Impressions of a Butterfly's Wings

     Grandson "Magoo" ran into my office this morning exclaiming, "Nanny, two white butterflies just crashed into the window!" His eyes were bright with wonder and my curiosity was piqued so we ran together to see if they had crash landed in a crumpled heap on the deck floor. But no, there were no broken winged, lame lepidoptera and no explanations had to be rehearsed on how these things just happen sometimes.

     While we are looking for the bombardiers we noticed the faint, almost unnoticeable traces of wings on the glass door. If we hadn't known what had happened, those small wing prints would have been thought of as finger smudges worthy of Windex and a cloth. But since neither of us had ever seen butterfly wing impressions on a glass, we were in awe. 

     If you looked closely you could see the impressions of the wing's scales and powdery iridescence. Science says a butterfly can never repair its wing once it becomes damaged or torn, but what's so amazing is that we can repair those fragile wings with glue, patience and a steady hand. Hopefully these butterflies weren't damaged in their encounter with our door, but they did leave part of themselves behind for us to see.  

Impression of our butterfly encounter imprinted on the glass door.

     To reward our new butterfly friends and to prevent them from injury, we decided to place a saucer of orange juice on the deck, in hopes they would return. This reminds me of how each day as we go about our lives and our business we "brush" against the lives of others leaving an impression, much like the wings of a butterfly--just as others, we meet, leave impressions upon us in return. 

     These "butterfly-like" encounters are often not noticed--and if they are, we believe them to just be the daily smudge of life worthy to be "wiped" away because we are too busy, we are too stressed, and life is filled with too many electronic devices for us to notice human interaction. Although some encounters may be unpleasant, many are positive. The smile of the person facing us in traffic, the eye contact and thank you of a busy store clerk, the kind nod of a complete stranger. We are sometimes just too busy to allow small dustings of human kindness to touch us. 

     How different the world would be if we took more time to notice the small inflections and positive impressions others leave on our lives. Could we change the course of our day or the course of our lives if we took the time to notice? Could we change the course of someone else's life? I myself have been guilty of dashing through my day, through the lives of my family and friends and through meetings to let the butterfly's wings make an impression. Maybe today was food for thought; I will try to be more perceptive and I will try to touch others I meet with a kind word. I hope to replace that frown of concentration with a smile and I will watch for the kindness of others and be grateful they came into my life, if even for an instant as fleeting as the flight of a butterfly's wings. And, If I've broken a few wings along the way, I hope, with some "glue" of kindness, patience and a steady hand I can repair the damage so they can fly again.  

       

Operation: Save Nana's Tree!

     Hot, hot, hot! That's what it is across most of the United States. We've been seeing temperature's from 99 to 108 for the last 10 days or so, and no rain. The grass is tuning brown. You have to be careful when walking outside barefooted, on the concrete or stepping over the metal threshold of the French doors, or you'll be doing the hip-hop, two-step while muttering, "Rats!" Well at least that's what I say, anyway.

My favorite tree, a birch losing its leaves.

      I've been getting up early in the morning to water my flowers and kitchen garden and to take the dogs for an abbreviated walk. So far the flowers and veggies are doing okay, with only an occasional bowing of their heads and curling of their leaves--nothing that a quick revival of the water hose can't correct. But a couple days ago, I noticed our beautiful birch tree shedding its leaves. Not just one or two, but a mass exodus of leafy canopy descending well before their autumn departure. That same night I watched the comedy movie, "A Thousand Words," with Eddie Murphy who learned the value of choosing the right words. Full of himself, every time he spoke a word a leaf fell from the tree. He was cautioned that if all the leaves fell off the tree it would die, and he would do the same.
     This particular birch is one my favorite trees in our yard. We have pin oaks, a catalpa, red buds, dogwoods, a cypress and several sugar maples. But, this particular tree has weeping limbs that descend gracefully, sweeping down to touch the ground and bark that elegantly curls. I like to use this tree as a backdrop for outdoor photos--and much to my husband's chagrin the graceful sweeping limbs slap him in the face when he mows--(I don't think he'd mind if it died!) We've actually had word's about him trimming it!!

Singing in the "rain." Water play helps my tree!

