May

A Celebration of Spring

by Meredith Mullins on May 18, 2020

In search of paradise (A Bird of Paradise, that is)
© iStock/Waltkopp

Flowers Around the World—the Scary, the Exotic, and the Reassuring

Spring came . . . just as promised through the ages. Not even a global pandemic could stop the natural rhythms of the earth. (This story begins like an ancient myth, doesn’t it?)

The clenched tree buds exploded into gentle leaves of green almost overnight. Flowers bloomed everywhere around the world making the words “riot of color” less of a cliché because the description was so true.

A celebration of spring—poppies in the Paris Jardin des Plantes
© Mavis Negroni

We welcomed the renewal/rebirth metaphor of spring, especially in this time of corona. The change in seasons was one small way to gauge the strange time warp that had enveloped the world during sheltering-in-place/confinement/lockdown.

But we all knew the truth. The celebration of spring would have to be different this year. Many of us could not leave our houses. Many could travel only within a small radius of home. And, in most cases, our favorite public gardens were locked up tight. What’s a lover of spring to do?

The elegant White Egret Flower (Habenaria radiata) seems to take flight.
(From Japan and East Asia)
© iStock/Magicflute002

A Journey for a Virtual Traveler

To put myself in the mood, I started a virtual tour of spring by searching for exotic flowers around the world.

Why not search for flowers that stretch the imagination? Yikes!
(The Monkey Orchid, Dracula saulii)
© iStock/Beatrice Sirinuntananon

The Ballerina Orchid (caladenia melanema from Australia) is an elegant addition to the world
of exotic flora (and a little less “Little Shop of Horrors” than the Monkey Orchid.)
© iStock/Beatrice Sirinuntananon

From Central and South America to the Mediterranean to the Far East, these unique flowers are works of art, although some were clearly transforming themselves into creatures from a Star Wars bar scene, heroines from fairytales, or dancers from vivid lockdown dreams.

Wildflowers (Calceolaria uniflora) from South America. Do they belong
in a Star Wars bar or on stage, starring in a modern version of MacBeth?
© iStock/Gerhard Saueracker

Had I been in “confinement” for too many days? Were exotic flowers mutating into alien beings before my Netflix-weary eyes?

An alien or a flower—you be the judge.
(The Darth Vadar flower from Central and South America.)
© iStock/Gyro

The good news: I wasn’t alone in imagining the anthropomorphic qualities of these blooms. Others had seen the same qualities (and not even during lockdown).

Does everyone see a naked man here (or is it just me)?
(Orchis italica, otherwise known as The Naked Man Orchid)
© iStock/Carlos Pérez Romero

The names were clues and something to cling to on the edge of sheltering insanity. Still, these images had the potential of continuing to enter my dreams, so it was time to experience whatever part of spring I could bring to my limited world.

Is this a costumed bee on an orchid or the strange totality of the Laughing Bumble Bee Orchid?
(Ophrys bombyliflora from the Mediterranean.)
© iStock/Andi Edwards

The Real Flowers in Our Lives

As loyal OIC Moments’ readers might know, the past two blog stories have celebrated a connection to nature, no matter the circumstances. (See Recovering Our Awe of Nature and We’ll Always Have Paris.)

Following suit, we now move past scary lockdown dreams of monkey orchids and happy aliens to this spring’s reassuring flowers and gardens.

Discovering a private world of nature during lockdown
© vjonesphoto

People around the world rose to the challenge of seeking refuge in their own gardens or discovering nature wherever they happened to be sheltering. For some, like Virginia Jones in Alabama, going out to photograph the emergence of spring was “a welcome and safe way” to raise her spirits.

For Carol Starr in Maryland, who had a bit more freedom to wander, several gardens were within reach—the annual cherry blossoms at the Tidal Basin, the towpath of the C&O Canal, and several open gardens.

A celebration of spring in Maryland
© Carol Starr

She was able to visit week after week to see the progression of blooms. She even brought nature to a blank page for all to see in her subsequent paintings, proving that there are many ways to share the beauty of spring.

