A memorable moment from the past

Twenty-five years ago tomorrow, my youngest child was born in our RV on the way to the birthing center.

I mention this because each of us has certain experiences in our lives that define us as a family, stories remembered and recounted long after the events took place. That’s the kind of story my son Toby’s birth is - a moment as vivid in my memory today as it was a quarter of a century ago.

In 1992, Ralph and I and our three children - Amber, Jenny and Timmy - were living in Kissimmee. I awoke around 5 a.m. on the morning of February 21 with pains in my abdomen that might have been Braxton-Hicks contractions. Or maybe not. After waiting for about an hour, I realized that the feelings I had were decidedly different than the contractions I’d experienced earlier in my pregnancy. So I woke up my husband and told him it was time.

He sleepily responded by asking if I was sure. In a less than gentle way I told him, YES! And he’d better get out of bed and rouse the children NOW because we needed to get going to the birthing center right away!

My husband is an intelligent man. Upon noting my tone, he quickly complied.

It might be helpful to mention at this point that each of my three previous birthing experiences had been long and arduous. It took two days for my first child to come out of the womb. My second took about a day and the third birth was relatively short at only 12+ hours. Needless to say, I expected this fourth and final birthing experience to be more of the same - yet another long, trying effort to bring new life into the world.

To be prepared for the expected marathon, Ralph had equipped our Class C camper with plenty of games, toys and food to keep our three children - ages 12, 11, and 9 - occupied for the 45-minute drive to the birth center as well as during the long, drawn out delivery period we anticipated.

But things don’t always work out the way we think they will.

A little after 6 a.m. with me sprawled out on the camper’s rear bed, the kids comfortably situated in the overhead cab and my husband in the driver’s seat, Ralph backed the RV out of our driveway and hit the road.

In many relationships, the husband is the designated driver or both partners take turns behind the wheel but that’s not the way our family rolls. In our household, I’m the one who steers the wheel. I like to drive and have a good sense of direction, both of which my husband lacks. Because of that, I've always felt nervous on those rare occasions when my spouse is in the driver’s seat. But this time, there was no time to feel anxious or worried. I had a baby ready to be born and a husband who assured me he’d have no problem finding his way to the birthing center. He could do it, he said. All I had to do was concentrate on staying calm.

Calm? Ha! 

Any semblance of calmness I might have had vanished about 40 minutes into the drive when the father of my children called out in a frantic voice that he was lost.

Lost? On I-4?

“Which exit should I take?” he asked via Amber, who was acting as a go-between, ferrying messages from the front of the RV where Ralph was, to the back of the camper where I was laboring with help from 11-year-old Jenny.

As soon as I heard the words, “I am lost,” a howling sound erupted from my mouth.

“YOU’RE LOST?” I screamed. “HOW CAN YOU BE LOST? I’M ABOUT TO HAVE A BABY! YOU CAN’T BE LOST!!”

But we were lost - or, more accurately, he was. Although we were actually only a couple blocks away, those couple blocks didn’t matter because the scream that had erupted from my innermost self did much more than vent my frustration. It caused baby #4 to pop out of my body straight into my young daughter’s arms.

When Ralph realized what had happened - thanks to Amber’s messaging and Jenny and Amber’s combined midwifery skills - he pulled onto the shoulder of the Par Avenue exit ramp and came back to check on me and meet his new son. When he realized we were both well, he returned to the driver’s seat and continued on his way, arriving at the birthing center minutes later where the staff efficiently took charge.

Amber Jenny and Timmy admire their new brother following an memorable trip to the birthing center in the family RV
Circa: 1992

During all the commotion, 9-year-old Timothy was doing what 9-year-old boys do best - being oblivious to the world around him. Instead of freaking out like the rest of us, he was taking advantage of the well-stocked RV, munching on snacks and playing cards in the upper bunk. But we weren’t about to leave Timmy out of the action. Since he hadn’t participated in the actual event like his sisters had done, the birthing center staff invited him to cut the cord, which he did.

