The Monarchs Return

The fabulous orange and black beauties are back, flitting around our zinnia patch as I type. Although I can't explain why they first fascinated me, since my interest in them well predated my knowledge of their amazing migrations to Mexico, I have always felt a kind of joy at their return each year. Now that joy is mingled with relief each spring, since the year may come in my lifetime when they are gone, extinct due to habitat destruction and the use of chemical pesticides. These little pollinators are in grave danger.

I am hard at work crafting an article on a recent interview with Dr. Lincoln Brower, one of the world's top experts on monarchs and their migration. The article will make an appearance in the Got2BeGreen online journal very soon. I'll be sure to send out the link when it's done, but let me just tell you the news for the monarchs is not good if things both in Mexico and here in the states don't change. I don't want to give too much away before the article is published, so with monarchs on my mind, I thought I would share with you some of the artwork they have inspired. In the meantime, if you want to help the monarch survive, the very best thing you can do right now is to STOP the use of herbicides and pesticides in your yard this year. For more on alternative methods of pest control, those not harmful to butterflies, (and all the other creatures living in your gardens, ditches, and yards) go here. More on monarchs from Dr. Brower very soon, but in the meantime, enjoy some monarch magic.


Mariposas Return

Wafting on the breeze, each puff of wind sends
luminous lantern-thin wings fluttering. Golden-
orange kites patterned with black drift higher,
spiral back, flutter forward in a whirling dance.

Watching from wrought-iron windows over dusty
courtyards, families wait with golden-orange candle
flames flickering. They weave floral wreathes,
harvest the red soil, working to gather gifts
while they wait for the return of the dead.

Winging across summits, millions flit and fly
through aquamarine skies, sip flowers, cover
streams, swarm and swoop, fill the sky, shrouding
deep forests in communal comforters, their woven
warmth against winter’s chill.

Worshipers gather, jubilant, watching the celestial
flights of ancestors returned home. Gifts of warm
remembrance promenade through winding roads,
placed on graves to flash in firelight. Natives walk up
winding paths, showing reverence to these protectors
whose winged beauty cloaks winter and wakens
once more with the wealth of spring.

The following works were either taken during or inspired by my trip to Mexico to see the monarch wintering grounds. We were there just as they began to wake up and prepare for their return to my back yard here in Central Virginia. It was magical, literally, a world shrouded in butterflies. I highly recommend experiencing the magic at least once in your life.






All paintings and photographs provided by me, Amanda C. Sandos. For works for sale, visit The ARTiculates.

Harper's Hawaii

Two of my dearest friends just witnessed their own little miracle last week when their first daughter, Harper, was born. About eight years ago, maybe nine now (I'm terrible with dates), I stood up for them in the most beautiful wedding on Turtle Point, a lovely sea-side area on the Big Island of Hawaii where they live. It seems fitting that the couple who had the loveliest wedding should have given birth to one of the loveliest babies I've ever laid eyes on. I would post her picture, but the happy couple needs time to do this themselves. I'd hate to steal their thunder. Regardless, I wanted to post a little something in Harper and her parent's honors, for they gifted me with the Big Island, one of my favorite places on planet earth. I look forward to my next trip out and the opportunity to hold their sweet little girl for the first time. In the meantime, I must make do with my imagination, which is not too shabby, so I really can't complain.

The following piece was a writing assignment given to me by a visiting writer while I was an undergrad in the creative writing department at Randolph-Macon Woman's College. We had to sketch a place, using some fact and some fiction to create the sketch. In this case, the facts are all of the things about the island and it's people and traditions. The fictions come through the narrator and a couple of the cast of characters who are based loosely on some of the people I met along the way. Photographs or drawings were encouraged as a part of the final product. So, here is what I turned in. I hope you like it, and I hope my friends will some day read it to Harper.


Island of Fire
A Place
I have come home. I live in the only state 2000 miles from any other land. For ten years, I tried living east coast, mainland. I was hoping to return to Maui, where I spent my childhood, but I got a job in Hilo instead, and I think I am going to like living in this little town called Volcano on the Big Island. I am already in love with the dripping, chill of the rain forest that lies here in these sun-drenched clouds.

Every day, I climb up the steep face of Kilauea to my little town, aptly named because it sits on the only volcano that is still active. The ancient Polynesians named this mountain home of Pele, Goddess of Fire. It is the only volcano here that has never gone dormant. I still get excited over the little differences of the island, like soil the color of asphalt made of the lava rock that built these islands up layer by layer out of the ocean.

