joanrawlinshusby

"Bee" Surprised

Some of the surprises in our yard

We moved last fall, after the flowers had finished blooming. So these lovely spring days have been full of surprises as we work in our new yard. Rhododendron and azalea bushes are breathtakingly colorful. Mounds of snow-on-the-mountain fling the whitest of snowdrifts against the somber evergreens. A mix of ground covers fill drab areas with violets, primroses, forget-me-nots, lilies of the valley, and other bloomers. Tulips and irises have popped up where the ground seemed bare.

Along the end of the house a bank drops steeply to the drive below. Big rocks shore it up. The crevices bloom with a variety of perennials, but not much grows in the sandy soil at the top. One morning I decided to give it a good weeding, then plant ground cover there.

Another surprise! Buzzing filled the air as hundreds of swarming bees swirled ankle high above the ground.

No, they weren’t swarming…they seemed interested only in pursuing other bees going in and out of burrows in the ground. In some places, the holes were no more than two inches apart. The busy creatures ignored the big feet standing there in their midst, and they ignored the camera lens hovering just above them.

Ground bees at work on their burrows (Click photos to enlarge)

I hurried to my computer and found that the Northwest is home to several species of native ground bees. These include digger bees, alkali bees, bumble bees, leaf cutter bees and sweat bees (so called because they like to land on people and sip the moisture from their skin.) They all belong to the Hymenoptera order but are in different families.

Early spring is mating season for ground bees. They do not live in hives, as honey bees do, so there is no need for a queen. Each female digs her own nest in dry soil and gathers pollen and nectar for the young that will grow there. I watched several females start their burrows. As each kicked sand out, a miniature “hill” formed, with a slightly larger than bee-sized-hole in the center. Other bees returned to their own nests with abdomens yellow with loads of pollen. Meanwhile, the males hovered overhead, waiting their chance to grasp and mate with a female.

A female at work on her burrow.

The burrows go at least six inches into the earth, with vertical, horizontal, or slanting tunnels, depending on which species the bees belong to. The female lays an egg in her finished burrow, pushes in a lump of pollen and nectar for her baby to eat as it grows, then seals the hole. By next spring the larvae have developed into adults. Then they dig their way out to start the cycle over.

Ground bees can sting, but they are usually docile. However, I did see a few yellow jackets also burrowing in the same area. Yellow jackets can be cantankerous. Their stings are painful and they can sting repeatedly. Larger than ground bees, they are hairless and marked with a pattern of black and yellow stripes.

How many burrow entrances can you count in this 6 inch patch of ground?

Usually smaller than a half inch, the various ground bees are beneficial insects, indispensable as pollinators to farmers or gardeners. Pesticides should be used only as a last resort. To prevent them from nesting in your yard, try not to leave large, open patches of earth. Plant thicker grasses or use a mulch they will not find attractive to dig in.

Perhaps the easiest way to discourage them is to saturate the ground with water. They need drier earth to build stable burrows. I watered our colony of nesters and by the next day, only a few remained. They’d moved on to more favorable conditions. Of course, there’ll be a few larvae remaining in the ground, but by next year I’ll have a nice layer of mulch there to encourage the new generation to go elsewhere.

Book Review: Sailing With Impunity by Mary E. Trimble

Mary Trimble and Impunity

                Sailing With Impunity: Adventure in the South Pacific
                                                                       by
                                                            Mary E. Trimble

Impunity: freedom from punishment, harm or loss. Impunity was the serendipitous name for the vessel that in 1989 carried Mary and Bruce Trimble, now of Camano Island, on their 13,000 mile voyage through the South Seas and back to Seattle. While reading Sailing With Impunity, the story of that adventure, I felt like I was on the boat with the Trimbles, living something far beyond any previous experience. Though it was certainly not free from punishment—seasickness, storms at sea, a terrifying time when Bruce was knocked overboard, a cyclone in Samoa—the Impunity’s journey also brought tranquility and ideal sailing conditions as well as happy occasions of exploring the South Sea islands and making new friends.

