Yummy Hummy Mummy Update: Abandonment

Posted on April 29, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

sunset

What kind of mother abandons her babies?

This isn’t how I wanted the story to end.

I like stories that end in happiness and joy, and now I have no idea what went wrong, what happened.

Is there something I could have done? I would have helped her; I’m a fixer, I like to take care of animals. And people.

Mom built a great nest, laid one egg, and I kept waiting for the next one but it never came. For a while, all was good, she sat on the nest daily and I made sure that I didn’t bother her just in case she liked privacy.

Mom hasn’t been around for about three days. The one little egg is still in the nest. I’m sure it’s not viable at this point. I wonder why she disappeared. Did she get attacked by a predator? Did her instincts tell her that there was something wrong with the egg and it shouldn’t be born?

We’ll never know, but it triggered my own issues with abandonment and not having answers to painful experiences or not being able to render aid.

It’s not natural for mothers of any species to abandon their children. It goes against all the laws of nature and psychology and maternal bonding. Sadly, in humans, abandonment leaves the children to deal with “mother wounds”; significant emotional, mental and psychological aftereffects.

However, on the bright side (which is where I like to live), there’s a Vireo successfully nesting; she comes back every single year. So far, she’s had about one hundred babies born out of the same little seashell bird house nestled in the ficus tree.

Tree Faces: dream a little dream of me

Posted on April 28, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

All this dreaming I’ve been doing reminded me of one of my favorite songs, “Dream a Little Dream of Me”. Which do you prefer? The Doris Day or Mama Cass version? Or Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong? For me, it’s an evocative and bittersweet song no matter who sings it. Check out the versions below and share your fave.

I have no idea why I’ve been experiencing such an enhanced dream-state, but here’s what I remember from the most recent one.

The act of remembering dreams is so ephemeral; just when you think you grasp a vision or a thought, it slips away; lost forever.

And nothing is longer than forever. This I know for sure.

I’m calling this one Tree Faces.

First of all, I remember being surrounded by tall trees in a circle, like a crown.

It’s silent in the forest. Through the bits of sky that peek through, the sun is shining, the sky is blue. Situated in the center of the circle, I feel myself lying down on a bed of crunchy pine needles. Squinting against the sun, I look up and up at the conifers, enchanted by their height and majesty.

I feel very princess-like, as if I’m growing as tall as the trees, as if I’m becoming the trees, even though my body is supported by earth and gravity. I understand these forest dwellers. These strong and resilient pine trees gently rustle their leaves and needles and the uppermost branches start to curve downward, to incline directly at me and then the tippiest top of the trees morphed into individual faces.

We gazed at each other for a few minutes, I turned my head all the way around to observe each and every face– I wasn’t scared or even surprised– and then one of them asked me, kindly, “Are you ready to go?” and another tree face asked, “Are you ready to leave and come with us?”

I remember knowing exactly what they were referring to and WHERE. I do. They wanted to know if I was ready to leave Earth and join them in the worlds we mortals don’t really know or accept that exist.

I sighed, and said, “No, I don’t think I can. Not yet, I can’t leave. I’m still needed here.”

But I wanted to go. I yearn to be in a place of eternal love and kindness and beauty.

So I asked the tree faces, “Can I be here and and come with you at the same time?”

I don’t recall an answer except the faces faded, the trees became tall and straight again, and I felt loved and protected and serene.

I closed my eyes and woke up at the same time.

Isn’t that so freaky???

I wrote down as much as I could remember, and started researching dream interpretations. Apparently, other people have dreams in which trees talk, so it’s not too unusual. It was amazing, though. The colors and smells and sensations of being in the forest and being protected were powerful.

I’ve always identified with being a tree-hugger so…who knows?

A wood or collection of trees: The natural forces in your own being, therefore ones connection with or awareness of the unconscious; other people’s personal growth and connection with self. The wood also indicates allowing yourself to be natural, to express what is innate in you, and for the mind and emotions to move in their own way. Walking in a wood might therefore suggest a feeling of relaxation, but it can also mean delving within your deeper feelings and mind – your unconscious – exploring your inner life.

What does it mean to dream about a tree talking? A tree talking to you in your dream could be a sign that, the subconscious is trying to let you learn something regarding some issue that you are currently facing. I know might seem a bit strange for the tree to actually – talk to you, but it could mean that all you need to do is wrap your arms around a tree and listen to the spiritual words that are being conveyed to you.