I look forward each day to the end of work, to leaving the hurry of town for the thirty-mile drive home. About ten miles up the mountain, the traffic disappears, and the fast food restaurants no longer line the road. As the climb grows steeper, the road is swallowed up into the huge palms that reach their leafy, arms over the street. There’s this invisible wall I hit half way home where the temperature drops away at last. The majority of my days at the University of Hilo are sticky and thick, but up in the rainforest, the massive plant growth provides a cool shelter that seems to hug me and welcome me into its mist.

The main road begins to switch and turn not far from my house, as the air continues to grow thinner. I leave my windows down so I can feel the exact moment when I pass through the wall. After my first few weeks here, I noticed the bird songs also change at this point. Where I hear the whistles of cardinals, pekin robins, and chats in town, all species who should not live here, now I only hear the steady twitter of the Puiohi, the Akepa, and the I’iwi. I believe, like me, they have come to this volcano to escape. It is nice to know that others understand the strange reclusive quality that draws me here.

Weather

I wrap myself in layers, long-johns, sweats, a jacket over the top, and lots and lots of blankets. This is the only way to get a decent night’s sleep on Kilauea. No one believes me. This is Hawai'i after all, the land of sunshine and hula dancers. I keep extra jackets and blankets for my friends and family who come to visit. It no longer surprises me when they show up with only summer clothes in their bags. I love to watch their faces when they see their first vog up here. Even though I tell them all about this strange mix of fog and volcano sulphur, they have to be surrounded by its thickness at least once to believe. I love to take them outside when it comes rolling through the trees and stand them in the yard just two paces from me. That look of awe that crosses their faces just before I disappear is priceless.

My House

I am smurfette and I am not ashamed to say it. My little hut in the woods is adorable. Some crazy human painted it smurf blue, and I knew the moment I saw it I had to live here. The high vaulted ceilings, exposed beams, large open rooms, huge windows with views of the forest on all four sides, must have been built with me in mind. It's paradise. I tell myself if Pele decides to send a lava flow my way, I will be ready to move on, but the truth is my heart will be buried too. I believe that Pele does not care for the attachment to material possessions, so I try very hard to live simply as an honor to her. The only attachment I cannot seem to set aside is the one for this ridiculous, little house.

The guy who lived here before me planted tons of ginger and bamboo in the yard, and I have spent countless hours digging them up by the roots. The mongooses happen to love bamboo. The nasty little bastards climb the stalks and sneak into the surrounding bushes to eat the birds and their eggs. I set traps to get rid of both the black rats and the mongooses. I used to hate to kill them, but once you understand the destruction they cause, you begin to see them as the enemy.

At times, I feel surrounded by stupid people, from the ones who plant the invasive ornamental crap in their yards, to the ones who let pet parrots from Asia go free, to Captain Cooke who brought the black rats to plague us. Perhaps the fathers of them all are the ones who introduced the mongoose to eat the rats. How do you tell the Mongoose, “Rat’s only, please.”

A Person

Mark Anderson is the strangest man I know. He is my neighbor although, thankfully, it is about a twenty-minute hike from his driveway to mine. I met him for the first time in my backyard while I was checking my traps. He scared the breath out of me when he stepped out of the forest in his camouflage getup, holding a machete in one hand and had a rifle strapped over his other shoulder. Times like this remind me how alone I am up here. Mark is not quite as scary as he first appeared. He is employed by the Hawai'i Volcano National Park that borders our properties. His job is to hunt and kill the pigs and cattle roaming free around the island, another of the wonders introduced here by the fabulous Captain Cooke. Both species have lived here at the expense of a great deal of forest. The soil layer on the islands is thin and delicate and cannot handle their trampling hooves. It makes tracking them fairly easy. You just follow the trails of total annihilation and eventually you catch up with the culprit. So Mark trudges out into the forest day after day and gets paid to do what he loves best. It's not that I mind the hunt when it’s necessary, but I am not sure I am comfortable with a neighbor who gets off on bloodshed. He has started to walk this way regularly now, and all he talks about is the kill. His beady eyes glow when he tells his stories, and it makes me squirm. I’ve started hiding in the house when I am lucky enough to hear the rustling in the woods that signals his coming.