Was I mad that my husband got lost on the way to the birthing center? At the time I was, but any anger I felt in the moment disappeared with my new child’s arrival. In retrospect, Ralph’s mistake was the best thing that could have happened. Thanks to his poor sense of direction, I had the fastest, easiest, most memorable birth possible, not to mention a great story that still makes me smile 25 years after it happened.

11-year-old Jenny holding her new brother

Love is all around us

Love...is all around us

If you take the time to look

you might find

Love in plain sight

It's in the heart-shaped heads of cranes...

In garden plants...

And on tree trunks

It grows on stumps, in sand and all kinds of leaves

Once you start looking for Love

You'll find it everywhere

Nature offers us so many ways...

To express our love

to fill our days

 It's up to us to find a way

To make love part of every day 

Happy Valentine's Day

to Nature and all her wonders

May they last forever

💗

A poem and a picture for New Year's Eve

YOUR CHOICE...

by Sherry Boas

An optimist and pessimist await the New Year Hour

One with eager smile, one's expression sour.

The pessimist looks back and groans, "Time goes by so fast!"

The optimist looks back and grins, "More memories to last!"

The pessimist recalls the debts, the dollars thrown away.

The optimist recalls the gains, the values earned each day.

The pessimist sees struggles fought, times that trouble crossed.

The optimist sees each success and respects the cost.

The pessimist looks back and sighs, "I should have not done that."

The optimist: "How much I've learned..."  And gives himself a pat.

The pessimist says, "What a year!  I've never known such woe."

The optimist says, "What a year! ...Amazing how we grow."

One with eyes so used to seeing problems every day.

One with eyes so used to seeking out a better way.

An optimist and pessimist await the New Year Hour

One with eager smile, one's expression sour.

And when the midnight chime does ring both turn to look ahead

The optimist with hope and dreams, the pessimist with dread.

So pour a toast and raise a glass.  Take a drink until

Your glass reflects the year ahead:  Half empty or half full.

Age is just a number

October is my birthday month. When leaves traditionally turn scarlet, orange and gold, I turn the leaf on another year. My 65th...

Am I really that old?

The calendar says I am. So does Uncle Sam. Age 65 makes me an official Senior Citizen, old enough to receive Medicare. I can slip on a pair of ‘Silver Sneakers’ and go to the gym without paying a fee.

That is, if I liked going to a gym, which I don’t.

I like building muscle by doing the same things I’ve always done - going for long, meandering walks and quiet rows through still water. biking, stretching and working in the garden. 

I exercise by giving my husband frequent massages and practicing chin-ups just like I’ve been doing since fifth grade when my teacher, Mr. Robideaux, showed me how. 

Except in fifth grade I wore more clothes doing chin-ups

My aging bones are strengthened by working at a stand-up desk instead of a sit-down table. I bounce on a pair of inflatable balance balls as I surf the web and type my columns. When eating, I’m careful about the foods I put into my body and prioritize dining in a mindful, calm manner.

A typical lunch includes a plate full of real food, a good book, a cup of hibiscus tea and a few supplements just in case... 

Although five decades have passed since my childhood, In my mind I’m still a spunky kid exploring the world with wide-eyed wonder. The difference is that these day, my eyes are somewhat shielded by drooping eyelids and covered by a pair of perpetually smudged bifocals.

But smudgy lenses and sagging skin can’t stop me from exploring the world outside my window. Nor can they keep me from paying attention to the world within.

Over the last 65 years, I’ve seen and learned much.

During the last six-plus decades, tiny saplings no bigger than a finger have grown into trees too large to put my arms around. I’ve also grown. From towheaded child to pigtailed youth, I’ve turned into a brown-haired woman who became a parent and is now a grandparent of four with a headful of gray-streaked, shoulder-length locks. This personal manifestation of time’s passage is a concept as difficult to wrap my mind around as it is to physically embrace the trunk of a towering oak.

