I am still writing, just privately and inconsistently. I didn’t write at all while we were on our Eclipse trip and then not for a few days after we returned. And I was fine with that. And then I started again, reminding myself of all the things I do outside of writing so I wouldn’t be surprised when sometimes I forget to write.
In the midst of all this, I finalized a short story that I plan to make available for free. I started the story in 1992 in a writing workshop with Jerome Stern. Although it is fiction, I had my parents in mind while I wrote it. Now that they are both deceased, I feel I can share the story now. I want to release it on Mother’s Day. Wish me well.
Creativity
I’ve been making potholders again, a few to gift to friends for upcoming special occasions. The rest will pile up until I can figure out what to do with them. I’ve also been knitting a pair of socks but I put those aside in order to knit a scarf. I bought this kit in Spruce –Bennet Bandana–from a shop in Thomasville, GA. It was a perfect knitting project for our trip: simple to knit, simple to stow in my bag. I could have brought the socks, but … well, I wanted a break from them.
Garden
When we got back from San Antonio, I was thrilled to find that our Bugleweed plant was straight-up blooming.
Even more exciting, a small plant I had recently bought, and promptly forgot the name of, also started to bloom. Thankfully, I remembered to include the tag the plant came with: Fringed Campion.
Grief
As Mother’s Day approaches, my mood is shifting downward. I know I’m adding to my stress by my plan to release a short story, but what else should I do? It will be my first Mother’s Day without my mom. How else can I honor her and my memory of her? And my sister Shirley. Almost two years she’s been gone and yet my heart still twists in pain when I see the Mother’s Day cards that I would have bought for her. There’s no getting over this kind of loss.
Cats
But for our cats, I’d be in a sorrier state. This guy here … we are now calling him Snugglebunny. He snuggled up to me all on his own. I’m so glad I was able to snap a picture and record the event.
This week’s Lens-Artists challenge is hosted by Patti at https://pilotfishblog.com. She asks us to consider: ”what makes a photo dramatic? Maybe it is processed in black and white, or it has vivid colors. Maybe a person, place, or object is captured from a unique perspective or it is a macro shot. This week, we’ll explore some characteristics of dramatic images and some ways to add drama to photos.”
Whenever I want to see something dramatic, all I have to do is look up.
A crescent moon high in a night sky has a sense of the dramatic.
Then there are sunsets as viewed from our patio.
Clouds don’t need color to be dramatic. Do you see an angel in one of these photos?
The open sky of St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge is often dramatic.
The evening sky at Elinor Klapp-Phipps Park, a once-favorite place to hike, could be dramatic at times.
(These photos were taken about 10 years ago. That’s the back of my head in the first one.)
Finally, no drama here. Just a warm memory of Raji getting cozy with “uncle” Junior (RIP).
Next week’s challenge will be led by Ann-Christine/Leya, so be sure to visit her site next Saturday for some inspiration.
I always like to save the best (or good) for last hence my list is in reverse order.
The Ugly (1 thing)
Shortly after my mother died, my brother–my last remaining sibling–cut ties with me. His choice. In fact, his last words to me were “We’re done here. Don’t bother to contact me for anything further.”
Before my sister Shirley’s death, I had not spoken to or seen my brother in roughly ten years. I admit that I didn’t make an effort to see him when I visited home, nor did he make an effort to see me. After our sisters died, we started communicating, mainly about our mother since he was now her primary caretaker. We talked or texted daily after she fell and was in hospital and then after she died. He seemed to want my opinion about things. There were moments when I thought we might have a normal brother-sister relationship again.
Silly me.
All I needed to do to piss him off was question how he was (or was not) executing our mother’s will.
The Bad (1 thing)
The bad was learning a lesson the hard way. When someone tells you, “it’s not about the money,” you can be sure that it’s always about the money.
The Good (3 things)
My mother is at peace. I remind myself of this as often as I can because I feel selfish in my sadness that she’s no longer with us. I hadn’t been with her at Christmas for many years, but I always looked forward to calling her. The reality of not calling her this year, and of not sending her the wreath I would normally send, hit hard. I took myself offline so I wouldn’t have to pretend to be jolly. But now that Christmas has past, I feel a bit stronger, more able to embrace the fact that my mother is at peace.