Wal-Mart

I drive by a huge, ugly, gray and blue monstrosity every day. Tourists come from that store every day with their bag of souvenirs bought at the specialty shop in the front section where the mainland stores usually house their barbers. Who wants to buy something hand- crafted by a native when they can have a plastic hula doll for their dash made in China at half the price. I make a point of buying my groceries from the local farmer's market, paying about double the price, and I smile while I pay it.

The Church

Sometimes, I drive over to Kalapana. It was a small village in the area now called "the wild west," because it’s been covered with lava so many times that only the crazy or very brave, depending on your point of view, rebuild there. The only thing left of the quaint village that used to sit on a lush beach facing the ocean is the steeple of the town's Catholic church. It juts up out of a vast wasteland that is now the 1990 lava field. I park my car and hike a half -mile over the cracked and ragged rocks to sit by the charred steeple and watch the waves crash over the cliff not far in the distance. I find peace and balance here by this ruined church. It reminds me to be thankful for what I have each day.

The People

There is one little, old, native man I chat with on my walk to and from the Kalapana church. He wouldn't agree to a picture because the camera might steal his soul. His house is the only one in the town that survived. The lava rocks covered every living thing within ten feet on all sides of his cabin. He still lives without the amenities of electricity and running water, but he’s determined to stay. He says Pele spared his house for a reason, and he’d be turning his back on her if he left. The greenery is just beginning to poke up through the jumble of black rocks around him, and soon he will be surrounded in lushness once again. For now, he seems content to sit in his rocker on the front porch and enjoy his ocean view. He says he feels privileged to be so favored by the Goddess of Fire.

Bad luck will follow those who remove a lava rock from the islands. To take one home as a souvenir has been the downfall of hundreds of unsuspecting tourists. There used to be letters lining the hallway walls of the Hawai'i Volcano House inside the Volcano National Park. Each one telling a tale of hardships from treachery and deceit to pain and death that were deemed a result of the lava rock someone took home as a keepsake. Most send the rock back with the letter in an attempt to appease Pele. Many were warned by a native during their visit and mistakenly chose to disregard them. You learn not to underestimate the power of an angry Goddess in this place. Like so many others, I’ve taken many of the rituals of the natives to heart. Shoes are not allowed inside the front door of my house to insure the lava remains outdoors where it belongs. I leave offerings of coral and small tokens to the Goddess, things I find on the beach, and place them on the alter near my front door. I hang wind chimes to comfort Pele near the porch. Most of all, I thank her regularly for the blessings she bestows on me.

Politics

Driving home from a day at Puna lu'u, the black sand beach that lies over the opposite side of the volcano where I basked on the beach with hundreds of green sea turtles (Perhaps I was a sea turtle in a former life), I noticed a couple of guys up ahead on the side of the road. They were sitting in lawn chairs in the backs of their two trucks and holding cardboard signs while chatting amiably. My knee-jerk response was to begin rolling up my window to avoid the pleading looks of the drunks who say "will work for money". Then I remembered where I was. It occurred to me at that moment that I rarely see anyone begging on a street corner here. Then, I began to wonder what these two men were doing. One man was holding a sign that said Vote Democrat for Governor and the other said the same for the other party. It made me laugh and I honked my horn and waved as I passed, getting a heart-felt wave and smile from each in return. As I continued home, I realized I didn't even know who was running. Strangely, I hadn’t heard any of the back stabbing, lying, propaganda on the television, perhaps because I so rarely even turned it on. When I got home, I Googled the Governors race, and was happily surprised to find that Hawai'i was going to be the first state to have two women running for office.

Vital Data

There is one post office, one gas station, one Hotel (the Volcano House) inside the National Park, two small groceries, one inside and one outside the park, and three restaurants, a sandwich place, a sushi place, and an Indian place with the best Chicken Masala I have ever had. There is a quilting shop, an art museum, and a sizemic research center within a mile of each other, as well as a bird conservation center right across the street from a little winery that serves the sweetest wine I have ever tasted. There are two main roads and about five dirt roads that get you where you need to go. The population is 300 full-time residents and another 200 part-time employees to the Volcano National Park. There is one heliport run by Blue Hawaii Tourist Center that takes helicopter rides over the Pu'u O'o vent that still spews fire down the mountain side. The volcano adds about two thousand new acres onto the island every year. Last night, the island lost 500 acres when a lava shelf split off and crashed into the ocean. A tourist name James Cartwright, ignoring the warning signs and barricades, was allegedly hiking on the shelf when it fell into the sea.

