Sunshine after the Rain

After many, many days of incessant rain, the sun has finally come back out. Bow is happy.

On Wednesday Lawrence stayed with Bow while I ran errands. When the delivery person brought a new man with her, Bow was at first wary, but then he warmed up to the new man. It turned out he really liked him. Bow gestured to Lawrence excitedly that he wanted to say something. Then he took Lawrence's hand and spelled: "I want him to come in."

Bow can go for a long time without saying anything new or surprising. But when he needs to say something in order to express himself, he knows how.

Someday, we will develop new ways to test intelligence and learning. Instead of expecting a subject to be compliant, we will test what they can do when they are actually engaged by the subject and are initiating a communication rather than responding to one.

Successful employers have already noticed that a high GPA predicts little about future performance by a employee, besides coming to work every day. Soon they will realize that standardized testing does not tell you much about creative use of intelligence in real life. Once we develop a way to determine knowledge and ability without cooperation, when we distinguish compliance from intelligence, Bow's achievements will shine, and people will see that he is much smarter than that dog who can identify objects by name on command.

In the meantime, Bow and I continue with our routines. There's a new review of Theodosia and the Pirates: The War Against Spain on Amazon. Bow and I are spending more time outdoors. In the video below from yesterday, Bow and I were just sitting peacefully on the stoop together, when I noticed an injured wasp on the floor. I asked Bow if he caused that.

Right after lunch, I went out for a walk and noticed a butterfly sunning itself on the road. I stayed and looked at it until a car drove by and the butterfly flew away.

On my way back to he house, I spotted several colorful butterflies enjoying the milkweed flowers in our pasture.

In the evening, I went to a local carnival with my daughter and her friend. It was Friday the 13th, and people had made up a rumor that there was a murderer at large at the carnival. Of course, we saw no sign of a murderer. But I did get a great shot of the sun setting at the carnival grounds.

Where is the Sunshine?

Yesterday, even though Bow had fun painting in the morning, by afternoon he really wanted to go outside. He asked to go, even though the sky was still cloudy, and a little rain was falling.

He went out on the ledge, where he was protected from the rainfall, considered climbing onto the swing, but thought better of it when he realized he'd get rained on. He came back in, but he was still not ready to give up. So he asked to go out again, and he was ready to settle for sitting on the ledge, when the rain came down even harder than before.

I kept painting, and by the end of the day, this is what our two paintings looked like. Bow's is on the left and mine is on the right. The brown in the backgound of my painting was a color that Bow mixed for me from the three primary colors I gave him. Looking at  Bow's painting, I can't tell what it's supposed to be, but it does seem to me that he tried to sign his name to it.

I don't mean that it looks like a perfect signature, but Bow's name is קשת in Hebrew, It looks as if he made the ק and then was trying to make the ת. Also, and this seems kind of weird, but it looks like he made a segol pointing mark under the wrong letter. The missing letter from the middle of his name is a shin, and it would have a segol under it. Like this:

                        שֶׁ

In fact, the ק also should have a segol under it. Is all this a coincidence, or did Bow mean something by the marking that looks like a signature?

I don't know. I do know that what Bow really wanted to do yesterday was go outside, and eventually, when the rain let up, he did.

Today has started out rather gloomy. It's looking to be another sunless day. Bow went out for a bit this morning, but he came back in, and before taking a nap, he looked a little depressed.

Let's hope the sun comes out this afternoon.

Painting on a Dark and Rainy Day

Bow and I are getting tired of being cooped up inside almost all the time. It has been dark and rainy almost every day for the past few days. This morning, I thought I would try to paint, but Bow asked if he could paint, too.

I was skeptical, because of his tendency to want to consume the acrylic paint, but I decided to try to give him another chance. He is maturing. He is less destructive. Maybe he could do better now.

I had to constantly remind Bow that the paint was not food. But he did do some painting between sampling each color to see how it tasted. He also mixed the colors and made new colors.

One of the things Bow did that seemed a little new was that he sometimes put the handle of the brush in his mouth and then painted with the other end.

 Some people who don't have hands do paint this way. I decided not to tell Bow it was wrong, because he does have a very sensitive mouth, and he seemed to be able to control the brush as well with his mouth as with his hands.

By the time Bow was done painting, he had mixed all the colors together and got a very rich brown.

The ultimate painting so produced looked like this.

Later it got even darker and it started to rain. Bow was very subdued. He hates the rain, but he did not seem to feel as much of a need to protest it.

After the rain let up, Bow took another nap. And now he is just lounging about. And that's just part of the morning.

Reading Together in the Red Chair

It is still very dark out today. Yesterday it rained a lot, and the outer pen is still wet. Bow and I spent all morning indoors.

The new book, Theodosia and the Pirates: The War Against Spain, was one of our preoccupations.

I even offered to read Bow a little, while sitting together in my red chair.

But Bow was more interested in grooming than hearing the story. He has has heard it so many times before.

Dark, Cloudy Morning

It's so dark out today that Bow has been napping all morning.

He wakes up every once in a while, flashes me a big smile, then goes back to sleep again.

Bow thrives on sunlight. When it is sunny, he is very active. When the sun hides behind a cloud, he becomes lethargic. He doesn't seem to want to do anything at all.

If the sun never came out again, we would see a lot less activity. But I expect it will come out again, sooner or later, so Bow and I are not worried.  This reminds me of the year without a summer, 1816, with which my new book Theodosia and the Pirates: The War Against Spain begins.

Without sunshine, how could all the flowers grow?

There would be no food and no trade and no money would be made, and people like Bow would not even consider buying books to read.