Ralph attempts to wrap his arms around a huge tree - not an oak but a cypress

Of course, over the years I’ve also seen forests cut down to meet the needs of expanding populations. Farmland has been bulldozed, fields paved over, water and air quality compromised and wildlife endangered all in the name of that all-powerful god, ‘Progress.’

During periods of drought, I’ve watched submerged shorelines emerge to support foliage and small trees. I’ve seen those same plants die during wet periods when water levels eventually returned to more normal levels.

This ebb and flow of land and water has occurred with enough frequency to strengthen my faith in nature as an equalizing force. Even so, it frightens me to think of mankind’s greedy shortsightedness and destructive tendencies. I believe in nature. I want it to win.

After 65 years of living on this earth, I still wake up each day excited about the future. I wonder what the day will bring. What surprises will unfold? There are sunrises and sunsets to look forward to, interesting cloud formations, raindrops and rainbows. There might be spiderwebs shimmering with dew and bumblebees gathering nectar from flowers.

 

It’s the small things that bring me pleasure. Hugs from my grandchildren. My husband’s kisses. A handwritten letter in the mail. Kind words in an online post.

I’m no longer a child. Heck, despite what my mind tells me, I’m not even a young twentysomething. What I am is a mature woman who has somehow managed to remain optimistic despite the mounting stream of social, environmental and political injustices that threaten to turn our world upside down.

I attempt to stay positive by balancing out every loud, upsetting and frightening news report I hear or disrespectful action I observe, with an equal measure of kindness and goodness.

When I was a youngster, turning 65 was beyond my comprehension. Despite what the calendar says, it still remains a foreign concept. I may be entering the age of Senior Citizen this month, but my mind remains steadfastly affixed to the doorway of youth. I like the view from that position gazing out on life’s everyday treasures.

It’s the little things that make me smile and keep discouragement at bay. 

 

My orchid tree is in bloom!

 When it comes to orchid trees, It's all about soil.

Plant an orchid tree, Bauhinia spp., in nutrient-poor soil such as hard clay, and this deciduous ornamental will struggle to survive. It might even die. On the other hand, watch the same tree thrive when the hole it's placed into contains well-drained dirt enriched with manure, peat or composted materials.

So much of a tree's development above ground depends on its underground environment. Rich, light soil encourages root expansion, and the more expansive a root system, the more energy available to produce branches, lush foliage, flowers and seedpods.

Thoughts such as these drifted through my mind while I rowed by a pink orchid tree growing a few feet back from our lake's northeastern shore. That tree has been growing — struggling to survive would be a more accurate description — for about 20 years. Yet, it has only recently begun bearing fragrant pink flowers, something most orchid trees do within a single growth season. The floral display is not as full or vibrant as it could be, but after 20 years of waiting, I'll take whatever it offers.

However, it didn't have to take this long.

If only my husband Ralph and I knew 20 years ago what we have since learned, the orchid tree could have looked very different. Before installing the tree, we should have dug a much larger, deeper hole. We should have removed the existing soil — a white clay called kaolin devoid of essential nutrients — and replaced it with a lighter, nutrient-rich mixture of manure, decomposed woodchips and peat.

Doing so would have gone a long way toward giving the roots the headstart they deserved and the boost they needed. A well-developed root system would have been able to support a flush of above-ground growth. Even without irrigation, which wasn't available at the time, the tree would have grown bigger and fuller far sooner than it did.

Instead, it spent years struggling to put down roots in the hard, white clay and because it didn't have a solid root system, the tree was vulnerable. In its early years, the few sprigs of top growth died back completely during periods of severe cold, and while the tree rebounded during warm periods, repeated losses took their toll.

However, over the last three or four years, the orchid tree finally seemed to be gaining strength. In 2013, it actually produced a flower — the first one ever — and I was so excited. Every year since, a few more flowers bloomed. This year is the best yet. A light cover of aromatic, pale pink blossoms adorns the tree, which is still small for its age. Although no one could say it's lush, to my admiring eyes, it looks mighty fine indeed.