Dog Friendly

My fabulous weekend at the Biltmore in Asheville, North Carolina proved that I really can find a "dog friendly" town. Three of my dearest friends and I spent four days charmed by this smokey mountain city. As one might suspect, friends of mine are usually animal lovers, and we were all particularly excited to see the number of dog lovers milling about everywhere we looked. Even on the Biltmore Estate grounds people were walking all variety of dogs through the gardens to enjoy the festival of flowers.

Apparently, one living in the area can purchase an annual pass for only slightly more than the day pass most visitors buy. Any and every pass holder is free to walk their dogs about on a leash, although I doubt they are allowed in the estate house itself. For the really adventurous annual pass holders, one can even bring their horse in to ride the trails. I live too many hours away to take advantage of this, but I would certainly be a regular dog walker there if I could.

The Biltmore isn't the only dog friendly establishment in town. Dogs were abundant everywhere, and many of the area hotels, even the nicer ones, advertised allowing pets. In the downtown area, people were out walking dogs all around the city. Dogs were in the stores shopping or hanging out with their companion shop keepers. They were in the cafe outdoor areas enjoying tea and crumpets. One was even sunning himself in a local shop window display. Nowhere did I see a muzzle, nor did I find people cringing when a Rottweiler or a German Shepherd walked by. There was none of the seeming reticence about certain breeds, and one's best friend seems free to accompany them out most everywhere for an afternoon on the town. It was everything I expected from my visit to Paris, but didn't get.

I have said for many years, particularly in times when politics in this country were not going my way (like the dark days we have recently, and finally, moved beyond), that some day I was going to move to Paris. Last May, not having been to that city, I decided it was time to be prepared for the worst the following November. Plus, I wanted to be sure Paris lived up to my romantic ideal. Well, let me tell you, it's a lovely city, and contrary to their undeserved reputation in our country, the people were also lovely. At first, I was sure it was the city for me. The art, the architecture, the night life, the culture, all things were fabulous, and I was so ready to pack my bags until...I saw a man walking a very timid Rottweiler with a muzzle. The dog was panting and seemed uncomfortable in the humidity, and I couldn't understand why this sweet thing needed to be subjected to a caged mouth. My friend Leon explained in his very French accent, not knowing the can of worms he was about to open, that "Rottweilers are dangerous, and it is law that they must be muzzled if they are taken out in the public." I'm sure his ears rang for several hours after. He knows me well, and still speaks to me regardless of my response that day.

Rottweilers, yes, have the potential to be dangerous. So too does every single dog breed of every single size and shape. And, if one wants to talk about the danger factor, I will take a dog of any size over a cat any day of the week. I've said it before, folks, and I'll say it again, animals of every kind have individuality, for which I have coined the term "animality". Just like humans, each individual has the potential to be dangerous. Often, in the case of animals, it is the humans and their abuse or neglect that create the danger.

My first Rottweiler, Isabeau, was heavily abused by a drunk man for the first six weeks of her life. This was before I rescued her. She was horribly afraid of strange men, particularly if they were in their cups. A professional dog trainer and friend taught me to work with her so she would not snap, snarl, or growl at every man she met. Through positive reinforcement training, she became able to socialize in public, although being a smart dog owner, I was always mindful to keep her under control and away from parties and drinking. She was not, however, a fear biter as one would suspect, and she never needed to be muzzled, not even with her male vet during painful procedures due to cancer.

My current Rottweiler, Mercy, will help you carry out the television if only you offer her a cookie. Good thing I don't publish my address here, I guess. Be warned, however, that my dingo dog (below), a little thirty pound mutt, will be glad to chew off your right leg and your face and feed them to you, should you care to try it. My mother's Shih Tzu will be there to help clean off your bones, as well. He does a mean imitation of a dobie.

If I had to choose which dog to muzzle in public, it certainly would not be my sweet Mercy. Yet, when people see us out, they make a beeline for the cute little dogs and cringe away from the loving bigger one. For me, this isn't any different than any other form of prejudice. You cannot, and should never judge others, be it by race or species, simply by their outer appearances. In the case of animals, I suggest you might want to take another look here at my previous blog, The Danger Disconnect. A chimp looks mighty cute and cuddly, particularly when it grins at you, but you are a foolish person to approach one, especially if it's smiling.

