes called a “psychic vacuum cleaner,” Obsidian clears emotional debris from the past while protecting you from fear, anger, and anxiety.

Obsidian’s use dates back to the Old Stone Age, when its ability to be broken into curved surfaces with sharp edges made it ideal for cutting weapons, including arrowheads and knives. In the Middle East, it was used for circumcision; ancient Melanesians used it for tattooing the skin; people on Easter Island used it for food preparation and cultivation. They also placed Obsidian as the pupils in the eyes of their statues. Early Mesoamericans polished Obsidian into mirrors.

Obsidian today is carved into cabochons, tumbled stones, beads, or jewelry, though its uses are limited because it’s relatively soft (5.5 on the 1-10 Mohs scale of hardness). It’s also used in surgical scalpels.

The name Obsidian comes from an erroneous transcription of the Latin word meaning “the stone of Obsius,” for the Roman who discovered it. While it’s not a historical, traditional, or natural birthstone, Obsidian is the zodiac stone for Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19).

On the physical plane, Obsidian is thought to ease muscle tension, improve circulation, and speed the healing of wounds. It’s also a digestive aid and is used to support efforts to battle dependencies.

Obsidian vibrates to the Base, or Root, Chakra, the foundation of the body’s physical and spiritual energy. Known as the stone of truth, Obsidian cuts through lies and illusions. It’s a powerful stone and should be used with care, as the truth it reveals can be overwhelming.

Feng Shui practitioners suggest placing Obsidian near electronics to absorb electromagnetic radiation, near the front door of your home (to guard against unwanted energy), and in the north (water energy) area of a home to clear obstacles in one’s career or life path.

Note: The claims here aren’t meant to take the place of medical advice. They’re based on folklore and other sources, and likely “work” best if one’s belief is strong enough!

Conquering Fear

A man would do nothing if he waited until he could do it so well that no one could find fault. ~John Henry Newman, English theologian and poet

Because of the pandemic, I haven’t had a flute lesson in months, and I’ve missed it.

It’s bad enough practicing the same pieces assigned to me back in early March; but knowing that I might have slipped into bad form/habits without somebody to supervise me is worrisome.

So we remedied the situation, being extra-cautious with safety guidelines.

No, you can’t wear a mask and blow a flute.

But we were able to maintain a six-foot distance, and we opted to do our lesson outdoors.

In the park.

‘There’s a pavilion for shade,’ my teacher told me when we were making plans.

‘I’ll bring some clothespins to hold the music down,’ I said.

Lesson Day arrived, and I was there first. But so was a large gathering, and they were ensconced at the pavilion.

Maybe it was a family reunion. Maybe a graduation party.

Certainly not a wedding, for the participants weren’t formally dressed.

Regardless, my heart started pounding.

Strangers were going to listen to me practice?

Well, my teacher arrived and suggested we hike through the park to a grove of oak trees to set up.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Can I put out a tin cup so somebody can toss in a few coins? I don’t like playing for free.’

She laughed and reminded me how beautiful a flute sounds, especially outdoors.

‘And I’ll bet there’s not a one of them that can play,’ she added.

I’d just started long tones when several men arrived for batting practice on the diamond behind me.

At every crack! I felt like a baseball was going to smash through my head.

‘Relax,’ my teacher said. ‘I’m watching to make sure we’re safe.’

Eventually, I succumbed to the music, tuning out thoughts of perfection.

There I was, a gentle breeze at my face and the sun at my back, playing a duet (Pachelbel’s Canon in D) with my teacher and a Handel Sonata solo.

Nobody clapped, but then, nobody tossed rotten tomatoes either!