Monday's Blog-Eyeshine

Their eyes reflect a bright gleaming eyeshine. In the bird world, the Nightjar's

 show an orange-red eyeshine, the Chuck-will's Widow eyes show pink or orange eyeshine.The Bobcat, Domestic cat, and so many more species display bright eyeshine giving the avid birdwatcher a hint of their whereabouts in the night sky. 

The majority of these glowing eyes belong to mammals, but spiders, alligators, and bullfrogs are a few other creatures with reflecting eyes. Some night birds also have eyes that glow in the dark, but their eyes do not have a tapetum layer. Scientists are still trying to solve the mystery of their source of eyeshine.

Animals that display the brightest eyeshine are nocturnal having more rods (light receptors) and fewer cones (color receptors) in their retinas than animals with no eyeshine at all. As a result, they have excellent night vision, but most are color-blind.  

(My source, https://tpwd.texas.gov/publications/nonpwdpubs/young_naturalist/animals/eyeshine/).

 Once again, My Virginia grandsons have provided me with these facts about hard to spot birds in the night time forests. 

Our extended family is still on a high after our second youngest grandson celebrated his bar mitzvah this past weekend.

I did not encounter the animal-like eyeshine on those days, but I did see "eye shine" in the orbs of our family members and the bar mitzvah boy himself. The thrill, the pride, the love and the joy were reflected in the eyes and hearts of all of the attendees. 

Corey's Drash (interpretation of his Torah reading) inspired us and presented us with thoughts above and beyond the scope of the average 13 year old. He did it with well researched facts, in his own words and with great humor.  This blog will stay short and sweet, in keeping with my Message in a Minute title, but only because I am still ingesting the wonderful event (simcha) and seeing our fabulous family members and dear friends. 

Further, in my brief research, I have learned that a band calling themselves EYESHINE has reached stardome. A band, based in Los Angeles, and calling itself Eyeshine first found success in 2006 with a unique blend of pop punk and post grunge, a genre called edge rock.  Eye Shine, two little words, so much nuance and meaning. May your eyes shine in the joy of life.

 Eyeshine is an American underground rock band formed in 2004 by front man Johnny Yong Bosch
https://tpwd.texas.gov/publications/nonpwdpubs/young_naturalist/animals/eyeshine/

Animals that display the brightest eyeshine, such as the bobcat, have more rods (light receptors) and fewer cones (color receptors) in their retinas than animals with no eyeshine. As a result, they have excellent night vision, but most are color-blind.

The majority of animals displaying eyeshine also are nocturnal animals.

CHUCK-WILL'S-WIDOW Caprimulgus carolinensis A big brown nightjar of ... Like other nightjars, shows pink or orange eye-shine in headlight beams at night.

First frost bonus

First frost means many things to many people. Some love it, some dread it, some welcome it, others just plain shiver.   Residing in the latter category, my level of appreciation was pretty low until learning a fact from my savvy 15 year old grandson Alexander escorted by his brother Corey, 5 days away from his Bar Mitzvah celebration.  They live on a farm nestled in a hollow in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia.  On a hike along the wooded edge of the farm's branch of the Hardware River (a stream) Alexander picked some fruit from a small tree.  He took a cautious bite of the fruit making a face reflecting his sharp distaste for the fruit in question. "It is an American persimmon," he declared, "much smaller and deeper red than the Asian Persimmon" often found in produce markets sporting the familiar sweet and delicious flavor. 

This tiny persimmon has a hard, shiny shell and is quite bitter, an oily and unpleasant taste that can linger for days. But, after the first frost the tiny persimmon takes on a whole new personality.  As if on cue, overnight we reached the freezing mark, the first frost of the season, changing the fruit dramatically.  Post-frost, the shell turned soft and wrinkly, the taste satisfying, sweet and delicious. 

In the morning our grandson hopped aboard our Motorhome clutching 4 of the American persimmon.  Indeed they are delicious, sweet and desirable. What a treat.  Most other plants die. shrivel or wither upon the first frost.  So with a bit of trivia in mind, the American persimmon has a redeeming characteristic, coming to life in the wake of the first frost of fall. What fun to hike through the woods, hoping to spot trees bearing such a treat; instant gratification and chemical free.

