my ah haa moment..

It was almost two weeks into a forced closedown that during a visit to a farmers market I spied a huge cardboard of yellow, thick skinned lemons- they looked like oval oranges with a bright yellow hue.
At $5 for the whole box, I decided a month of lemon tea is worth the price so quickly added it to the cart.
Back home, I started making it and enjoyed the sweet tangy taste, every morning tea was followed by breakfast with lemon ginger drinks. A week later, we both felt less bloated, no aches or pain in joints, alert reflexes and our zest for life improved as depression seemed to dissipate.

The box of lemons spread a lovely aroma within the kitchen, the counter tops gleamed as I used the squeezed out lemons to scrub the sink, wipe out the tiles, polish copper bottomed pots and pans, even polish the door knobs and handles (an antiseptic to prevent any chance of the virus entering home).

One cold wintry day on a whim decided to make yellow pickle (as my kids called it), a simple salt, ginger, 16 slit, quartered green long peppers, roasted and powdered cumin, fenugreek added to 10 large lemons cut into quarters, then further into 16 diced bits. Tossed into it some mint and curry leaves, turmeric powder, a pinch of asafotedia, powdered peppercorns(10 ), the juices did the trick, the addition of 3 cups of vinegar helped break own the sharp tangy taste to create our very own bit of manna from heaven.

Oh, my saved pickle bottles were filled in, we decided to drop off one each to the homes of our 15 Asian friends and a few close neighbors in the 300 house complex, our way of spreading cheer and goodwill.

The requests for gooseberry pickle, tomato pickle, gonghura, bittergourd pickle started pouring in- we honoured them as a means to keep ourselves busy. As long as the basic ingredients were available, we enjoyed making and disturbuting it.

Our mailbox was soon full of envelopes from out grateful friends, some sent amazon gift cards, come cash, others sent books, pillow covers, embroidery floss, DIY kits, plants, the exchanges kept multiplying. Every day a new thankyou note with a return gift appeared, all we could do was wave and smile as the community began the new norm of staying connected again.

The motivation helped us take a big step, we filed a patent for our canned and pickled items that we marketed in our locality. Word of mouth spread and our community reachout collected orders for around 500 pieces, with repeat orders from the college community, the tiffin delivery service, even Asian grocery store wanted our brand as the fresh taste was relished by all who tasted it.

To say we enjoy the act of keeping connected by sending a simple encouraging note with every bottle we mail or that is collected from our porch is the truth.
Stay safe, keep the faith, there is always a silver lining to every act of Nature.
We just have to look for it and run with it.

swallows in april, swifts in May

stand on grass
watch the birds
threading the sky
infinite patience

swallows in april
swifts in may
two lilac trees so high
birds threading, weaving
Leaves waving, swaying..

nests sheltered in shadows
fledglings complaining of starvation
ever demanding more as
parents struggle back and forth
shuttles on a loom

under the lilac
the heavy morning air
weighs down on dark purple blooms
Tiny fragrant enticing perfumes
bees, wasps, gnats
Earthlings
all one
Love

Riches of Life

During the waning years of the Depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Brother Miller's roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used extensively.

One particular day, Brother Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Brother Miller and the ragged boy next to me.

"Hello, Barry, how are you today?"

"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas -- sure look good."

"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"

"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."

"Good. Anything I can help you with?"

"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."

"Would you like to take some home?"

"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."

"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"

"All I got's my prize marble here."

"Is that right? Let me see it."

"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."

"I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"

"Not 'zackley but, almost."

"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble."

"Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller."

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said: "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."

I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later, I moved to Utah but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys and their bartering.

Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.

Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community, and while I was there, I learned that Brother Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening, and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon our arrival at the mortuary, we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.

Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits, and white shirts...very professional looking.

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her, and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary, awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket. "Those three young men that just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size...they came to pay their debt.

"We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided,"but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho."

With loving gentleness, she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three magnificently shiny red marbles.

Moral: We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds.

12,396 viewsJul 25, 2016, 10:59am

Why Are Robin Eggs Blue

Eggshell pigments and color patterns reveal a lot about where a bird nests and the sorts of evolutionary challenges it faces before it even hatches

Robin’s egg blue: eggs of the American robin (Turdus migratorius). Blue-green eggshell pigments protect the embryo from sunlight, which can be adaptive as long as light levels are low enough not to heat up the eggs. 

When I was reading ornithology, there were several questions that students would invariably ask at some point during the academic term. One was why are robin eggs blue?

