Four Years of Observation

Kris Szlauko

Our family was quite large and it was rare that a four-year-old got to sit in the front seat with mom. The front seat was most often reserved for an older child that could hold a baby. Sometimes a rowdy child was placed up front so as not to cause havoc with the other riders in the car.

Sisi was enjoying the freedom of being in the big open seat and her new vantage point. She pressed her little face to the window and watched cars go by. She watched as mom went through the motions of driving.

She kicked her little feet wide and back and forth to the rhythm of a song on the radio. She had never had so much legroom to move in the car before. An especially rapid song came on the radio and she started dancing in her seat. Usually when she rode with family the radio was drowned out by fussing kids or engine sounds.

The song ended but there was a ticking sound that kept playing after the music stopped. It caught Sisi’s attention. The ticking stopped so Sisi turned her attention to the window again.

After the ticking sound returned several times, Sisi finally asked mom what it was. By the time mom could give her her full attention to her the sound had stopped again. Mom wasn’t sure what Sisi was talking about and told her if she heard it again to tell her.

After a minute or two the sound returned. “There it is!” Sisi rapidly announced. Mom smiled and said “That’s the turn signal, sweetheart, That’s to tell other drivers that we are turning.”

“Oh,” Sisi responded. After a moment of thought she looked back up to mom and said, “Mommy, I don’t think they can hear it.”

Whose Garden Are You In?

Barb Hyder

Struggling with intense anxiety and bouts of uncontrollable anger, I sought help from a professional counselor. During the first sessions, I talked about the events and situations that brought about my anxiety and anger, explaining how I responded to each circumstance.

After several appointments, my counselor paused and asked me a simple question: “Whose garden are you in? I was taken aback.

What do you mean? I asked.

She explained: Imagine you have a beautiful garden that is the envy of your neighborhood. You care for it every day, consistently watering, pulling weeds, and fertilizing the soil. Your efforts result in a thriving, bountiful crop of flowers and vegetables.

But one day, you notice that your next door neighbor’s garden is not doing very well. Weeds are overtaking the foliage, and the plants are wilting due to a lack of water. Concerned, you approach your neighbor and she admits she doesn’t know what to do. You offer to help bring her garden back.

She agrees, and together, you spend hours pulling out weeds, watering the soil, and fertilizing the plants. As you work side by side, you share information about maintaining a garden, so your neighbor will be able to take care of it herself, in the future. As a result, her garden returns to health and she is ecstatic.

While you are still busy helping your next door neighbor restore her garden, you notice that your dear friend, who lives behind your house, is facing a similar struggle. Her garden is nearly dead, neglected and lifeless. You decide to ask her what happened. She admits that it’s taking more time than she can manage, and says she’s decided just to let it die.

You offer to try to bring it back to life and she accepts your offer. You spend countless hours pulling weeds, watering the soil, and applying fertilizer to her garden. Because of your effort and attention, her garden flourishes and produces a harvest of vibrant flowers and delicious vegetables and becomes the envy of the neighborhood.

But what about your own garden? As you’ve spread yourself thin helping others with their gardens, your own has been neglected. With no one tending to it, your garden has gone to seed and is no longer viable. The time and energy you spent supporting your neighbors, left little opportunity for you to care for your own space.

This analogy opened my eyes and gave me the best advice I’ve ever received and in a way that I totally understood. It made me realize a pattern I had repeated for years: I was so focused on taking care of others that I neglected my own well-being. My constant attention to others’ needs left no time for self-care, and I lost myself in the process. It became clear that I needed to shift my focus and start focusing on my own needs. Now whenever I find myself anxious and/or angry I ask myself, “Whose garden are you in?”

“Me Too,” said Mr. Tarantula

Sue Donovan

Fall in the Southwest heralds late summer warmth plus the added moisture of the monsoons—a perfectly romantic setting for tarantulas. In Arizona, California, Colorado, Texas and New Mexico, lucky observers may witness hordes of the frighteningly furry creatures roaming in packs from late evening until dawn, similar to young studs in every bar and pick up joint across the globe. Whereas parents of humans attempt to prepare their daughters to avoid predatory Romeos on the prowl, mom and dad tarantula should try to shelter Sonny from his baser instincts!

Female tarantulas lead a pretty peaceful life. After a long winter’s snooze in their burrow, they weave a web in the spring, catching bugs for dinner. After lazing around all summer munching their catch, they emerge on their front porch in the fall, waiting patiently for a male that meets their romantic standards. After a hot date, she then retreats back into her burrow, produces her children, and repeats her love cycle for 20 to 25 years.

Male tarantulas’ lives are a lot more stressful. After hatching, they leave mom’s basement right away to build their own burrow, and then remain living the carefree bachelor life, attempting to mature, for around five years. Soon they start to feel that old fall fever and join up with their buddies to troll the burrows, hoping to get lucky. Once they hook-up with a willing lady, they do their thing, and die. And then, their girlfriend has them for dinner! After many frantic attempts, if they don’t find a young lovely, they retreat to their own burrow and die of sheer exhaustion.

Except if you happen to get in the way of boy meets girl, tarantulas are docile, gentle creatures that pose no threat to humans. They do possess sharp spines on their legs and bellies called urticating hairs that they can throw like darts when threatened, so cuddling is not recommended. Also be aware that they can jump one to two feet and get into trees, so give them a wide berth.

Tarantulas are ecologically valuable critters. Part of the desert food chain for coyotes, foxes and skunks, they also provide insect control. Their abandoned burrows help with soil aeration and flood control in the desert, and make good homes for lizards. Despite their intimidating appearance and tragic dating history, a good population of tarantulas is a harbinger of a very healthy ecosystem.