I am at peace with my mother. She had made certain stipulations in her will that were not being honored by her will’s executor. So I made it right in my own way. I honored her wishes and, in that way, eased some of my grief.
We have a butterfly nursery. In early December, when nighttime temperatures threatened to dip into the low 30s, my husband brought in a couple of passionvine stems that had a couple of larvae (caterpillars) on them. He wanted to try and save them. Little did he know that there were also eggs on those stems. Over the next few weeks, I counted at least 20 chrysalis in our little tent nursery. The first emergence of a Zebra Longwing butterfly seemed like a miracle. And then two emerged. And then three. We’ve released seven to our backyard, near their favorite plants. And now we’re waiting. Either we’ll have more butterflies emerge or the remaining chrysalis will die. We do our part; Nature does the rest.
Here’s goodbye to 2023. Hello, 2024! I hope the New Year brings you as much peace and contentment as brushing Raji brings to him.
I am continuing with my daily record of five things and decided to share today’s effort on WordPress. (For more about this prompt, read Summer’s description of the Five Things Essay here: The Five Things Essay.) For this post, the five things are about one place: St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge (aka the refuge). The refuge is located about 30 miles south of Tallahassee near the coast. It’s our favorite place to ride our bicycles (which, by the way, are getting long in years just like us). Here are five things about the refuge that we enjoyed when we went there for Thanksgiving.
Wildlife
There is wildlife in this photo, a young deer grazing. It’s almost smack dab in the middle of the scene. While I was disappointed that I didn’t get a better photo, it was exciting to have a deer nonchalantly grazing among the grasses, curious about me but not fearful. There’s no hunting allowed in the refuge although there is in the wildlife management area that borders it. We wear bright colors during hunting season since bullets don’t respect borders.
The Bayou Stony Trail
This is really my favorite part of the loop that we ride. The photo on the top shows the view as we approach the stony trail, and the next photo shows the (very much) stony trail (plus part of the front wheel of my husband’s bike). Both of these were shot with a wide-angle lens, skewing the clouds a bit. And, yes, that big bright spot in the bottom photo is the sun. The roughness of this part of the loop makes for a bumpy ride, but on this trip, we had the added disadvantage of riding into clouds of (possibly) midges (very tiny insects). Yuck. I never pedaled so hard and so relentlessly on this stretch as I did on Thanksgiving. I kept my mouth close but I was also afraid of the midges flying up my nose. Yuck again.
Ring Dike
We survived the midge swarms and made it safely to a favorite rest stop: Ring Dike. An overgrown semicircular trail takes you from the main trail to a spot with two sturdy benches by the bayou. The first photo is the view from where I was sitting. The second photo is a panaromic. You can see how lovely the day was. Interesting clouds but mostly blue sky. At Ring Dike, we always drink hot tea and munch on homemade banana bread, nuts and raisins, and Lindt dark chocolate truffles.
Buzzards
We always see a buzzard or two on our trips, but this time we saw a “wake” of buzzards. (Seriously, why the word “wake”? See Collective Nouns for Birds. Of course, there is something a bit ominous about seeing several buzzards at once). They flew in and roosted on a bare-branched tree. I thought about getting off my bike to take some pictures, but I didn’t want to spook them into flying off. Of course, riding by the tree was enough to spook them anyway, so I stopped and got a few so-so photos. Below is the best one.
Alligators
A trip to the refuge isn’t complete if we don’t see at least one alligator. Given that temperatures were on the chilly side, most alligators we saw were in the water. Riding along, I saw an ahinga (also known as a snake-bird or water turkey) drying its wings on a log. It seemed like a good photo opportunity. Then I saw the alligator off to the right.
This is perhaps the largest living alligator I have ever seen, at least in recent memory. Greg estimates it was about eight feet long. EIGHT FEET LONG! Fortunately, there was a body of water between us and it so I didn’t have to be shy about taking photos. Still, the one photo I didn’t get was when the gator decided to turn around and I saw all its teeth. I was standing yards away but I saw ALL ITS TEETH. Then it slipped into the water, leaving a few inches of its tail exposed on the land. Kind of like when our cat Wendy wraps herself up in her fleecy blanket but leaves her feet sticking out. Kind of … but not quite.