Even Charles Darwin wondered about the evolutionary reasons that birds' eggshells range in color from white to dark greenish-blue. Since this is such a simple and obvious question to ponder, you'd think someone would have figured out the reason long ago. And indeed, there are a number of hypotheses that explain eggshell pigmentation -- the most widely accepted are either camouflage or protection from sunlight.

The camouflage provided by dull, mottled eggshells is, of course, the most important factor driving the evolution of eggshell colors and patterns-

But camouflage does not explain why other birds' eggs would have bright, plain colors, such as unspeckled white or intense blues and greenish-blues -- since these colors can make eggs easy to spot, especially when they are in an open-cup nest. Thus, plain, bright eggshell colors must necessarily result from different sorts of evolutionary pressures than does camouflage from hungry predators. The other widely accepted hypothesis is that plain unspeckled eggs might be the best compromise for surviving exposure to the Sun.

To clarify the interactions between eggshell pigments and sunlight

Their central questions focused on identifying whether eggshell pigmentation could help the egg maintain a balance between two opposing, and potentially damaging, effects of sunlight: the transmission of light (including UV) through white or light-colored eggshells and the rapid overheating of eggs with darker (greenish-blue) shells.

Because the village weaver bird, Ploceus cucullatus, produces eggs in a range of solid colors, from white to a medium greenish-blue, it was possible to make direct quantitative comparisons for a variety of eggshell colors produced by this species in a controlled light environment.

The researchers tested four components of the sunlight hypothesis:

1. damaging ultraviolet (UV) radiation can transmit through bird eggshells
2. infrared (IR) radiation at natural intensities can heat the interior of eggs
3. more intense egg coloration decreases light transmittance ("pigment as parasol")
4. more intense egg coloration increases absorbance of light by the eggshell and heats the egg interior ("dark car effect")

The researchers measured the three fates of visible light incident on a bird's egg, and compared these fates for a white egg to those for a greenish-blue egg, and found that eggshell color did affect reflectance (R; left column), absorbance (A; middle column), and transmittance (T; right column) of sunlight (figure 4):

Figure 4: Three fates of visible light incident on a bird eggshell, illustrating the influence of eggshell color. 

Additional experiments revealed that, just as the researchers predicted, the darker (greenish-blue) eggshells did do a better job protecting the egg's interior (where that precious embryo is developing) from light, including dangerous, DNA-damaging, UV radiation. But at the same time, the darker pigments also allowed the eggs to absorb more light and thus, caused them to heat up more quickly , while over heating can speed up embryonic development- and which then leads to a suite of other problems.

So basically, in environments with moderate light levels, like forest where American robins typically nest, birds' eggs will evolve towards being dark to protect the embryo from the Sun, whereas nests in brighter environments, such as open park lands, semi-arid and arid regions, the dangers of rapid over-heating favors white or lighter colored eggshells.

These findings are useful for predicting the sorts of environments that birds nest in, but can also explain why some birds species, like the village weaver bird, produce eggs with a variety of colors, from white to dark greenish-blue.

Source:

David C. Lahti and Daniel R. Ardia (2016). Shedding Light on Bird Egg Color: Pigment as Parasol and the Dark Car Effect, The American Naturalist 187(5):547-563 |

As a writer, my passion is to use words and images to capture the wonder and excitement of hot-off-the-presses research and share that with the public, so whats your comment, do write in..

Head held high, stay positive

I am in a new place in a new country almost 6 decades into my life.

Finding myself alone held no fear, having lived by my principles almost all my life. Married off early, I lived as a grass widow he stayed in the Gulf, coming home once in two years for a 3 week stay. The boys and I were a close knit family, we filled in the social spaces and held each other up.

Then came the Kuwait siege and he was home.

But never fit in, no position gave the pay he expected and friends, drinks, clubbing was the way to swap time.

But I paid off the loans, house, furniture, appliances, kids school fees, higher studies..

Then understood he had remortgaged the house, drawn money off the title deeds and siphoned off the money.

I left him.

Life went on, the boys graduated, moved out and started working at different locations.
My parents were always there to help me, my mother- a talented artist stood by us to quietly help when needed.

This needle work is an epitome of just how powerful women are, steadfast, hard working and quietly being there every moment to keep Life moving on.

This is what allows me to keep my head held high and go ahead, learn to live in this life as I marshal my experience and work in a new place- I know mother who is an angel now, looks proudly on with father who almost always smiles, knowing they had done right by their children and grand children.

Stay strong and stay smart.

When I saved me from myself

Being the youngest in an impoverished family meant she was almost always neglected. Her love of the written word helped out at school where she got some food in her belly, but the hand me downs and ragged footwear, clothes made her cringe.

Today at show and tell, she had to showcase something unique. being observant she had spied upon the widow and her pool abound with green roses. What a rare find, if only she could take a couple to show in class- but how?

