…they opened their wings
softly and stepped
over every dark thing.
Mary Oliver
Sitting at the top of a tree near the lagoon, this lone egret seems deep in thought and as bewildered as I am about the time change; like why is it almost dark at 5pm?
Same, egret, same.
“Trade me a memory,” the butterfly said
A memory that’s heavy and harsh,
And I’ll sit and I’ll listen and try my sweet best
To lighten the load on your heart.
From a poem by Becky Hemsley+Art by Amanda Cass
It’s a bird I’ve never before seen and I’m sooo happy he chose to visit the gardens at Casa de Enchanted Seashells!
The Black-headed Grosbeak is a migratory bird, with nesting grounds from southwestern British Columbia through the western half of the United States and into central Mexico.
I think this is a male; black head, black wings and tail with prominent white patches. Its breast is dark to tawny orange in color, more like the color of cinnamon.
The black-headed grosbeak eats pine and other seeds, berries, insects, spiders, and fruit. I didn’t hear him sing, however, his voice is a rich warble similar to that of an American robin, but more fluent, faster, softer, sweeter, and mellow with rising and falling passages that make the song much longer than the robin’s. The note is a sharp ik or eek. Both the male and female sing, but have different songs.
Its symbolism includes a message to live in harmony with yourself. to forgive yourself, trust your instincts, meditate more, and be kinder to yourself. When this bird flies into your life, it also prompts you to practice contentment. Alternatively, a Grosbeak meaning suggest being supportive of those around you who are struggling.
What an amazing garden visitor!
The waves weren’t great, more of a shore break, but there’s still a lineup of hopeful surfers. No whales, though, so that was a disappointment.
I peeked through the trees and thought I saw a swan in the artificial pond near the lagoon, but…
…it was a lovely white egret.
I’m not sure why he’s there, as the actual saltwater lagoon is steps away, but maybe he knows something I don’t.
I wish they’d return for another visit to Casa de Enchanted Seashells. That was so cool!
Save Animals, Save the Planet
This year marks the 100th anniversary of this global celebration of animals.
For a century, people have come together to show kindness, compassion, and care for the creatures we share our planet with. The mission of World Animal Day is to raise the status of animals in order to improve welfare standards around the globe.
World Animal Day started in 1925 when German writer and activist Heinrich Zimmermann organized the first event in Berlin on March 24. The date was officially moved to October 4, the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, in 1931, becoming an international celebration of animal welfare.
This seems like a perfect day to honor the life and legacy of Jane Goodall, who died this week of natural causes. We can aspire to follow in her footsteps and speak out for those who cannot speak for themselves.
“You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.” Jane Goodall
Jane Goodall was an English primatologist and anthropologist. Regarded as a pioneer in primate ethology, she was best known for more than six decades of field research on the social and family life of wild chimpanzees at Gombe Stream National Park in Tanzania.
“The least I can do is speak out for those who cannot speak for themselves.” Jane Goodall
Animals are our teachers. They show us how to live in harmony with the rhythms of nature, how to trust our instincts, and how to be fully present in each moment.
“The greatest danger to our future is apathy.” Jane Goodall
I don’t approve of using animals in war or police work. I think it’s cruel to send dogs and horses in harm’s way, especially since these sentient beings don’t have the ability to consent — decision-making capacity –and are merely used as expendable, cheap fodder. In my opinion, that’s clearly abusive.
However, the rescue dogs who searched for victims of the 9/11 attacks saved many lives and then took on the task of providing therapy to survivors.
On September 11, 2001, when the towers fell and the sky turned to ash, more than 300 search and rescue dogs stepped into hell on earth. They didn’t hesitate. They didn’t flinch. They climbed through fire and steel, through suffocating debris and deafening silence, searching for life with every breath, every pawstep, every heartbeat.
They entered with pure hearts and fearless resolve—no armor, no agenda, just the unshakable instinct to help. They worked until their pads split, until the air burned their lungs, until their handlers broke down and hope ran dry. And still, they kept going. Because that’s what heroes do.
When the searching stopped, the therapy dogs arrived. Quiet. Steady. Healing. They didn’t need words. They curled beside the broken, leaned into the grief, and reminded shattered humans that love hadn’t died in the dust.
These beautiful dogs didn’t just serve. They bore the weight of our sorrow. They carried our hope. They were the silent saints of Ground Zero—unspoken, unshaken, unforgettable.
We don’t just remember them. We thank them. For their courage. For their comfort. For showing us, in our darkest hours, what selfless devotion truly looks like.
To the hero dogs of 9/11: your legacy lives on in every rescue, every comfort, every life saved because you showed up when it mattered most. Curated from houndsinpounds.org
Things are beautiful if you love them. Jean Anouilh
If I could hug my crow family, I would be so happy. The love of an animal is pure and sweet.
Jean Marie Lucien Pierre Anouilh was a French dramatist and screenwriter 1910-1987.
Curated from Rivers in the Ocean / Craft Kreatively
“Here, beneath this tree, she had lain on her back in the sun and watched the butterflies. Part of her would linger there for ever: a footstep running tip-toe to the creek, the touch of her hand on a tree, the imprint of her body in the long grass. And perhaps one day, in after years, someone would wander there and listen to the silence, as she had done, and catch the whisper of the dreams that she had dreamt there, in midsummer, under the hot sun and the white sky.”
— Daphne du Maurier, Frenchman’s Creek.
Three of my favorites in one painting: a wolf, a raven, and trees. I’d love to curl up and hibernate in a mighty oak guarded by my beloved animal family — to dream of butterflies and seashells and other simple but profound bearers of joy.
It’s been an insane couple of days here on Earth, hasn’t it? A lunar occultation, double meteor showers, giant earthquakes, tsunamis — in addition to retrograde Mercury and the Lion’s Gate portal — and we are definitely in the midst of a massive amount of cosmic energy. I’m not sure what it all means, but I’m on high alert, that’s for sure.
There were no earthquakes or tsunami damage around here, but check out this crazy photo! I was in the garden near a brick patio cleaning fallen leaves from the eucalyptus tree. It’s a really annoying job because my stupid city planted the wrong sort of street trees decades ago and not only do eucs make a giant mess, they’re also a fire hazard. I have to constantly pick up the leaves and the incredibly painful-to-bare-feet seed pods (known as gum nuts). No matter how many times neighbors and I lobby the city to get the tree removed, we are always turned down; another stupidstupid city decision.
In and around the bricks and rocks, I had positioned a few random tiles to add some color when a friendly real lizard stopped by for a visit. I’m glad my camera was close by to memorialize the meeting between art and reality.
Does art imitate life or is life imitating art?
You can see some of the offending euc leaves that fell right after I had cleaned up this area. It’s SO annoying!
Photo by Enchanted Seashells
#WordlessWednesday
It’s not often that a hummingbird will be able to stop moving long enough to take a picture that’s not blurry, but yesterday I got lucky. This little one darted from one monkey flower to another and my phone did a pretty good job of capturing her colorful exuberance. The nectar must have been sweet and delicious.
“She’s little and I love her too much for words to say.” –Leon Russell
The lyrics to Hummingbird, another Leon Russell masterpiece, were swirling around in my head while I was snapping these pics. (This is Set 2 / Live At The Fillmore East/3/27/70 · Leon Russell Mad Dogs & Englishmen)
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 