Household Chores Consume Me

“I think housework is far more tiring and frightening than hunting is, no comparison, and yet after hunting we had eggs for tea and were made to rest for hours, but after housework people expect one to go on just as if nothing special had happened.”
—from The Pursuit of Love by Nancy Mitford

It’s Spring Cleaning Time at my house. And at my mother’s house, to which I’ve contributed some muscle. Housework, for me, is a Sisyphean and mind-numbing activity. I sympathize with Nancy Mitford’s heroine. After hours of exertion, I too feel that something special has occurred and deserves recognition.

On the other hand, like the woman in the painting, I’m easily distracted while cleaning. What’s more, I’m not especially good at the task, largely because it bores me. So I guess this Lull post is the most I can hope for to mark the occasion—the shift from dirty to momentarily clean.

Hope your activities this weekend are more engaging than housework…

[Art by Edouard John Menta.]

Paradox

“One of the great dreams of man must be to find some place between the extremes of nature and civilization where it is possible to live without regret.”
—Barry Lopez



[Photo by N. J. Jackson.]

Taking Time (A LONG Time) to Smell the Flowers

I fell for this little daisy-hugger the other day and had to share him/her with you:

“Where’er he dwells, he dwells alone,
Except himself has chattels none,
Well satisfied to be his own whole Treasure.”
—From “The Snail” by William Cowper

[Photo by Audrey Green.]

Balm for a Bad Day

Here’s a little humor for my sister (and anyone else battling the clueless or malevolent). 

 
[Art by Erin Smith.]

Returning from My UBS (Unexplained Blogging Silence)

Hello. It’s been a while. I’ve no good reason for my long absence—not one I can easily articulate anyway. But let me tell you a story…

Eons ago at a motel in California, my five-year-old self left two very tired parents in their room and set off to explore. My parents’ exhaustion now seems understandable to me. Who wouldn’t frazzle while traveling cross-country with two contrary teenagers and one youngster who ceaselessly asked questions?

So I was on my own on a clear, sunny afternoon. I surveyed the area—a playground for motel guests, a neighborhood of houses in the distance, more families checking in to their rooms, the symmetry of the motel exterior, the sameness of every room altered only by the numbers on the doors. Nothing remotely interesting to me. In fact, the afternoon was looking so bleak I wish I hadn’t left my parents. And then a flash caught my eye.

I looked skyward, only to be blinded by glaring sun. After focusing, I saw it: an oblong, silver metal vehicle encircled by slender, perpendicular cylinders each ending in a colored light. What was it? I looked around to see who else had noticed, but no one was looking up.

The vehicle came closer to the motel and glided slowly overhead. I HAD to share this with somebody! I raced back to the motel room, threw open the door, and burst in with my news. But before I got the whole story out, I realized that the people listening to me were NOT my parents. I was in the wrong room—so embarrassed I never wanted to leave my parents again (assuming I’d be able to find them). By the time I got back to them, my humiliation far outweighed my cosmic experience and I couldn’t wait to get on the road again. I was ready to leave this dismal place in the dust.

Of course, between my UFO tale and my accidental exuberance with strangers, my parents enjoyed a good laugh at my expense. But I know what I saw.

Years on, my UFO encounter well behind me and never mentioned again, I was trying to verify something I was editing. A newspaper article led me to a book chronicling unexplained occurrences. I found more than I’d anticipated.

Several pages of one chapter were devoted to the same shiny, colorful vehicle I saw on my first family vacation. The descriptions matched mine, the vicinity was the same, the time of year synced as well.

Hmmm. Other people saw it? You mean I wasn’t suffering from heatstroke or an overactive imagination? Cool. I could reshuffle my brain a bit and recategorize this memory without shame.

Fast-forward to April 2013—a month during which I should have had LOTS to write on Lull. A month celebrating poetry, honoring trees, raising awareness about animal cruelty. Yet I remained strangely silent. Honestly, I don’t know why. Lacking a better excuse, I offer this: That shiny hovercraft with colored lights came back for me.

Yup. I was abducted by aliens.

[Photos by N J. Jackson (palms at top) and NASA.]

