We saw the fox this morning twice, or possibly, 2 foxes. The second time we were far enough away that I couldn't say for sure whether it was the same fox we had seen earlier. He/she is rusty red with darker brown or black tips to some of his/her fur, and a white tip to his/her tail. The first time we saw him/her, he was crossing the road that winds around the eastern loop and dashing into the brush. I think he/she saw Jessie and me before we saw him/her. But we were fairly close. The second time was later, toward the end of our walk around that loop, after sitting in the rock garden a bit, and he/she was running next to the line of trees that edges the meadow in the middle of the eastern loop, back toward where he/she had disappeared in the brush earlier. That's why I think it might be another fox - perhaps the mate of the first fox we saw. Anyway, beautiful. The second time/fox we saw for some seconds as it ran down the edge of the meadow. Its stride is liquid, as if it is floating an inch or two above the ground rather than actually bounding forward, up and down on it. It's seems a bigger creature than I expected, but light, delicate. I expect it's the long, long tail that makes it seem "big".
A good morning walk, especially considering I'm engaged in a battle with what I hope is a cold (and not a flu) virus, urging my immune system to get up, get out and get going and do its job, crushing that virus and kicking it out. Meanwhile, cold medicine and orange juice and the couch.
These days mostly I post here for my own purposes, because I find that putting my meandering thoughts and feelings down here in black and white - about my journey past (god willing) cancer and life generally - is good for me, but for those who may still be checking in here from time to time, I want to share something my friend J reminded me of:
Sunday, August 1, is the eighth anniversary of the infamous memo by Bush “Justice” Department officials John Yoo and Jay Bybee condoning torture. J says he will be out in front of the Federal Building on Los Angeles Street in downtown L.A. with his “Torture is Un-American” sign. He suggests if people want to do something and don’t feel like fasting, we might want to call our Congressional representative and senators and say we want to see high government officials prosecuted for their role in approving torture. I agree with J that even if we can’t do anything, it's important to remember this noxious anniversary. At a time when our "Democratic" president appears to be expanding the right of government to wiretap and otherwise monitor private citizens' communications, this anniversary is relevant for all of us.
End of my rant.
Peace (if only).
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Monday night
A lovely last day to my 4-day birthday weekend. Jessie woke me at 5:15 and we were out the door by 5:30, and at the park shortly thereafter. It was a beautiful morning. Cool enough that I took a jean jacket and wore it on our walk. Later in the morning my friend L came over and we loaded my kayak on her car and drove down to the shore. We meandered through Stonington Village and found a funky little place to eat lunch, and then put in the boats at Barn Island. I'm used to going to Barn Island on the weekends, and in the summer the weekends are Power Boat City. There were quite a few cars and trailers parked, but it wasn't a zoo. We put in and paddled back over toward Stonington Harbor. Very stiff breeze, probably 15 - 20 knots, and the current against us on the way out. A few dicey moments, nothing truly dangerous, just challenging. On the way back we stopped at Sandy Point, pulled the boats out, and walked a bit. I didn't realize it is some sort of wildlife refuge. Sea gulls had nested there and were not happy to see us. We saw mother/father gull feeding 2 fishes to 3 juveniles. One very unhappy adolescent sea gull! One of the lucky youngsters was having trouble swallowing his/her fish and spit it out. Zoom, the other raced over toward the well used fishy dinner but the spitter saw him/her coming and re-swallowed the fish. Anyway, it was cool. I looked up the gulls when I got home and I think they were Great Black Back Gulls. Also saw many pink jellies, some cranes, cormorants, one pigeon (not sure what it was doing out on this spit of land in Little Naragansett Bay but didn't seem to be bothering the gulls).
The weather was perfect - mid to low 80's, breezy, low humidity. High fluffy clouds. Beautiful.
I tired - hard paddling against the wind and the current - but good tired. I think I can face a 4-day work week tomorrow.
Peace.
The weather was perfect - mid to low 80's, breezy, low humidity. High fluffy clouds. Beautiful.
I tired - hard paddling against the wind and the current - but good tired. I think I can face a 4-day work week tomorrow.
Peace.