As much as I am enjoying this long-awaited gift, I can't help but wish we had known 20 years ago the importance of essential elements. That's something trees and people have in common. We grow better in places that fulfill our needs. My fragrant orchid tree does best when grown in a partially sunny spot with well-drained soil that's neither too acidic nor too alkaline.

For people, the essential element is love. Of course, food, shelter and financial support are crucial too, but love is paramount. It's the most vital element needed to assure an individual's strong, swift and secure development into a healthy, happy and beautiful being.

Humans, like the sad little orchid tree growing along the shore of our lake, are also resilient. If we hang in long enough, we, too, can bloom. For some, it's about soil. For others, it's love. For all of us, it's about overcoming impediments and conquering obstacles.

In the spirit of Earth Day, find a tree you like and plant it. Maybe plant two. But whatever you do, don't forget the soil. Give those trees a good start in life, and the entire planet will be rewarded far sooner, far longer, with fewer worries and cares. On April 22 — and every other day as well — nurture nature and let nature nurture you

A New Year without resolutions

The first few weeks of January are an optimistic period. Fresh starts dominate. Goal setting ensues. Minds are aflutter with dreams and expectations.

I know the feeling of unbridled enthusiasm for New Year resolutions. In years gone by, I’ve written down goals and worked hard — at least for a while — to achieve them. Although some plans reached fruition, others faded away in the twilight of good intentions. Overall, step-by-step and year-by-year, positive strides have been achieved. Progress, though slow, is progress nonetheless.

This year, however, I’m doing things differently. Instead of pensively striving to contemplate tomorrows, I want to meet the future without tethers or ties. I have no printed list of proposals. No resolute statements or carefully mapped out plans. I want to see what it’s like to experience the next 11 months unleashed from a list of grand promises and ideals.

If it sounds like an excuse for not making New Year resolutions, maybe it is, but for a planner like me it’s also a scary proposition. I’ve always considered goal setting an essential part of personal growth. In my mind, plans and accomplishments go hand-in-hand. Without hard work and determination, I’ve always believed dreams stagnate and aspirations dwindle.

For decades, the beginning of January found me writing down a list of goals for the year ahead. I would review them regularly, dating and placing checkmarks to indicate when expectations were met.

And yet, there comes a time in life when it feels right to take a break. Instead of working so hard to have more — more material objects or more achievements — it seems important to work harder at enjoying what you have. That’s what I want to do in 2016. I want to do less and enjoy it more. I want to be listless in the sense of being free from expectations and penned-out plans. At the same time, I want to be open to whatever opportunities and experiences come along.

This year, I’m taking a break from tradition. I’m allowing myself a little leeway and letting go of expectations. If you are among the multitude making New Year resolutions, I applaud your efforts. I hope you attain as many of your objectives as possible and for those resolutions that fail to thrive, I hope you don’t fault yourself harshly. It’s important to remember that sometimes we learn as much — if not more — from our failures as we do from our successes.

As for me, I’m flying free for the first time in years. The first few weeks of January are an optimistic period and I’m excited to see what each new day brings.

Kiss and tell...

When I leave the house, I kiss my husband goodbye. It doesn’t matter if I’ll be away all day or for a half-hour, we always part with a kiss. It’s not just any old kiss. No my-mind-is-on-other-things peck on the cheek.

The kisses we exchange are full-on, lips-pressed-together, arms-around-each-other expressions of affection. We do it because when you love someone, you want to show it. You want them to know how much you care. A true kiss given on the cusp of separation — even a brief parting — becomes a sensory-rich bookmark, a placeholder of memories until the return.

During this past year — the 45th year Ralph and I have been a couple — I’ve given much thought to togetherness. What are the threads that hold partners together? Why do some unions last while others unravel?

For more than four decades, my husband and I have lived and worked together. We’ve created businesses and carved homesteads out of our imagination as much as the wood, nails and screws that physically held them together. We’ve raised four children and welcomed four grandchildren into the world. We’ve had our share of highs as well as lows. The ebb and flow of our marriage is no different from anyone else’s. Difficult times have been endured, joyful ones savored.

