I'd forgotten the peace, the quiet...

Since May 17, our street has been open only to local traffic due to the closure, repair, and retrofitting of a bridge a couple of blocks south. This bridge, which hovers over a local and important greenbelt creek, was designed by the same man who designed the infamous "Galloping Gertie". That bridge, which spanned the Tacoma Narrows, is famous for having swayed and shaken violently enough in the 1930's to eventually break apart and fall into the waterway below. This disaster was caught on tape and is dragged out of stock and aired periodically by the local TV stations when other such disasters occur. Needless to say, I am thrilled that our bridge is being strengthened especially since it is a valuable north-south route in the city.
That said, I am amazed daily by the quiet and the cleanliness which has fallen on our roadway. The quiet is obvious. There are virtually no cars. What few there are invariably have to turn round after another block south and return in search of another route over the creek. The quiet is so "loud" that I can hear birds I would not otherwise have known were around. Also, being a newshound, I almost always have a radio on and, while mowing or weeding outside, listen via headphones to music. Now, I find that I am still so amazed by and intent upon listening to the silence, I turn the radio off and no longer use the headphones while outside. I simply cannot get enough of the quiet, the peace! And, of course, the air is so much cleaner and better smelling. Boy, are we going to be spoiled by this year of heaven given us by the bridge work!
I also find that, personally, I am more peaceful. I think the quiet has instilled in me more relaxation. Whenever I get my blood pressure taken, I visualize certain roses in my yard in order to remain calm, still, at peace. When I do this, my reading is normal or low. Given how peaceful I've become since the road has closed, I've posted the two roses I visualize and offer them to you the viewer for peaceful, relaxing contemplation. The pink is called Cornelia and the peach is named Westerland. Enjoy and breathe!

Outdoors

Today, another day off Monday, I could not spend enough time outdoors. I mowed the lawn. I weed whacked. I weeded and planted. I seeded tomatoes, basil, evening primrose, sweet williams, penstemon, cosmos. I even did some cleaning and straightening of the garden shed. I just couldn't get enough of being outdoors today. It was mild, a little warm, sunny alternating with overcast and showery. In other words, it was the absolute tonic I needed after being indoors for the many weeks of preparation for the show we just opened. There's a line in the play, "I haven't had my hands in dirt in twenty years....". I took care of that today. It was lovely.

Art and nature

Yesterday was opening day of "Trip to Bountiful". Even after 5 previews, I was very nervous. I had the jitters upon waking and continued quaking late into the morning. Luckily, the weather here was glorious with clear skies, sun, and 60-70 degree warmth so, in some desperation about my nerves, I just walked into the back yard and sat on the grassy slope surrounded by shrubs and rose bushes and listened to the birds. This calmed me enough to go over my words and consider an unsolved and difficult passage in one particular scene. The words were there as they have been. I needn't have doubted that at all. So, I changed my pursuit to the contemplation of my worries. In that instant, it dawned on my that the major theme of the first half of the play is just that: worry. There are countless references to worry, nerves, aggression caused by the city and it's attendent competition.
Then, I thought about the second half of the play, when Carrie travels back to her home in pursuit of dignity, peace, calm. Another lightbulb went on as I sat in the middle of all that warmth and beauty and that is that the natural world is her salvation. It's influence offers her a profound change in her life. Indeed, without it, there would be no ending to the play.
So, I made the choice of using my nerves last night, however many continued or grew, and then using that very moment of peaceful discovery as my pursuit in the second half of the play. It worked! As the show progressed, my nerves left and the warmth which Carrie sought (and I had found yesterday) slowed her down and allowed the observations to really sink in of the whole experience of her "trip".
Now, all this might seem obvious and you might be right in thinking so. I, however, was in the thick of it yesterday with seemingly all unknowns around. To coin a phrase, I couldn't see "the woods for the trees". I'm happy and relieved to say that an intuition led me to my own backyard and allowed me to find the answers to my questions and fears were just over yonder in the newly bloomed Japanese iris and my lovely Westerland rose.

