After weeks of waiting, one owlet is big enough to come out… a nesting doll.
Waking up is hard work. Early owly yawn:
like my fur?
Where’s little bro? He’s too young to come out. Still in the nest… taking it all in:
…. six days later, I found little bro out with Papa or Mama, see him?
No? How about now, zooming in:
and a close-up:
Here’s looking at you, kid. Soon, they’ll be gone, and another season of anticipation will pass. The circle of life.
To the movies next.
***
Got this from WordPress a couple days ago. How time flies!
Ripple Effects has been tracking my life for the past 18 years! The movies I’ve seen, books I’ve read, birds I’ve captured with my camera, places I’ve travelled, film festivals I’ve attended, and through the years with special thoughts every Easter and at Christmas, Reading the Season inspirational book sharing.
Through the years I’ve been featured on WordPress’ Freshly Pressed, and Rotten Tomatoes had reached out inviting me to be their Tomatometer Approved Critic. I’ve gained over 7,600 followers, treasured the friendship made with some of you both virtually via the blogosphere and personally. For this I’m truly grateful.
If I ever write a memoir, this is my manuscript. To browse through these posts is to know me. Thank you all for the pebbles you’ve thrown into the Pond to create your own ripples. Many of you are recent followers, but there are some who have been with me from early on. And I’m sure you’d find it revealing to read your own thoughts way back then.
Who knows what the future holds. As far as I’m given the opportunity, I’ll continue to document my pondering and wandering here at Ripple Effects. Hope this site can be your restful retreat in your journey through life as well.
~ ~ ~ ~
A time to be silent, and a time to speak.
What better days than Easter to speak of death, and life eternal.
“I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.” (John 11: 25-26)
The past few months I’ve been silent on Ripple Effects. Actually, for the past year, I’d been posting just occasionally. Fact is, for fifteen months, I’ve been caring for my husband afflicted with cancer. It had been a roller coaster ride of ups and downs. On some days, he was well enough that we could go out to have a meal in a restaurant; on other days, it would be just a tiny morsel or nothing at all. All these months, I’d learned to find joy in afflictions, and be grateful for just being able to sit down at the breakfast table together, the warm, morning rays seeping in, and immersed in the moment.
This year started with an ominous diagnosis. The metastasized cancer cells had not only mutated but the new growth was extremely aggressive. Battling terminal illness had made everything superfluous, books, movies, or music. What was left was the very essence of my being, faith in the risen Christ. Both of us were often revived by the promises of the living God, inspired by His Word, and sustained by the encouragement and prayers of countless supporters the world over via online prayer groups. It had been a journey of faith. Ultimately, it’s all grace.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed… (2 Corinthians 4:7-9)
On March 21, my husband departed to a better country. We were not unfamiliar with the immigrant experience. Now, a final move to that eternal kingdom, a homeland much more beautiful than anywhere in this world. He had arrived there first, I’ll join him one day. He was accepting, which was grace in itself. We were prepared, even planned his celebration of life service together. The event turned out to be a memorable occasion for hundreds to gather for a collective remembrance in peace and even joy.
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, for what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)
All because He is risen. He is risen indeed!
***
Happy Easter!
***
Fall is migration season. The Pond is a stopover for avian migrants enroute to coastal NW United States, or further south to the Gulf Coast and even Mexico. This year, for some reasons, the traffic at the Pond and the adjacent lake is particularly busy, all to a birder’s delight.
October came in like a lion and out like a lamb. We had heavy snow by the middle of the month when the leaves had not all fallen off from the trees and the grass was still green. The lowest temperature reached was -18°C, that, my friend to the south, is 1°F. The water at the Pond was frozen by the third week. But after that premature winter, we were blessed with warmer days towards the end of the month, and even breaking a one day record high on Nov. 2, reaching 23°C, or 73°F.
But it’s not the temperature that interests me. What I find amazing is the variety of waterfowl converging here on their way to the south and the way they come together.
Here are some photos in the past couple of weeks. Mallards, Mergansers, and Ring-billed Gulls side by side. I think I heard Lady Merganser say: so what if my Lucille Ball hairstyle or its colour is different from yours, just let me be and swim to my heart’s delight. Whether you dip or dive for your food, these diverse avian species know how to get along and enjoy the warm sun, fresh air, and clear water:
What does it matter that a female Goldeneye is leading a flock of Buffleheads:
From the front of the line: Female Goldeneye, Male Buffleheads (wearing white hoodies), followed by two Female Buffleheads (white patch on cheek).