However, I am pretty sure that the darkness that has descended on us today is temporary.

I can hear thunder in the distance, and everything outside is wet, even though it is not raining here at the moment.

The wetness is good for the poor pea plant in the corner of the outer pen. It is still holding its own, though not climbing anymore.

Maybe we should all be more opportunistic in responding to nature, the way Bow is. When it is dark, we can sleep.

When the sun comes out again, we can regain our vitality. And when we feel like working, we can work. The only problem is that when it comes to lunch, Bow is always ready to eat, even if he has done nothing else all day. I think many of us have this problem.

Stages in the Life Cycle: How old is that turtle?

Sometimes just recognizing a stage in the life cycle of an individual is hard. When I was a young woman, many mistook me for a child. Bow is at that awkward adolescent stage, but if you didn't know him, you might suppose him to be much younger or much older, depending on how he is behaving.

At times he looks like a sage. Then later he gives you an impish look that reveals he is much younger.

How old would you  estimate this turtle is, that I met yesterday on my walk?

Would you have guessed over fifty years old? That's what my friend Pam says, and she is an expert. How does she know? Late Stage 3 shell growth. So this male three-toed box turtle is at least fifty years old, and could be a bit older.

Considering his age, the turtle is in good health, has a fairly undamaged shell and can move pretty fast -- for a turtle, that is.

I don't always appreciate how far along in the lifespan each individual I meet is, and how far it is from the end. Take my miniature rose bush. I planted it here about eight years ago. Last year it was thriving, blooming right along with the wild primroses. This year, when the wild roses bloomed, the miniature rose bush looked dead. There were no leaves, much less flowers. Now that the primroses have finished blooming, a small living survivor or descendant of the miniature rose is blooming. It sports a single open  rose and a single bud.

What exactly happened here? Are the wild roses choking out the cultivated one? Or was that bush so old that it died? Is the newcomer bursting forth a descendant? Or is the remaining ghostly presence of the now nearly dead old bush?

Is this the hope of the future that I see, or the last glorious bloom of a dying rose?

After looking at the rose this morning, I went to see if yesterday's turtle was still in the driveway in back of the house. He wasn't, but he had been replaced by a rabbit.

How old was that rabbit? How long does it yet have to live?

I like to listen the birds chirping as I admire the wildflowers in the unmown pasture. But how old are the voices that I hear? How many young? How many elders? I can hear, but cannot see them.

The old oak in my front yard is dying. It is infested with bugs, and it has been pecked at repeatedly by woodpeckers. It still has green leaves, but the tips of its limbs are bare. There is no more growth, though it seems to be holding its own in maintaining its current size. In contrast, what used to be the smaller oak to the left of it is still growing.

Do we start to die on the inside the moment we stop growing? Or is the sign of maturity the end of outward growth and the deepening of the roots?  What makes an individual an adult? What keeps us healthy, even when we have stopped getting taller? How can we avoid dying on the inside, little by little, while we are yet green on the outside?

Those are my questions for today. If you want to see a "pirate" grow old gracefully, you might consider my new book, Theodosia and the Pirates: The War Against Spain. 

Cover Illustration by Colleen Dick
http://www.amazon.com/Theodosia-Pirates-War-Against-Spain/dp/1618790099/

Everything in its Season

Now that I am paying more attention to my surroundings, I am noticing that there is a season to everything, sometimes a very fleeting one, when you can see a certain flower bloom or an animal having its young, and then just as quickly it's all over. Then it becomes the season for something else.

For the past few days, it has been honeysuckle season. The sweet smell is wafting in the air. The bees know this, and so they take advantage of this opportunity to fill up. Does honey made from honeysuckle taste sweeter?

When I go out and hear bees buzzing by the honeysuckle, that's when I decide to take pictures of bees by the honeysuckle. I don't ask them to pose. I'm just an opportunistic picture snapper.

Because the bees are busy going about their own business, sometimes they don't pause long enough for me to get a good picture. Sometimes they even turn their backs on me!

The first cherry tree is also coming into season right now. If we want to pick its cherries, we have to do so soon, because we have many competitors.

For humans and chimpanzees. the seasons are a bit longer. You don't see significant changes every day, though every day is different, nonetheless.

There are changes in our behavior and our appearance, and in our day to day interactions, but the changes are more subtle.

How do I choose what to photograph? How do I choose what to write about? The answer is: whatever catches my eye. Whatever gets my attention. Whatever moves me. I have a new book coming out, scheduled for publication today. How did I choose what to write about? I think it was what was in season for me. At my time of life, at my stage of development, this is what caught my eye, captured my attention and made me think: what if a country rejected you, but you still loved it. 

Yesterday, it was skink season. Well, maybe it was not skink season for you, but it was for me. Here is how it happened. I went outside, and I saw a bee buzzing around my plants. "Maybe I'll take a picture of this bee," I thought to myself. But as I approached, the bee buzzed away. Then I saw a butterfly, and I got ready to take a picture, but it was gone before I could click. Then I heard some rustling and two skinks scampered away among the stones in my garden, each to a different position on the outer wall of my house. But not so fast that I could not film them.

The first skink was bigger and had less coloration around its face. It did not stick around very long, disappearing into a crack in the gutterwork by the roof. The second skink was smaller, slimmer and had a lot of reddish coloring around its face. It stayed around much longer.

What we write about is what we see. But what we see also depends on who we are and on our stage of life. I would not have seen those two skinks  a few years ago at the same time, because I might not have been alert enough to their existence, even if they were in season. It might have been skink season for everyone else, but not skink season for me.

What is in season for you today? Chances are that's what you're seeing.