So, now I can say I completed my five things prompt (or essay or draft or whatever you want to call it). I hope you enjoyed the photos. We’re planning another bike trip this week, and it will be colder than last week. I’ll be looking for alligators, but unless there’s a sunny spot on land (preferably not on the trail), they’ll likely be in the water. Stay tuned, and thank you for reading.
I’ve only missed one day of writing in the last 24 days, a streak I haven’t had in a very long time. My writing has been quite inconsistent, though. At first, I firmly adhered to writing per the five-things essay promoted by Summer Brennan as such:
It does not have to have five paragraphs or five topics. The number five functions more like five little shoves to keep you thinking, to keep your pen moving across the page or your fingers on the keyboard.
(For more on this, read Summer’s description of the Five Things Essay here: The Five Things Essay.)
Initially, I wrote about five distinct things (writing, walking, friendship, family, weaving). Then, occasionally, I’d start with one thing and let it flow into another thing (for example, reflecting about friendships could lead me to also write about loneliness). More recently, my writing turned into talk therapy as I used it to vent and analyze. Even more recently, I started “cheating,” using the five things prompt to read and comment on blog posts, with my comments being the “five things.” This way I can keep up (more or less) with reading blogs as well as fulfill my daily writing assignment.
I’m not sure where this is going to lead me. I firmly believe that any writing is writing that counts, whether the words are for a novel, a blog post, a poem, or a list. Comments on blog posts counts, at least to me, because I always reread what I wrote before I hit send and often edit as well. I don’t want to be misunderstood.
Today, I am going to write my five things here.
Weaving
I recently finished weaving and sewing together 16 potholders to make a tripod mat for my husband. He wants to be able to view the night sky with his telescope out on our patio, but was worried about slippery fingers and dropping lenses down to the hard stones. Hence, this thick cotton mat which fits neatly under the tripod.
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For the four center pieces, I used the pattern Shadow Fern by Deborah Jean Cohen (from her book In the Loop: Radical Potholder Patterns & Techniques, p. 100). The rest of the squares were simple stripes or plain weave. Loops are flax, leaf and autumn from Friendly Looms. In the photo of the full mat, you can see a mistake I made when sewing the squares together. One of the corner squares has its stripes going horizontally instead of vertically. My husband, ever resourceful, said that square will represent North.
Sunsets
Before we set the clocks back an hour, my husband and I enjoyed long evenings on our patio, watching the light turn golden before heading back into our house for dinner. Now it’s a bit of a scramble as I like to prep for dinner ahead of time, before we relax on the patio. One evening I was running late. I was in the middle of prepping for dinner when my husband remarked that it looked like we might have a nice sunset. I thought I would shrug it off (surely, there’ll be more sunsets to enjoy) until he said, “Honey, you have to see this!” As quickly as possible, I put everything in the frig or the microwave for safe keeping (i.e., away from Wendy and Raji) and hurried outside only to have to run back inside to get my phone. He was right. I had to see this.
Life
One of the joys of having a garden is seeing life bloom. We’ve had some warm days, and the long-winged zebra butterflies have been busy laying eggs. Now we have larvae on our passion vine which will eventually yield more butterflies.
Flowers
Actually this could fit under Life, but I’m trying to write five things so … This lovely red Gerbera flower is from a plant that I bought a few years ago. I used to keep it on our deck but everytime it bloomed, a squirrel would decapitate the flower. I was going to give up on it when my husband suggested putting it on the patio. After several months there, it has started to bloom again. And, so far, no squirrels have attempted to make off with the flower.
Cats
A few weeks ago, our neighbors had a guest who liked to park their car directly across from our driveway. So it didn’t take long before I noticed some unusual but delightful stencils on the passenger and driver-side windows.
I’d love to get these for my car!
Thank you for reading. To those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you had a wonderful holiday. To the rest of you, I hope you had a wonderful Thursday.
