Tag Archives: my mom

Geese for Breakfast

NW Indiana in September.

“There are some who can live without wild things and some who cannot.”
– Aldo Leopold

#NWIndiana #SeptemberMorn 1

I’m visiting the parentals in Chicago-land. Keeping up with my mamala who can actually, truly, for real talk to the animals (and they talk back to her) is a hoot. This morning she insisted I snap a couple of pics of the morning sun while we were enjoying our coffee. I got this one.

#NWIndiana #SeptemberMorn 2

And this one.

#NWIndiana #SeptemberMorn 3

Of course she made over them, how I’d captured the changing leaves and the light just right. Even though all I did was point, then shoot. She gives me credit for capturing the beauty.  And she assures me I could become a high-paid photographer if I wanted to.

She believes in me. *sniff

#SeptemberMorn #NWIndiana geese and mom 1

Then she noticed, as we were gawking at the morning sun through her back door, about 60 or so geese out on her back lawn, just in from the woods, where the trees meet the grass (“the line” as she calls it). She grabbed her camera and out she went to take pictures of them.

#SeptemberMorn #NWIndiana geese and mom 2 #SeptemberMorn #NWIndiana geese and mom 3

So I grabbed mine and out I went to get pictures of her.

#SeptemberMorn #NWIndiana geese and mom 4 #SeptemberMOrn #NWIndiana geese and mom 5

She circled around and whistled in their language while their leader squawked back at her.

a #Septembermorn #nwindiana

She’d get too close and the geese elders would quack out some instructions and the whole congregation of them would move a ways.

b #septembermorn #nwindiana

My mom got a little too bold so they meandered to the front yard complaining the entire way.

geese talking #septembermorn #nwindiana

geese #septembermorn #nwindiana geese mom talks #septembermorn #nwidiana

They continued feeding. And feeding. And feeding.

geese bossy #septembermorn #nwindiana

And I was thinking, I’d sure like to see them fly away.  But the difference between my mom and I is that she’ll just go enjoy them and watch and wait. However, my coffee was inside getting cold. I tried to communicate to my mom with wild arm swinging from across the lawn: Let’s charge this bunch and watch ’em fly!


The geese were not fans of my arm swinging and I think they even interpreted its’ meaning, as 2 or 3 of them started talking very badly about us loudly enough for us to hear. Shameless.

geese disdain

Finally the leader squeaked and squawked and barked some orders. The geese split into two perfectly orderly groups at the instruction.

september morn 1 september morn south geese

Except for two in the middle. They popped their heads up from their morning forage. “What? Are we leaving,” the first asked? “Im not sure,” the second answered as they both looked back and forth not sure what the big deal was.

what's happening

The two groups lined up like little soldiers and got very still, while the two stragglers waddled toward one group with befuddlement. They were facing opposite directions and once each of the birds was in place, the lead gave out the call and just like that – boom! They took off, one group heading north, one heading south.

But I knew the truth. They were meeting at the rendevouz point. What? Did they think I couldn’t hear their plans?

Anyway – soon enough they took off. Back to my coffee.   :)

take-off 1 take-off 2 take-off 3 take-off 4 take-off 5 take-off 6

Just being silly with my sweet mamala.

“It is warm behind the driftwood now, for the wind has gone with the geese. So would I–if I were the wind.”
-Aldo Leopold

take-off 7


“Like winds and sunsets, wild things were taken for granted until progress began to do away with them. Now we face the question whether a still higher ‘standard of living’ is worth its cost in things natural, wild and free. For us of the minority, the opportunity to see geese is more important than television.”
?-Aldo Leopold

September is just one of the nicest months, isn’t it? I shall miss my sweet September morns.

This woman.

My mamala.

mamala and me

She has been teaching me about childlike faith and following Jesus for 54 years,  6 weeks and 4 days.  Each time I get to see her,  I learn more about loving life and finding joy in the beauty around us.   Whether it’s a clear blue sky, a Cocker Spaniel’s floppy ears, hedgeballs (the woman can get some distance on those things, “bowling” them across the yard) or falling leaves ~ all of life is to be treasured, enjoyed and celebrated.

norma moslander with blake, her 11th great grandchild

This was the day mom met Blake , Elise-the-Niece’s baby boy, and my mom’s 11th great-grandchild.  they were fast friends.

To my mom, there is nothing that isn’t just {{wow-isn’t that wonderful!}} stunningly, marvelously, unbelievably fascinating.  She has 75 years and counting to back it up (even though, people, even though the beginnings were hard, tragic, even, the middle was challenging and the things she faces these days are heavy on the heart)!  Still, she can give you a million reasons to stay the course because God will be faithful.

I drink them up, all her reasons.  I soak her in.

Is it any wonder I still want to be just like my mom when I grow up?

“Live your life and forget your age.”

“Live your life and forget your age.”  -Norman Vincent Peale

This is what women do: they criticize their looks and age and weight and everything about themselves all.the.time.  Don’t ask me how I know.

When I first saw this huge image pop up in a sneak-preview of the wedding photos, I thought, “Well there are the bags under my eyes.  I was still in my sweats.  I didn’t have my mascara on” and etc.  Dumb.  I know.  Very vain.

My mom saw it and said to me “Who is that old woman with all those wrinkles?”  She is 73 and has yet to recognize her loveliness.  Tredessa had already told me that she loved the intensity of the lines on her grandma’s face, the clearness of her features.

And all I could think in response to my mom was, “I so want to be like that woman.”  I love her!  I love her vivaciousness and love for life and picture-taking and horses and her family and her encouraging ways and deep-felt love for people and the belief in the best of them all.   And if the lines on her face were a type of braille, they would read of her unwavering belief in me and love no matter what since the day I was born – even before.

We attack ourselves.  We speak badly of ourselves.  We wouldn’t let first-graders talk about each other the way we talk about ourselves.  Stupid. Waste. of. Time.

Me and my mamala…

me and the momma

I have her nose.  I have her blue eyes.  I even have two, deep, furrowed  lines between my brows exactly like hers.  And I wanna be just like her when I grow up.  I do.  She is the most beautiful to me.