Spring arrives by inviting creativity.
© Carol Starr

For Pamela Spurdon in the center of Paris, there were no woodside paths or formal gardens. Her world was more limited due to the strict confinement rules in France. But she connected to nature every day. She thanks the “awesome azalea that greeted me every single morning of the confinement: irrepressible joy of spring!”

The awesome azalea
© Pamela Spurdon

Gardeners Now and Forever

For those who are gardeners at heart, the connection with nature is a given, especially when there is a magical garden in the yard.

Three garden lovers on the Monterey Peninsula of California share a similar reflective theme during their shelter-in-place order.

Lynn Bohnen calls her garden “her savior” and explains that there is nowhere else she’d rather be during the stay-at-home order.

“I can’t feel my fingertips because I’m constantly digging with them; but to me, it’s pure joy,” she says. “It’s a very positive thing when you have time to reflect about what is really wonderful in this world and what really gives you great joy.”

Discovering what gives you joy
© Lynn Bohnen

Janelle Gistelli shares that same feeling of peace. “During this time of anxiety and stress, my garden has given me a place to “just be.” I can escape into the smallest details as I do my daily puttering and grooming, while I listen to the birds and wind chimes. My garden has been my solace during this time.”

Magic in one’s own backyard—a place to “just be.”
© Janelle Gistelli

Elizabeth Murray (author of several garden/creativity books) adds “My garden is a sanctuary of renewal, beauty, and joy. With the gift of slowing down I am also blooming with creativity, especially when I am fully present to draw and paint my garden.

Drawing and painting in a garden sanctuary
© Elizabeth Murray

Elizabeth has been making folding books and drawing flowers from her garden during this corona time as a way to be focused during the pandemic. Through Instagram and Facebook, she has introduced the idea to artists and garden lovers around the world.

The creativity of a folding book
© Elizabeth Murray

Generosity of Spirit

Every spring, Robin in Oregon gives away homegrown vegetable plants to her neighbors to get their summer gardens started. This year was no different, except that her friends couldn’t come to her house for pickup and there were no in-person chats.

Vegetable plants ready for spring delivery
© Robin Koontz

She had to deliver the plants to the road’s edge at a safe distance from each neighbor’s house. The reward in these challenging times, she says, was “knowing that we all would have a garden to tend to help keep us sane and healthy.”

Beth in Cambridge, Massachusetts inherited a truckload of daffodils as spring was emerging. She decided to brighten the day of all her neighbors by putting the flowers on the street and offering them to anyone who needed a smile of spring.

Generosity does, indeed, brighten the day.
© Beth Pendery

The Art of Celebrating Spring

Most of us missed our usual spring rituals, but nature prevailed. For many, the change in focus inspired a renewal/rebirth of creativity.

Mavis Negroni was not able to walk through her favorite Paris park this spring—the Jardins des Plantes.However she vividly remembers its beauty and the fact that it is “a frenzy of color and light in three seasons of the year.” We can feel that appreciation in her creative expression during this confinement.

A spring collage, perhaps inspired by the Jardins des Plantes
© Mavis Negroni

“I love visiting the tiny water features when the frogs mate and the tadpoles and dragonflies arrive,” she says. “I love the banter of crows and parrots, the shreiks of children, the stream of joggers, and the tai chi and fan classes.”

Donna Leiber, from Southern California, also shared a vivid corona tale in the form of a single rose, which she describes as a piece that shows both freedom and constraint.

Beauty in aloneness and strength in self-reliance
© Donna J. Leiber

“She needs no companions to be complete, keeps intruders at a safe distance with her thorns, and weathers many storms no matter how fragile and delicate,” Donna says of her rose. “I painted her during these surreal COVID-19 pandemic times to remind us that there can be beauty in aloneness and strength in self-reliance.”

Yes, spring came . . . just as promised. Not even a global pandemic could stop the natural rhythms of the earth.