     I, on the other hand, don't want to lose this beautiful tree. So the other day I decided to connect several hoses together and water the poor thing for two hours. I have no idea if this amount of water helped, but it sure couldn't hurt. According to ABC news, in June there were over 3000 records set for the highest temp in in cities and towns across the U.S. And, already this month, 1000 more record temperatures have been made across the country. Supposedly, according to the meteorologists, there is no relief in sight for some time yet. 

The kids beaded up like little waxed cars!!

     So yesterday I devised a plan to "Save Nana's Tree." The grand kids wanted to play in the slippy side, so the most logical solution would be to place the water slide near my drought stricken tree. Because so many hoses were connected together the water pressure wasn't high enough for the slippy slide to work properly, so my daughter and I manned the hose with a sprayer attachment and sprayed the kids. It became a fun event for them as well as us, and a good teaching event about conservation. Such as what happens when it doesn't rain for a long time (plants and trees and crops die), and why the tree drops its leaves (to help it survive and to carpet the ground to preserve moisture).  
     As we sprayed the kids they beaded up with water drops like little waxed cars--which they thought was very funny. They got into the sport of it too and took the hose close to the trunk and sprayed the tree and spread it's fallen leaves out to further help keep the sun's rays from drying the ground.
     It looks like the simpleness of leaves failing from a tree, during the hot days of a summer drought, brought us together for a moment of fun and learning--priceless for a family! Maybe we even helped save Nana's tree--we'll see. 

Happy 4th!! Happy Shooting!

     Last fall I gave a photo class, at the local college, on shooting night photography. We explored shooting fireworks and night carnival rides to capturing the night sky with stars and star trails. What a fun class. The students were so eager to learn!

Fireworks shot with Nikon D-200 on tripod--ISO 100, F-11 or 16 at 15 sec. (C. Bemiss Photography) 

(C. Bemiss Photography)

     When shooting fireworks normally, as I taught the class, you need a tripod. Also it's best to shoot at ISO 50 to 100, at f-11 to 16, with an 8 to 15 second exposure. But as I've learned through trial and error, and as I've taught in my classes, once you know the rules it's okay sometimes to break them. Even Ansel Adams broke a few photography rules in his compositions. His "Moon over Hernandez," has the moon almost directly in the center of the frame--a no, no as far as composition goes, but it worked for this particular photo.

     Well, this past Saturday I decided to break from the norm and try hand holding my camera at a fireworks celebration at Bagnall Dam in Warsaw, Mo. It was a spectacular show, but I didn't want to drag my tripod along. The grandkids were coming along and this was supposed to more about having fun together than precise technique. So together we enjoyed the display camped out on the back bumper of my daughter's van, while the kids sat in their moon chairs.

     With experimentation, I decided to use an ISO of 400, at f-4.3 at 1/6th second exposure. To my delight the photos became almost flower-like, with some interesting abstractions and almost a deep space nebula effect.   

Hand holding my Nikon D-200 at ISO 400, f-4.3 at 1/6 sec. produced this flower-like image. (C. Bemiss Photography) 

A ring of fire created by fireworks giving an abstract look to the photo. (C. Bemiss Photography)

     This bears out the fact that once you know the rules, you should never be afraid to experiment--you might be pleasantly surprised at the end result. Enjoy your 4th of July!! If you are privileged to have fire works this year, get out your camera and enjoy the show, and enjoy time with your family and friends. Be thankful for freedom and liberty and America the Beautiful! Be creative!

Fireworks shot at 400 ISO--hand holding the camera created an otherworldly photo. (C. Bemiss Photography)

We all need Roots

         We all need roots to survive. A place to belong. Family from which we spring from--it's so obvious, without roots we can't survive. In some families their tree sprouts and grows strong through the generations leaving behind a legacy of tradition, culture and customs.

Add caption

     For others it's not so easy. They are born alone, live alone and die alone. Although they have roots somewhere, they are unaware of them or believe them unimportant. What roots they have, are small and stunted trying so hard to absorb the moisture of life, only to find their sense of belonging isn't strong enough to help them to survive.
     Recently, my little granddaughter, age four, brought me two weeds she'd plucked up that day. It was so sweet, the weeds looked like small palm trees.
     I said, "Wow, thank you, they look like palm trees!"
     She said, "They have roots too!"
     She's learned at an early age that even flowers and weeds need roots to live. She had previously brought wild flowers to me and asked why they didn't live longer in the water. I explained to her that once they are cut off, and are without their roots, they only live for a short time. I guess she took this to heart.

