The world is in turmoil.
Ukraine is being destroyed – men fight and die while women and children flee.
Closer to home, children went to school eager and carefree – but were stalked by terror and death.
Families and communities grieve -will nothing change?
I think the pandemic is over – and then there is another variant, another wave.
How does one cope with the headlines and the newscasts?

I try to reframe my days with the simplicity and beauty that Tara Shannon presents through Rabbit and Bear.©Tara Shannon
“What’s the matter, Rabbit? asked Bear
“I feel anxious . . . like the ground is falling away under my feet,” said Rabbit.
“What do you see around you? asked Bear.
Rabbit paused. ” . . .I see you, and the sky, the trees, flowers, birds and grass.”
“What do you hear? asked Bear.
“Your voice, the birds singing, the rustling of the leaves as the wind blows through, and the sound of water flowing in the stream,” said Rabbit.
“What can you smell and taste? asked Bear.
“The flowers and this lovely cup of tea you made for me, said Rabbit.
Now . . . what do you feel? asked Bear.
“The ground, solid under my feet.” said Rabbit, “and love. I feel loved.”
©Tara Shannon 2022

I stepped outside. I looked and listened and smelled the world in my backyard.

I saw the natural world where wild strawberries still bloom and birds still sing while building nests. The earth smelled clean and glowed after a cleansing rain.
The earth will dry again, and my fears and worries will return, but for now they have been washed away.

Thank you, Bear, for your advice to Rabbit.

Pussy willows wave
Winds announce springs arrival
Pollinators fly

Coltsfoot create art
Mayflowers glow pink or white
Scenes set for action

A Song Sparrow enters left
A Palm Warbler centre stage

Easter is a very solemn and religious holiday. It is also time for fun, so I searched the origin of the Easter Bunny and found he is very old indeed.
“The Easter hare, or Osterhase, as an Easter symbol seems to have its origins in Germany, where it was first mentioned in German writings in the 1500s. The Easter bunny legend is rooted in German tradition.”
And I learned another interesting bit of trivia:
“Towards the end of Lent, eggs could be harvested and hard-boiled to preserve them long enough to keep until Easter. The time during Lent when eggs were not harvested offered a bonus: Eggs could hatch, increasing the size of the flock. The end of Lent was also a good time to cull the now-increased flock of chickens.”
So there we have Easter eggs, chicks and family dinners. And following the tradition, we set our table for family, but served ham rather than chicken.

We were not the only ones.
Mr. and Mrs. E Bunny also extended an invitation.

Both man and nature rejoice in the Easter season and its message of renewal.

April is patient
Snow is slowly giving way
Life is bursting free.
Goldfinch song beckons to Spring
Peepers wait to join the choir.

April is patient. I am not, but I understand that life must not be rushed.
I rejoice in her unique parade: the Purple Finches flashing through the trees, the Evening Grosbeaks' arrival, the breast of a robin revealing eagerness to nest and the first spring flowers hugging the foundation of my home. 
 

I crave Spring, the green of new leaves, the bright splashes of dandelions and the scent of a freshly mowed lawn.
 
But while I wait, I will enjoy the change that comes with each day. Each one will bring its own surprises. 

Today I am posting a short piece I wrote in 2015, but want to emphasize that it is not autobiographical. I was not at “low tide” in 2015, and I am not now. However, I am concerned for those running on empty.

Low Tide
I leaned heavily on the railing, staring at the waves that were disappearing, like everything else in my life. My mind drifted aimlessly, emotionlessly sorting through random images. There was no rage as I replayed Jim’s treachery, no pain at my friend’s disloyalty, no anxiety from the lost job and unpaid rent. Nothing. My life was empty; I was empty.  That’s okay, I decided, the waves will wash everything away.

I had cleaned out the fridge. The hell with everything else, give them something to talk about when they poke through my stuff. Mechanically, I reached for the bag of scraps.
The gulls descended as soon as my cupped hands were visible, growing to a demanding cloud as I flung the scraps into the air. My lips curved into a slight smile, but it faded and my hands dropped back to the railing.

“Miss?   Miss!”
I jumped as I felt a hand touch my arm, but I did not turn.
“Miss, it’s against the law to feed the birds. Didn’t you see the sign?” asked a gruff voice.
I tossed another handful. “I’m not feeding the birds. I’m flinging my life away and they’re carrying it out to sea for me.”

“Miss? Are you okay?” The voice was kinder but insistent. “You can’t feed the birds!”

As I threw away the last of the scraps, a wing brushed my cheek. Inhaling in surprise, I was assaulted by the tang of the salt water and the screeching of the frantic birds.
The hand touched my arm again. “Ma’am, are you alright? Can I buy you a coffee?”

Turning, I saw a female officer about my height with a ticket book in hand.
I stepped away from the railing. “Yes, a coffee would be nice.”
Rose Burke, 2015

Many people are going through difficult times, and it is often invisible. We must not underestimate the impact that a kind word or a cup of coffee can have on a person’s day. It may be enough for them to see the blue sky and the next day