In my life, I have had many guides, but my first and most important one was my mother. She introduced me to the glorious world of nature. My mother filled our home with flowers, herbs, and seashells. On our daily nature walks, she told me stories about the birds, trees, flowers, and other wonders of nature. When we encountered an unknown bird, she looked it up in her field guide that she always carried with her. My mother taught me where the birds nested, how they fledged their young, and why they returned to the same nest every year.
My mother’s stories made it easier to understand the animals and plants. When I see an Queen Anne’s lace, I look for the dark spot in the middle is where Queen Anne pricked her finger. Looking for lady slippers, I remember how shy they are, hiding in their favorite places near streams. The stinky smell of skunk cabbage in bloom told me that spring was coming. The book of nature was opened to me.
During the summer, my mother took us on rides in our ancient car, on dirt roads in the pinewoods. On our trips, we would encounter deer, moose, and the occasional bear. One August night, we saw a large black shape hovering above the road. A single giant light glowed from its top. What was it? An alien spaceship? A giant firefly? No, it was a cow moose that stopped to look at us. We had a good laugh, but in that moment I realized the moose was our cousin. We were intimately connected with the natural world.
My mother followed the cycles of the seasons. We had a huge vegetable garden, various fruit trees, and my mother’s prize: three black raspberry bushes. On summer mornings, she would pick the berries, and pop them in her mouth. My mother only ate foods in season, saying the first fruit was always the sweetest. We learned the months by what was in season. We were a part of the Cycle of Life.
Even my mother’s battles with the squirrels taught me how much a part of the Sacred Circle we were. As she devised more squirrel proof feeders for the birds, the squirrels rose to the challenge and foiled her attempts. They were the yin to her yang.When the squirrels did not show up for their daily battle, my mother would put out peanuts. She and they danced a fine waltz, enjoying each other.
My mother taught that we were never separate from nature. Sitting by a running brook healed our hurts. Standing in a flower meadow, looking up at the brilliant blue sky filled us with the Divine. Walking along the beach collecting shells was an encounter with the In-between worlds of tidal pools. From lying on our backs in the grass, looking up at the stars I understood the union between the Divine and me. Through her life, my mother taught me how to reach out to nature and be one with it.
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Va. Carper
July 7, 2004