Lessons from a baby bird

Mosquitoes are plentiful in Texas and many Texas residents keep purple martin birdhouses in their yards in hopes of attracting these migrating birds who love to spend their summers in the hot Texas heat where they will find a plentiful supply of one of their favorite foods: mosquitoes.

We do not have a purple martin birdhouse, but 2 of our neighbors do.

My mom always told me that purple martins are just a little bit picky about selecting a summer vacation home – they like it to be very clean. No remnants from the previous occupants.

I don’t think that our neighbors ever received this advice. Sparrows are still living in the purple martin houses. But that is OK. We love the sweet little sparrows too. We’re just having to break out the citronella candles to ward off mosquitoes.

Yesterday evening, Cristy was watching the sparrow activity on the ground around the bird feeder and bird bath. There was one youngster sparrow that had not yet learned to eat by herself. She was able to fly, but still relied on mom to pick up the bird seed from the ground and give it to her. I suppose with birds, they have to learn to fly to the source of food before they can learn to eat it on their own. One hurdle at a time.

The mommy sparrow patiently fed her offspring who scurried behind her making a big fuss. Or, at least, that is what it looked like from where we sat.

It made me think about how long it sometimes takes me to grasp concepts that appear to be very obvious.

I remember, as a child, using scissors to cut a circle out of a piece of paper was very perplexing and frustrating. That day in kindergarten class I watched while all the other students cut out their circles, but I succeeded only in cutting an endless spiral. I didn’t get it. Later, my mom showed me another technique that made more sense to me. I was so relieved. I just needed more instruction.

I also remember in first grade at recess, I was having trouble running relay races as quickly as the other children and I asked my dad for help. He showed me exactly the things I needed to know to solve my problems. They were things that other children somehow learned merely by observing, but again, I needed more instruction.

Recalling these experiences makes me realize how crucially important my parents were for me. I felt safe taking a problem to them and asking them to help me solve it. And they did, in a nonjudgmental way. These two early episodes, like so many others, transformed my feelings of frustration into feelings of competence.

And more recently, Cristy showed me how to use one of the features of our television remote control. My technology phobia generally scares me away from that contraption, but Cristy showed me how simple it really was. And I can use it now. Maybe not for everything, but I’m OK with some simple navigation. I can feed myself.

And that baby bird will soon learn too.

In harmony

I walked down the street today to attend a presentation: 1 block west then 1 block north. The day is lovely and I noticed blooming daylilies and plenty of chirping sparrows along the way. One of the buildings I passed has now been entirely fenced; any sort of access to the perimeter is prohibited. The building will be demolished at some date in the not too distant future as the Texas Medical Center makes way for expansion.

The process of expansion is one that seems to have no end. New roads, new buildings, new floors added to the tops of existing buildings. The vast acreage of Hermann Park lies along the northern edge of the medical center. A drive into this complex from the freeway affords commuters a picturesque view of the golf course. Recently, a broader, new road was constructed to channel traffic alongside Braes Bayou more efficiently and as a result, the older road near the edge of the golf course was abandoned and has been returned to the park as restored green space.

This is something I have not ever before observed. A road demolished and the land restored to augment nature. It makes me happy that the civil engineers and transportation planners included this as one of the goals of the construction project.

In my personal corner of the world, Cristy has taken significant strides to convert our own yard into a nature friendly habitat. There are 2 squirrel feeders, a bird feeder, hummingbird feeder, two birdhouses and a birdbath. Numerous wind chimes provide soothing musical sounds that help mask the noise of nearby lawnmowers or tools. She has made our yard a welcome place for birds and squirrels and we are rewarded daily with visitors of all varieties.

The energy inside our homes is, I think, derived in large part from its external surroundings. Windows that offer views of water, sky, foliage and our feathered neighbors give us the elements in Feng Shui that represent vital Chi energy. A balance with nature and with spirit. Harmonious.

Amid a sometimes perplexing blend of chaos, I am reminded of the harmony woven throughout the moments of my day.

Scenes from the weekend

Plenty of activity punctuated by brief escapes to the yard, full of blooming plants. Projects included phase 2 of the photo gallery project (phase 1 picture at left), doggy-door barracade, candle-lantern groupings for the trees, making a birdbath, hanging a bird feeder, and adding storage hooks for the pool tools. Full agenda.