Feeling small and lost, she timidly walked up, holding a peace banner aloft. " Ma'am, You have lovely green roses, can I please ask what the plant is and how it grew so quickly- it is for show and tell at school".

The widow who was feeling lonely and grieving, beckoned the waif, allowed her to watch. She snipped a few rooted plants and wrapping it in a bottle with water, handed it over. She asked the little girl to visit her on the way back from school. Welcoming her back, she invited her in, fed her, gave her warm clothes, books, food, shoes and insisted she stop by daily to keep her company.

Thus began a simple relationship that she cherished even as she walked her own little ones to school.

Love and family is how we work relationships into our lives.

When one hits a speedbreak.

Ravi was going through the motions. In the country he had chosen to work in, shunted around, he moved from one job to the next wherever they shuffled him. Chicago, Detroit, Nebraska, he had no moorings.
Marriage seemed distinctly unreachable in Life. One sister with her infant son, had come home to the parents. He had to support his aged parents and her.
Just how much more complicated can it get?

Now this--
The news was shocking indeed. His brother, just turned 40, was no more.
What?
Pulmonary embolism or deep vein thrombosis, he now knows is a blood clot that is a silent killer. One or more arteries of the lung gets blocked when a blood clot gets lodged, preventing flow of blood to the lungs. Often, the person suffering has no idea, except for a sense of chest pain and weakness. His brother had visited a doctor who suggested he get admitted for a checkup, but did not stress just how serious the condition was. Being late in the day, he decided a hospital visit the next morning would suffice, only to feel agony in the early morning hours. The mad dash to the emergency center at 2 AM, could not save him- he passed on leaving behind a wife and two children aged 7 and  2 years.

Ravi rushed home to hold the family together. Money held no power, he could not bring his brother back to Life, filing a criminal case against the famous heart surgeon seemed futile. Helpless, he just went through the motions.

Three weeks later, he returned to be relocated to a project in Canton Michigan. As a house guest, the family he stayed with heard him quietly. Two months later, he felt better and in control when the realization hit him. His brother had been through a lot but gambling and drinking was not the way out. The family was in a better place now, the children were thriving. His sister in law was offered a job at the brothers' office under the  survivors benefit scheme. She held it all together, his parents were well cared for as she seamlessly worked her magic. 

Old wounds healed and hope opened new horizons.

Oh, he had been so caught up, he never paid rent or for the food he consumed, home cooked meals, hot, tasty and nourishing. Vegan food at its best, organic, fiber filled, fruits and vegetables, he had not even missed eating flesh foods, smoking habit was forgotten, his promotion at work kept him busy.

Quickly calculating his savings the amount staggered him, the old couple were living on a small pension but never asked him to pay for boarding and lodging. they were always there to hear him lament his lot, he never heard their story.

Well, time to make amends. This long weekend he decided to take them on a trip to watch the cherry blossoms in bloom. stocking well on good organic food, he drove them around, waited to witness the joy seeing the world through their eyes. 

The TV he had bought for Thanksgiving, the WiFi signal booster, the new Apple phone he got would better serve his loving hosts.

They showed him that Life goes on, when one door closes, another opens.

life goes on..

slice and dice, come out.

They sat apart, across the narrow bench at the rest area.
Two wandering souls, each seeking meaning, swaying in the winds of uncertainty.
Words made sense? Not anymore, each wondered why they even existed in a meaningless world.

All was not lost however.
The conversation went so-

"Inane eh?"

"Uhm, better than an erudite slice and dice."

"Thought only crudites were sliced and diced."

"Thoughts too."

Would you believe the two drifters, each so entrenched in a lifestyle so quenching, it was like being bogged into quicksand---

A tinkle of pure glee sounded, a child's laughter, from across the dappled scene.

The dazzle of colors on a winged dragonfly caught their fancy.
Moving along the water body, thoughts sliced across as the insect flew over the darkened waters, glimmering irridescently.

They were each trying to make sense of Life. One, a lawyer, pulling in money settling fraud cases. The other, a computer geek, building firewalls to protect trade secrets.

But life held no meaning, till they broke out to walk about across the huge pond, watching Nature come alive.

"Do you want company, I am single, clean, no family around, open to male bonding" - tentative feelings quiver across the fog building up this late October weekend.


A quick intake of breath, the 6 foot, slender, long limbed beauty, stretched even as the tank top revealed swatches of glistening color.

Well proportioned and sinewy, the longing to be held and comforted, overcame hesitation.
They came together and cuddled into the warmth society frowned upon.
Moved to another state where they could live together.
Yes, each worked in a field that did not pin them down to a locale.