My granddaughter's flower--with roots! 

     My mother and dad are both gone, and I was my mother's only child. Not many relatives are left on either side for me, so feeling rather rootless, I began to search out my genealogy earlier this year. What I found was so rich. I wasn't rootless-- I had a heritage. I found relatives that had fought and died in the Revolutionary and Civil War, a three times great grandmother in eastern Missouri listed as a witch (she made the history book in Missouri!), a great grandfather who was a prominent rancher in Colorado, relatives that had married Native Americans when our country was new and some Knights and blue bloods in England! My mother came from very humble beginnings and further back in her tree there were Barons, Lords and Ladies! I was amazed!

     Biological roots aren't always possible, for those that are adopted. But even though these roots spring from a different source they give solidarity and purpose. One great grandmother was adopted by a officer and family at Ft. Garland and was a pioneer resident to Colorado--she bore 11 children and was the first post mistress at St. Mary's in Colorado.

My father Leonard Benson and Mother Lucille and me as a baby 1961.

     
     These relatives bring color and drama into our lives, stories and legends. They help us belong to humanity, to nationalities and tribes and languages. They are our stories and our life, the ground we were born over. Without roots, we have no meaning, I'm so glad to have found mine!

Some Monsters are Real

     When I was a child, I was often afraid to sleep in my room at night. I was afraid of the dark and afraid that a monster was under the bed or that large bugs were crawling on my covers. Often, I would cover my head to feel safe before calling out to mom.
     This is a normal part of childhood, I guess. We've all, at some time or other, been afraid of clowns, bugs and those proverbial "monsters!" But times have changed. It seems the world has become a scary place for real, not just in our childhood imaginations.
     In the 60's, when I was going up, we could leave our windows open at night. We'd fall asleep enjoying the fresh breeze, and the night sounds of crickets and frogs. But now I would never leave my windows up at night, especially if my grandchildren are staying. If the windows are up during the day, I close them at night and I lock them. We live in a small town of around 20,000 not in a metro area, but still not too far from where I live, about a year ago, an intruder crawled through an open window and assaulted a woman.
     News reports are becoming more prevalent about children disappearing from their beds while the family is sleeping. I friend I spoke with recently said her sons are grown but she and her husband are overprotective of their small daughter--she still sleeps with them at night. They are afraid to leave her alone in her room. Afraid of the "monsters," who seem to lurk where you least expect them. Like the people you trust to watch out for your children. From family members to babysitters, daycare providers, school teachers and military personnel-- unfortunately the "monsters" hide among the good in society. Now days, as parents and grandparents we have to scrutinize everyone--it's sad to know that anyone of these "good" people who surround our children could turn out to be the boogeyman. Times have changed.
     Granted, there have always been child predators but with the rise of the internet, and the click of a mouse these "monsters" have access to a world of info, that years ago wasn't as easily available. The rise of instant news brings us the reports of these predators faster too. There are also more people who populate the Earth--as The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children says we are a "global society."

     Educating our little ones on real "monsters" is helpful, although as parents and grandparents I'm not sure we'll ever be able to sleep well at night, again.

The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children suggests these tips for educating children:
 Knowing My Rules for Safety

I CHECK FIRST with my parents, guardians, or other trusted adults before going anywhere, helping anyone, accepting anything, or getting into a car.

I TAKE A FRIEND with me when going places or playing outside.

I TELL people "NO" if they try to touch me or hurt me. It’s OK for me to stand up for myself.

