The Dog Days of Summer

Here in Fort Bragg, California, the summers are crispy dry unless one lives in the Fog Zone. Rarely does a drop of rain fall from mid-May to mid-September.

The days are so long that one can watch the last rays of sun disappear over the Pacific well past 9:00 p.m.

Even so, I like to hike the headlands during the day when flowers are open,

bees are buzzing,

and ravens are squawking.

I can easily see treasures at my feet that might go unnoticed at sunset. Like this 1929 survey medallion

or someone’s misspelled graffiti.

Plants still carry on without rainfall,

pulling each droplet of moisture from the air to nourish them.

Am I willing to go to such lengths during my spiritual dry spells? Eke out what joy I can find from simply being alive? As the rings of a tree show yearly growth—some wide from lush years, some narrow from lean years—I, too, am old enough to know there is an ebb and flow to life. Rain will come.

Photos © Sondra Sula.

Take a walk with me by reading my most recent daily devotional book, Meditations on Mendocino by Sondra Sula. Available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions.

If you’d prefer a daily river walk, Reflections on the Fox River and Beyond by Sondra Sula, might just be the book for you.

Amazing Grace

“Exquisitely Common” by Sondra Sula

“Color Riot” by Sondra Sula

I have been graced with a spirit of wonder, amazement, and awe at the incredible diversity within the natural world. All of today’s marvels are in a single square mile just beyond my backyard. Day in and day out, the ordinary transforms into the extraordinary when I simply pay attention to the flora and fauna around me.

How many times has a common wasp been swatted rather than observed? A leafhopper flicked off a T-shirt instead of welcomed as a riot of color and design? Does anyone notice the miniscule sweat bee as it roots around looking for sustenance?

Compound flowers are rarely studied as individual blossoms, but are instead seen as a blur of color or vague shape. Stopping to inspect these beauties allows one to witness the delicate intricacy of each petal, stamen, and pistil—each nuanced shade of white, pink, lavender, yellow.

“Wonders Abound” by Sondra Sula

And feathers! Do we notice feathers because we can’t fly and yearn to? Do they remind us of freedom, angels, possibility? The feather is masterfully wrought—built to repel water, insulate the body, catch the air currents just right. Yet every one is also a delight in pattern, hue and texture.

Take a walk outside—even bring a magnifying glass—and truly look at the first plant or insect you see. You might just feel the amazing grace of creation, too.

“Sweat Bee on Teasel” by Sondra Sula

Rediscovering the Dunes

“Day at the Dunes” by Sondra Sula

A day trip to the Michigan dunes with my husband adds a “beachy” flavor to my Gratefulness Walk, as well as a companion for the journey. I quickly come to the realization that flip-flops are not good dune-climbing shoes. I also learn that sometimes the most obvious, yet steepest way up a hill really is easier than tiptoeing through poison ivy along a lesser incline. And surprisingly, a beagle really can jump off a boat seemingly anchored far away, swim to shore, and bite a person’s arm—namely mine. And I love dogs!

“Dune Art” by Sondra Sula

Also remarkable—much life is hidden within the sandy ecosystem of the dunes. Feathers scatter the beach, evidence of seabirds such as terns and seagulls. Along the base of the dunes, nests made of dried grasses are woven close to the ground, amongst low-growing brush. Ladybugs cling to anything that isn’t sand as they make their way inland.

“Spiral Ornament” by Sondra Sula

Tangles of twigs, dune grass, shells, and feathers resemble abstract, three-dimensional artwork created by the lapping lake waves pulling, pushing, tumbling, and twisting. Simple snail shells, bleached white by the burning sun, dot textured sand like spiral ornaments flung across a beige carpet.

As I lift each temporarily buried foot, sand flying in all directions, I slowly move forward. The next step plunges me ankle deep and I repeat the process, desperate to reach the top. But I don’t. I squint up toward the light to see my husband has reached the peak, wildly waving driftwood walking sticks as buzzards circle him.