Compact, clasping, coming close California.

Love is beautiful, fluid, mystical as feelings breathe out.

The peal of laughter sealed the union of lonely souls.
Yes, they could have surrogate babies, one each.
The lawyer longed for a baby girl to rekindle his joy of dressing up and keeping house.
The computer nerd hoped for a boy, who played the graphic games he brought to Life.

Two years later, their twins arrived, they paid off the debts of the medical student for full custody of the children.
The girl closely follows the games while the boy is elegant and fashion conscious.
Life well lived.

stand apart for you are meant to be

“.....And lets stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, and the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow.” Khalil Gibran.

When that moment comes the indifference is revealed, it is one of the most devastating experiences one can endure.

“Unfaithful” by Shriver & Shriver (2009) is a book that tells a story of a Jewish woman who survived the Holocaust, came to America and got married. Years later, her husband bailed and left her. She described this as, “the most painful experience of my life.”

Surviving in a strange land is not for the weak of heart. Thriving in the face of  abandonment requires courage.

I’ve, like many, been  swept on but when indifference was revealed, I felt as though I’d swallowed ice water. The blood pounded in my ears. I was crushed and had no idea how I would survive this blow, let alone thrive through it.

The pain and betrayal left me whirling. It took me some time to get my feet beneath me again. Slowly, I began to rebuild my life. Like the sun peeking through on a dark day, I began to feel my spirit rise.

Some of the lessons I learned in that process may help those of you who are in the painful throes of an identity crisis.

I learned how to stand on my own again. Scared and alone, with the responsibility of two young lives fully dependent on me, I learned how not only to do my best but whatever was necessary.

I learned that my self-image is not contingent upon another but rather comes from within. I was able to separate his infidelity from my image. I realized that it reflected something about him, not about me.

I learned how to take responsibility for my part in the marriage failing. I learned the ways in which I contributed to the demise and was able to shift my behavior to avoid making the same choices again.

I learned how to deeply believe in myself. When the truth was revealed, I recognized that I had already known but hadn’t followed my hunch. Now, I know that when I know something, even without proof, to trust it.

I learned that despite being betrayed in the most painful of ways, I could trust again. I realized that trust is a choice we make and that I could choose to hold every person accountable for their choices or I could let the responsibility lie where it ought to—on the shoulders of those who chose to take this path.

I learned how to cultivate happiness and bliss on my own. I learned how mastering my thoughts helped me to master my feelings, which then helped me to choose my actions.

In short, I became the woman I was always meant to be when I was stripped bare of all of the illusions, stories, and counterfeit dreams I’d unwittingly bought into. When it all fell apart, I was left with nothing but my grit and unwavering devotion to creating a life of contentment.

When people ask me if I harbor negative feelings due to this experience, I can easily answer “no.”

In fact, I am grateful for it because the abandonment offered me a way out of an untenable situation, and without it, I may never have left.

Indeed, I am grateful because I became free.

When I realize that the bliss I’ve experienced may not have happened without that choice, I feel waves of gratitude wash over me.

We all have one Life to live and just a short time to accomplish all we want.

So be brave, take the plunge and just go ahead.

Obsessing over Life's minutiae

Gazing into the colorful scattered lights of dawn on a cold wintry morning early into the New Year, she sighed in relief.
The continuous snowfall had precipitated declaration of Snow-day, giving the time to finish submission of her paper on child management, she now obsessed on the approach.
Just how to hold a child's attention on a topic to instill the values of Life as society demanded?
Curbing natural enthusiasm would negate creativity, she reasoned.
Maybe visuals and participation would do the trick..hmm.

Would her efforts in amateur photography/ captioning pique the interest of a hyper active child?
Now she had the weekend to test and collate observations, she only had to get the family of the child who lived down her housing complex to co-operate. Having babysat the child on various weekdays she decided to just offer the harassed mother some relief, suggesting time off for shopping this weekend - she could use the money to buy colored printer ink to offset the graphics. Janet, the little girl, bright yet attentive, always lived in a world of her own making but was well behaved and articulate. Her reaction would be valuable, she had a complete different take on colors, smell, taste and words to express her view on the situation at hand.

The weekend produced the pictures in this write up, the words below are stereotypical while the words within are the child's reaction.
The photos are mine, the caption too- the add in words are the child's input.
The missing brick represented a forest, the rock rug through her eyes - Nature's carpet.
Now you decide if my paper was a success to get me the free ship for the next semester.
Here is another one to tilt your decision--

Natures carpet

I am now doing my final doctoral thesis and Janet spends all evening after school with me.
Her final one from us to you around the world- you can caption it and participate in this experiment too- thank you!