Earth hour

I had forgotten about Earth Hour approaching. We had been out completing an errand and when we arrived home around 7pm I made a few candle lanterns to hang outdoors in the trees. It was a simple process with a nice visual effect. We sat indoors at the kitchen table with the flickering glow beyond giving us a calming lift to our spirits. I experimented with the candlelight setting on my camera, then suddenly at 8:15, remembered Earth hour.

Cristy hurriedly prepared salads for dinner and boiled water in the kettle for tea. I gathered a dozen or so votive candle holders and tea lights and placed them in small groupings, hoping that the candle glow would give us sufficient light that we would not feel compelled to abandon the Earth hour project.

We ate our dinner and talked. Sat peacefully in the candlelight past 9:30.

I don’t remember now what roused us from the kitchen table. It was probably the requirement to tend to the needs of one of the dogs, but at shortly after 10pm, we returned to life by electric lights. Washed the dishes, washed and put away the votive holders, and washed our faces in preparation for bed.

The simplicity of sharing conversation by candlelight was lovely.

Springing forward & looking back

With the impending time change, I am anxious for spring to burst forth. Mother Nature is gathering momentum as the earth glides on its path, ever closer to the sun.

Paging back through my book of memories, the imprints of the season emerge: patent-leather shoes, my mom’s bunny cake, dandelions, my younger brother’s little league baseball games, hydrangeas in my grandmother’s yard, laundry hanging outdoors to dry. In my school years, with the coming of spring it became customary to spend lunch breaks picnicking on the courtyard lawn, brown bags of sandwiches and apples. The warm sun and easy, uncomplicated conversations of teenaged girls. Discussing lipgloss or sandals.

I’m not so far removed from that young girl. As I entered my closet this morning, I cast my eye over to the few pairs of shoes that will certainly announce the emergence of spring. The fuscia pumps, nude patent, red-white-black polka dot strappy sandals. And lip gloss in pale sugar pink or coral bright. I selected the nude patent pumps. As a proper southern girl, I still observe seasonal wardrobe boundaries. Spring-summer garments and shoes are off-limits until Easter. Except for my little episodes of cheating, like today.

It’s a neutral though. Sort of like the Switzerland of shoes, right?

RTT - the early edition

Robins arrived in Houston today. I look forward to them each year and they arrive reliably on schedule, about 4 weeks before the official start of spring. They will be here for a couple of weeks before heading a bit further north to chase the edge of the ground temperature change. Of course, I’m just making this up because I am not an ornithologist. But it could be correct.

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I stumbled onto a new blog yesterday and the author listed ten things that she learned last weekend. If you think about it, we learn things all the time. So I stopped for a moment or two to consider what I learned last weekend. I did not undertake any particularly studious endeavors, so the things I learned were rather ordinary. But useful, nonetheless. At the top of the list is that fact that when you bake with whole wheat flour, the baked product tastes different. Previously, I had believed that you could bake with whole wheat flour but wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. I was wrong. The banana bread coffee cake I made with whole wheat flour is still good, but in a healthy-good sort of way. Not a yummy delicious treat sort of way.

Unfortunately, I purchased a standard size bag of whole wheat flour, so there is plenty remaining for future baking projects. And since I am frugal-girl, completely unlikely to discard a perfectly good bag of flour, there are plenty of whole-wheat baked items in my immediate future.

The messenger

Last Sunday after we hung up our two bird houses, we noticed a couple of medium sized hawks slowly drifting on the air currents overhead. Then later in the afternoon, as she was working on another outside chore, Cristy heard a soft noise and looked up to see one of those hawks (or another large raptor-looking bird of the same general dimensions) sitting in the tree very near to the birdhouses.

Hmmm.

There are two bird feeders just across the fence in the neighbor’s yard that is a favorite snack stop for sparrows and wrens. Could the hawk be stalking the feeder?

I do have this innate tendency to associate omens to natural events or sightings. And, were this an isolated event, perhaps I might not lend it so much weight, but it is not an isolated event. Urban hawks have been making frequent appearances within the past week or so. One swooped down in front of my car as I was beginning my drive home one afternoon. I spotted another flying up to the low branch of a road side tree.

From a practical perspective, since it is winter, these birds are probably just on the lookout for a meal, and my sightings are purely coincidental. But that just isn’t very fun.

So I decided to check with my friend google, to find out what symbolisms are associated with the hawk.