Many surprises await the hiker throughout the year, elusive treats challenging detection before forest critters claim and devour the prizes.  They could be spring fiddle heads, truffles, a variety of nuts and berries, mushrooms, edible flowers and so much more.  Let me know your favorite "secrets" of the forest?

Monday Blog; Not quite Paparazzis

A face appeared in the top segment of the bathroom window of my apartment. He balanced a protective helmet atop his head, wore overall style work clothes and a plaid shirt and held a mean paint scraper in his right hand.  It is summer and we are off the road from our 10 month adventure via motorhome. This marks the second year the painting crew will work on the facade of our vintage 1868 Cast Iron building. The guys soar from work area to work area gliding on a platform held high on a royal blue long necked ribbon of the crane. What a Herculean task they have taken on, scraping, prepping and painting the large facade of the building that started life housing a patent medicine factory appropriate to the era of its birth. As tenants, we enjoy the beautiful and sturdy wooden floors, walls of brick, some sporting graceful archways, plaster abstract shaped ceilings high above our heads and wavy, old flowing glass windows that fill most of the facade of the building.

I have adopted the habit of checking the windows for those innocent but determined faces that could appear from 7:30AM on as I may be entering the shower or other morning routines. Unannounced, they arrive to scrape and paint their way to the finish date sometime in the near future. It is a challenge to duck and avoid their unintentional gaze. 

The accidental voyeur intrusion is behind us now. We are on the road for the next few months and free from the blue long necked held platforms appearing on our windowsills.  The pigeons return as the workers depart, to poise on the window ledges cooing and wobbling back and forth communicating in language only other pigeons may understand.

We anticipate many adventures ahead of us on the road and in many campsites, where we also practise vigilance in closing window shades for privacy, keeping to the quiet hour rules and properly managing our hookups. At present, we are camped in a campground in Pennsylvania, called Shangri-La. We have stayed here many times and brought family members and guests with us. The campground is very child oriented, and on this Columbus weekend there are children and dogs everywhere managed by parents, relatives and siblings. Camping here has always been a place of transition to enter this other faze of our lives. Letting go is a process, whether it is seeing children off to kindergarten, camp, college, saying goodbye to dear friends, loosing a family member or dear friend,  We will miss family, friends, favorite cultural venues, long walks along the river, and great memories.  This year is made easier in anticipation of two of our grandsons celebrating their b'nei mitzvot in the coming months, and the adventures to come.

Life is full of change, enhanced by the ability to communicate electronically. Trying to keep on top of current vehicles to communicate is another adventure. Will we miss the hum of the blue necked crane at our windows? Probably not but we will welcome the joyous voices of children at play, hugs and kisses as we favorite people along the road, the delight of the next beautiful sunset out our rig's windows and yet more enchanting discoveries throughout this vast and beautiful land of ours.

Monday blog

So many of you have been notably kind to ask me if they have missed seeing my blog "message in a minute."  I have been remiss, it has been long time since my last post. What a point of frustration this is for me as I love to write. Life gets in the way, just doing so many wonderful things. I am still amazed that people care or even think of my blog posts, but I do enjoy reading blogs from people like you, so I get it. My current plan and approach is to post a blog every Monday (I am hoping to be disciplined enough to carry this through and cover many topics ad tell many stories.)

How to start again? I needed an idea. Humans love categories and classifications; such as the lineup of sibling birth order, 1st born, 2nd born...and the effects on our growth and development. Consider the theories about number of siblings, family background, family interaction, economics, parental occupations, personality traits and more. I decided to delve into the history the day of our birth has had in lore, fable and storytelling.  I looked up my birth date and day and confirmed that I am a Monday Child.  Ah, a starting point and title. 
My source:
URL of reference http://www.dayofbirth.net/leftlinkmain.php?day=mon#.VhGnYHpViko

Born on a MONDAY: I checked sources to see what traits are attributed to Monday births;

• having a good memory; Hmmm, not as sharp as in the past
• very sensitive and emotional; Yes, that is me, A constant in my life
• spend lots of time with family, relatives and close friends, very true 
• Harbor a love of peace and serenity and attempts to make peace; I am a mediator
• likely to be involved in a skill-based occupation, very business minded. Skill based fits, `photography, teaching, organizing, instigating and arranging.  Business? Luckily my beloved is a business pro.
• Monday born women may suffer from anemia related problems, weakness, insomnia and dizziness. luckily, this isn't in my profile. I do exercise daily as suggested.
• Girls born on a Monday grow up to be very good wives and mothers, loving and caring, taking good care of close ones. My family will have to testify to this one for me. I think I make the grade. 

