We are at the beach again, which having been born and raised in the land-locked Midwest, might be our favorite place. How does that work for you? Is your favorite place where you were born and raised, or someplace else? Maybe you live in your favorite place now. How nice is that? In a way I do too. My home in the woods with the hawks and geese, lizards and frogs, deer and coyote, certainly could be the best place for me to wake up to. Pine Knoll Shores, NC
I read the most interesting article in my favorite magazine, The Simple Things, a UK publication. In an feature called Rare and Magical Sights, the writer noted her joy in spying a lizard. I love lizards too, and box turtles, but especially this time of year lizards are almost as common as pairs of Cardinals, nothing rare about them. On any deck, patio or rock lizards lie in any spot of sunshine, necks outstretched toward the warmth. If they show up indoors, we gently catch them to relocate outside. Blue-tailed lizards, anole lizards that change from vibrant green to brown, male broadhead skinks with orange-red heads. We see these sunning or skittering every day as soon as the weather grows warm.
That so interests me about the UK: I had no idea that lizards were rare there. But then, our friends from Santa Barbara, California, were taken with our squirrels. That's not a thing with us; there are far too many squirrels where we live. Yes they're playful and fun, but they also dig up my pot plants looking for the hickory nut they just buried yesterday.
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Still, I love it all, don't you? Never ever would I have a complaint about living in a woods. Trees fall, creeks flood and the morning sun in the bedroom windows is still a gift. But here too, here at the coast.
The North Carolina beaches are not crowded. Some days in July the sand is hot as coals, but yet the water buoys and lifts, literally, with waves to ride and hollows to float in. May through October, volunteers walk the early morning sand looking for sea turtle crawls that indicate a nest has been laid. The nests are then marked with yellow tape to protect these endangered reptiles. We are careful to turn off lights at dark so as not to confuse them. Volunteers continue to keep watch over the nests in case the hatchlings need help to make their way to the water. Most of our hatchlings are loggerheads.
This is what we must all do, isn't it--find joy. Here in America there is all kinds of hell going on. In response, my blue-collar town holds demonstrations, occupies bridges, cares for our immigrant community members, supports public television and National Public Radio. Duke University is our biggest employer and we support free speech on campus and medical research. And elsewhere in the world. Maybe like me, you are grieved each day when Palestinians in Gaza are killed as they wait for their food donations to arrive. Children there are starving, grown-ups too. We've almost forgotten about Ukraine, which I do not want to do. People suffering at least deserve to be seen. The Ukrainians are fighting for all of western civilization.
All of this makes finding joy in our day-to-day more important. We know the terms lifespan and time-span, but joy-span is a concept too, the concept of living your life, however long or short, with joy. It's not something to put on your To-Do list, but it is something to recognize and accept when it comes our way. City parks, forest-bathing, vacations at the beach or in the mountains, staycations, reading a book or taking a trip, calling a friend, rescuing a turtle or lizard or friend-in-need or stranger-at-risk . . . .
It's all God-pleasing I think. To take care of endangered loggerhead turtles, to help our fellow humans who are without homes or even country. I'd like to be able to answer the question "What are you doing?" with, "I'm doing the best that I can."
In peace and joy, Nina Naomi