It seems that the hawk is a good omen; it is a very majestic bird. Hawks are considered messengers in some ancient lores; they are alert to any movement on the ground. They remind us to be alert for the answers we are seeking. If we look around us, inside of ourselves, we will become aware of the answer.

Another hmmm.

And so it has come to pass. A question posed and an answer provided. On the wings of the messenger.

Being mindful

A team of colleagues just down the hallway from me work with a variety of constituents and they all have a mail tray installed on the wall just adjacent to their door to receive any urgent paperwork if they happen to be out. They decorate these mail trays with pretty seasonal trinkets and it is a colorful addition to my frequent walks to the printer, elevator, etc. With the season of Lent soon upon us, the current decoration is a bright, feathery Mardi Gras flourish.

Lent is a particularly wonderful season in the Christian religion, because it is all about being mindful. [This is in the Christianity according to my own brain. I do not profess to be a scholar of religion, by any remote stretch of the imagination, so if my interpretations are incorrect, then I humbly stand corrected.] The phrase that resonates with me from a Lenten homily is “ashes to ashes,” encouraging us to be mindful of the finite nature of our existence and the enduring cycle of life.

Nature itself gives us an infinite variety of metaphors of this cycle. The ebb and flow of the tide, the dawn and dusk of the earth’s rotation, the seasonal changes of the earth’s revolution around the sun, the flowering and fruition of trees and plants. Even with the recent harsh freeze, there is evident damage to many of the tropical trees and shrubs around town. But Nature will repair what She can.

At the place where I work, acknowledging death comes with the territory. It does not make it a dreary or depressing place to work; it simply reinforces the importance of celebrating the life that we have. One of our board members passed just this past weekend and the wife of another board member passed not too long ago last year. These are people that have touched our institution and so many others with their time, love and generous gifts. Frequently the people with whom we work are suffering from the loss of a child and as part of their healing process, they will establish an endowment, or an annual fundraising event to celebrate the life of their loved one. Every loss is a loss. None of any more or less importance than another. Sobering and harsh.

It reminds me of a conversation I had with two colleagues a number of years ago. One was telling a story of working on a farm when she was a young girl and falling in love with the lambs. She did not want to eat lamb after that because of her connection with the animals for which she cared. I gently suggested that perhaps the fact that the lamb was special had not so much to do with her personal love for the lambs, but due to the fact that they were all creatures of God. God loves us all equally. Maybe it was inappropriate to say that out loud, but I felt then, and still now in my heart that it was true. Perspective about life in the larger picture.

So I set forth about this day remembering to keep gratitude and mindfulness in the front of my consciousness.

Trees and karma

Preparation for Arbor Day is under way. Let’s call it Arbor-Enrichment Day. Winter is short in Houston and tree pruning needs to occur during a narrow window between Christmas and Valentine’s Day while the trees are dormant. But today, the agenda calls for more than just tree pruning. A large crew of arbor professionals arrived at 7:45 this morning with trucks full of heavy equipment to remove trees in addition to standard pruning essential for promoting healthy tree growth, which, by the way, is long overdue in this particular landscape. As of this writing, they have removed 5 living trees and 3 dead/diseased trees.

I am generally not in favor of removing living trees, but had to make an exception in this case. Two of our ornamental trees are both planted within 12 inches of the house. While they’re still small now, in a few years their expanding roots will begin pushing against the foundation and I don’t think that will be a pretty sight, either from the vantage point of the house or our pocketbook. The other 3 trees are just a plain nuisance. They drip pine needles all over the roof and yard. I am relatively certain that we could plant trees in their stead that will offer shade to the yard without the unwanted debris.

We fully realize that our karma is in jeopardy at the moment. We’re taking out trees that offer habitat and food for birds, small mammals and insects. So in return, we have hung a squirrel feeder and will be hanging 2 bird houses this weekend. Then soon, we will be selecting a new tree to plant, to commemorate our first year together in this house. By continuing to keep the landscape healthy, we are hoping that our karma will start swinging back up.

Celebrate Arbor Day this year (April 30th) by planting a tree!

Please stand by

Please stand by. Your regularly scheduled winter will resume in a moment.

Yeah, I know we haven’t gotten much (ok, any) real effects of winter here in the Texas gulf coast, but you know why? Because it’s the Texas gulf coast, southern latitudes. Even in winter, the weather is relatively mild.