This is my entry point for my blog and as always, I look forward to reader's feedback.

Perhaps you already know your DAY of birth. If not see http://www.rocketcalendar.com/calendar/

I hope my future posts will be stimulating and thought provoking. How do you fit into the profile on the day of your birth? I'd love to hear from you.

Happy Fall

"Will your child be fair, graceful, or woeful? Is your baby a Monday’s child? Tradition holds that you can predict your child’s temperament based on the day of the week they were born. Fortune telling rhymes based on the weekday of birth originated in England around the 1500s. Many superstitions existed regarding the days of the week. The fortunes, personalities, and temperaments of children were considered regulated by their weekday of birth." source http://www.famlii.com/mondays-child-day-of-the-week-nursery-rhyme-predicting-childs-personality/

Recycle your Possibilities

Recycle your Possibilities!   Driving along our favorite and irresistible highway--California's Route 1 along the Pacific coast we passed a hiker bearing those words on a he-man backboard sign explaining in three simple words his purpose for trekking along this route. We drove past him climbing a steep uphill road. He was needless to say, walking slowly, reserving his strength and waving to passersby.

It makes you wonder about his story and choices in life, propelling him to devise a hike for all to witness. What conversations he must share when he has company trekking alongside or heads off road for a snack break, a meal, or night's sleep in his sleeping bag and tent. What an adventure. But then again, isn't that life? Seeking a new direction, healing, adventure, change, choice, struggle, hopefully with the support of others who care.

An oft recited cliche states that people typically make an average of seven career changes in a lifetime. That was said well before the electronic age now providing finger-tip opportunities for research, outreach and choices. I have had the experience of making choices and investigating new opportunities, but never imagined them in terms of recycling. For me, the first thoughts that come to mind when I seeing the word recycling are the obvious matters of dealing with material goods; discardables, electronics and the like. But the concept of recycling possibilities raises a whole new connection beyond the stuff we acquire. It is the stuff of life that matters the most, our emotional and intellectual well being. When I think of the hiker's terminology, Recycling Your Possibilites, I play the Alphabet Soup game, turning it into RYP or ripe. Ripe for new direction and fresh thinking. 

I recall grabbing all of my strength and resources to cope with family members or friends behaviors in directions away from expectations, accepting the loss of dear friends at young ages, their divorces, and other happenstance that came their way, What difficulty I had coping with the loss of my father at the young age of 71, my mother's sudden onset of cancer.  Spiritual healing often became a big issue.  I remain in constant need to rethink my expectations and goals and learn to understand and accept who I am and to try to "be there" for others who need support and understanding. I am sure I am not alone in this quest.

This is another chance for interaction with my readers. I have in the past asked you to share book titles you have enjoyed, share photographs or other ideas. I seek feedback on what RYP recalls to your minds, to share your interpretation of the three words. Meanwhile, I hope this has been a pathway to food for thought, a chance sighting of a hiker with a purpose and has spurred thoughts for you to recall and to share. 

Not at This Address

Our rig was perched in a campsite high above the beautiful blue Pacific Ocean. Our mail-forwarded package arrived on time (from our address in Texas.) Following our usual routine, Paul opened the large envelope and scanned through the mail that included most of usual items; magazines, bills, updates of accounts, Medical reports, agency and organizational letters and brochures ("tree-killing hard copies that we beg companies and agencies to only send via email.  (They don't always honor those requests) and a few other items. A letter addressed by hand was included at our address. My name, Carol was quite legible, the last name was illegible and we never checked it and it was routinely slit open. The return address was an address in Denver  (no name, a place that we have visited and have acquaintances.) Paul nicely placed it on the table for my reading. 