Waiting For Every Day To Be Earth Day

“Knee-deep in the cosmic overwhelm, I’m stricken
by the ricochet wonder of it all: the plain

everythingness of everything, in cahoots
with the everythingness of everything else.”

—from “Diffraction (for Carl Sagan)” by Diane Ackerman

One Small Step Toward a Better Dog Shelter

The facility for my local humane society is only five years old. At that youthful age, you’d think it would actually be as “state-of-the-art” as it’s described on the organization’s Web site. Sure, the colorful murals of the lobby warmly welcome visitors and the classical music playing in the dog wing shows consideration for the comfort of the animals; the staff’s upbeat and caring attitude is commendable. But none of these conceals the harsh environs the architect thought appropriate for homeless canines.

The adult dogs reside in a large, open concrete-block room in rows of cages with concrete floors that are separated by concrete block walls. Lots o’ concrete and NO apparent soundproofing, which makes for a VERY noisy habitat. And to a pooch who’s scared or nervous or troubled in any way, the din of the room must be unbearable. Especially when the barking begins, and it takes only one tiny terrier yelp to get 100+ dogs going. The music meant to calm the residents only adds to the cacophony. Between the noise and the concrete greyness/hardness, the place can really do a number on you.

But last month, the shelter held a special fundraising drive for one purpose: to purchase a bed for each dog cage. Donors were asked to contribute $50 per bed. And what do you know? In no time at all, caring folks met the quota.

Now each pooch has one soft place to go to relax or seek solace. Isn’t that wonderful? It’s such a simple effort, but one that makes all the difference for these homeless creatures as they wait for their future to begin.

[Top photo from Sweet Nothings Designs; dog photo from the Lexington Humane Society.]

Life Instructions

The nest in the photograph is atop a young oak tree across the street, spread across branches that aren’t much more than twigs. What I am unable to show by camera, though, is how amazingly minuscule the nest is. I could hold two of them in the palm of one hand.

It’s not a new nest, and when I recall how many terrific winds have gusted through the neighborhood this year alone, the engineering of the bird home is all the more remarkable. Whose is it? Will they be returning to it, as so many birds do?

I’ll start monitoring it. As the oak begins to bud and leaf, I expect that’s when the home will be reinhabited. I’ll keep you posted.

Until then, I aim to follow these wise words from poet Mary Oliver, and I encourage you to do the same:

“Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”
—from “Sometimes,” in Red Bird by Mary Oliver

We Lost an Original Today

“ ‘Kindness’ covers all of my political beliefs. … We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.”
—Roger Ebert

[Photo from Wings of Desire.]

Seeing Red—and Pink

Years ago, when part of my job was to research best practices in business management and leadership, one controversial topic was benefits for same-sex partners. But it wasn’t controversial for the reasons you might expect. Morality and religion were absent from the conversation.

Instead, HR directors were fearful that any couple—whether homosexual or heterosexual, committed to one another or not—could file for benefits. People could even PRETEND to be part of a couple and get benefits. Give same-sex committed partners the privilege of receiving benefits and you open the door to providing the same to noncommitted same-sex couples, which opens the door to opposite-sex committed unmarried partners receiving benefits, which naturally snowballs into noncommitted unmarried opposite-sex couples getting the same, and pretty soon everybody is getting benefits.

I laugh about this now because the solution is so easy: equal marriage rights. Benefits go to married couples, not longtime partners or faux couples. By making marriage lawful for same-sex couples, corporations won’t have to fret over how to determine whether a couple is bona fide. If couples want protection and recognition under the law, they’ll marry; if not, they won’t.

The issue becomes black and white. Or red and pink.

Isn’t it time for us to stand on the right side of history?

Forsake Not Your Peeps

At the drugstore yesterday, I walked down the Easter aisle in hopes of picking up a bit of seasonal chocolate. But the rows and rows of shelves that earlier were brimming with candy were EMPTY! Across the aisle, next to the lonely leftover toys and baskets, stood the boxes of Peeps no one wanted.