It has not eclipsed my awareness that some parts of the country have been enduring suffering from severe winter weather conditions and the extent of the arctic front’s reach into this portion of the map is essentially just a dip in temperature. Granted it dipped into the twenties, cold enough to damage the tropical plants that so many of us have adorning the landscape, but no precipitation, no shoveling, no sand or salt, no widespread power outages. All in all, it’s good to be in Texas right now.

Still, this is not our regularly scheduled winter.

Usually, winter gets revved up near mid-to-late January with some gloomy, rainy windy cold. After 4 weeks of Texas-style winter, the migrating robins pop up in our yards to bring glad news. And by the end of February it will all be a memory.

2010 omen

I read that the lunar calendar calls for a full moon, a blue moon, on New Year’s Eve. A rare convergence. An omen, perhaps? I do love omens presented in the shape of gifts from nature itself.

This blue moon shall be a good omen. May it bring the blessing of humility, faith and gratitude to all who observe its beauty. May it afford us a more profound glimpse into the inner courage, compassion and diligence we have stored within the depths of our being. May it open our minds, hearts and eyes to the realities of our life, that we may live in the present tense, making appropriate choices and telling the truth, with love, to ourselves and to others. May it allow us a balanced view of ourselves, our family, community and world so that we may choose words and deeds for good.

May this blue moon give us resilience in the face of adversity and a stronger sense of connection to the God of our understanding and the fabric of humanity.

As we leave our fingerprints on the lives of others, and on the world in general in 2010, let them be thoughtful, intentional and gentle. May this moon give us the soft light we need to illuminate our path in the coming year.

Coexisting

Sometimes coexisting in peace can be personally challenging. If we are confronted with a neighbor whose presence makes us feel uncomfortable, we might be inclined to respond to this neighbor in a very unwelcoming manner. But often, the politically correct response, coexisting, is in truth, the best approach. Two simplistic examples.

First, a common spider. Instead of pulling out the can of bug spray when finding a spider in the house, maybe a better approach is to move the spider outdoors. A couple of days ago, Cristy found a rather large spider indoors. Gracyn had it trapped in a corner. So Cristy retrieved it and sent it on its way outside where it quickly went to work locating a proper location for a new web. This is what spiders do. On the one hand, the spider selected a location near the eve of the house on the deck, a place frequented by humans and canines alike. It is doubtful that we would much like running into this spider or the spider web. But on the other hand, there are an abundance of flies in the backyard and this natural predator will surely do a superb job in assisting to diminish that population.

Second, a scorpion. This story comes to us via a friend that formerly lived in Phoenix. Moving to Phoenix from Houston with his wife and two young children years ago, he was first a bit surprised to encounter so many scorpions in that habitat and they responded by aggressively exterminating. However, the after-effect of this response was an incredible surplus of crickets. While it was common knowledge among their neighbors, my friends did not realize that the scorpions living around their yard helped to keep the cricket population in check. By coexisting with the scorpions, nature found the proper balance.

It’s all about perspective. Conquer the fear of a scary-looking arachnid. Coexist. Our reward is the benefit of the valuable service they perform naturally.

Nature or nurture?

In my immediate household, there are 2 people, 5 dogs and 1 cat. In an attempt to maintain as much relative order as possible, we try to adhere to a set of feeding time and playtime rituals that seem to work. But dogs, being the clever creatures that they are, do their best to steer our behavior toward meeting their desires as much as possible. They learn that humans will sometimes relent after being pestered for a while. I also think that dogs are perceptive enough to detect human dynamics that contribute to stress, fear and sadness and I think that if these situations are not corrected, the animals’ behavior could be permanently affected.

A number of years ago, I volunteered as a docent in the butterfly conservatory of the local museum. It is a beautiful place and on many days, moms and their young children would visit the museum together and enjoy a stroll through the conservatory. The pretty paths are lined with dense plantings featuring plenty of nectar producing flowers to attract the brilliantly colored butterflies. My role was to provide information about butterflies to anyone who might be interested. Mostly though, the visitors just liked to experience the natural wonder of the conservatory on their own.

On one particular day, I noticed a mom pointing out a lovely swallow-tailed butterfly to her child. As the butterfly flitted closer to them, the little boy ducked his head. I heard his mom exclaim, ‘you don’t have to be afraid, these are good bugs!’ She glanced at me and admitted that through her own behavior, she had probably taught him to be afraid of insects without understanding why.