Meticulous planning went into the execution of the Trimbles’ voyage. We learn the work involved in gathering and storing supplies and extra parts for the boat. Mary shares practical solutions to adaptations one must make to daily routines, such as bathing or washing clothes in salt water, or cooking nutritious meals on a plunging boat while strapped into the galley and holding on with one hand. Even eating those meals could be challenging. The author tells how they’d load up their plates and hang on to them for dear life. They couldn’t put them down or they’d slide away. In bad weather, salt spray was constant. They had to hunch over their plates to protect their food from the water.

We become privy to the details of shipboard emergencies, celestial navigation, even the tricks of sailing safely through the barrier reefs surrounding some of the islands.

Whether you’re an experienced sailor or an armchair adventurer, Sailing With Impunity has plenty to engage your attention. If you’re not a sailor, you may want to start at the back of the book and skim the very helpful glossary. You’ll want to return to it often. While you’re there, read the epilogue, which traces Mary’s career as an author. Then begin the journey. You’ll be glad you sailed along.

Sailing with Impunity: Adventure in the South Pacific
ISBN 978-0692417782

Sailing with Impunity may be purchased through your favorite bookstore, or for paperback or Kindle e-book format, through amazon.com.
or
contact Mary at: http://www.marytrimblebooks.com/order-books/

Facing Changes

We moved to a new home last fall, and we’re still settling in. The neighbors are kind and friendly but because this is a retirement community, we’re all close in age. That’s a definite change from our old neighborhood with its people of many ages. This house, though beautiful and spacious, does not have nearly as much storage room as our other house, the frustrating reason we’re still settling in. Nevertheless, we chose these changes.

Many changes come whether we choose them or not. When that happens, we can cling to God’s promise in Romans 8:28, that he works all things together for good for those who love him. Implicit in that promise is the fact that change happens. We’d have no hope at all if we couldn’t trust God to have our best interests in mind.

Yet, as we age, the changes we face can bring grief. Favorite landscapes are altered by the demands of new generations upon the land. Society challenges or discards the values upon which we’ve built our lives. Loved ones die. How can we come to our later years without feeling bewildered, frightened, or sad?

When my father was almost 84, dealing with physical ailments that had trapped his vital intellect and spirit inside an increasingly helpless body, I drove him back to our hometown to see the changes happening there. We passed the place where my siblings and I had spent weeks each summer, picking strawberries. Dad had been a logger then. After a day in the woods, he’d come home and work until dark to clear land, make a garden, improve our home and put up other buildings.

Now, he was saddened to see that the open vistas had been replaced by a sprawling elementary school and an encroaching subdivision. Across town, near the home of old friends Minor and Myrtle Bond, a new high school replaced the trees and fields. Dad and Minor had worked together when they were young.

As we slowed to look at the new school, we recognized the bent old man crossing to his mailbox in front of us. Dad rolled down his window. Minor greeted us in the delighted, enthusiastic manner I’d forgotten, but which in an instant, swept away the intervening years. The two old friends conversed. One couldn’t walk and his voice wasn’t much more than a whisper; the other couldn’t hear very well.

“How have you been?” my dad asked.

“Oh, can’t complain,” Minor answered. “We’re nearly to the end of our time, you know.”

I heard the tears behind the smile, and I wanted to say, “No, no, it’s just the beginning!” I knew that even reaching the end of one’s years on earth is a change that God in his economy means for our good. What I didn’t know was how I would feel when I reached the age of more than eighty. Would I still grieve for things I’d lost?

Now that I’m nearly there, I know that we do mourn those things. But I also live with the faith that someday, the changes will make sense.

I want to remember what the apostle Peter said in 2 Peter 3:10-13 about the changes that will happen when Christ comes back. The very earth and all that is in it will be burned up and replaced with new heavens and a new earth where righteousness dwells. Those who belong to Christ will be there. We can look forward to his return with joy.

Change then will bring no regret.

Photographing the Details of Wonder

Every photographer wants to share his or her unique vision of the world. In so doing, we use composition, light and shadows, shooting angles, contrast, pattern, repetition or color to capture our vision. Some photographers swear by expensive lenses and high-end cameras. Others use phone cameras or point-and-shoots. With today’s equipment, it’s easy to get good pictures.