Cold and rainy

Today was grey, cold, and rainy which, actually, is typical weather for this neck of the woods. The promise of blooms all around my garden will continue as just that for another day or so and then that promise will be fulfilled galore! Here are but two Spring flowers which opened this past week: the iris and rhododendron. Both are in their full show and both fascinate me with their intricacy and curious depth.

The grey cold also brought hopes of another sort. We saw the Merlins and they are on the nest! Indeed, their nest is in the tree we'd thought but is entirely camoflaged. Considering what happened with our bushtits' nest, the dense cover is a very good thing. From what we've learned, the pair started nest sitting in the past week and so the hatch should occur during the last week of May/first week of June!
Speaking of the bushtits', when we returned to our yard, we saw the pair pecking the old nest and dismantling it one after the other and then flying away with the materials to a new nest site! If the level of decomposition stays at this level, they will have the entire nest fabric apart and moved by the week's end. I admire their industry and determination.

Nature and theatre

Today, happily, is a day off. Work was hard but very valuable this past week for many reasons. So much was gained and learned through repetition and study and just being in the moment and listening, finally, to what the other actors were saying!! Plus, I finally figured out the end of the play.
Actors memorize words and say those words over and over but, sometimes, don't really realize the full meaning of parts of a script or character's story. Much of the meaning is evident, nonetheless, from what other characters say and do and from the musicality of the speech. Leonard Bernstein lectured on this vis a vis the language of musical notes and how evocative specific notes and chords were. I digress a bit.

When Carrie Watts (at the end of "Trip to Bountiful") looks around her and fully realizes what it is that has restored her dignity, she says this:
"...the river will be here. The fields. The woods. The smell of the Gulf. That's what I always took my strength from...Not from houses, not from people. It's so quiet. It's so eternally quiet. I've forgotten the peace. The quiet. And it's given me strength once more... To go on and do what I have to do. I've found my dignity and strength.........
it's all woods now. But I expect someday people will come again and cut down the trees and plant the cotton and maybe even wear out the land again and then their children will sell it and go to the cities and then the trees will come up again......
We're part of all this. We left it but we can never lose what it has given us."

She realizes that we're part of the earth, the world and, with luck and work, that will continue. All will decompose and be reused and reborn.

As you have read, we've been following the assemblage of the bushtits' nest and documenting the progress with photos and reportage here. This morning, seeing the sun through the shades, I opened the curtains in the back to see if one of the roses had opened it's blooms and saw, instead, a large crow and a pair of stellar jays flying towards the back fir trees and away from the nest area. When I looked at the nest, I saw what looked like disaster. It was severely altered. I couldn't tell if those bigger birds had attacked it or if the overnight winds had bashed it. Whatever the case, I jumped into some clothes, grabbed my glasses, and fairly ran outside to the back yard. Once there, I could clearly see that the nest was ruined. From what I could see, it looked like a larger bird had swiped it violently with it's claws and opened an entire side of it exposing all that soft, downy inside which I had been imagining.

I almost burst into tears. One would think I was one of the parents! The real parents (or perhaps others in the bushtits' social grouping) flew around and around the broken nest chirping continually in alarm and, probably, sadness. Despair was quickly enveloping me when I saw something remarkable that snapped me back to " Bountiful". One of the bushtits removed a tiny, downy feather and flew away with it. Then it's partner did the same. It dawned on me that they were already rebuilding, reusing, and working toward a new world. Indeed, the efforts and travails of those tiny birds gave me "strength once more to go on and do what I had to do".

One last note: On closer examination, we found one wee egg which had fallen to the soil below the nest and had broken. The egg, pictured, was only the size of my thumbnail. It looked unreal because of it's size but it was real enough. This little bird didn't make it but, given what I witnessed this morning, others will in the new nests being built and, hopefully, camoflaged better than this one was.