I TELL my trusted adult if anything makes me feel sad, scared, or confused.
Sometimes there are people who trick or hurt others. No one has the right to do that to you. So use these rules, and remember you are STRONG, are SMART, and have the right to be SAFE. Always

CHECK FIRST
TAKE A FRIEND
TELL PEOPLE “NO” IF THEY TRY TO TOUCH YOU OR HURT YOU
TELL AN ADULT YOU TRUST IF ANYTHING HAPPENS

On Death and Dying

     My daughter told me on Memorial Day that the kids were painting happy pictures for Poppy and me, because so many people had died on this day and they wanted to cheer us up. She also said the three of them had become preoccupied with her death and our death and what would happen to them if we all died.
     I think there must be a certain age when kids become aware of death--her children are 10, eight and four. I remember worrying about my mom dying when I was a child, maybe around the age of eight to 10. She had told me if anything ever happened to her, I'd go live with my pastor's family. The reasoning behind this was, she had no family near by and my father wouldn't have been able to raise me on his own due to addiction problems.

     Possibly the fears of death for my grandchildren have been reinforced by recent events. Twelve weeks ago today my best friend passed away--Delisa Curtis Cox--a beautiful spirited woman, who loved God, family and helping others. She brought sunshine and music to a room, she brought grace, smiles and respect to all those around her. Never would I have thought she would leave us so young and so early, at age 50 with stage four cancer. She always loved children, and although her two son's are married she didn't have any grandchildren of her own yet. I always thought she would grow old continuing to help people and that and her house would be full of family and beautiful curly headed grandchildren. My grandchildren saw the sadness and loss I, and my other friend Lisa Weisgerber, felt--we had been three childhood friends--now there was just the two of us...

From left, Delisa Cox, myself and Lisa Weisgerber

     When she passed away Tuesday, March 6th, my daughter and her children went with us to Louisiana for the service. On a rainy Thursday, we drove across states, rain coming down in sheets for 12 hours--it seemed the whole of heaven was weeping for the loss on Earth of such a beautiful soul. Soon after her memorial service, the music store where Shiann takes violin lessons had a sudden loss, also. A guitar teacher in his 50's suddenly and unexpectedly died, leaving everyone who knew him shocked at the loss.
     Then the Saturday, before Memorial Day, the grandkid's former school librarian, age 38, died after a six year battle with brain cancer. She leaves behind small children and husband. On Sunday, a woman their mother works with lost her 48 year old husband to a sudden heart problem. Another, sudden loss.
     After so many loses soon the world, to a child, takes on a sinister slant and an ominous cloud hangs over the brightness of childhood. It does for adults, too. There are some questions to life where there are no answers. Where it seems God has chosen to become a silent observer. We are taught not to question Him, but in our hearts we do, because we are only human.
     We can only comfort the living, while trying not to think about our own mortality. We cling to the brightness of knowing and hoping the ones we love are in a better place. And, we hold them in our hearts as sacred treasures. In December before my friend, Delisa, passed away she told me she'd had a dream of us running in a field together,  holding hands--we were laughing and happy. I believe we will again someday...

Flags and Flowers

     Today is Memorial Day--the signal for summer and a day to remember our relatives who have passed on and those Veterans who have served our Country. On Saturday, we took five of our grandkids to the cemetery to place flowers on my mom and dad's graves. Our daughter Melissa was the one who remembered to gather the flowers and suggest we go. As usual the cemetery was beautiful, masses of flowers, hanging baskets, wind chimes and American flags waving in the warm southern breeze. For a couple of the grandkids this was their first time to a graveyard. They were fascinated with the flowers and flags.
     Little Boo Boo age three wanted to gather the flowers from the graves and we had to explain to her why she couldn't. Then all five wanted to know about the flags and if the Veteran's all had died in the war or only half of them. I told the kids that some may have died in wars but many came home and died in old age here in America. Soon they saw a marble statue of Jesus--hands outstretched--and they began to run toward Him saying, "Let's run to Jesus!"

     Across the sunlit grass among the flags and flowers, across the field of dead, the field of green grass they ran  little people full of life, dressed in colorful summer clothes, giggling, waving their arms. I watched transfixed in their joy of life and sun, and summer, and flags and flowers, and Jesus, and all that children see that we don't take time for any more. I soon followed. They were touching the toes of Jesus and sitting on the brick wall surrounding the figure, and dancing in the cool green of the grass. Soon little Joe looked up and said, "Is Jesus buried here too?"
     "No," I said. And I explained again what the statue symbolized and how the scripture Matthew 11:28 inscribed there, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest," meant--that when you lose someone you love and feel very sad, Jesus is there to help you and make you feel better. (That was my interpretation, I guess the scripture was really talking to those who had died receiving rest, but they kids seemed pleased with my logic.)
     Soon all the suntanned legs ran back to their great grandparent's graves and prepared to leave. On our way out, we drove around looking at the splendor of flagged and flowered graves. If those buried there could see, I'm sure they smiled at the sight of little children skimming across the grass bringing life, love and laughter to the quietness. As we drove away ShiAnn age 10 said, "I feel very sad for all these people, some of them are very old." Three year old, Annalynn replied solemnly, "Yeah, and some of them died." Out of the mouth of babes...