Having the good fortune to have worked as a veterinary technician back in my younger days, before one had to be certified to do so, my co-workers and I quickly learned which animals were most likely to bite when handled. The worst of all were not even dogs or cats, but our clients feathered friends, particularly the parrots. I've seen them flay the skin open to the bone. This particular gentleman carried his macaw around an Asheville music festival all day, where perfect strangers were perfectly willing to hand it food. If you ask me, they are lucky they walked away with their fingers. If I were one to judge simply on a breed, I might be willing to suggest a muzzle for all Macaws.

But, let's keep it among the dogs for a moment. My fellow vet techs were known to come near blows over whose turn it was to handle to next Chihuahua that came into our clinic. We were perfectly happy to help restrain the larger breeds of dogs. After more than twenty years of zoo, vet medicine, pet sitting, and animal rescue work, I have only ever been bitten by numerous species of birds, several nasty little Chihuahuas, and a half drugged out Cocker Spaniel, who woke up during surgery. So, where does one get off saying that a certain breed is more dangerous and needs to be muzzled?

Enough has been said about a certain sports jerk who got caught dog fighting. Since any press is supposed to be good press, I will not even use that _____'s name(insert really nasty word of your choice here). Yet, most of his confiscated Pit Bulls have been rehabilitated, even after all of the horrible abuse they lived through at the dog fights. We watched the documentaries on television and saw them being trained to get over their fears. Most have been placed in loving homes, some even with children and other pets. Unfortunately, many of those families will certainly now have trouble renting a new home or finding insurance to cover them simply because they chose to do a good deed and give a home to an abused dog.

It is not now, nor will it ever be, simply a matter of the breed or the size of the animal that makes it dangerous. Every animal has this potential. A mouse can deliver death in one bite because of its ability to transmit disease. Perhaps we should make a law that all mice must be muzzled in the city, and if one chooses to keep these dangerous creatures as pets, one should certainly NOT be allowed to rent a home nor purchase insurance!
I hope this never happens again, but, if I ever find myself disgusted with my country in the future, I will not be moving to Paris, nor, I am sad to say, anywhere in France for that matter, unless they rethink some animal laws. Instead, I'll be looking for a place more like Asheville, where I can take Mercy and Cinco for a stroll on the town without muzzles, where we can enjoy a latte at the corner and shop together to our heart's desires. No city will be perfect, but this should be close enough for us.

All pictures provided by Amanda C. Sandos.

Lynchburg Pet Store Thinks Green

Diana Hobson is setting a green example for area business owners and customers alike. The owner of Pet Craze at Western Ways has chosen to think green in her new business endeavor on a number of levels including her buying practices, not only in the sale of environmentally friendly products, but also in the promotion of purchasing American and locally made products. She is also thinking green in her daily conservation practices like recycling, and through her advocacy of animal rescue over the sale of animals. Hobson is also the owner of the well-known Western Ways, which has been in business for thirty-five years, and remains the only specialized horse and tack store in the area.

When Western Ways began to bulge at the framing, and since Hobson didn’t own the building in order to enlarge it, she was forced to relocate it to a bigger red barn built around the corner. Rather than abandoning the original location, which in this economy might have left the empty building to sit for an unknown period of time, she opted to follow her interest in the proper care and nutrition of dogs. So, she created Pet Craze at Western Ways, a new specialty pet store and do-it-yourself dog wash in the old Western Ways barn. One might think all of this does not sound very green, but just wait until you dig beneath the surface.

With the help of a couple of long-time friends, Kathy Malloy and Lisa Boedaphur, the store underwent a few very small renovations, some even built with the help of friends and family. These included the addition of three stainless steel washing stations with easy access doors and ramps and three grooming stations with easy access steps. Pet Craze at Western Ways was open for business after only a few short months.

But, what is really great is all the ways Hobson has been thinking green in this new endeavor. For instance, she opted to install a tankless water heater with temperature regulators to conserve water and energy use in the tubs. She also installed lower energy blow driers for the dogs. Plus, the store provides micro-fiber super absorbent towels to cut blow drier time and natural shampoos that are environmentally safe. And, if you’re worried about all that laundry, not only do the micro-fiber towels cut the overall volume of laundry, but the store uses a load-sensitive, energy efficient washer and drier, as well.