Kisses help us connect with those memories. Each physical expression is a touchstone, a reminder of what’s important. While kisses alone can’t cement a relationship, they can help hold it together. Prioritizing physical contact is like sealing an envelope. It keeps important messages from falling out.

There’s a strong tendency in long-term relationships to take each other for granted. After a while, we stop listening to each other’s words and intimacy loses its immediacy. Even kissing — if done at all — becomes lackluster and boring.

Why let it? It doesn’t take much to rekindle a flame. Smoldering embers ignite when fanned with a bit of focused attention. Before long, there’s fire, a burning blaze to warm the heart.

Being mindful is important to me. I try to pay attention to nature and my surroundings. I make a point of slowing down and looking around as I go about my daily activities. I try not to miss the small things — the little flowers, the rustle of leaves — everyday wonders that can be so easily overlooked.

However, important as such awareness is, it can’t compare to the vital nature of my primary relationship. I want that relationship to be the best it can be. And so, I never leave the house without kissing my husband goodbye. I give him a loving kiss, and he gives me one back. After 45 years of sharing life, it’s our way of letting each other know how much we treasure our time together.

It’s just a kiss. A little thing. But little things matter. They matter a lot.

Remember others...

On this Thanksgiving day, remember that holidays are not joyous times for everyone.  There are many reasons why some people find it difficult to cope on days of celebration - especially those days that traditionally involve family gatherings.  

So, on holidays like today, be extra kind and attentive to others.  You don't have to do much to make a difference.  A warm smile, a tender touch, even a friendly face can ease the gloom in someone else's life.  

It only take a moment to be kind to another, but the effect of a caring gesture can last forever. 

The world can be a lonely place

If but for a friendly face

A few words said with kind intent

A smile, a hug, a compliment

Can brighten up a cloudy day

And chase the loneliness away 

An album of 'Now and Then' photos!

Our four children gave Ralph and me the most special birthday gift.  It may just be the best birthday gift I've ever received!

Since both of our birthdays are back-to-back - his on October 26, mine on the 27th, we celebrate them together and this year, all of our children came home to celebrate with us.

Although people were in and out for much of the month, because of schedules, there was only one full day when all of us were in the same place at the same time.  Despite the lack of time, Jenny, Amber, Timmy and Toby somehow managed to take a series of very specific pictures that they put together in an album.

What a difference 22 years make!
(From left:  Timmy, Amber, Jenny, Toby)

They weren't any old pictures.  They were pictures that matched ones taken years before when they were little kids still living at home with us.  They assembled the photos side-by-side in an album.  Such fun and creativity!  Thank you Jenny for making it happen and Amber, Toby, and Timmy for taking part.  I love it!

Toby, now and then
When we were all at the beach the other day, I couldn't understand why Toby was sitting there making such a big pile of sand.  I get it now!  

Timmy - 29 years later he's still wearing his own handmade necklaces and hanging out in the water whenever he can

My two boys - Timmy and Toby

"I growed it myself!"  Jenny (and cat) with broccoli from the garden.
Once a gardener, always a gardener!

Amber's turn!  

Baby Jenny with stuffed animal and grown up Jenny with stuffed animal
Gee...34 years have gone by so fast!

Circa 1983ish:  Amber playing 'mama' with her doll
Today:  Amber is a real life mama with two kids of her own, 6-year-old Atom and almost 4-year-old Trillian, who she is holding

Two sisters with books sharing one chair
Note that baby Jenny (and her grown up self) are both holding their book sideways! 

A playful birthday month

I like birthdays. I like them so much I think a month-long celebration is more appropriate than a one-day commemoration. Birthdays deserve a month of joyful activities, personal pleasures and whimsical indulgences.

In a few days, it will be my birthday month, which means I’ve been giving a bit of thought lately to how I want to spend the next 31 days. I know I want them to be peaceful days, as free of worry and frustration as possible. To that end, I plan to go rowing frequently. I’m never calmer than when I’m in my old aluminum skiff, skimming across the flat surface of still water.

