We have had various advice about our foster robin, the latest coming from the Audubon Society. So, we have put him back in the nest and my husband is feeding him hamburger and dog food, yes, dog food. Do you know how hard it is to find worms? Very. Maybe you fishermen know.

    It remains extremely  silent around here now that the parents and siblings have departed. Silence offers many messages. This is the silence of abandonment.

By the time I get around to writing, I notice that I’m just sitting and looking out at my world. Why not? I write sitting down, and certainly not while I’m active.

   It’s early evening. A rare day in June, a June about to turn to July. A beautiful, sunny evening, but there’s a restless about it. The wind is kicking up, leaves and branches are swaying, but that’s not it. No, it’s Mother Robin flitting about, perching on a lawn chair and then flying to the nest. We thought all the chicks had fledged yesterday morning, but with my binoculars I can see feathers moving in the nest. No head peeking out, just the faintest sign of life. And now I realize that Mother Robin is bringing food to her babe. I feel apprehensive. Where are the sisters and brothers who got on their way yesterday? There’s nothing I can do but trust the mother. This is her second brood of the season; she knows the territory well. For four weeks she has been relentless in caring for her babies. She won’t stop now.
    It isn’t not noisy around here but it isn’t silent in that peaceful way I long for. I’ll know more tomorrow.

P.S. Now we are hearing a lot of cheeping from the ones who have already fledged. As for the one still in the nest, hopefully he is happy with his own developmental rhythm. It is dusk. Soon all will be quiet.

  Mrs. Robin is still sitting; Mister Robin is feeding her. That’s what it looks like from here. Of course, I put it all in anthropomorphic terms. I like to think that Mister is doing his share, and we know that he’ll be helping with the feeding once the babes are hatched. Remember, “Make Way for Ducklings”? Mr. Mallard disappeared for the entire pregnancy but then showed up to show off his progeny.

    On the human front around here, once again, we are getting rid of stuff. Jim does a much better job than I do. He’s fast—makes a decision and goes with it. As I write (I could be tossing stuff instead of writing about it) he’s out in the garage getting stuff ready for our daughter’s yard sale in Pennsylvania. Actually, we could get rid of it right now; put a sign out, and it would be gone in an hour. Living across from the library there’s plenty of traffic and excellent parking. Oh, need I mention that all the stuff Jim has accumulated is from the put-and-take? It’s not even our stuff!

      What I am dealing with, however, is my stuff, mainly papers and books. I don’t have enough papers to warrant a dumpster, but the recycling facility at the dump will suffice. It also has a first-rate book exchange shed: and then there are friends, the yard sale, and the library book fair.

     I’m going to activate IT’S TIME TO GO; LETTING GO OF STUFF  http://lettingofstuff.blogspot.com/ as a way to shame myself to get going. I’d rather write about it than do it. That’s pathetic, Bobs. I just want a simple life, not a stressful one.

I’m experiencing a family version of silence, solitude and simplicity, which really means there isn’t much. This afternoon, however, five family members have gone off on various excursions; the three of us remaining are enjoying that old-fashioned ‘quiet hour’.

       That may take care of the silence and solitude, but what about simplicity, which is a different kind of challenge? When it comes to keeping up with all the clutter that seems to appear out of nowhere, one solution is: Don’t keep cleaning up! That works for the craft table, but cooking and clearing up is an on-going activity and not always simple.

      The best solution is: Don't stress out!

I try not to whine or complain in this blog. In fact I like to think I’m not that kind of person… but of course I’m like all the rest of us! Here’s my rant for today. This is the second morning this week that our neighborhood silence has been interrupted by leaf blowers across the street. The other morning at 7 AM they were at the library, today, 8:30 on a Sunday, at the little shopping center. The hum is deafening. Do I live near an airport?    

     I have to admit that we use a blower for our leaves. It’s the New England way. The leaf from the log is definitely in my own eye. Still, I hate the noise.  

Watch out for those lazer pointers! I’m not certain how the following story relates to silence, solitude or simplicity, but if peace of mind is any part of it, reading this warning in worth your while.  

    The other day I heard about a ten year old boy who woke up one morning almost blind. After visits to several specialists, one doctor asked him if he had been playing with a lazer pointer. Sure enough, and like any inquisitive human being, he had shined it in both eyes, and then never gave it another thought. Now he and his family are living with a ‘new normal’.

    During the holidays it’s a challenge to find silence, solitude and simplicity, much less write about it. The house is now back in order and I’m here at the cottage for the week. When I arrived yesterday there was a little too much silence. Not a hum from the furnace when I turned up the heat -- not a good sign. I won’t go into the details, but suffice to say that twenty four hours later the furnace company has come and gone and I can hear the hum. What about simplicity, you ask?  I’m certainly not willing to return to the simple life before furnaces; was gathering wood and keeping the home fires burning all that easy?  As for solitude, there wasn’t much of it while I was arranging for repairs.

     As with any situation that disrupts the routine, I learned from this experience. What particularly struck me was how it kept me in the present moment, in the NOW. Although I thought about my creature comforts—that I was cold…when would the oil company come—I didn’t become obsessed with them. In fact, much to my delight, I didn’t feel sorry for myself or do the poor me routine.  Rather, I sat on the deck experiencing, This is what’s happening now, as I observed the immediate activity of sea, clouds and gulls.

    Um, this is the present moment. Be with it.

     Please don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t just in the NOW. I did anticipate a future with the furnace humming but I wasn’t anxious about it.

     This is simplicity, simplicity of being.

I’m finding it hard to calm down after the election. Not that I was particularly involved in the doing of any campaign, but there was a great deal of energy about it no matter where I went. As the expression goes, ‘It was in the air.’

    So, waking up to a groundcover of snow this morning felt very calming. Snow and silence go together. I figure that no way will I heard leaf blowers if I take a morning walk. Oh dear, it’s raining, so no walk for me. The snow will melt and the forecast is for 70 degrees and sunny on Monday. I just know those trucks transporting all that leaf blowing equipment  will be out and about finishing up their fall job before snowplows get attached. Um, I wonder if rakes are becoming obsolete? 

As someone who identifies herself as one of those ‘ADHD’ types, I’m finding it a challenge to stay calm, cool and collected during these last weeks of the presidential campaign. Of course, seeking silence, solitude and simplicity is a challenge for those of us who can’t sit still and who are always wiggling and fidgeting about., but put politics into the mix, and the ordeal intensifies. Need I say more?

     Sometimes I keep balanced by not watching the news or reading the newspaper. And truth be told, I’m more apt to watch and read when my candidate is ahead in the polls.  Neither of these strategies is very proactive. I have a long way to go to figure out how to amalgamate politics with silence, solitude and simplicity. Can it be done?

The other day I was desperate for gas. Since the price of gas varies around here, I ended up pulling into a full service station for a relatively low price. My impatient, independent self doesn’t like these non-self-serve stations, but there I was, waiting for the owner to shuffle out to the pump. As it turned out, he was quite efficient, and so of course, once again, I was given a lesson in humility and patience. (Um, I say, ‘once again,’ but truth be told, these ‘once again’ lessons come up daily for me.)
     But that’s not the story I want to share with you. I’m not certain what my mistake was, but for certain, I will never again stand on a gas pump platform as I wait for my credit card. At least that will protect me from being told,  “Watch your step. If you fall, you will be dead in an instant.”  What? Dead in an instant! That’s what the man said.
     Undoubtedly there are many lessons to be learned from such a comment. You pick your own. As a start, that’s no way to send a customer on her way down the road on a gorgeous fall day. I won’t go back there again. Dead in an instant! Really! Watch your words. .