Owners who take their pets to the groomers or even those who wash them at home in a traditional tub can now do so affordably with much less stress on the back. Plus, they can do so knowing they are not just saving money but helping to conserve water and energy in the process. Hobson will also be the first to tell her customers that dogs don’t need to be bathed too often. For a healthy coat and skin, they need their body oils and over washing only serves to dry their skin and waste time and valuable resources. Washing the dog once every few months is usually more than sufficient.

In addition to her new green dog wash, Hobson is taking proper dog and cat nutrition very seriously. In preparation for opening the new store, she attended conferences and took animal nutrition classes in order to make informed choices on what lines of high quality foods she should promote in her store. After careful deliberation, she has chosen some well-known and highly recommended brands like Wellness, Canidae, and Innova, along with some newer brands like the holistic line called Halo and the brand my own dog is raving about called Into the Wild. She offers some grain-free varieties for food allergy animals along with other organic foods and snacks for dogs and cats, as well. She even plans to keep one or two lines of fresh food in the store as soon as she has chosen the best products and the energy efficient freezer she’ll need to store them in. When it comes to nutrition, Hobson is making sure her store is stocked with the best brands America has to offer and employing a staff, including people like myself with over twenty years of animal care experience, that is knowledgeable and ready to assist the customers.

One of the things which impressed me the most about Hobson, and the biggest reason I accepted her offer to help out with this new project, is her insistence on promoting the best animal care practices. Rather than making a killing (often in more ways than one) selling animals like so many other pet stores, she will instead be promoting local animal rescue organizations. She has designated a blackboard area in the store for these organizations to advertise the animals they are currently trying to place, and Hobson plans to allow them to schedule weekend fundraisers and rescue fairs at the store. A donation box for the Humane Society was already in place for last Friday’s soft opening. Every person who asks about purchasing animals will be encouraged to consider rescuing a pet instead.

Even better for this former zookeeper, Hobson is not fond of the idea of promoting caged animals, and although she wouldn’t dream of begrudging others their own pet choices, she has made the personal choice to specialize only in the sale of items for dogs and cats, along with and a few things for the wild backyard variety of bird and affordable animal related gifts for the humans in the household.

Another thing that impressed me is her reluctance to purchase too many needless items for the store. Rather than making sure every shelf is bulging with all kinds of low quality junk from unknown locations around the world, Hobson has tried to buy mostly useful items made in the United States. Not only is she buying as many American Made products as she can, she will also be providing products made by several local artists and small businesses. In addition, she has no problems leaving a few shelves empty for the time being until she is sure she has purchased quality items that her customers will really use.

Indeed, there will be some items of the frivolous nature for the pampered pet and their owners, but I am confident Hobson will refrain from overindulging in this kind of thing. Since my first day working with her when she spent hours looking for and finally choosing the best, most affordable, and environmentally safe shampoo products she could find, I quickly realized that wasteful living and buying practices just don’t seem to be in her make-up.

Having grown up on a farm, Hobson is a lover of nature and no stranger to green living practices. She claims her long-time staff at Western Ways has grown weary of her nagging when it comes to things like recycling and reducing the amount of paper they use. Because Lynchburg does not yet offer recycling pick-up services, she can often be seen loading her own van with cardboard, paper, and plastic items to take to the nearest recycling center. Everyone in her employ is expected to help keep paper use to a minimum and to look for ways they too can help reduce, reuse, and recycle. It is not uncommon to find items made from recycled materials in the store, and she has even made sure to purchase and promote the use of pooper scoopers and biodegradable bags for disposing of the unwanted doggy trash.

So if you are a lover of dogs and cats, particularly if you are interested in green living, when your out running your errands come on by the new store in the little red barn on Route 221 in Lynchburg across from the Graves Mill Shopping Center. Feel free to bring your dog on a leash ( house rules) to check out the store and the baths in the new Pet Craze at Western Ways. Feel free to offer suggestions to the friendly staff about any items you would like to see on the shelves, particularly if they are of a green nature.

No dogs or squirrels were harmed in the making of these photos.

