Summer was late this year in Colorado:

• We had cool, wet weather through mid-July.
• The Rockies still have snow on them. (Hiking season to the big peaks has been weeks late.)  And,
• Mr. and Mrs. Robin just bid adieu to their 3 chicks last week.  

Do you get a little off-kilter when things don’t go as planned?  I know I do.  My sense of time passing has to do with clocks and calendars:  when it says Memorial Day weekend, I’m ready to officially start the summer.  Unfortunately, nature had a different plan and summer waited to arrive here until mid-July.  Mrs. Robin knew about the change of the plans, because she built her nest in the crook of the molding on our front porch in late June.    If we’d been wise, we would have duly noted the late arrival of summer; instead we worried about her.

We didn’t expect to see a nest so late in the season.    Isn’t spring when nature’s babies arrive?  What was she doing?  As a Feng Shui specialist, I admired her choice in location – it was completely covered and protected from wind, rain and hail stones and it was very high up (the views must have been fabulous!) plus no cat, fox or squirrel could attack the nest.  She had covered the Feng Shui basics:  safety, comfort and beauty.   We saw her sitting out there day in and out and wondered if she was actually sitting on eggs.  We worried that she’d missed the spring baby deadline.

Who are we to question nature?  The baby birds arrived right on time – their perfect, natural time much to our (and I’m assuming their parents) delight!  Seeing three beaks poking out above the top of the nest and watching Mr. and Mrs. Robin swooping in with cherries from our neighbor’s trees, worms from our garden and water from our fountain gave us weeks of joy.  We had to stop sitting on the porch, of course, so we watched from the dining room window.  And, soon enough they were too big for the nest. I started worrying again – was it too soon for them to fly?  

We didn’t see them take off from the nest, but we saw one perched in our back garden in a flowerpot (resting perhaps after the first flight?).  Again, my worrying was for naught; nature knew that it was time to fly.   Now, I can’t tell them apart from any other robin that visits our garden and bathes in our fountain but I like to think that it’s our robin family out there cooling off.

As for summer, it arrived in all its glory when it was time.   Watching our robin family build their nest reminds me that an easy way to remember the basics of Feng Shui is to take a cue from nature, just as the ancient Chinese masters did in creating a beautiful system for helping us to find balance and harmony in our own lives, in our own time.

Hope you are reveling in the glory of summer!

I love being celebrated on Mother’s Day – with hand-written cards and breakfast in bed — but it’s a sad day, too for my own mother has been gone for 16 years.   I’m feeling this sadness as a fresh wound since my very dearest friend lost her mom this year.  The ritual of saying good-bye to our aging and/or ailing mothers has become more normal for me and my group of friends – a rite of passage for those of us of a “certain age”.  And, of course, death is normal – in Western culture we just don’t like to think about it.

The Chinese have a different way of thinking about death and incorporating it into their everyday lives.  They revere and honor their elderly and spend time and energy in finding an auspicious place for their loved ones’ remains.  Indeed, it was in seeking the most beautiful, peaceful, safe and comfortable place for the departed that Feng Shui came into being thousands of years ago.   Feng Shui literally means Wind and Water – two elements that show us the eternal nature of energy:  it cannot be created or destroyed; all things are made up of energy and it flows through all things.

Usually I apply the concepts and tools of Feng Shui in space – by moving furniture and objects to create balanced environments for my clients’ homes, offices and landscapes. Today, as I think and write about Mother’s Day, I am reminded of the how energy flows through us – from our ancestors before us through our very being into our children.  I see my Mom, her melancholy and her humor, in my son’s beautiful blue eyes – the only blue-eyed grandchild.  My daughter’s love of art and poetry comes from the wellspring of creativity that springs from my mother.  These are beautiful, everyday reminders of her.

In fact, I don’t just think about her on Mother’s Day.  I think about her everyday.  I speak to her in the car on the way to work.  I apologize for some of those things I did!  I commiserate that I finally understand what she went through raising kids – raising me.  When my mom passed in May, 1995,  a friend told me that day, “You will grieve for her the rest of your life.”  At first this was a shock to hear.  Was I going to feel this way forever?  This cutting pain in my heart, my mind, my stomach?  No, of course, not.  The acute pain does subside, but the missing her – never.  And, that is a good thing.  It means that I was so well-loved, so cherished, so watched and looked after that I will miss her, miss being mothered, for the rest of my life.  How very lucky I am.

My mom, in her wisdom, wanted a place to rest for eternity so we could visit her.  And, she has it – by a fountain next to a stream.  There is wind and water.  It is a lovely place to physically visit.  But, the place I visit her most is in my heart and mind, in the energy of thought and love.

The author and her mother sledding

Happy Mother’s Day to all who celebrate; to all who grieve; to my mama, and to Jeanne.