At a lake nearby, more migrants converged. It was a pool party of diversity: Canada Geese, Goldeneyes, Mallards, Coots, Gulls… those were just the ones I could see from afar. Only when there’s peaceful coexistence can they conserve energy for the long haul, and leisurely soak up the sun, preen their plumage, do yoga stretch, and of course, fuel up on nature’s buffet.
Thanks to other birders alerting me, that’s the first time I saw Swans here. From a far distance, I sighted several of them on the half frozen lake (or, half melting lake):
I can’t decide even after researching online whether they were Trumpeters or Tundra Swans as I was unable to see their bills from so far away, not even from the enlarged photo later. The two on the right in the picture above are juveniles as they’re greyish in colour. The one in the middle in the foreground standing on one leg is a Canada goose. Note the difference in size.
That day, I had my fill of avian sightings, albeit just watching from the shore far from the activity. The swans stood out in their sheer physical impression among all the ducks and geese, yet they were gentle and not bullies.
Maybe the migratory birds know that they’re only here temporarily, as they’re all in transit. As time is short and their presence ephemeral, might as well be at peace with each other and indulge in what they are given: Nature’s bounty, and enjoy their fill of common grace.
***
We know how hard it’s been these past few months for you humans. Not gathering together means no more communal bathing. That’s tough.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re very adaptable. We love congregating, but we’re also fine with just being with our significant other.
and practise yoga together:
You may think of us as flocks, but we enjoy being solitary as well. That’s when we gain clarity:
or being solitary together, gleaning collective insights through our silent vibes:
Guess by now, you’ve gotten used to social distancing. We do that all the time when flying, no fun being poked in the eye by a flapping wing. Social distancing is not a problem as long as you know there’s someone flying with you, only 6 ft. away:
Some of you are gifted with a beautiful voice, we know all that. So you got to belt out from your balcony, we from ours:
I’m glad you’re finally reopening. Just like us, you can come out to eat, drink, and be merry, instead of doing that in isolation. We can share the world with each other once again.
But huh… keep your distance please. We’re bathing.
***
Just came back from a ‘Thelma and Louise’ kinda road trip with my cousin to Northeastern United States. Kinda but not exactly, for obvious reason: I’ve come back, bearing photos and a foliage report that says it’s not too late to head out even now.
According to locals, due to the warm, extended summer days, foliage change has delayed by about a week. I started my drive in late September to the first week of October, and I’d say the foliage color change was from 10% to 40%, depending on the locale.
Here’s the itinerary of my travels:
Wayland, MA –> Portland, ME –> Rockport / Camden, ME –> N. Conway, NH –>
Stowe, VT –> Williamstown, MA –> Wayland, MA
I’ll be posting interesting sights I encountered during this trip. Here’s my first entry.
Walden Pond
I started from Wayland, MA, a suburb about 30 mins. drive west of Boston. Walden Pond is just 6.2 miles north of Wayland. In pursuit of solitude, to taste the bare essence and to ‘suck out the marrow of life’, Henry David Thoreau cleared some trees in the woodlands owned by his friend Ralph Waldo Emerson, built a 10′ x 15′ cabin and on July 4, 1845, began to live there by the Pond, an experience that lasted two years, two months and two days.
A stone-throw from the parking lot of the Walden Pond State Reservation is a replica of Thoreau’s cabin. A friendly ranger greeted me:
Inside the cabin were the bare necessities, a bed, a table, a desk, three chairs: “one for solitude, two for friendship, three for society.”
As for the Pond, it was pure serenity. As for fall foliage, I could only see it in my mind’s eye:
So you could imagine my surprise to see beaches and swimmers. But of course, this is now a National Park, and it’s summer still:
The day was September 28, the few autumn leaves reminded me that transition of the seasons was indeed happening, however slowly:
As I walked around the lake, a sign pointed me to the actual site of Thoreau’s cabin in the woods:
And beside it, these famous words of his:
But nowhere could I find a sign posting this other quote which I also admire, on the economy of work:
“For more than five years I maintained myself thus solely by the labor of my hands, and I found that, by working about six weeks in a year, I could meet all the expenses of living.”
Don’t you just love his calculations?
***
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