One of my most favorite bloggers, Ally of The Spectacled Bean, happens to like zinnias. Actually, I believe she likes them a lot. A couple of months ago, I bought a pair of zinnias from a local nursery. They were in the same pot, a mix of yellow and pink. Sadly, the yellow zinnia did not survive, but the pink one has and it is quite a showy flower.
I would argue that the above photo doesn’t do the flower justice, but I do like how you can see the various stages of life on this plant. The following photos are more to my liking.
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They are such a delight when the sun is shining directly on them! The challenge for me is whether I should transplant them to a sunnier venue, which would likely be off my deck and outside my range of vision when I’m sitting at my computer, OR keep them on the deck and repot them as necessary with hopes that they will survive the winter.
I believe zinnias are annuals, but in my climate, I’m hoping these might become perennials.
Wendy
Wendy is doing quite well after our (not hers) brief scare. She’s doing all her cat things normally, including swatting at Raji now and then. [One night, when they were both gathering around my legs while I was reclined, watching TV, she swatted at Raji when he got too close. He punched her back. Seriously, he punched her. Chaos ensued.]
Writing
I have been writing. For the first five days of November, I was quite earnest in my writing and found some nice support from other participants in Summer Brennan’s Essay Camp. [By the way, Summer is starting a series of essays on essays which I’m looking forward to reading. If you’re interested in learning more, she has an free introductory post here: Introducing the Essay Series.] I have been using NaNo to track my word counts, but not much else. I feel myself sliding into a rut. Unfortunately, I’m preoccupied with a family issue, and I thought writing about it would help clear my head, but family issues are the gifts that just keep giving, aren’t they?
On the bright side, refocusing on my writing has made me think about the stories I’ve already written and what (if anything) to do with them. Some have been published so rights have reverted back to me. I don’t have much enthusiasm for finding new publishers for them, but I want to share them “with the world.” One idea I’ve had is to have booklets of my short stories printed, along the lines of Creative Nonfiction Foundation’s (now defunct) True Story series, and then I can gift them to interested readers.
Does anyone reading this post have experience with printing booklets of their stories? Please share if you do.
I’d also love to have some recommendations for printing services to narrow my search. So far, it looks like it might be expensive.
Meanwhile … last night I saw an interesting contrail from my Adirondack chair … no filters on this photo.
Folks, I am so tired of feeling depressed and listless. I know I’ll continue to feel sad, at some times more than others, but I want to pick up my life again. So, of course, I’m going to start off with a bit of overdoing. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t overdo things.
Over on Substack, Summer Brennan will be hosting “Essay Camp,” five days of prompts and readings and general encouragement to write every day for five days. You can get more info from her post here: https://www.awritersnotebook.org/p/essay-camp-a-november-write-along. It’s free to join. I’ve tried participating in other essay camps that Summer has hosted, but Life would always get in the way. My fingers are crossed that this time no life-changing, trauma-inducing events will occur; that is, not within my personal life. I’ve given up on the world outside my fence.
Of course, November 1 is also the start of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo to those who have participated before). I won’t be writing a novel. I’ll be writing essays or maybe memoir-like bits. I plan to use NaNoWriMo to track my writing in Essay Camp and beyond. It’s not relevant or important that I write 50,000 words. I’ll be happy with whatever I have to show for myself by the end of the month.
Meanwhile …
I am so loving this plant that sits outside my window.
It’s called Cat Whiskers so you know why I had to buy it from a local nursery. (For you gardeners out there, the scientific name is Orthosiphon aristatus). At the time I bought it, I wasn’t aware that its flowers would attract hummingbirds and butterflies. In truth, I’ve only seen a hummingbird occasionally check out the flowers, but I LOVE the flowers. And, turns out that Cat Whiskers blooms in April and October. I was really surprised (and thrilled) to see so many blooms this month.
Another favorite is this Indian Blanket (Gailardia pulchella).
The first time I saw an Indian Blanket plant was at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge. A small cluster was nestled alongside the trail I was riding on. When I saw this joyful plant at another local nursery, I grabbed it.
Both of these plants would probably be happier in the ground, but they lift my heart when I look out my window on my writing days. I need them where I can see them.