I’m a snap-shooter myself. I like to notice the wonderful details that sometimes escape us when we’re looking for the big picture, like this striking beetle that perched for a moment on a weathered stair step. A little research revealed that it’s a banded alder borer.

Below are a few tricks a photographer may use in photographing the wonderful details of the world around us:

Rain adds interest to floral compositions. Or, mist with a sprinkler to provide your own raindrops.

Shoot up for an interesting angle and simple background. Light shining through the petals can give a stained-glass effect.

Try focusing on the detail of a small part of your subject.

Or shoot down….for contrast, color, and composition.

I liked the way the rose in soft focus echoed the color, shape, and softness of the clouds.

Light and shadow adds drama, even on a miniature scale.

Carpenter ants at work in a rotting log. A good macro lens would be a plus here.

Fast speed or slow…closeups of water are fun to try.

Sea creatures depend upon rocks to anchor and disguise them.

It’s not a view from space. It’s the design left in sand by the first wave of the returning tide.

Lines, light, and weathered wood make a pleasing abstract design .

Who knew that slugs like fresh mushrooms for breakfast?

It only takes a rock and some rushing water to make a river!

Faces look back from the strangest places. Or perhaps you see the repeating shapes, curves, and angles of an abstract design.

Maybe not a good photo in terms of clarity, composition, or design…but great for humor or shock value. Three garter snakes seeking the warmest spot on a chilly morning.

A newly-hatched killdeer in the nest, born with eyes open and ready to follow its parent.

A serendipitous frame for the subject of the photo.

While trying to compose another shot, I almost stepped on this little guy framed in grass and shadows.

Spiderwebs on a frosty morning. I liked the contrast of lacy white filigree against the solid red of the hydrant.

What makes you stop and take a second look? Keep your camera handy and record a memory. You won’t be sorry.

Pictures Tell Stories–Faces in Photos

Most newborns learn to focus first on their mother’s face. The human face is so important to us, we see faces even where there are none. My subconscious seems to bring them out of patterns in the carpet or the curtains or in light and shadow on a wall. It’s fun to use the camera to capture some fanciful images, and even more satisfying to capture the emotions on the human face.

A face by the trail…

Look! It’s a gnome!

A not-so-happy woodland creature

Faceless but happy in Arizona!

Disguised as a tree

Not a face, but a shadow-angel in the Grand Canyon

Real faces express wonder.

Or interest…

Or a lifetime of memories…


Or pride.

All it takes is being in the right place at the right time…every photographer’s greatest joy.

Your Photos Tell Stories, and the Story is in the Details

I’m an amateur photographer so I can’t offer professional picture-taking advice. But I’m grateful to live at a time when camera technology is so simple, easy, and fun that only a few short years ago, professionals could only dream of the miracles our cameras today perform. In sharing these photos, I’d like to offer a few tips that might make photography more fun for you as well.

The best pictures tell stories, and details tell the story best. Here’s one technique that works especially well for travel pictures.

Take an over-all shot to establish place, mood, or occasion.

In this photo of San Xavier Mission Del Bac, near Tucson, Arizona, the people walking toward the gates seem to beckon us to follow.

Follow the scene-setting shot with others that give more detail. Here is a closer shot of the interesting main entrance to the mission.

The weathered wood of the entry door caught my eye. How many worshipers have passed this way?

An overall shot of the complex interior of the sanctuary…

….followed by detailed vignettes inside the church.


This Station of the Cross relief in the courtyard gives a glimpse of the interior construction of the wall.

A series like this could be completed with any number of shots: perhaps an individual worshiper kneeling to light a candle, or the priest ministering to his flock, or a group of tourists listening intently to a guide.

My favorite shot shows the wrought iron gates opened out from the exit, indicating that the world awaits the ministry of those who’ve come to worship.

Try taking shots in series to draw your viewers in, whether you’re traveling or just looking for stories wherever you are.

Skiing With Caribou

Caribou on a frozen lake

I left Alaska long ago, yet it doesn’t take much to trigger memories of old friends and the adventures that were uniquely Alaskan. While going through a pile of musty notebooks recently, I came across some notes that brought to life one of those adventurous Alaskans.