At that moment I am satisfied and feel no need to summit. My journey is full—full of everything from dog bites to dune hikes. I feel free.

“Dune Debris” by Sondra Sula

One Person CAN Make a Difference

“Phlox with Henryii” by Sondra Sula

“Jesus in the Garden” by Sondra Sula

“Phlox with Bee” by Sondra Sula

I often think about how much difference one person can make in the world: Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa. But what about little ol’ me?

Then I glance out the window and see a plethora of phlox in my flower garden and realize that I can and do make a difference in the world.

Years ago I was mesmerized by a pale pink flower edged in dark pink at a local nursery and lifted the plant identification marker to read: phlox. I innocently planted it at the feet of Jesus—a piece of cement statuary lovingly transported from the Florida Keys to northern Illinois in the backseat of our Ford station wagon, and then hoisted into the backyard garden.

“Backlit” by Sondra Sula

“Striations” by Sondra Sula

Fast forward to today’s garden filled with hundreds of phlox of every hue between white and violet. The plants are so tall I can’t even see the crown of Jesus’ head, much less his feet. And the diversity in pattern is astounding thanks to the many insects involved in the cross-pollination process. All of this exuberance and vibrancy from one tiny plant.

As I stroll through this garden (perhaps struggle through the tangle is more apt) I’m aware that I am like that original pink picotee phlox. Nourished by the natural world—sun, sky, flora, fauna—and blessed by the light of Christ, my little Gratefulness Walks are spreading out beyond the borders of my mind into the tangible realm. Making one person’s life a little brighter spreads out to touch another and another until fresh gardens of joy lighten every dark place.

“Cross-Pollination at Work” by Sondra Sula

The Yellow Days of August

“Yellow Flowers, Green Bees” by Sondra Sula

Creation is spectacular, ever changing, and cyclical. As I began to walk outside in the natural world day after day, month after month, year after year, I noticed certain colors stood out more than others during any particular month. August shouts bright yellow and lush, vivid green. Even insects join the chorus: metallic emerald sweat bees dust themselves with golden pollen, a saffron-and-black patterned beetle traverses taxi-cab-yellow petals to its next stop.

“Exploring” by Sondra Sula

How can I remain glum when I see brilliant rays of sunshine extend from a flower’s center, inviting me in for a closer look? How can I focus on my problems when I’m busy following a long-legged spider’s journey across the forest floor’s bouquet of blossoming underbrush? How can I cry when the jewelweed’s glistening tears reflect globes of tranquil beauty?

Recent spiritual readings have brought to light that joy hangs in the air like humidity, always available for breathing. Even when I’m sad, or feel distant from God, joy is still present. I can see that when I look around. Perhaps joy is yellow.

“Yellow Days of August” by Sondra Sula

Inevitable Movement

“Escaping the Wind” by Sondra Sula

Everything is moving. Some things, such as dragonfly wings, are moving so fast we can barely see them, and other things, such as rocks, are moving so slowly, they appear to be stationary. Have you ever been standing outside and thought: the earth is moving me right now, rotating me from day to night to day? Well, it’s true!

“Teasel Layer Cake” by Sondra Sula

A mighty wind was present today as I walked with great confidence on the surface of our spinning planet, completely unaware as to whether I was walking with the movement or against it. The wind allowed me access to insects that would normally be too speedy to photograph up close because they were trying to shelter themselves. I was also able to see plants moving: petals fluttering, flowers sailing, and leaves bracing against bursts of air.

“Queen of Spades” by Sondra Sula

When I get stuck and feel like I’m going nowhere, it helps me to remember that the whole earth is moving me. The dark night will turn into day even if I’m standing still. And if I defiantly run counter to the rotation, I will eventually feel the sunlight on my back anyway because I can’t outwit a movement that’s been happening long before human existence.

“Petals Aflutter” by Sondra Sula