If you dreamed about a tree talking to you, such dream might represent messages from your subconscious, regarding some current issues in your life that you should pay attention to.

I took this pic two years ago on a camping trip in the Pacific Northwest. This is kinda what the trees looked like in my dream. Only with faces at the top.

Update: Yummy Hummy Mummy; an egg appears!

Posted on April 26, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

April 26, 2020

Hummingbirds typically lay two eggs; jellybean ovals of white porcelain perfection, and so far I see the first one!

To give you a size comparison, most hummingbird nests are 1.5 – 2 inches in diameter, roughly the size of a ping pong ball.

“…that which we call a rose…

Posted on April 25, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

…would smell as sweet.

First Robert Burns, and now Shakespeare?

During this Covid-19 pandemic, I seem to be living in an alternate universe of poetry and literature. Pretty soon, my brain will start to spontaneously remember all my years of French, and I’ll be ready for my trip to France to pay homage to the one and only Coco Chanel.

Once upon a time, in another lifetime, I memorized Juliet’s lines, Act 2, Scene 2, for an audition.

Nope, I didn’t win the role that time, but the words have never left me.

It’s a bit of a cliche considering my name, but a rose is a rose is a rose, according to Gertrude Stein.

JULIET

O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name;

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.

’Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot,
Nor arm nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for thy name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.

My love’s like a red, red rose

Posted on April 24, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

Robert Burns, of course.

I’ve been posting a lot about the beautiful flowers in my garden because I know how short lived it al is and I want to enjoy it while I can…soon the hot sun and blistering Santa Ana winds will dry up all the lush blooms. We had so much rain this season that it really looks like a floral fairyland at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.

Another day, another rose, a very red one, not yet open.

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A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns

O my luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
O I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.

And almost completely gone but still drunk with a dancer’s graceful elegance:

My For-Real Twilight Zone Dream; Also Reality

Posted on April 23, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

You can’t make this stuff up, and that’s the truth.

Settle in for a Twilight Zone witchy type of a story.

Maybe you should stop for a minute and get your favorite crystal to hold for protection.

I’ll wait.

Okie dokie.

Let me give you the backstory; I don’t watch much local TV news, so there was no mention of what I’m about to share, neither on TV nor the internet.

No seed planted in my gray matter–conscious or subconscious—from any source.

Here’s the dream:

I was in my car with someone else driving. The time frame seemed to be current mixed with a sense that it was also eighty years ago.

We were driving to Ramona (a quaint little town on the way to our local mountains) and were stuck behind a line of vehicles from the 1920s-30s-40s era, the kind we associate with Prohibition; suicide doors, big tires, substantial, you know what I’m talking about. If I remember correctly, I even think the dream was in black and white, or at least most of the cars were shiny black.

However, the car I was in was not one of the older ones. It was brand new.

This road to Ramona is a two-lane highway and (in my dream) there were about a dozen vehicles snaking steadily around the curves.

1930s Gangster Cars Car club: pachuco car club

Photo from Pinterest

I don’t recall being too impatient at the slowdown (unusual behavior for me lol) and then at some point we were able to safely pass all the cars and we arrived in Ramona.

The last part of the dream I remember is that we were looking for someplace to eat or do other touristy-type activities.

Cool dream, right?

Well, that’s not the freaky part, but this is…

Here’s the Twilight Zone reality:

I had a dentist’s appointment to follow-up on some oral surgery that’s taking a bit longer than it should to heal properly.

Because of the pandemic, I haven’t been out driving in a while, so I thought I’d take the long way home and drive down the coast. It’s a warm eighty degrees today and gorgeous.

Hand to heart, what I’m about to share is truth. I AM NOT KIDDING.

As I was driving south down Carlsbad Blvd, I looked around me and my mouth dropped open.

In front of me was a line of cars exactly like I had seen in my dream. I was following them. THE EXACT SAME CARS. Vintage autos from the 1930s and 1940s. There was nowhere to pull over and snap a photo so you’ll have to believe me.

Was it a car club? Probably, right? But I have no association with cars, new or old, and didn’t see any overt or subliminal advertising of a car club event.

All I know is that my dream was now my reality. Except it was Carlsbad and not Ramona.

Who can explain it?