Dean was a schoolteacher and pastor, a barrel-chested gnome of a man who loved the wilderness and could enthrall an audience with his storytelling.

One frigid night, Dean was skiing alone across Alaska’s beautiful frozen Lake Louise, three and a half hours from his home in Anchorage, headed to his son-in-law’s cabin on the opposite shore. A brilliant aurora played overhead, reflecting off the snow-covered ice. All was silent except for the whisper of his skis. His parka hood fell across his face as he pushed on, head down, enjoying the rhythm of skiing.

Suddenly, he became aware of odd clicking noises around him. He threw back his hood to find himself surrounded by a close-packed herd of caribou, moving past him in the same direction. They divided as they saw him and flowed past about twenty feet to either side. The clicking sounds came from their ankle tendons rolling past small bones in their feet. They carried their huge antlers high to avoid entangling them with those of their neighbors.

As Dean moved one way, then the other, the animals moved too, unafraid but keeping the same distance away from him. Dean skied along in the midst of the caribou until he saw the light from the cabin ahead. As he moved toward, the mass of beasts parted to let him through, then closed again.

From the shore, he looked back at the herd of caribou clicking on down the lake beneath the banners of color swirling in the sky. He hated to leave that wild and beautiful scene, but the warmth of the cabin beckoned. He turned toward the light in the window.

Whenever I think of caribou, I remember Dean’s story as if I had been there myself.

photo credit: Harde de caribous en hiver / Herd of caribous in winter via photopin (license)

Time Management–A Happier Way

I just read an article in Reader’s Digest about the failings of time management, that icon of our American way of life.

The author dared to say that as we slice and dice our day’s allotment of hours into smaller and smaller pieces, we become increasingly less satisfied as well as less efficient. For months now, it’s seemed like I’ve been flying down a mountainside on a sled propelled by urgency to hurry-and-do-and-make-lists-and-accomplish-t.h.i.n.g.s. But this simple statement knocked me off my sled. I fell into contemplation like a child tumbling into a soft, fluffy snow bank. I felt the sense of urgency loosen its grip.

The moments of my day drifted by, as enjoyable as falling snowflakes. I prepared a good breakfast for my husband. We savored our time of Bible reading, prayer, and discussion. We talked about trusting Jesus enough to put the events of the day on hold in order to spend time with him. Sarah Young, in her book Jesus Calling, says that if we put communion with Jesus first, because he is omnipotent he will bend time and events in our favor, helping us accomplish more in less time.

That proved true as I checked e-mails, brushed our cat and trimmed his toenails, and dusted and vacuumed the house, and tossed a load of clothes into the washer. Housekeeping can be an onerous chore, but as my mind followed the thoughts Jesus sent, the time flew past.

I’d promised to fix a meal for a friend recovering from surgery, so I found a recipe online and began a baked stew while wondering what to fix for our lunch.

All these activities were things I’d planned for the day.

Then friends called, wanting to see our new house. I told them we’d love to see them. Hank came home from running errands. I put the stew in the oven to bake, fixed grilled cheese sandwiches, and we had lunch.

The friends arrived. Because of their declining health, they brought with them very negative attitudes. Now that they can no longer carry on their lifelong busy schedules, they have trouble seeing their lives as worthwhile. As we listened, we made several positive responses that seemed to brighten their mood.

Later, I finished fixing dinner and found the address of the friend who’d had surgery. We delivered the meal, came home, and ate our half of the baked stew.

I addressed a mailer for one of my out-of-print young-adult books I wanted to send to a cousin. While Hank cleaned the kitchen, I skimmed the book again. I felt a little guilty. Time out to read wasn’t on my schedule, and boxes of books and papers in the office were still waiting to be unpacked, sorted, and put away. But then, as I skimmed, I realized the writing really was pretty good. That renewed my interest in turning it into an e-book. So was the time wasted?

No, it was another example of the way the Lord gently nudges us into doing what is good for us and good for other people. He allowed the unscheduled visit of our friends so that we could encourage them and also to be aware of how many people around us need the attention that we can give. The steady but leisurely pace of the day left me feeling satisfied, not frustrated.