Hmmm. So I guess this might mean that my dogs’ neuroses originate with me? They have observed my behavior, moods and emotional responses to conditions and situations long enough to develop complementary behaviors? Their unruly manners are essentially a reflection of unchecked mixed signals on my part? Could it be true?

Nah.

Autumnal equinox

Tomorrow marks the autumnal equinox; day and night will be approximately the same length as the earth’s northern hemisphere begins its journey into fall. Autumn ushers in a host of seasonal references: schoolbooks, football games, Halloween costumes, pecans, cable-knit sweaters, raking leaves, cinnamon spice, garden mums, mashed potatoes. Our memories map these associations with incredible precision. Certain smells, colors, sounds remind us of homecoming dances, fall festivals and family holiday gatherings.

The slant of the afternoon sun in autumn reminds me of the smell of a wood burning fireplace, the softness of flannel pajamas, riding my bike home from girl scout meetings and the heaviness of quilts layered on my bed. There are certain foods I like to prepare in autumn and winter that I seldom prepare during the warmer months such as toasted veggie grinder sandwiches, baked ziti and pear-apple sauce. I also look forward to wearing jeans and blazers and enjoying a Friday evening or two near the fireplace with a glass of wine.

Autumn is a time for lighting candles, replacing placemats with tablecloths and reading a favorite novel (again). It is a time for sharing things you have received or learned from someone else – photographs, recipes, making a wreath, folding a napkin, telling a favorite story, making origami cranes. It is a season of cozy and comfort and the more you share, the more you feel.

Rainy day memories

Although the rainy weather cleared up yesterday, it returned for an encore performance today. We will probably venture out in a while for a bit of shopping and Mexican food, but the seashore enjoyment we had anticipated is ranking much lower on the probability scale.

The summer that I was 10 years old, I went to summer camp for 2 weeks during an unseasonably rainy period. The weather was muddy messy, but the worst part was the constant onslaught of mosquitoes. It was hard to manage these pests since we lived in tents and all of our activities were outdoors. I had a lot of insect bites and I remember being uncomfortable, but I did not realize how totally out of control the situation was until my mother arrived to pick me up at the end of my stay. She took one look at me, murmured something sympathetic, grabbed my hand and stormed into the camp office. I remember her being wildly upset with the teen-aged camp counselors about their complete negligence in monitoring the children under their care. She was hopping mad.

I had seen my mom’s angry side before. On (rare) occasion, my own childish misbehavior brought it to the surface, but I had never seen her direct that emotionally charged tirade to anyone else. I’ve never seen it since, either.

I have read that mosquitoes are attracted to some people more than others, and I fall squarely in the former group. But in the rainy season, I keep a bottle of bug spray on hand.

Hello seashore

After a disappearing act over the past 30 hours or so, the sun has reemerged. Cristy and I drove (she drove, I rode) over 3 hours through steady, and at times heavy rain to reach our beach destination. Here we are anticipating a couple of days of distance from the demands of the world to meditate with the ocean, search for seashells and cuddle up together. With a few cups of delicious coffee and the promise of a few hours of sunshine this afternoon, the day is looking absolutely brilliant. Ciao.

Good omens

Morning activity has begun, some of the inhabitants of this household are awake at 5:28. The coffee is brewing and already is filling the air with that delicious sweet smell. I like the yummy sweet flavored variety. Cristy calls it “jelly coffee” but I like it anyway.

After all the dogs have their breakfast, they generally need to make a trip to the backyard. I usually escort Jackie outside. He is old and suffers from a variety of phobias; having an escort helps to keep things moving. The morning sky was still dark and had a thin, shining white layer of clouds. But the most startling thing was the large halo around the moon. White, expanding to pale yellow, ringed with a narrow band of dark orange. I thought it was a good omen.

No one in my recent ancestry, to the best of my knowledge, believed in omens, so I have no particular knowledge that my hunches regarding omens mean anything at all. I simply choose to believe that when I see something spectacular, or merely wonderful in nature, that it signifies something positive.

On Monday morning, two days ago, I made the trek over to my house to take care of some chores. The house was listed again and I had received two offers with a verbal promise of a third to be submitted, all within just a couple of days. Things were moving much more rapidly than I had expected. But the fact remained that Cristy and I had released the house we loved. We had been told, from the sellers themselves, that another couple was “waiting in the wings” to purchase their house in the event that our contract fell through. And it did. Consequently, we had no reason not to believe that this other couple would not have immediately signed a contract to purchase that lovely home.

