Feelers

According to the Collins English Dictionary the definition for feelers is as follows:

feeler [ˈfiːlə]
n
1. a person or thing that feels
2. (Life Sciences & Allied Applications / Zoology) an organ in certain animals, such as an antenna or tentacle, that is sensitive to touch
3. a remark designed to probe the reactions or intentions of other people

As I’m sure you’ll agree, sometimes the mere use of eyes and ears is not enough to help get the right “feel” of a situation, therefore, and in lieu of antennas or tentacles, humans relie (sometimes) on what’s commonly known as: The Sixth Sense or Common Sense.

Call it what you may, and whether you are a cricket, a lady or a ladybug, a lack of feelers can certainly lead to danger. During a study of “hawk moths” conducted by researchers of the University of Washington, Seattle, it was noticed that “the Johnston's organs controlled balance by sensing the movements of the antennae, the team removed the ends of antennae from some moths. These moths lost all sense of balance and direction, flying randomly around the test room, sometimes crashing into the walls or the ground. When the antennae were re-attached with superglue, the moths regained the majority of their in-flight agility.” from SECRET OF MOTH FLIGHT DECIPHERED, Friday, 9 February 2007 by Alexander Epstein, Cosmos Online
 
There you have it! Lack of feelers/antennas=total disaster. As I ponder about this, it seems logical that in addition to loosing their flying ability, moths will also get too close to the fire only to be devoured by the flames.
 
It's a shame that mankind's Sixth Sense/Common Sense cannot be re-attached with superglue!  Our only way to preserve the health of our feelers is by conducting daily tune-ups and applying large amounts of love, kindness, positive thinking, and laughter. It is very important because, you see, through our invisible antennas the warmth of the sun is more intense, the taste of honey is sweeter, the hug of a friend is warmer, the pain of a loss is more acute, and the red flashing "danger" signs more noticeable.
 
Remember the moths! Listen to your feelers!


Note: Photo by A2ZKids.com/uk

Lavender Dreams

Amidst lavender clouds you come to me,

a vision of beauty,

soft, ethereal,

a road to nowhere and everywhere...

We stroll through lavender fields

held by fragile, winding chains made of seeds...

You stay for a while

filling my head with wonderful thoughts,

then as you pull away, the chains break,

 the seeds fall, and I dream of the joy you've left behind...

Note: Photos by Weheartit.com and Flicker

The Swing

  I was six years old when my father built my first swing. It was a rustic contraption, just a piece of plywood held by a rope. We did not have a garden so it was secured on a ceiling beam in the spare room facing a very large window.  Looking back I suppose it wasn't the customary and usual place for a swing, but my father was a firm believer that every child should have one.

The swing became a part of me. Rain or shine it provided comfort, a favorite place for reading and dreaming. As the years passed my father adjusted the size of the seat and the strength of the rope. I was growing up, my dreams were also changing. The swing's familiar shelter helped to ease the pain of my first broken heart, it was the place where I first heard my beloved Beatles and "fell in love" with Paul McCartney. On the swing I read my first romantic novel, enjoyed ice cream, practiced my knitting, and cried when my cat died.

Eventually we moved to a new place. The swing was left behind along with my childhood. Time went by, life happened.


Three years ago, on a beautiful summer afternoon I came home to find a brand new swing in the garden. It seems almost symbolic that the two most important men in my life, my father and my husband, have been responsible for providing what I consider to be a perfect place.


As soon as the weather starts to get warmer, and even before I begin the cleaning of the garden, I bring out my cherished swing, it's comfy cushions and lace throw, with great anticipation of the months to come.


Housework slows down almost to a halt during the summer, everyone knows where to find me. The swing becomes my primary home, the best seat to watch the squirrels frolic, the birds build their nests and feed their young.  There is no better place to read a book, enjoy a glass of wine, listen to the sound of water from the fountain, or take a nap on a hot, lazy afternoon.

I come back out again at dusk, just in time to light colored candles and savour the peace I find on my swing.

A lovely day

We had a beautiful, balmy day here in  Northern New Jersey. It felt like Spring! Just like two typical Winter birds, my daughter and I threw the windows open and enjoyed Mother Nature's unexpected gift.

Days such as these are made to be shared with loved ones. My lovely daughter's youth, optimism and energy flowed throughout the house mixing with mine, creating the aura that will bind us forever.

As evening fell the windows were closed, but the magic of the day still lingered and shined like fireflies on our hair...

Note: Photo by Flicker

My aunt, the birds, and other things...

There's one in most families. The "odd relative" the "black sheep" the "square peg." In ours it was the "eccentric" aunt. She was a beautiful, passionate woman who allowed no one tell her how to live her life. She was kind to a fault, humble, and funny. Her laughter was contagious, her comments were honest and at times crude (offending and shocking my mother's refined sensitivity). She never married, had many lovers and one daughter.  She was a woman ahead of her time.

During her most "wild" years she lived with eight dogs in a one bedroom apartment which luckily led to a back garden.  She was always full of hair and inevitably the "scent" of the dogs became her own. The dogs died and the passing of time made her even more "peculiar."  She moved farther away, slowly started to reject our company and became a recluse sharing her apartment with one dog she found on the street, a sick parrot previously owned by the local bar (hence, the obscene vocabulary) and a one-eyed cat. Her love for animals knew no boundries, especially the ones in need.  She'd spend her monthly pension mostly in food for her pets and hundreds of pigeons and birds that'd come to her balcony every day, much to the neighbors' dismay.


It was heartbreaking to drive up her street and see all the birds and pigeons standing there. Her true and faithful friends...the company she kept.


She passed away alone in her sleep and was found two days later. Afterwards, and for many, many  days, the birds returned to their usual place of gathering looking for their good, trusted friend.


As I take a walk in the park, I am moved to tears whenever I see someone feeding the birds and yet, I am also comforted to see that my beloved aunt's love for animals is carried on by a kindred spirit.


Note: Photo by The Guardian uk