Happy Mother's Day

Believe me, I know how lucky I am. My mother and I are best friends. We always have been. I gave her a card this year that says "We are the best mother daughter duo in the world," and I think this really may be true. She always believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself. She is always there for me, too. Even though we live together again, we still enjoy each others company. We look forward to doing things together and rarely feel the need to avoid each other. For this, I am grateful every day. For all of you this mother's day, I wish for you a mother as fabulous as mine. May you also remember that you are lucky to have her. If you've lost her already,may the memories of all you shared be with you today and always and may they bring a smile and peace to your lives.



Today I took my mother to her favorite place, the Peaks of Otter Lodge for Mother's Day brunch. This is the view from our table.



She is always at work in her gardens. The same gardens that have been tended by generations of women in my family. For her and her love of flowers, I am posting some more pictures I have taken over the years in her garden. I hope you enjoy them.











Have a beautiful Mothers Day.

Earth Art by Amanda

Although I have shared photos, I have been remiss in sharing my paintings with you here at the old blog. Apart from the painting at the top of the page, I don't think I have posted any, so I'm going to sprinkle them into this post while I tell you about my latest adventures. The past few weeks have been crazy, now that I have actual paid writing assignments with the expected and dreaded deadlines, plus I continue to run a small pet sitting service, plus I took on a new part-time job helping someone else open a specialty pet shop in town (more on that once we are open for business). On top of all this, I am finally in the process of completing my application to graduate school.


The Zinnia Patch, 2008

College was wasted on me when I was young. I could not wait to get out into the real world, so I gave up a free ride to finish my BS at the age of twenty and took a zoo job in Dallas as quickly as I could. Now after years in the real world, I find I might want to stay in school for the remainder of my adult life. But seriously, I always regretted the decision to quit after only getting my associates, and so several years ago I made the difficult decision to leave my long-term zoo career and return to school. I completed my B.A. in 2008 in the midst of a huge controversy because the woman's college I chose to attend opted to go co-ed and did so with little grace and horrible communications with their student body, faculty, and staff. I ended up smack in the middle of sit-ins and demonstrations and everything college in the sixties seemed to be. Needless to say, I needed a break once I got the heck out of there, so I took a year off. But,the goal has always been to go all the way. I always wanted to be a doctor of something, although never one of the medical variety.


Emerald Boa, 2007

The biggest problem I ran across during my years as an undergraduate was this notion that we should choose one thing to specialize in, choose a major that would become our area of expertise. I've always been an eclectic sort with passions in a number of areas which generally all relate back either to the environment or to the arts or both. But, choosing one of these things over the others seemed impossible as each one compliments the other in the fragrant soup dish that is my life. I got around the notion of choosing a major by doubling up my work load and majoring both in English creative writing and studio art. My final senior project with both departments combined my love of writing, painting, photography, and the environment. My professors passed me, but I'm not sure they really believed I would continue to pursue all of these passions into my professional life. They often encouraged me to pay closer attention to one interest and decide how to pursue this one interest in my graduate work. The very idea made me crabby.


Crabbing, 2007

As usual, I rebelled against the voices of authority. In today's global and rapidly changing world, it seems people are not as interested in things that conform to strict guidelines of genre. Most consumers today are used to multi-tasking in multi-media, and they seem more interested in rapidly changing things that stimulate all their senses, hence the popularity of the computer, where blogging, gaming, and social media continue to grow. Already, with very little experience as a writer or an artist, I have been selling articles to magazines along with my own photography, and even one of the literary journals that will soon publish my poetry will also publish one of my photos to go along with one of the poems. Editors seem increasingly excited by someone who can produce both written and visual work. So, it seems to me that my graduate work should still incorporate both the visual arts and the written word. I want to continue to search out new combined ways to show the concept of deep ecology, the interconnectedness and equal importance of all things on our planet, through my work.


Mercy, 2007

After researching programs all over the country, I was starting to think there was no hope for these eclectic dreams. I thought I might have to conform to the academic world's old school methods, and I was not happy about it. Then, a friend pointed out Goddard College. This low residency graduate program offers an MFA in interdisciplinary arts and/or an MA with an independant study which can include a concentration in environmental studies. It's like they came up with this whole school just for me. So, I am once again wading in the waters of the paperwork swamp, while I also gear up to swim the crashing waves of financial aide tsunamis. Cross your fingers that I make it out alive. When and if my acceptance letter arrives, I'll surely be crowing about it.


As the Crow Cries, 2008

One more quick thing before I go. For those who were interested in the results of Disney's tree planting initiative which coincided with the opening of the movie Earth, go here to read the press release.