Indeed I did remove the letter to read. It was beautifully written by hand, double sided on white lined paper measuring approximately 5" x  8." Every line was filled to the final word, lacking a signature. However the author's name was contained several times in the text. I was compelled to finish the letter, even though I did not recognize the name nor the woman or her situation. She poured out her heart to the intended recipient; thanking her profusely for her cards, letters, caring hugs and love over 2-3 years and apologizing for the belated response and for the slightly shaky handwriting, due to her MS and other health complications. As I mentioned, I thought the handwriting to be beautiful and flowing with a hint of quiver. 

Needless to say, I was in tears by the time I read the final words. First of all for her life story and second of all, because I felt like a voyeur, an intruder. At that point I looked harder at the front of the envelope. Our address was correct but the letter was indeed intended for another client of the mail forwarding service. Again, the first name was legible, the last name indecipherable. I placed the opened letter in another envelope with a note to the forwarding service to PLEASE PLEASE determine the correct box number and forward this letter to the intended recipient. I placed it on the dashboard to mail in the morning. 

The next morning came and we prepared for our departure to visit our wonderful son and family in LA. That means carrying lots of stuff to the toad re;tow car or Jeep (purse, cameras, totes, promised paper goods and food items and the letter. Paul pulled up to the mail box and lo and behold, we could not find the letter. I know it was in my hands getting into the car. I was sure it was on the rig, therefore we would mail it this evening upon our return. What a great day as everyday is with our kids. Back to the rig late at night, the letter was not on the dashboard. 

I was devastated. How could I make sure the recipient knew what a difference she had made in this woman's life. A life of pain, disease, dialysis, late onset of that horrible mid life disease  MS, wheel chair bound and loved by many people like the letter's author. I had a hard night getting to sleep. The next morning we prepared  once again to drive into LA. As we packed the car our neighbor from the rig next door addressed Paul, wheeling himself towards us in his wheel chair. He handed us the letter that he had found near his Porsche. As you can imagine, I thanked him over and over again. Yes, he is disabled but extremely independent, strong and always smiling. Another neighbor mentioned that this man refuses any help, gets along very well and does indeed drive a Porsche. 

I ached to relate to him the irony of the letter that he rescued, another person with a life story of suffering, pain and overcoming hardship. However, I was not sure it was appropriate and we had a schedule to meet. My heart was singing. When we said our goodbyes to him on departure day we promised to see each other in the same spot next year as he is a long term resident of the campground overlooking the Pacific. We hope to spend more time that visit in the campsite and have time to get better acquainted. Maybe  next year, I will tell him the story of the rescued letter.  Days later, I still think of our neighbor and his great self sufficiency and of the woman in Denver pouring out her heart to a recipient whom I hope and pray will receive the letter, a little late, a little battered, but whole and heartfelt. And to you dear readers, thank you for reading this longer than usual Message in a Minute and letting me pour out my heart. 

Descent

Descent; descending; going down; it is all downhill from here. Reaching your low, down and under, all cliches that come to mind when thinking of simply going downward. But, I am thinking in simpler, physical terms. Our last week was spent camping in our rig in the mountains of southern California in Jojoba Hills, an SKP co-op park sitting 2200 feet above sea level, Our purpose, to audition" a possible location to call our western base. Besides our Rochester apartment, our Eastern base is our son's and family's wonderful farm nestled in a hollow in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia--altitude, 1250' above sea level.

The location of Jojoba Hills is glorious and the membership so caring and friendly that we are now #18 on the waiting list for a lot of approximately 50' x 70' with views to raise your spirits and offering every amenity, class, activity, volunteer opportunity to fill a life time. Today, we tore ourselves away from the mountain refuge to spend a wonderful holiday--Pesach in Los Angeles with our other son and family. That is where the descent comes in.

I am presently looking through the windshield staring at the Pacific Ocean, vast, swift and beautiful. We are in Malibu Beach at about 12' above sea level. The views are still breathtaking, the sea winds match the sweetness of the mountain breezes, the air is fresh if not a bit misty. The only problem is the relentless drought that has the Southwest in its tight grip (and of course, dense traffic.)

It is hard not to be grateful for the beauty of our planet and our common voices expressing disdain for the environmental problems, social behaviors, wars and conflicts that plague our world. Let us not fall into the pit and hit bottom, Working together (Utopian I know) we can return to the heights and breath the truly fresh air and see the stars in all of their glory.