Not me, that’s for sure. I’m pretty much of a skeptic, a “show me the science” type, but I’m edging toward a healthy respect for the unknown. Even more now, haha.

How weird is that? I have no idea what it all means. I researched it and what I learned is that to dream of antique or old fashioned cars represents current decisions in an area of your life being influenced by the past or by nostalgia.

If an old fashioned car is black or red this is symbolic of your thoughts and decisions being too influenced by the past, or return to unhealthy habits or views, and you might need to focus more on healthy decisions.

In dream meanings, your car often represents how you control your life. This dream implies an extension of what is achievable, and with more confidence you can achieve anything.

Generally, cars are attached to our inner emotions and can indicate spiritual progression on both a psychological and emotional level.

If you dream of an old car that is not your own – such as an antique or old fashioned car, this is a sign that you are a strong willed person – a man (or woman) of grit and steel. It is a great omen for your life now and that you can trust your own judgment.

Old Cars: Cars are symbols of movement and momentum in your life. They can indicate how you are progressing towards goals or if you are headed in the right direction in your life. If you dream of your old car and it is in good condition then this is a dream of moving in the right direction in your life.

Well, that’s all interesting and even positive info about old cars, but I could find nothing about the “coincidence” of living the same scenario as occurred in a dream. It’s not like I’m a prophet…

“Dreams are known as “the sleep language,” and since the time of creation God has brought divine revelation to mortal men and women while they are sleeping. Scripture even calls a prophet a “dreamer of dreams” (see Deut. 13:1; Num. 12:6). ” Charismanews.com

There are those who believe that dreams can indeed predict or foretell the future. Prophetic dreams are linked to major disasters, wars, assassinations, accidents, lottery numbers or even with winning horse race. Such dreams have helped solve crimes. In history, Abraham Lincoln was said to have dreamt of his own body laying in a coffin two weeks before he his assassination.

Or was it possibly a variation of Deja Reve, which is a French term meaning “already dreamed,” and it can be thought of as the opposite of lucid dreaming.

Deja Reve is the feeling you get when you find yourself in a situation that makes you feel as if you dreamed about it previously, that you dreamed you would be there.

The person I was with in my dream was not with me today in real life. Today, I was driving alone. I have no idea what it means because nothing really happened.

I simply observed a line of antique cars pretty much exactly as it happened in my dream. I could think of a lot of other dreams that could be more relevant to me; a dream about a gigantic suitcase full of money or a handsome knight on a white horse (or car) to sweep me off my feet and carry me off to the sunset. In Hawaii. That kind of thing.

dreams about the future could be as a sign of a prediction you are being given from your spirit guides or god. … If you have the ability to dream about the future, you will dream about such things as world events like earthquakes, tsunamis before they actually happen in the days to come.

or could it be a precognitive dream which could possibly act as a warning.

A dream might sometimes show you something unpleasant that might occur if you continue on the path you’re on. You experience the consequences/unpleasantness in your dream, and it allows you to course-correct and make another choice if you want to, so that you avoid the outcome shown in your dream. Then what you dreamed may or may not come about, depending on the choices you have made.

The second purpose of a precognitive dream is to show you that you’re on the right path.

A dream like this is usually one in which you see yourself, in a particular place. The details are usually very specific. Perhaps you see yourself doing something very specific, or you notice the specific details of your surroundings. Perhaps you’re speaking to someone who says something very unusual that sticks out in your memory.

Then some time later, you find yourself in that exact situation, in those exact surroundings, with the person in your dream who says what they said in your dream. You might have the same exact feeling in your reality as you did in your dream, like a weird déjà vu moment. annasayce.com

But why cars, I wonder? I don’t even really care much about cars. Did I time travel? Sort of an imperfect astral projection? Something to do with planetary influences?

I really, really wonder what the message is, especially since it was very much a Twilight Zone feeling.

If anyone wants to venture a guess, please share a comment and thank you!

Stars, Meteors, Mockingbirds, and Mozart

Posted on April 22, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

It’s so quiet at night.

I love silence.

I love not hearing cars, sirens, air compressors, grinders, belt sanders, and the cacophony of other human discord.

What I most love hearing at night is the song of a coyote, the hoot of a Great-Horned Owl, and listening to my thoughts.

Since there’s been less human activity since the GREAT PANDEMIC OF 2020, I’ve come to enjoy the sounds of silence in my neighborhood.

