QUAIL MUTTERINGS #50. Another Ramble (March 2018)

Three years old! My second grandson turned three the end of February. Where did the months and years go? By the time we get well into our second half-century of life, time whizzes by at an alarming rate. So I figure I’d better stop and take a minute to aim my lasso, in order to try to catch the moments that I don’t want to miss out on. This takes premeditated intention – so the most important things don’t slip by before it’s too late. And one of those things is spending time with the grandkids – both individually and as a group. Each one is a terrific human being with an outlook on life specifically their own. I learn a lot from each of the three.

One of my favorite things to do, when I’m with just one of them, is to be quiet and simply observe. I can almost see the wheels turning in their heads as they work through the process of discovery: building with Lego’s, filling a bucket with sand, looking at a book, re-enacting real life… It fascinates me. I’m spellbound watching them entertain themselves. I sincerely hope that they can keep this interest in learning alive, and not let boredom and a constant need of outside stimulation take over.

The young bring us new life and fresh ways of looking at things. Spring has almost arrived. Already, little squirrels are scurrying over rocks and eating the chickens’ food, in spite of getting pecked at. Lilac buds threaten to burst into bloom. Some already have and emanate intoxicating fragrances. A juvenile Red-tailed Hawk carries on throughout the day, begging his busy parents for nourishment. Sometimes he calls from a tree on the ridge or a crag in a boulder. At times, he’s on the wing, calling from above, and I always pause to acknowledge him. I feel it’s an honor to inhabit the same place and time as these sentient beings. The green grass is thriving, thanks to the recent rains and warm sunshine, filling the horses’ bellies and blanketing the canyon’s landscape.

But trees are falling, both dead and alive, demonstrating the impermanence of life. After losing a huge ancient oak, months ago, I felt a need to honor its existence instead of sawing it all up for firewood. After extensive research and networking, I contacted some expert wood workers in the San Diego area and, to make a long story short, much of the tree’s lumber has now been milled and a few bowls were turned. Two of them adorn my kitchen as graceful reminders of life’s beauty and fragility.

So again, I come back to the importance of living my life more consciously, trying to embrace what is, as best I can, and act with reverence toward all plants, animals and minerals. And attempt to consume less, in any fashion, so that all may benefit more. Here’s to you, me and us. May we all cherish the moment.

 

Chi Varnado’s memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com. You can follow us on www.Facebook.com/gnomewoodcanyon.

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #35. New Beginnings (May 2015)

QUAIL MUTTERINGS #35.  New Beginnings (May 2015)

Once again I find myself both proud and concerned. Four years ago our son, Chance, graduated from high school and began his university career. And now, this week, he is graduating from CSU Chico with an engineering degree. Kent and I have experienced the empty nest syndrome while at the same time have gone through the emotional yo-yo of his comings and goings during university breaks. I’ve spoken to other mothers who concur about this phenomenon. Just when you get used to them being gone, they’re back again. And when they leave it can’t help but tug at the heart strings again. It’s not easy. I suppose it’s a process in degrees of letting go. Of course, it’s never complete. We will always be their mom or dad.
This spring, in our canyon, the cacophony of avian fledging is everywhere. House finches are nesting all over the cabin under eaves or on top of protruding logs. Red-Shouldered Hawks call incessantly from above the tree tops as the Cooper’s Hawks careen through the canopy uttering their staccato warnings. Sometimes I hear a juvenile Red-Tail Hawk with its unmistakable pleadings. From pre-dawn to after dusk I love being privy to the symphony that this community of ours provides. California Towhees hop around as Canyon Wrens call their descending trills and quail mutter as they scuttle through the underbrush. After night falls, the Poorwills and owls make up the music of the canyon. Abundant plant and animal life celebrate this time of year.
Chance’s fledging now assumes the role of trying to find employment in this uncertain job market. Yes I’m concerned, but hopeful, for his own spreading of the wings. Just as the young birds take flight for the first time and begin to find their own food, Chance will be attempting his version of this. A mother can wish all she wants for her child to find his path and launch, but ultimately it’s up to the fledgling to take those first flights alone. New beginnings can be both scary and exciting.
As for my new start, I’ve launched a home business. One of the upstairs bedrooms in our log cabin is now available for guests through www.airbnb.com. Our rural lifestyle in this beautiful canyon can provide respite for those seeking a natural sanctuary. I’m beginning to feel like my new purpose in life is to share the natural world and a different pace of life with others who want to experience a more organic lifestyle. They could hike the mountain; lay in a hammock in the creekbed; read, write or bird watch from a rocking chair on the front porch; bicycle down Mussey Grade or simply breathe fresh, clean country air. This new endeavor feels right as if this is my true calling.
In two days, Kent and I will take leave of our paradise and head for Northern California to see Chance graduate with a BS in mechanical engineering. We’re towing our itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny 1970 camping trailer so we can take our own food and save on motel bills. We’ll be gone ten days in order for our son to take an engineering certificate exam in Redding, six days after graduation, and then move him back home. There may not be much rest in store for him as he continues his job search. As the buzzards in the eucalyptus grove display their wings to the morning sun with the luxury of time, he’ll be hunting, networking and channeling his energy toward a productive goal. As his mom, I want him to launch successfully even though I know his comings and goings will put me back on that emotional roller coaster. I’ll remind myself to take a deep breath and continue to breathe. So, here’s to graduations, fledgings and successful launchings. Just remember: smile and breathe.

Chi Varnado is a contributing writer for The San Diego Reader. Her memoir, A CANYON TRILOGY: Life Before, During and After the Cedar Fire and her children’s book, The Tale of Broken Tail are available on www.amazon.com. Chi directs the Ramona Dance Centre. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com.