I try not to get too worked up over what’s happening outside my neighborhood, but it’s hard to ignore the cruelty and corruption in Washington and the wars in Israel and Ukraine.

So I distract myself with what Bob calls “World Class Puttering.” Here he is yesterday on the business end of a shovel, digging a deep hole for a Fringe Tree from Rachel’s Native Plants. I took that photo before hanging our bed sheets on the line, after which I dug all the mondo grass from our pond garden.

When our chores turn onerous, we seek diversions from the natural world. It’s an especially good day when the box turtles return for the summer.

Her legs are dotted with yellow scales against a rusty background and when I caught up to her, I took note of the rainy cascade on her pleural scutes—six little clouds and a burst of rain on the scute in the middle of her right side.

Okay, here’s some turtle vocabulary:
Carapace: the top shell
Plastron: the bottom shell
Scutes: shell sections or scales
Vertebral Scutes: scales along the topline of the carapace
Plueral Scutes: scales along the side

Based on that pattern, I named her Rain and began looking for pictures from other years. The first time we saw her was in 2022, determined to cross through the chicken wire into our garden.

We learned how to tell Rain’s sex from the internet. Females have flat plastrons, and males have a little hollow in theirs. That slightly conclave shell helps him stay aboard when mating. Nature thinks of everything!

Rain isn’t huge, but our neighbor David Harris, an avid turtler, guesses she may be upwards of forty years old. He writes about his turtles at A Turtle For Every Log.

Other turtles have visited Trouts Farm over the years, and we usually catch them in our camera lens. In 2020, I photographed two turtles that I have not seen since. I gave them names so that I can recognize them if they return.

Comet’s pattern is similar to Rain’s, with more of a starburst vibe. We didn’t turn them over to look for a divot.

Zip has a disturbing lip line. It looks like someone sewed their lips shut. Both Comet and Zip have a bright dotted line along their topline.

2023 was a big year. Another dotted-line turtle showed up on July 1st.

I named it Tiger because its shell is so colorful.

And then we spotted a third turtle towards the end of July who clearly had business with Rain. I named him Leopard for his bold pattern, and because he was less stripy than Tiger.

I hope to see more turtles and plan on looking at their undersides. I used to worry about scaring them off with too much handling, but Rain keeps coming back, so I’m going for it.

We easily lose ourselves in outdoor work, surrounded by birdcalls and the scent of the tea roses, the sweet William, and now the Fringe Tree. I sometimes make it until noon without a glance at my newsletters, which makes for a healthy, sane life.

After I finish this post, I plan on pruning our azaleas and cleaning out the rain barrel. And when I see Rain moving around our yard, I’ll take a nature break to watch and wonder what she’s thinking or about to do next.

Here is a short list of things I have learned:

First decade, birth through 9 – Bodily Functions
I learned to walk and move my body without smashing into things, to ride a bike without holding on, to sit in balance atop a horse, to swim in the salty waters surrounding City Island, to write, and to read about Lassie, the Black Stallion, and the holy martyrs who willingly allowed others to violate their bodies.

Second decade, 10 through 19 – Independence
I learned to change a diaper, look after my little brothers, hitchhike, clean up my room and paint the walls, run away from home and return with my tail between my legs, make pancakes, body surf, pass a blastocyst, go to the hospital, leave home, drink a pint of scotch in one sitting, get a job and then another and another, and rent an apartment.

Third Decade, 20 through 29 – Healing
I learned what it feels like to get your head shrunk, to dry out, wait tables, drive a car across country and back, and start thinking of others. I began amassing a tool kit of coping strategies for living without fear, pain, or avoidance. I learned to laugh and help others see the funny.

Fourth Decade, 30 through 39 – Consequences
I learned about marriage and how one shouldn’t take it lightly and marry the wrong person but most of us do anyhow and have to get divorced. I learned to pay attention to my body and feed it with exercise. I started jogging, then learned to stretch first after getting plantar fasciitis. I learned how to start a business and later, why owning a business is not for me.

Fifth Decade, 40 through 49 – Enlightenment
I learned about life after divorce, how to recognize my soul mate, about true love, second chances, following my heart, sharing a life, shaping a life, and how it feels to live off the grid in a developing country.

Sixth Decade, 50 through 59 – Maturity
I learned about forgiveness, how to connect with my parents, nurture a marriage, feed family connections, move and settle down, move and settle down, give everything my all, stay committed, and be kind.

Seventh Decade, 60 through 69 – Self Care
I learned to say no, slow down, ask for help, take it easy, make French Onion Soup, self-publish, learn from others, take nothing for granted, and focus on the people who bring me joy.

Many of you have learned these lessons and more. Perhaps you know how to make a Souffle, or knit a sweater, or not use swear words in front of decent folk. Like you, I am still learning and like you, I did not learn these things without help.

My father nurtured my intellectual curiosity, my mother took me into the water, held my hands, and told me to kick, my grandmothers gave me unconditional love and cookies, my brothers taught me to be gentle, my friends helped me listen and learn, and my husband, Bob, proved to me the power of hope over experience.