But on Monday, after picking up some stray palm branches in the front yard and walking up the steps to the door, something caught my eye and I paused. It was a hummingbird. The smallest flash of ruby. The tiny bird lighted on a jasmine vine and stopped for a time. It seemed like a full minute. I didn’t move and before long noticed a companion hummingbird nearby, also resting in the jasmine. They both soon darted away, but my brain had already labeled it a good omen. I just didn’t say it out loud to myself or anyone else.

On Tuesday, I completed negotiations for the sale of my house, much more easily and expeditiously than I thought possible and had a signed contract by 2:30pm. Cristy called me shortly after 5 as I was preparing to leave the office.

She had spoken with our realtor and requested that she inquire about the status of our beloved “lost” house. It seemed that all hope was not lost. By 6:30pm, we had a verbal agreement for new purchase terms and by 7pm I was doing the happy dance. We signed contracts a couple of hours later and sent them back to our realtor.

Today, on this day of the halo morning moon, we will have a contract, signed by both sets of parties, to again, purchase the house that we loved from the moment we first walked inside. For a few dark days, our hopes vanished and then, like magic, foretold by the good omens of nature, the tumblers started falling into place.

Diane's weather almanac

OK, it's not the Farmer's Almanac, but I stand by it.

There are four principles that govern the weather in Houston:
1. The last cold snap of winter will coincide with the Houston Livestock Show & Rodeo
2. After this last cold snap, the next 2-3 weeks will be heavenly, true resort weather
3. But before long, it will be clear that it’s going to be a hot summer
4. The first cool snap of fall will occur the third week of September.

Soon fall will be on the way. Just yesterday Gracyn was in the back yard foraging for acorns. No, she’s not a squirrel, she’s a dog, but well, she’s Gracyn. It reminded me of an acorn story from a previous autumn.

One particular October morning in 1988 as I was preparing to leave the house for work, I noticed a distinct clattering noise coming from outside. The noise grew much louder when I walked outside. It was coming from across the street and I took a few steps then stopped in amazement. A large oak tree was literally raining acorns. Hundreds, no thousands of acorns were pouring out of the tree and bouncing across the sidewalk and street below. I have never seen anything like that since. Gracyn would have loved it.

Silent lightning

At 5:30 this morning I found myself standing outdoors and noticed the flash of lightning in the sky behind a dense blanket of clouds. There was an abundant amount of electric activity and the lightning randomly illuminated the clouds as if they were decorated with twinkle lights. But there was no thunder. The silence somehow made the lightning fascinating, nonthreatening; a discharge of natural electricity a world away.

Once when I was a young girl I awoke late at night during a bizarre electrical storm. There was no rain or thunder, but silent lightning was virtually everywhere. As I stood at my window transfixed at the spectacle of the delicate shards of lightning bursting through the brittle air, my mother came into my room and gently ushered me back to bed.

Phenomena of nature never fail to capture our imagination. No matter how many times I have seen lightning before, it is a renewed wonder. Perhaps, because it is not man-made, our consciousness labels it extraordinary. Lightning cannot be recreated on demand: we must wait for the next natural occurrence. I believe I will never again witness an electrical storm like the one I saw as a youngster, but if I did, I would still be amazed and riveted to the captivating sight.

Natural architecture

In Ayn Rand’s novel, The Fountainhead, Howard Roark struggles against society’s tendency to conform to architectural and design standards of mediocrity as he attempts to break away from predictable patterns and create useful, beautiful buildings in harmony with their surroundings. Mother Nature provides a range of examples of naturally occurring architectural excellence – a perfect blend of form, beauty, simplicity and function. Honey bees, beavers, birds and ants all possess the intrinsic ability to act as architect, engineer and builder.

Mollusks are perhaps my favorite example of architecture in nature. Seashell homes provide shelter for the tender soft-bodied creatures with unimaginable beauty. Each home unique, an example of perfect geometry covered with a splendid range of colors, ridges and enamel-smoothness. Finding the shells empty on the sea shore offers a glimpse into the artifacts of the ocean, an impromptu tour of a secret world; an example of architecture unmatched by human creation.