On days when I’m unable to be on the lake, I’ll try to be out walking, taking long, slow meanders through wooded paths. Next to rowing, a slow stroll through a dark forest fills me with peace and solace. I recently read a Zen meditation quote that I found especially relevant, “You should sit in nature for 20 minutes a day…unless you’re busy, then you should sit for an hour.” An hour sounds about right to me, busy or not.

When I’m not rowing, walking in the woods or sitting quietly observing nature, I’d love to spend time during my birthday month reading, baking and taking pictures. A bit of gardening would be nice, too. Ideally, a birthday month should be filled with as many much-loved activities as possible. Losing myself in a good story, taking a bite of pumpkin pie fresh from the oven or feeling a satisfying glow when I’ve cleaned up a flowerbed are all high on my things-that-make-me-happy list.

Happiness can also be found spending time with others, especially with those people most important in your life. In addition to together time with my husband Ralph, which is always a pleasure, I’m looking forward to visits from each of our children and grandkids during October. For a couple weeks, we’ll have a full house, and as much fun as that can be, I know from experience I’ll be needing breaks. Without doubt, my rowing muscles and walking shoes will get a good workout during those weeks.

Celebrating birthdays with family

On the topic of fun, I believe a birthday month should include at least one frivolous, unnecessary pleasure. My frolicsome leap into indulgency revolves around three wheels and a reclining seat. I’m thinking about getting a one-speed, recumbent Fun Cycle, a bike I have coveted since I first rode one 27 years ago. A birthday is a fine time to revisit long-lasting pleasures from the past, so I’m researching new and used Fun Cycles for sale. At some point during my birthday month, I hope to be zipping down the hard-packed sand on New Smyrna Beach at low tide on my new-to-me recumbent play-mobile.

I got one!  Me on my new-to-me Fun Cycle

Playing is important, and it’s not just for kids. According to Stuart Brown, author, psychiatrist and founder of the non-profit National Institute for Play, “Play is something done for its own sake. It's voluntary, it's pleasurable, it offers a sense of engagement, it takes you out of time. And the act itself is more important than the outcome.”

For the next 31 days, no matter what else I do, I’ll be celebrating my birthday by prioritizing play.

Mother's Day...it's about time

Looking back on all the Mother’s Day gifts I’ve received during the 36 years since my first child was born, the ones I appreciated most were gifts of time — specifically, alone time. They were the precious hours when I was free from the responsibilities of being a mom.

Now that my four children are grown, it’s different, but when they were little, I wanted nothing more than a few hours alone in my own home with no one yelling “Mama!” I wanted no sticky fingers clinging to my legs. For just a few hours — four seemed ideal — I longed to be able to focus on something without interruptions, a chance to do the things I liked to do without anyone demanding my attention.

Those memories returned recently during separate conversations with both of my daughters. My girls, now each mothers themselves of young children, talked about the stress of parenting preschoolers. Years of interrupted sleep, the frustration of dealing with willful toddlers and the struggles over confusing and often conflicting parenting decisions had caught up with them. Despite deep love and devotion to their each of their offspring, both daughters yearned for a few blissful hours of relief.

I listened to their words with empathy and compassion. Having experienced it myself, I understood their frustration and wholeheartedly supported their needs for short periods of separateness. As much as I wanted to tell them that these difficult stages of parenting would soon be over, I held back saying words I knew wouldn’t help.

As a 63-year-old grandmother, I have gained perspective. Looking back on my own first decade of parenting, I now know how fleeting the early years of childrearing actually are. Children grow up quickly. Behaviors that once seemed unending and unendurable magically morph into fond memories. Insufferable phases finally change and at some point, even sleep routines return to semi-normal patterns.

I was unable to understand these concepts when I was a sleep-deprived, preoccupied mom who couldn’t remember when she last wore unstained clothes or talked on the phone without being interrupted. We all know children grow up quickly, but the reality of those words doesn’t sink in until the early parenting stage of life is over.