Dogs, Dirt and Part of the Pack

     I woke up at 5:00 a.m.--my head hurt, my arms hurt so by 5:30 I decided to get up, go take an Ibuprofen and try to sleep in my office on the futon until 6:00. I knew at 6:00 both greyhounds would wake up like clockwork and be ready to go outside. Prancing, dancing with their tongues hanging out in fresh faced grins! The cat, Mallory, came into the office with me --just to monitor my whereabouts. Honestly I think the cat and dogs work together.
     Soon she jumped off the futon and went into the back of the house--and then I heard the click-clack of Dottie's feet. She loves my office, and she was coming in gently, quietly to check on me. It was 5:48 a.m.....Ugh! Daylight was creeping through the blinds--sleeping was finished. Might as well face the day with my happy hounds.
     Well she gently sniffed me with a most pleased look, and of course, I couldn't just lay there and disappoint her! As I got up she wagged her tail. But, down the hall I could hear Ace laying on his fluffy bed whining--I'm guessing the cat heard Ace whining, so she went to investigate--Dottie very tired of hearing Ace cry in his bed decided to find me herself and take care of the situation! Just like a woman! For some reason it hasn't dawned on Ace that he can come find me too--he just lays there and cries.
     Anyway, I'm up early with swollen eyes (allergies I guess), the hounds eat, play in the yard, and chase and bark at squirrels and Mallory sits in the grass daring us to come get her while Roy and I have coffee on the deck. Then we all go for a 3/4-mile walk. Except the cat.
     Walking makes me remember how when we first got Dottie, last December, she wasn't fond of the grand kids, although Ace loves them to death. Over the last several months she's began to recognize them as part of our "pack." She has her special spot by a large tree in the backyard where she and Ace try digging to China everyday. She also loves to lay in the dusty hole/holes they've created. Well, yesterday Drew was using the Tonka trucks to dig and load "Dottie's" dirt. She observed him for a while then came over and curled up in her dusty-hole.  I figured she was going to be incensed and make Drew leave but no--she apparently thought he was a pup who loved to dig, and that was quite all right with her, and she wold share her dirt.

Drew is now part of Dottie's "pack!"

     Sometimes I think I should have been an animal behaviorist--I just love watching how they all interact with each other. Actually my childhood friend told me last year, that instead of me wanting to be the "kid" when we played house as children, I always wanted to be the dog or cat!! I would crawl around on my hands and knees either meowing or barking. She told me laughing, "We never could figure out what you wanted, you wouldn't speak English!" Strange...I don't remember that at all--but it fits my personality to to tee. I'm just glad they let me be part of their "pack!"

Summer begins!

     So today, summer began--the grand kids are out of school for their first full day and they spent it with me! We took the greyhounds Ace and Dottie for a walk, ate Popsicles, harvested leaves from the "Magic Tree," (a  catulpa), made a tent with sheets, water colored and played in the dirt (dug by the hounds.) Actually the kids did most of these activities--except for walking the hounds. I thought that might end badly if the hounds decided to chase a squirrel! 

     Miss Mallory the cat came outside for a rare view of the world and she decided to play and roll in the dirt too!! Yay for me! Shiann and I tried to pat her clean and puff her clean but to no avail!! So to the tub she went, yes the tub. The last time I tried to scrub a cat, I was 4 and was almost clawed to death. I also at the same age, out of curiosity, put a clothespin on a cat's tail, but that's another story....So needless to say I was a little worried, but she was fairly cooperative. Shiann helped me dry her and Miss Mallory is no worse for the wear.
     Now we wait for Mama and Poppy to come home so we can all go out to eat and then to Drew's (age 8) first ever baseball game.