Oh, I see. We shared a celebration of spring, inspired by flowers around the world. And, just like the single strong rose, we will weather the corona storm.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Meredith Mullins 6 Comments

Art of Travel/Nature Discovery/Worldwide Sites

May

Recovering Our Awe of Nature

by Joyce McGreevy on May 11, 2020

A sunrise in Ireland is awe-inspiring, a reminder that noticing nature every day reflects a cultural attitude of valuing the environment. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

When had we last watched the sunrise?
© Joyce McGreevy

What Does Nature Need Us to Notice?

Have you noticed it? While life in self-quarantine has restricted our movements, it has also unleashed our senses. As the range of our territory has contracted, our attention to the environment has enlarged.

We’ve had to slow down to the speed at which a flower grows, and now, something has begun to blossom. In moment by “oh, I see” moment: we’re regaining our instinct for the awe of nature.

A sapling in blossom in Ireland is an awe-inspiring sign of spring. a reminder of our instinctive need to notice the beauty of nature. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In Ireland, a moment of attention blossomed into awe.
© Joyce McGreevy

Who We Were

How dramatically can cultural attitudes toward nature shift? Consider this. Shortly before lockdown went global, researchers published a report that highlighted an overwhelming lack of connection between people and the natural world.

The report is British, but surely reflects many of us circa 2020 “BC”—Before COVID-19. For example, of the children questioned:

A doorframe beside a shed in rural Ireland offers a different perspective for noticing the awe-inspiring beauty of nature. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

How would we re-frame our focus?
© Joyce McGreevy

• 90% rarely or never watched sunrises.

• 83% rarely or never smelled wildflowers.

• 77% rarely or never listened to birdsong.

Findings among adults weren’t much better:

• Around 57–79% rarely or never noticed sunrises, wildflowers, or birdsong.

• Likewise, few adults or children celebrated natural events, such as the longest day of the year, autumn harvest, and so on.

• Only 25–33% watched clouds, or stopped to appreciate the stars or the moon in the sky.

How We Were Changed

Nature certainly has our attention now. For evidence of this, look no further than our recent personal communications.

Social media pages once dominated by selfies and humblebrags are blooming with hollyhocks and supermoons. Brash videos give way to whispered narratives as wild creatures amble down driverless roads at rush hour. Snarky memes yield to quotes from nature poets.

Wherever we call home—urban, suburban, or rural—our online connections are trending toward awe in nature.

A postbox overgrown with native plants in Ireland is an awe-inspiring reminder that as the world went into lockdown during the pandemic, nature reasserted its power. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

What we had forgotten, nature reasserted.
© Joyce McGreevy

One day I receive a text message from a relative who lives in a California suburb. Usually we’re rushed. Tapping out terse logistics even as we plan family gatherings. Ending messages with “xo” to cover all that we never say. But today, he observes:

“. . . Just by being home most of the time I have seen things I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. A bright yellow bird. A field mouse that I only noticed because I could see the flowers move . . . a lizard with feet like no other lizard in this environment . . . Silver linings, indeed. What would I notice if I wasn’t constantly doing so much?”

Sea stones and kelp on a beach in County Cork, Ireland evokes the idea that the smallest details in the environment can inspire us with awe and strengthen our connectedness to nature. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

What emerged was always there, waiting for us to see.
© Joyce McGreevy

What Difference Does Noticing Make?

Research shows that “noticing nature” and “nature connectedness” are strongly linked to practicing conservation. According to the British study, conducted by the University of Derby and the National Trust, the influence of these two factors is far greater than even the influence of time spent outdoors or knowledge and study of the environment.

As for one’s level of nature connectedness, a study at Ohio’s Oberlin College says it depends on three elements:

How we think about nature. Do we see ourselves as sharing the great tree of life, or as positioned separately atop a pyramid of life?
How we relate to nature. Do we consider nature as part of us, or as apart from us?
How we feel about nature. Do we experience a sense of wonder, concern, calm, curiosity, gratitude, reverence, or other such responses to nature?