These days, sticky fingers no longer pull on my clothes nor am I barraged by little voices begging me to ‘Watch this’ or ‘Look at that.’ The need for a brief escape from my four kids for just a few hours is no longer something I crave. And yet, an unfulfilled longing still exists. Time has flipped the scales. Instead of imagining time apart from my kids, now I wish I could have a few uninterrupted hours to spend with each of them individually.

Looking back, I realize that the Mother’s Day gifts I appreciated most have always been gifts of time. They still are.

Six ways to celebrate Earth Day

With Earth Day just two days away, I’ve been thinking about how to celebrate. While planting a tree is a traditional and excellent way to commemorate the holiday, not everyone is in a position to add plants to the landscape. Therefore, I offer six suggestions — six no-cost, easy ways anyone can participate in the celebration.

Start the day by going outside to watch the sunrise. On Wednesday, April 22, the sun rises in Central Florida at 6:54 a.m. It’s the time of day when most of us are either still snug in our beds or busy getting ready for work, making breakfast or preparing the kids for school. On Earth Day, however, take a break from that hectic routine. Brush the sleep from your eyes, and treat yourself to a morning sky show. Welcome the day with a silent salute to the sun — the giant star that gives our planet life.

Before going back inside, pause for a minute to listen to birdsongs.

There are 510 birds on the Florida state checklist, and many will lend their voice to the morning serenade. Listen for the uplifting lilt of cardinals, Carolina wrens, bluebirds, chickadees and mockingbirds as well as the less melodious calls of bluejays, redwing blackbirds and crows. 

Savor the sound of the birds around us. In addition to being beautiful to look at and lovely to listen to, birds are an important part of the ecosystem. They disperse seeds, act as pollinators and help to keep insect populations under control. Take a few moments out of your day to appreciate one of earth’s most exquisite gifts. Spare a few moments for the birds.

As the day progresses, many of us will find ourselves inside buildings. We’ll be on our computers, at work, school or our homes. We’ll be doing tasks that let us forget there’s a day out there with wind and rain and sun and shadows. On Earth Day — at least for a little while — turn off the air conditioner and open the windows. Listen to the breeze whisper as you go about your business. Let the movement of air act as a reminder that life is not always the perfect temperature. In a world so well insulated from the wild, it’s important to occasionally be grounded — to feel the heat or cold or wind or wetness. To be reminded that we are a part of the rest of nature’s creatures.

It’s likely that sometime during Earth Day, most of us will be getting in or out of our cars. Unfortunately, wherever it is we’re going, there’s bound to be litter. Take a moment on this special day to pick up some trash. It doesn’t have to be more than just one or two items — a plastic bag blowing through the parking lot, dropped paper, an empty bottle or can. Whatever it is, instead of walking by with eyes conditioned to ignore other peoples’ messes, make an effort to see what’s there and clean it up. Do it for Mother Nature. Consider it a gesture of kindness to the earth.

Before it gets dark, pick up a pair of scissors or a garden clipper if you have one and pick a bouquet of flowers. It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a garden. In the middle of April, there are flowers everywhere. You might have to walk a little farther but the extra steps will be worth the effort. Clip off a magnolia bloom and bring it inside to let its perfume fill the room. Even weeds can be beautiful when put on display. Snip off wildflowers growing by the wayside or the blooms of lilies, irises and daisies. Gather a posy of roses, and bring the outdoors inside.

One final way to celebrate Earth Day starts much as the day began — with the sun. It sets at 7:55 p.m. Go outside again, and watch the sky. Marvel at the transition of colors, patterns and shades of light and dark. Look up and notice stars beginning to twinkle. From sunrise to sunset, absorb the enormity of the entire day.

Earth Day is celebrated once a year, yet the existence of every day is cause for celebration. We only have one earth. Each person only has one life. At the very least, take a moment to appreciate the gift of living on this amazing planet.