Monday morning
David and I went kayaking Saturday night down on the shore. We put in around 7:30 p.m. at Mystic, paddled around the Seaport a little while and then headed out under the draw bridge. David suggested we turn and go out under the swinging railroad bridge (which is usually the way we come back). It was a quiet night - not a lot of boats (despite it being a really lovely late afternoon-early evening, hot but beautiful). The estuary was full of small beautiful smokey pink jellyfish. The full moon was just over the horizon as we left, and as we paddled out, rose higher and higher. When we came to the shore where the Osprey nest is placed, there were 2 juvenile ospreys in it (and another one in a tree nearby), calling out in the fading light. We kept paddling, going up a little waterway toward what looked like a dead end, but proved to have an opening so we circled a little island and came out going west back toward Mason's Island. By then it was really dark, moon about 45 degrees above us in the south east, sun fully set in the west, the water smooth and still and dark, like ink. A few boats coming in toward shore, but not many. We came in toward Ender's Island (where I had my weekend "retreat") and could hear a big party at the Mason Island Yacht Club. Odd to hear the "cocktail chatter" from the dark still water. We passed under the bridge that joins Mason and Ender's Islands, and then had the long paddle back around Mason's Island back to the harbor. We passed through really shallow water where the small silver fish were swarming. Our paddling stirred them up and some leaped out of the water, but none landed in my boat. We were quite late getting back. Just as we passed under the Mystic draw bridge, a party of drunken kayakers sitting dangerously in the channel there broke up and raced back to the launch area, passing us. So we had to wait while they hauled 8-10 kayaks out of the water. By the time we had put our boats on the car and gotten on the road, it was midnight. An hour and a little more to get home. The latest I've been up in a long time.
That made Jessie and I late to arrive at the park yesterday - 6:30. Hot hot hot and humid. A quiet walk.
What a difference a day makes. The cold front came through and today the humidity is gone. I think the dew point temperature dropped 20 degrees or more. This morning we got to the park about 5:40, sun barely over the horizon, cool to the point of suggesting fall. I wore a jacket. We didn't see the heron or the muskrat. The Canada geese were lined up on the shore of the large side of the pond. The Mallards spread around. The coolness made it a lovely walk; the air itself felt different and seemed clearer, so that the sky, the trees, everything seemed clearer and crisper. The hard thing to do is to appreciate a morning like this for itself, and not to become invested in it, thinking, ah the dog days of summer have passed on. They haven't. We're supposed to be back in the 90's with humidity mid-week. But for today - the final day of my 4-day weekend - it is beautiful. My friend L and I are going kayaking down on the shore. It should be lovely.
Peace.
That made Jessie and I late to arrive at the park yesterday - 6:30. Hot hot hot and humid. A quiet walk.
What a difference a day makes. The cold front came through and today the humidity is gone. I think the dew point temperature dropped 20 degrees or more. This morning we got to the park about 5:40, sun barely over the horizon, cool to the point of suggesting fall. I wore a jacket. We didn't see the heron or the muskrat. The Canada geese were lined up on the shore of the large side of the pond. The Mallards spread around. The coolness made it a lovely walk; the air itself felt different and seemed clearer, so that the sky, the trees, everything seemed clearer and crisper. The hard thing to do is to appreciate a morning like this for itself, and not to become invested in it, thinking, ah the dog days of summer have passed on. They haven't. We're supposed to be back in the 90's with humidity mid-week. But for today - the final day of my 4-day weekend - it is beautiful. My friend L and I are going kayaking down on the shore. It should be lovely.
Peace.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Saturday morning
Thanks to each of you who sent birthday cards, greetings, presents, etc. I had a lovely quiet low-key birthday. Perfect.
Today is supposed to be 96 or 98 degrees and humid, so when I awoke at 5:15 a.m., I dragged myself out of bed and Jessie and I went to the park. We were rewarded by being the first non-local creatures out and about. Already I could feel the humidity building. The pond and the grassy meadow were foggy. It's beautiful to see. Again the Canada geese were missing; didn't see them in the field north of the pond. A few were on the shore of the pond, but not the entire group I've come to know. I bet they'll be back. The Mallards seemed subdued; my guess is due to the rising humidity. We walked both loops and came back and were passing the bigger part of the pond when I realized the heron was back perched on the float in the big side of the pond where I used to see her so often last fall. I now know that "float" is related to a source of water that gets turned on - not sure if a person does it, or it is set on a timer - periodically, either to add water to the pond or at least to aerate the water that's there, stir it up so to speak. (At this point I think it probably has so much Canada goose and Mallard poo in it, you could - although you would probably choose to die before doing so - walk on it). It was lovely to see the heron.
Then a few yards further on I realized there was a creature in the grass about 20 feet in front of us and about 10 feet from the pond itself. It was the muskrat! Out on the shore, taking advantage I guess of the early human-less (almost) hour to dry out and eat a few tender blades of grass and dig a few juicy insects (what do muskrats eat? I'll have to look into it). Anyway, he/she made a beeline for the water, which caught Jessie's eye, and she strained to chase the little critter. But splash! The muskrat was able to dive back in the pond. I thought he/she would swim away, but while Jessie sniffed the air and smelled the ground, I saw the muskrat swim back to the shore right near where we stood. I wondered if he/she was waiting and hoping to be able to come back out on dry land again. We left to give him/her the opportunity. It was fun to see the WHOLE body of the little creature out on land and only a few feet away from us.