A chair outdoors under the moon on the Irish coast is an invitation to notice and connect with the awe-inspiring beauty of nature, which in turn can influence our cultural attitude toward the environment, (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

We relearned patience, and the importance of presence.
© Joyce McGreevy

Noticing Details

Suddenly, we have time to ask ourselves such questions. We may even be discovering that we’ve always had time. Time to wriggle fingers in loamy soil, to take that morning walk, to notice the violet underside of a rain cloud. Time to hang laundry on a clothesline, trading the whir of machinery for the chirp of a meadowlark. Time to notice the movement of a field mouse among flowers.

A collage of Irish roadside ferns and sea shells is a reminder that noticing nature’s patterns fosters a cultural attitude of wanting to protect the environment and preserve its awe-inspiring beauty. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The small details became visible again.
© Joyce McGreevy

We’re remembering how one living thing connects to another, and it’s prompting us to weigh costs and consequences. If I choose this instead of that, who and what are affected? What’s harmful, what’s helpful?

We’re revisiting priorities. What do I want my time to grow into? Do I really need all those items that go from store to storage?

We’re realizing we can only buy so much, wear so much, eat so much, do so much. Oh, I see: We’re re-encountering what truly sustains us.

A sign for a preserve on the gate to a field in rural Ireland evokes the importance of protecting nature, which is both awe-inspiring and fragile. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

We remembered what mattered to us.
© Joyce McGreevy

Putting Ourselves on Notice

Meanwhile, the call of our old lives is echoing. After lockdown, the moon will still be passing over us. Will we look up? After lockdown, the song of the smallest bird will still be richer than the loudest “tweet” online. Will we hear it? After lockdown, the sunrise will still illuminate Earth, revealing both what’s wonderful and what’s wounded. Will we attend to it?

How will our cultural attitudes toward nature shift? What notice will we take of our environment when the old distractions come clamoring? What, then, will we make of our rediscovered awe of nature? A pleasant but fading memory or an attentive new journey?

A sunset glimmering through a grove of sycamore trees in Ireland is awe-inspiring, a reminder to notice nature every day and night . (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

When is the next sunset you will notice?
© Joyce McGreevy

To see more of this area, visit @BallyshaneStays on Instagram.

Download “Noticing Nature,” the report, here.

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy 8 Comments

Ireland/Nature Discovery

May

We’ll Always Have Paris

by Meredith Mullins on May 4, 2020

We’ll always have Paris.
© Meredith Mullins

Travel Inspiration in Times of Change

“We’ll always have Paris,” said Humphrey Bogart, melting hearts as he stood on the Casablanca tarmac and said a final goodbye to Ingrid Bergman.

That memorable film line became a metaphor for a cherished time that remains in memory no matter what the future brings. Such a thought seems particularly relevant now . . . in times of COVID.

Those of us who live in Paris—or who seek travel inspiration from the City of Light—take these words literally and metaphorically. We will always have Paris.

As Hemingway said, Paris stays with you.
© Meredith Mullins

We have its history, monuments, artistic pulse, café charms, fine cuisine, lush gardens, haute couture, open markets, cobblestone streets, romantic bridges, and delicate light. The memories are alive.

Visions of Paris stay in our memory.
© Meredith Mullins

But change is one of those life constants. At the moment, for our own health and the safety and health of our fellow humans, we in Paris are in confinement. We are allowed to venture out for one hour a day, and our path is limited within one kilometer of home.

These regulations, now in the seventh week, inspire self-reflection and a change of life rhythms, with almost-daily “Oh, I See” moments.

Two questions rise to prominence.

What do I miss about Paris during confinement, even though I’m here?
What new discoveries have I made because I have had to change my way of life?

The magnificence of Paris gardens in years past (Jardins des Bagatelles)
© Meredith Mullins

Five Things I Miss About Paris During Confinement

1. The Arrival of Spring

The confinement orders came just as spring was beginning its burst. No matter what the winter weather, spring always arrives right on schedule at the end of March. Buds open and fill the air with remembrances of past springs. Barren trees become leafy in a visible fast-motion timelapse.

