Tag Archives: baskets

Basket Weaver

She was sitting on a bench outside a busy little gift shop in Grand Cayman. Her hands gracefully wove flat rushes in and out as we talked to her. Beside her were numerous baskets she had made. I asked if I might take her picture to which she agreed, giving me a warm smile.


I examined her baskets while Charles fished in his pocket for a tip to give her for posing for me. The baskets were so neatly made, all of the same dried pale green reeds. She told us her grandson goes to a swampy area to pick the reeds for her. All the time she talked her fingers danced in and out, in and out, creating strips she then wound together and sewed. She didn’t have to look at what she was doing–like a knitter creating a familiar pattern.

Others in our touring group were inside the shop tasting samples of rum cake and buying tins of it as well as other souvenirs. We had tasted the cake and were happy now to be talking to this beautiful island lady. I just wish we had taken more time with her. I didn’t even learn her name, nor how long she’s been weaving, nor whether she works at the same shop every day, nor just how long it takes to make a basket.

But I did learn something very important about her.

I asked her if she knew Jesus in her heart. The most radiant smile lit her face. “Oh, yes!” she said. “I couldn’t live without Him. He helps me through every day.” Charles gave her a little booklet about eternal life suggesting she might give it to someone else. She hugged it to her chest and fairly bubbled with glee.

I purchased one of her baskets and now I’m wondering to whom I’ll give it. I really want to keep it myself! Not that I need it for remembering her face!


When we left, I wanted to hug her but knew it would be too bold and so I refrained.

Only a few minutes we spent with this bright lady on Grand Cayman whose name I do not know. But I will always remember her and I know she is my sister in Christ.

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May Day

The first of May is here, to some remembered as May Day, to others just another day, to some an opportunity for political rallies and protests. When Charles read the date on our devotional this morning, we exclaimed, oh, it’s May Day! My thoughts immediately flew to the happy times when my little sister and I would create small paper baskets, fill them with wildflowers, and attempt to surprise family members with our flowery donations. A great part of the fun was in sneaking up on someone, setting the basket down, and running before they could see who was there. Of course part of the fun also was in peering from behind a curtain or a barrel to see the reaction, hopefully a big smile, on the face of the surprised recipient.

I remember my mother’s sharing her memory of May Day when she was a girl in the early 1900’s. She and her classmates danced around a Maypole, weaving ribbons in and out. That had to be a lot of fun! Mamma quoted poetry while she churned or kneaded bread. In the spring, her poem was apt to be Robert Browning’s “Pippa’s Song” which says: “The year’s at the spring, And day’s at the morn; Morning’s at seven; The hill-side’s dew-pearl’d; The lark’s on the wing; The snail’s on the thorn; God’s in His heaven–All’s right with the world.”

News of severe riots around the country, the earthquake in Nepal, injustice everywhere, fill the air waves till it seems the television might just explode sometime. Yet–God’s in His heaven, aware of every detail on earth, and will ultimately right every wrong. Believing that, I can take great joy from observing the wildlife celebrating May Day in my backyard.

The mulberry tree is a center of attraction. The mulberries are slowly ripening for the enjoyment of browsing humans. But they are totally tempting right now to squirrels and all kinds of birds. Before I could find even one ripe berry, birds and squirrels were so active in the tree, it looked as if it were dancing. Now, whether or not the wind is blowing, the tree’s light, flexible limbs and branches are a-sway with silent music. I can see as many as four or five squirrels at a time feasting happily. I’ve seen them stretch themselves from one limb to another until I’d hold my breath waiting to see whether they broke in two or fell to the ground. The squirrels have a highway in the trees for crossing the yard but there is one space between trees they haven’t found sky passage for, so they have to scamper across the ground. Then they scale a pine tree, leap to limbs of an Indonesian cherry tree, and from there, by way of a Japanese magnolia, they’re in the heavenly mulberry tree.

The birds have it easier. They fly in and out at will. They do have to keep a close watch because fellow birds and squirrels are not always kind. Each one believes God made that tree for him and only him, or her. When it comes to sharing they’re not always any better than the rest of us. I observed a war take place an hour ago. No winners, that I can tell. One squirrel is still fussing.

From the porch I can also see several bird feeders and a bird bath, all very well used. I especially enjoy the little titmouse with his chip-chip-chipping and the tiny black-capped chickadee. They fly in, grab a sunflower seed and then whir up to a tree bough to enjoy their snack.

Our martin house remains empty for another year. Charles has learned that martins, like many other creatures, are choosy about their place of abode. Given a choice, they have been observed repeatedly to rent more natural places, like gourds, rather than sturdy houses made just for them. Ours is a condominium, just the right height, made to order, but–no takers!

Brown thrashers are nesting here. They love thick camellias. What a beautiful, wise bird is the brown thrasher, a really good choice, I think for Georgia’s state bird. Take my advice, though, and do not ever try to look in mama Thrasher’s nest unless you’re ready for a swirl of angry wings around your head and a scolding you won’t forget. Did I say they are loyal? They are ready to go to bat in a heartbeat!

Cardinals are year-round splashes of cheer and they sing so sweetly too. And then there’s my all-time favorite, the faithful mockingbird that tries to re-tell everyone’s story, or┬ásong. And the songbird family would not be complete without little wrens chirping busily and making the cutest dwelling places in old boots, every nook and cranny, even (one year, at least), on the backside of the mailbox.

The other day I saw one of the cats ready to pounce on a baby sparrow who was learning with difficulty how to fly. I stopped the travesty that time but can’t say it didn’t happen later. The food chain is quite evident right here in this small acre. Cramer, another cat, sidled up to the door, proud of the lizard, still wiggling, in his mouth.

The wind is up today and the temperature delightfully cool. A great May Day! A great day for walking with other survivors in American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life.. What a privilege that was, not only to walk with other survivors but also with my most precious caregiver, my husband! And, no, I didn’t mention the other May Day, the one you use when your plane or ship is failing. Let’s stick to celebrating a normal, happy day this May First!

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