And the things I did that weren’t on my schedule turned out to be the biggest blessings of all.

Mom Rescues My Valentine Dress

This post first appeared in Sun Breaks several years ago. It’s one of my favorite Valentine stories.

When quality fabric was less expensive and ready-made clothing was much more costly than it is now, many women sewed for themselves and their families. My mother stitched clothing for her three daughters, two sons, our father and herself.

She taught her daughters the craft as well. Sewing didn’t come easily for me. I spent lots of time ripping out mistakes and starting over, but one mistake was so bad, I had no idea how to fix it.

I was a new teacher, and like other women teachers in those days, I wore dresses and skirts to school. My students, even the boys, seemed to appreciate my pretty clothes, most of which I’d made myself. One day I found a lovely soft piece of red corduroy printed with rows of tiny white hearts and flowers, perfect for the upcoming Valentine’s Day. I knew my fifth graders would enjoy seeing their teacher in something so appropriate.

I bought the cloth and took it to my parents’ home so I could use Mom’s new sewing machine. Carefully, I pinned the pattern pieces in place, cut them out, and began to sew. The top, with its softly draped collar, fitted perfectly. So did half of the flared skirt. I stitched the other half together. Oh, no! I had two half-skirts for the right side, none for the left. And no extra fabric.

Frustration welled. I’d wasted my hard-earned money and ruined my dress. I balled up the pieces and threw them into my mother’s rag bag.

A few days later, Mom stopped by my apartment with a gift…the Valentine dress, exactly as I’d envisioned it. Not until I inspected the reverse side of the fabric could I see how she had recut and fitted pieces together so skillfully the seams couldn’t be seen. The corduroy nap even ran in the right direction. What patience–and the designing skills of an engineer–it must have taken to accomplish that.

My students loved the dress, and so did I. Every time I wore it, I was reminded again of my mother’s love.

Me in my Valentine’s dress, on my 1962 honeymoon.

Elegant Ornaments

Merry Christmas!

Here at the Warm Beach Senior Community, our neighbors are truly young at heart. They fill their days with volunteering, service projects, and hobbies.

Lou Bosell, a former teacher, lives across the driveway from us. She welcomed me and some of our nearest neighbors to a Christmas tea in the cozy home she shared with her husband David until his death in 2005. Lou’s a busy woman. In her spare time she engages in fine needlework, an elegant pastime that is rare in these days of instant gratification.

She has decorated her home for Christmas with sparkling white crocheted ornaments she’s made over a period of thirty years. Here’s her tree, covered with mostly three-dimensional art works, every one of them different, almost every one handmade.

Lou’s siblings were twelve, eight, and seven when she was born, so she basically grew up in an adult community. Her mother was a skilled needlewoman. When at the age of seven, Lou lay abed with mumps, her mother helped her stave off boredom by handing her a three-piece dresser set and showing her how to embroider the design. Lou’s walls today are decorated with her intricate counted-cross-stitch pictures. At Christmas she hangs the mantle with cross-stitched stockings for each member of the family.

At the age of seven or eight, she learned to sew by designing and sewing clothing for her dolls. Later she made clothing for her two sons. She began crocheting after she married.

Her first crocheted ornaments were one-dimensional snowflakes, but then she saw a pattern book for balls and decided to try those. She usually uses size ten crochet thread and a number seven hook. She crochets the piece, then soaks it in fabric stiffener. While the ornament is still wet, Lou inserts a balloon inside and blows it up to the appropriate size. When the ball dries, she removes the balloon. Lou expanded on the original idea by hanging another lightweight ornament inside.

An ornament with a church inside

She has a collection of balls with musical instruments inside. Her favorite holds a brass map of Nebraska, the state where Lou was born and raised. Another honors Seattle, with landmarks including the former Kingdome. She thinks it will be a special keepsake someday.

Lou has two grandsons. She is making each his own collection of ornaments. One boy’s ornaments are crocheted; the other’s are counted cross-stitch.

When Christmas is over, Lou wraps each ornament in tissue and stores it in a box with dividers. Family and friends will have to wait another long year to see her beautifully crafted pieces again.