Memories of past springs, with vibrant color in all parts of the city
© Meredith Mullins

This year, the famed Paris gardens and parks were off limits, so my vision of spring was realized with the few blossoming trees or sprouting flowers within my Île Saint-Louis neighborhood.

A purple paulownia peeks through from the closed Square Barye
on the Île Saint-Louis—a reminder that spring is here.
© Meredith Mullins

Still, with so many sunny days in a row, there was no doubt that spring had arrived.

2. Music . . . Everywhere

On most days in pre-COVID Paris, I didn’t have to walk far before I heard a musician. The street artists are in the long metro tunnels, under historic arches, and on the romantic bridges.

Now, the streets are silent, except for an occasional balcony musician, decibel-heightened radio, or pianist practicing at home, the sound muffled through the walls.

The world is eerily quiet. Don’t get me wrong, I love the quiet. But the world needs the universal power of music.

3. The Cast of Characters

Who would have thought that I would miss the crowded metros and buses of daily life in Paris? But I do.

The long rides were my time for random thoughts and endless character study. The cast of characters is diverse—every face holds a story.

Now, I just watch the empty buses zooming by, keeping to their schedules. And, for reasons I can’t quite explain, I try to remember the varied (mostly less than noble) smells of the metro since I haven’t been underground for months.

4. Café Life

Café life is the heartbeat of Paris. You meet friends. You stop at undiscovered cafés when you’re wandering. You dash in for coffee at a zinc counter or linger at a terrasse table while reading Proust or writing poetry. It’s just what you do.

Now, I look at the stacked chairs and the closed curtains and wonder . . . when.

5. The Art of the Flâneur

The concept of aimless wandering is a part of Paris culture. Many writers have mentioned its infinite rewards. Getting lost to find new paths and hidden treasures is one of the best ways to explore Paris.

At the moment, we cannot wander too far. Next week, we will be given more range to roam, but any kind of expedition must still be done with caution, not with full-fledged freedom. It will be a while before the art of the flâneur will return in free-spirited form.

Five Things I Discovered During Confinement

Even living within the one kilometer confinement radius, the world continues to expand. Not just with the tsunami of internet culture, but with the new discoveries on the daily one-hour walk. Little by little, the world presents itself in new ways.

1. Taking the Time to See

I have discovered more about my Île Saint-Louis neighborhood during confinement than I have in the 15 years I have lived here.

Confinement time warp is a luxury. I have stopped to look at the door carvings, the plaques proclaiming personalities past who lived in this building or that, the historic streets and 400-year-old buildings, and the hidden courtyards and sculptures.

The St Genevieve statue on Pont de la Tournelle (by Paul Landowski, who was also the sculptor of the Rio de Janeiro Christ statue)
© Meredith Mullins

I had walked by these things many times, but I had never really stopped to see.

2. The Rhythms of the Neighborhood

Since I have spent every day at home, I have become more in tune with the rhythms of the neighborhood. I feel like an ancient settler, trying to predict the path of the moon or the movement of the tides by repetitive observation.

Now, I know what times of day the Republican Guard clip clops along the island streets. I know when the grocers take their breaks. And I see the empty buses cruising by at the same times each day, since there is nothing to deter their schedule (no traffic and no delays for people climbing aboard).

3. The Peace of Empty Streets

The cityscape changes when people are removed from the equation. Now, everything can be seen in its purest form . . . and in solitude.

4. Reflections on the Seine

The Seine river has been very quiet. There are few boats, so the surface is calm. The water so clean, you can see bottom.

As a result, the reflections dance in a whole new way.

5. The Taste of Berthillon

Last, but not least, I admit that I am slightly addicted to Berthillon ice cream, which is a tradition of the Île Saint-Louis. The main Berthillon store has been closed—deemed “nonessential” by the city.

However, last week, a window opened offering Berthillon ice cream cones. It was an odd sign that “normal” might not be too far away.

To all the OIC Moments readers, stay safe, healthy, and sane. Travel inspiration can come in many forms during these challenging times. And, as you see . . . we’ll always have Paris.