TO PLANK OR NOT TO PLANK?????

Some of you may recall my latest yoga efforts that resulted in a visit to the E.R. with an incredibly sore back making the slightest movement painful, and left me wondering where was the yoga-induced flexibility and Zen-like energy I was supposed to be enjoying. 

(Those actually were found in the narcotic solution injected into my vein by the helpful smiling nurse. Who knew? And I didn't have to wear lycra to achieve the lovely tranquil state.)

Since then my son bought me a yoga mat which I can carry in a lovely yoga-mat bag a friend made me, and another son gave me the ever helpful 'The Complete Idiot's Guide to Yoga'.

So so much support from family and friends. I didn't have to drop ANY hints that I was still actively interested in yoga. Not a one. How very pushy intuitive of them. 

The thing I liked best about going to yoga was telling everyone the following day that I went to yoga. Once the shock admiration wore off their faces it kind of lost its appeal. But since I have this brand new heavy duty yoga mat, stylish hand-stitched bag, and step-by-step guide book, I might as well return and try it again. 

Wish me luck.

(Any idea of what I could get for a used mat and guide book on Craig's List??? Just weighing my options . . ..)

NARY A PARTRIDGE IN SIGHT BUT . . .

The apple tree in our backyard was a house-warming gift from friends over 25 years ago. Since then it has been knocked over twice: once by a wind storm and once by the sheer weight of the apples. We have had a few years where the tree yielded over 1000 apples per season. I know because I peeled hundreds and hundreds of apples filling my counter with pies and crisps, and filling my freezer with litres and litres of apple sauce. My Dad has dried pounds and pounds of apples and we have given apples away until people started avoiding us like zucchini growers from the summer.

I can view it from my kitchen windows and often see several chickadees or juncos resting on the branches. Once I counted as many as a dozen steller's jays -  their cobalt bodies dotting the tree like smudges of an artist's brush.
Most surprising of all was the visitors I observed last week: seven robins all at once decorating the tree like a true harbingers of Spring. This was the first time I have ever seen more than a two or three robins at any one time. It brought back memories of one of the first poems I memorized as a child:

LITTLE ROBIN REDBREAST

  By Anonymous

Little Robin Redbreast

Sat upon a tree; 

Up went Pussy-cat,

Down went he.

Down came Pussycat,

And away Robin ran;

Says little Robin Redbreast

"Catch me if you can".

Little Robin Redbreast

Hopped upon a wall;

Pussy-cat jumped after him,

And almost got a fall.

Little Robin chirped and sang,

And what did Pussy say?

Pussy-cat said "Mew", 

And Robin ran away.

Our apple tree is a  Belle de Boskoop which is a tart apple with a very tough skin so it tastes best once peeled. It is a late Autumn apple - we often wait until Thanksgiving weekend to harvest them and once picked the flavour improves after a few weeks. However because of regular visits from local bears we often have to gather the apples earlier in the season than we would prefer.

One summer when the tree was particularly verdant and lush with apples, we didn't notice that a colony of wasps had started to make a nest inside a wood and glass bird feeder deep within the tree. Once noticed we left it not wanting to disturb them. Their nest became strange and rather mystifying as they created it in a strange configuration in and around and outside of the birdfeeder. It was like observing a living optical illusion.

Presently the tree has tight green buds - slowly awakening from its deep winter's sleep. 
It is a source of beauty, nourishment, refuge, - offering sustenance to many birds, insects, and even bears. I watch it and observe the seasons enveloping it - a reflection of the cycle of nature.