If you, too, have excess Easter Peeps at your house this week, get creative. Try your hand at a collage or diorama with them; use them as building materials. For examples, just search “Peeps art” or “Peeps diorama” and Google will oblige with numerous contests and exhibits.

Peeps are more than cute little sugar boosts. They can be the key that unlocks the artist in you.

[Art by Kathy Ansell and Chris Broquet.]

Hippity Hop Hop

Wishing you a colorful day of high spirits and sunny skies.

[Artist unknown.]

A Real-Life Velveteen Rabbit

If you clicked on the Animal Rescue Site button on the right of Lull today, you might have read Rusty’s story.

Abandoned in a Florida park, the red bunny was noticed by passersby because he sat calmly in the same place day after day, never moving from his spot. (You might ask, Why didn’t anyone help him?) One day a passerby saw the bunny with some soccer-playing boys—whose ball was none other than the little cottontail. Thankfully, that passerby intervened and changed the cottontail’s life.

The passerby contacted H.A.R.E. (Houserabbit Adoption, Rescue, and Education) and the organization got Rusty the medical attention he needed. Turns out Rusty has congenital hip dysplasia, making his hind legs splay out uselessly. What’s more, he once had a broken femur that had healed crookedly. The bunny had already been through so much that surgery didn’t seem a good option. So he was fitted with braces.

Braces? For a rabbit?

Yup. (Hey! If a goldfish can swim in a harness, a bunny can hop in braces.) And Rusty gained more than mobility: He became an ambassador at H.A.R.E., where he’s befriended and calmed rabbits of all types and personalities. He has friends!

Rusty is no longer seen as an object or a used-up pet. He’s deeply loved by humans and peers—a real bunny.

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become real.”
—from The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams

[Illustration by William Nicholson.]

Bunny Tutorial

At first glance I thought this child was reading to the furred crowd. Then I saw the pointing finger.

Do you think he’s giving the cottontails last-minute instructions about Easter?

[Artist unknown.]

It’s Ba-aaaack: The Big Egg Hunt

Easter’s on its way and London is once again festooned with colossal, artful eggs. I wrote last year about the inaugural event sponsored by Fabergé; this year, chocolate giant Lindt is sponsoring the Big Egg Hunt.

If you’re anywhere near London, please take advantage of this playful outdoor art exhibit.

[Pictured is one side of Equinox by Barbie Harrison.]

BOOKreMARKS: Camels in Cars, Dogs in Zoos

You couldn’t turn to a media outlet this past week without hearing about the anniversary. The tenth anniversary, that is, of the U.S. invasion of Iraq. Why did we do it? What did we accomplish? Was it worth it?

To mark this milestone, I have a book recommendation for you.

War is a topic I typically avoid when choosing books and films. But last month, a friend shoved a library book into my hands and said, “Here—I want you to read this. I loved it! Didn’t do anything for two days but read it.”

“Oh-kay…thanks,” was all I could muster. I didn’t want to dampen her enthusiasm. Yet I also didn’t a) want to be responsible for her library book; b) read about a war zone; and c) follow animals kept in a zoo. Reasons B and C promised gloom and doom.

I read it anyway, and I’m thankful I did.

Babylon’s Ark is a memoir of one man’s mission in the early days of the Iraq War to save the animals of the Baghdad Zoo. Lawrence Anthony left his home in South Africa, where he ran a wildlife preserve, armed only with knowledge about and compassion for large, wild animals—plus experience in negotiating on the fly.

This is not a sweet animal rescue tale. It’s full of adventure and darkness and provides some insights into the culture of Iraqis and their relationships with animals. Here are a handful of things I learned:
• Until Lawrence Anthony created one, an agency overseeing animal welfare didn’t exist in Iraq. There was no ASPCA equivalent.
• To much of the population, dogs were curiosities, hence their inclusion in zoos.
• Black market trade in exotic animals thrives in Iraq.
• Like royal families of millennia past, the Husseins had numerous private zoos on their palace grounds.
• Improvisation is critical to rescue operations—which is how a camel ended up a passenger in an open-topped vehicle.