Meanwhile …
The Zebra butterflies are still making whoopee on our Passion Flower vine. I had the pleasure of watching one very delicately lay a few eggs on a stem while another butterfly flitted about, no doubt giving her encouragement. My hands were full of gardening tools so I couldn’t take any photos then. Later, I managed to get this macro shot of several eggs.
Looks like we might have an explosion of Zebra butterflies before too long.
Finally … remember what I said about Life not getting in the way of my writing plans? Well, Wendy went off her food for about a day this weekend. (Why do they always do things like that on weekends?) We had no clue as to what was troubling her. She had seemed fine right up until she refused to eat.
Of course, I panicked, but Greg (my husband) stayed calm. (Like, what else could he do while I was having a meltdown?) We gave her time. Didn’t force anything on her. Monday she started eating again, just a little bit here and a little bit there. This morning (Tuesday) she had the zoomies with Raji and she ate most of her breakfast so I’m thinking she’s okay now.
Thank you for reading! If you want to join me at NaNoWriMo, my username is MarieAnnBailey (natch).
It’s no longer a question for me. I’ve deactivated my formerly-known-as-Twitter account. Although it was still easy for me to share posts via the formerly-known-as-Twitter site, I’ve just become so disenchanted with the formerly-known-as-Twitter experience that I’ve decided to just dump it.
I know many of you still use the site and are happy with your community there, but I’ve been spending less and less time on social media. It’s enough for me to check into WordPress on an irregular basis. Generally, I approach most social media sites these days with a Meh.
In and of itself, that’s not a bad thing. It means I’m busy doing other things. Frankly, I don’t know how anyone keeps up with all the sharing on the formerly-known-as-Twitter site and Facebook and Instagram and wherever else people are congregating.
Then there’s Substack. I do some reading over there, but Substack is kind of like a closed loop. The platform has it’s own Twitter-like function but, as far as I know, you can only share Substack posts on it. I have not tried to share other links. I can understand why Substack chose to direct their writers and readers away from the formerly-known-as-Twitter site, but there’s something a little creepy about it. Creepy as in, “We’re special. We don’t want people outside of Substack to come and hang out with us.”
Maybe I’m being hyper-sensitive because I write on WordPress and am only a reader on Substack. I’m not interested in being a writer there even if it’s free (for now). With WordPress, I feel like I can pretty much be myself. I don’t worry about whether readers sign up for emails or even just follow me. I’m not writing to make money or become famous.
Of course I want to be read. I want to make connections. I enjoy the community I’ve found here. Too often, though, on sites such as Substack and Medium, I find writers who start off just writing and sharing and seeming to have a good time and then somehow drift into writing about their stats, their efforts to increase subscribers, etc. Meh.
As you can see, I’ve changed my blog theme/template … again. The thing is, although I don’t want to be a writer on Substack, I like the layout, the simple style of the posts there. I guess I’m just trying to minimize how crazy the world looks to me at times, an explosion of links and photos and emojis and memes.
So, let’s see if this theme sticks. Meanwhile, I have two wool potholders ready to go to a special person.
These potholders were made with Hillcreek Fiber Studio‘s Solar Eclipse bundle of wool loops. While I love the colors with this pattern, I’m already imagining how I might weave them differently.
Thank you for reading. Here’s an oldish photo of Junior (RIP) (circa December 2020). Sometimes after dinner, Junior would insist on jumping up on the dining room table and snuggling. Good times.
At times like this, words don’t come easy. Thank goodness for poets. For the full poem, “The cat’s song,” go here.
Junior was euthanized at about 5:15 PM on Thursday, September 14, 2023. A clinical exam revealed that what we thought was a stubborn case of chronic rhinitis, was in fact a huge mass pushing aggressively through his nasal cavity, causing not just congestion but also swelling along his nose and pain. All options except one promised more suffering without any guarantee of relief.
My big boy was suffering big time, and the best we could do for him was help him over the Rainbow Bridge. At least he’ll be in good company with Maxine, Luisa, Mikey, Elodea, Joshua, and Smokey.
I’m going to miss … I am missing his sweet, sweet face, and his utter dependence on us. I miss how he would sit in the kitchen, an hour or so before lunch time, and wait for his midday meal. He was often underfoot in the kitchen, pushing me to scold him and even chase him out. Except he always slipped back in, his stubborness always making me give in to him.