Before I go to bed, I sit outside in total darkness on the deck. I look up at the sky and think about a poem I wrote in college about Orion; I guess I’ve always been drawn to the night.

This week, there were Lyrid meteor showers and even fireballs, but I missed them all. Still, it’s comforting knowing that they happened, even if I didn’t get to personally witness any.

Lately, there’s a new and beautiful addition to the songdogs and the owls.

It’s one of the only birds that sings at night in my area, the Northern Mockingbird.

Male_Northern_Mockingbird.jpg (3508×2210)

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.
IzzyMPhotography

The northern mockingbird is a world-famous singer, considered finer even than the famous nightingale of Europe.

The male sings a medley of songs belonging to other birds, repeating each phrase several times before moving on to the next.

Most songbirds learn all the songs they’ll ever sing before they’re a year old.

He learns the songs of other birds and incorporates them into his own songs. Mockingbirds also sometimes “sing” the sounds of people whistling, frogs croaking, and doorbells ringing.

Although all adult male mockingbirds sing during the day, only a bachelor sings at night.

Their night music is a beautiful love song. As soon as the mockingbird finds a mate, he stops singing at night. And that’s how we’ll know.

FYI: the Migratory Bird Treaty Act of 1918 makes it illegal to kill, harm, or harass the mockingbird (and other migratory birds).
From:http://www.birdwatching.com/stories/mockingbird.html

And then I started thinking about other types of beautiful music, like A little Night Music by Mozart (Eine Kleine Nachtmusik), Eine kleine Nachtmusik (Serenade No. 13 for strings in G major), K. 525, is a 1787 composition for a chamber ensemble by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The German title means “a little serenade,” though it is often rendered more literally but less accurately as “a little night music.” The work is written for an ensemble of two violins, viola, and cello with optional double bass, but is often performed by string orchestras.

And finally, some Rumi:

Close the door of words
that the window of your heart may open.
To see what cannot be seen
turn your eyes inward
and listen, in silence.

No More Empty Nest…Mommy Hummingbird Is Hard At Work!

Posted on April 21, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

It’s been five long years since I’ve been lucky enough to be chosen by a hummingbird as a sanctuary site to build her nest on one of my windchimes.

The last time it was built on hummingbird chimes (very witty, mama hummy, very witty) and this time it’s butterfly chimes, but in the same exact location right outside the kitchen window.

Mama works pretty much around the clock bringing feathers and spider webs and other soft little bits and pieces glued together with her own birdy poop.

I’ll update as the nest grows and mom lays her two precious eggs:

Hummingbird posts from 2015:

Yummy Hummy Mummy

IT’S RAINING IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA!!!!

A Mother’s Love #WordlessWednesday

Empty Nest Disaster

My No Good, Very Bad Day

Posted on April 19, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

I’m window washing today. And the screens, too.

The house next door was finally sold –to flippers, who have been there seven days a week getting it ready to be re-sold.

They are SOOOO inconsiderate.

First of all, there’s the noise.

And then the LOUD music from their workers.

And the best day was when I saw they were painting a fence that was NOT a neighbor fence, that was entirely on MY property, which means not only did they trespass, but they vandalized. When I pointed out the property line, they said, “oops, we didn’t know”, so my reply was that a neighborly conversation to clarify would have been appropriate, and if they had also simply LOOKED, they would have seen the difference between the actual property line fence and the one twenty-four effing inches away from it.

To add insult to injury, the new owner/flipper said, “Well, it looked like crap anyway; it’s falling apart.” which is not entirely true, but it did need to be re-stained.

BUT NOT BY THEM. And not that shitbrown color. And not without my express permission.

Entitled narcissists.

THEN they started sanding something or other outside and the way the wind blows here, it all came my way and covered the windows.

Am I beyond pissed off? Oh yes.

The grit from their sanding is all over my paper towels, so PROOF.

Entitled narcissists.

Why are people so inconsiderate?

And that’s why I’m washing windows and screens today.

Self-isolating roses

Posted on April 18, 2020 by Enchanted Seashells

All the rain we had in SoCal a couple weeks ago caused my roses to grow like crazy.

Planted at least six feet apart in order to comply with all social distancing orders, here’s a couple of little bouquets displayed in a Waterford crystal sugar and creamer, just because…