If I were the publisher of Babylon’s Ark, I’d also market it to a secondary audience: business professionals and leaders. It would be a great book to discuss in a corporate book club or leadership seminar because every step forward (and five steps backward) taken during the mission was the result of a negotiation or barter. Diplomacy, communication expertise, and psychological/cultural considerations were always in play. Nearly every obstacle recounted in Babylon’s Ark demanded careful communications and collaboration with someone whose goals and perspective were at odds with the animal rescuers. Even the animal rescuers were at times at odds with one another. Plenty of these scenarios could easily be applied to a business environment. Of course, the additional benefit of marketing to this audience is attracting new animal advocates and more people committed to becoming better stewards of our planet—which would have pleased the author no end.

Had he lived to see this tenth anniversary, I’m sure Lawrence Anthony would have plenty to say about it. I’ll leave you with this excerpt from Babylon’s Ark: The Incredible Wartime Rescue of the Baghdad Zoo.

“This was to be our stand. This was more than just a zoo in a war zone. It was about making an intrinsically ethical and moral statement, saying: Enough is enough. You just can’t say to hell with the consequences to the animal kingdom. It’s all very well getting rid of a monster like Saddam, but that doesn’t mean we can forget what we are doing to the rest of our planet. It doesn’t excuse a zoo getting trashed just because nobody had the foresight to put a basic survival plan in place for hundreds of animals utterly dependent on humans.”

Saving Nature with Art

While reading about octopuses yesterday (and yes, it’s octopuses and not octopi—something about avoiding a Latin-Greek mashup in the currently accepted scientific taxonomy), I came across the ice sculptures of Basia Irland.

Before your imagination starts conjuring winter festivals or cheesy centerpieces on cruiseline buffet tables, look closely at the photograph. It’s a BOOK and it is complete with CONTENT.

Irland embeds her works with the seeds of plants indigenous to the particular river region from which she launches each book. As her books decay, they disseminate content and restore watersheds.

Watch an Irland-narrated video about her work on the Orion magazine Web site. Or explore the artist’s other projects on her Web site. If you’re a book or nature enthusiast, you’ll appreciate her innovative ecoactivism.

“[I]n Wildness is the preservation of the World.”
—Henry David Thoreau

Apple Bites

Yesterday I called my phone service provider for help. The voicemail messages people were leaving for me were consistently truncated. No sooner did they say who they were and two words toward why they were calling than the system cut them off. It was a growing frustration for both parties. The callers were never aware of the insult for there was no indication at their end that anything was amiss. (My mother believed I was SELECTIVELY ignoring her). Clearly, it was time to resolve the problem.

During the course of my technical support call (which included getting disconnected from ATandT), the courteous rep shamed me into upgrading the operating system on my iPhone. I told her something bad always happened during upgrades, but she’d have none of it.

I’ve been an Apple advocate for more than 20 years, but my evangelism is fading. After installing the latest upgrade, I discovered that the videos on Lull disappeared when viewed on an iPhone or iPad. I can see them on my computer, I can see them on a Droid phone. But on an iPhone or iPad, there’s only white space now. Click on it and you get…white space.

If you know a workaround, please tell me! Until then, I’ll provide links to any videos I post in the future (and keep kicking myself for upgrading).

What Makes You Happy?

As you know, if you’ve been reading Lull for any time, much of my reading focuses on animals. Which means that much of my reading also focuses on a subset of the human species that exhibits uncompassionate, psychopathic, or capitalistic behaviors toward animals. It wears me down.

So imagine my delight to see news about a little goldfish whose guardian was determined to help her have a better life. The finned one was buoyancy-challenged—she couldn’t float properly in the water. Instead, Ada spent her days at the bottom of the tank, watching her friends do what she couldn’t. Until her guardian made a floating device for her!

In a world that assesses animals in terms of convenience and cost benefits, it’s refreshing to come across someone who deems the life of an animal companion—even a small, furless, other-abled creature—as inherently valuable.

This makes me happy. How about you?

[Art by Robert Amft.]

Spring Is Sprung!

According to the calendar, Spring “opens” today—whether the weather is cooperating where you live or not.

“The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.”
—Henry van Dyke

[Photo by Mark Hamblin.]