I miss how he would join us for our meals, knowing that my husband could be counted on to slip him a bit of meat or cheese. I miss how he would lounge with us on the loveseat while we enjoyed a stay-at-home Happy Hour. I miss how fickle he was about which lap to lie on when we were watching TV, sometimes switching laps a couple of times over the course of a movie.
He entered our lives as a fully grown “neighborhood cat” around early 2009, Greg patiently earning his trust with kibbles and shelter. Fourteen years sounds like a long time, but it went by too fast.
Here’s a few of my favorite photos of Junior.
Junior loved heat, especially from the sun, to the point of trying to lick it.
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While I considered Junior to be my “big boy,” he was partial to Greg, inclined to go into full sleep mode while straddling his leg.
When the going gets tough, I get my hair dyed. Here’s my latest do courtesy of Chelsea Salon and Spa.
So what’s so tough?
Firstly, about ten days ago my mother fell while on her way to bed. Broke her hip. My brother found her the next morning. Yes, folks, the scenario we all dread when our elderly relatives live alone. She is fine right now. She had a simple surgery and was in hospital for a couple of more days before they scurried her over to a rehabilitation facility. My family has a long history with this facility.
It’s the same facility where my sister Shirley spent a couple of months recovering from a broken ankle. Also, a long, long time ago and known then only as “the infirmary,” it’s the same place where my father was cared for until his death. And it’s the same place where my surrogate grandfather Ted Albers was cared for until his death. It’s now called River Ridge Living Center.
My mother is in a safe place. She’s not quite the happy camper, but her see-saw moods could be post-anesthesia blues or side effects of morphine or the realization that her days of independent living are over. My brother visits her a couple of times a day, other family are there frequently, pretty much the same or more as when she was living in her trailer, but now we have the benefit of knowing that she is getting the kind of care she has needed (and resisted) for a long time.
I am hoping and praying that she relaxes into her new life at River Ridge. Even before her fall, she was already living in the “here and now.” She wouldn’t remember what happened yesterday or maybe even a hour before. She can’t conceive of the future. If you try to tell her about something that will happen the next day, she’ll just shake her head and tell you she won’t remember that.
So my brother (her primary caregiver) is doing all he can to make sure that all her needs are being met and will continue to be met. I don’t believe she will or even should go home again, not without 24/7 care which she can only get properly at River Ridge. I said as much to my brother, and it wasn’t easy. I’ve never wanted my mom to wind up in a facility, but it’s really the best place for her now. She has said she is being treated well, and that gives me hope that she’ll become more comfortable with the place as time goes on. I’ve only talked to her a couple of times. Talking on the phone tires her out quickly. I miss our daily phone calls, but as long as others are there with her, I’m okay.
Secondly, Junior’s chronic condition has worsened. He was getting better, but then the lining of his left nostril became swollen and inflamed. With Dr. C’s permission, I started giving him steroid nose drops again, but with no appreciable improvement. Worse, he stopped eating on Tuesday. He had been getting picky with his food over time, preferring dry food to the wet, then treats to the regular dry, and then skipping meals altogether.
His left nostril is congested. We suspect he stopped eating because he can’t smell his food or the congestion makes his food unappetizing or both. We have used a baby aspirator to suck some of the snot out of his nose, but apparently not enough to give him comfort. I take him into the bathroom with me when I shower, hoping the steam will loosen the mucous up. The problem is that he’s not sneezing, not expelling the mucous himself, and our efforts at aspiration are probably too little too late. I’m angry with myself for not scheduling a recheck, instead waiting until we were in panic mode.
In the meantime, my husband devised a system where we essentially force-feed him using a syringe and pureed wet food. We’ve done this successfully a few times now, although all of us wind up with squirts of cat food on our hair and fur.
His appointment with Dr. C is a drop-off, meaning I drop him off at the hospital in the early morning and then wait to hear from Dr. C. I try to avoid drop-offs because I don’t like leaving my cats at the hospital all day (separation anxiety), but this is the earliest we could get him in.
So stay tuned and thank you for reading! Here’s a few pics of Junior from this morning, obviously taken against his will.