I'm so looking forward to having Monday off, too. It somehow makes today feel more relaxing to know that it will be following by 2 more non-working days. If the weather cooperates, David and I may go kayaking tonight in the full moon's light, probably down at the shoreline. Should be wonderful. Once before when we went moonlight paddling there, at a certain point as we paddled out the Mystic River estuary into and through the harbor where the river meets the sound, schools of small fish (alewives?) were stirred up by every stroke of our paddles, leaping and jumping out of the gleaming water, shining all silvery in the moonlight. Some jumped into my kayak. One died there, when it slipped below my seat and I couldn't get it out (until we returned to shore). That was an autumn full moon paddle; wonder what a mid-summer full moon paddle will bring?
Peace.
Today is supposed to be 96 or 98 degrees and humid, so when I awoke at 5:15 a.m., I dragged myself out of bed and Jessie and I went to the park. We were rewarded by being the first non-local creatures out and about. Already I could feel the humidity building. The pond and the grassy meadow were foggy. It's beautiful to see. Again the Canada geese were missing; didn't see them in the field north of the pond. A few were on the shore of the pond, but not the entire group I've come to know. I bet they'll be back. The Mallards seemed subdued; my guess is due to the rising humidity. We walked both loops and came back and were passing the bigger part of the pond when I realized the heron was back perched on the float in the big side of the pond where I used to see her so often last fall. I now know that "float" is related to a source of water that gets turned on - not sure if a person does it, or it is set on a timer - periodically, either to add water to the pond or at least to aerate the water that's there, stir it up so to speak. (At this point I think it probably has so much Canada goose and Mallard poo in it, you could - although you would probably choose to die before doing so - walk on it). It was lovely to see the heron.
Then a few yards further on I realized there was a creature in the grass about 20 feet in front of us and about 10 feet from the pond itself. It was the muskrat! Out on the shore, taking advantage I guess of the early human-less (almost) hour to dry out and eat a few tender blades of grass and dig a few juicy insects (what do muskrats eat? I'll have to look into it). Anyway, he/she made a beeline for the water, which caught Jessie's eye, and she strained to chase the little critter. But splash! The muskrat was able to dive back in the pond. I thought he/she would swim away, but while Jessie sniffed the air and smelled the ground, I saw the muskrat swim back to the shore right near where we stood. I wondered if he/she was waiting and hoping to be able to come back out on dry land again. We left to give him/her the opportunity. It was fun to see the WHOLE body of the little creature out on land and only a few feet away from us.
I'm so looking forward to having Monday off, too. It somehow makes today feel more relaxing to know that it will be following by 2 more non-working days. If the weather cooperates, David and I may go kayaking tonight in the full moon's light, probably down at the shoreline. Should be wonderful. Once before when we went moonlight paddling there, at a certain point as we paddled out the Mystic River estuary into and through the harbor where the river meets the sound, schools of small fish (alewives?) were stirred up by every stroke of our paddles, leaping and jumping out of the gleaming water, shining all silvery in the moonlight. Some jumped into my kayak. One died there, when it slipped below my seat and I couldn't get it out (until we returned to shore). That was an autumn full moon paddle; wonder what a mid-summer full moon paddle will bring?
Peace.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Friday morning
Good morning. Happy birthday to me. A nice day so far - up early, to the park with Jessie. A good walk. I noticed as we passed the pond the first time that the Canada geese were gone. I thought maybe the adults' new year's wing feathers had finally come in and the juveniles were able to fly, and they were off to more northerly (and less HOT) climes. Did seem to be a little early. However, later as we completed the eastern loop and came back toward the pond, I heard the unmistakable call of Canada geese. Turns out the flock was grazing in the grassy field north of the pond. A lot of bird calls this morning, perhaps because it was a bit less humid and cooler. I did my T'ai Chi form in the rock garden, while Jessie dozed. We also walked the western loop and then came back to the pond to sit on a bench. Quiet (of course, with the hum of automobiles in the background where they speed down the city street that is the north border of the park). Again Jessie snoozed in the grass at my feet (did I get her up too early this morning? or was she just relaxing?) I was sitting quietly on the bench when the muskrat swam by. This time, not just his/her little head above the water, but the whole body visible, just dog paddling along quietly. Jessie didn't notice him/her, which is good. Then across the pond where the gaggle of geese was grazing, a couple of Canada geese appeared to get into a dispute and one fell in the pond with a big splash. A quiet lovely morning in the park.
I saw Dr. R yesterday for my first 3-month checkup. Everything fine. It was an incredibly busy morning at the Cancer Center. Are more people getting cancer? Or more people with cancer choosing this hospital? Or just one particularly busy day? Standing room only in the waiting rooms. (Reminded me of when I went for chemo #3, I think, around Christmas time (actually, I recall - December 23 it was). There literally were people waiting in line for their chemo, but that was because they had double booked so that the hospital staff could have Christmas day or maybe Christmas day and Christmas eve off of work). I asked Nurse E about my blood counts - had forgotten to ask Dr. R -- and she said they were all fine, white cell count slightly low, but normal, and hemoglobin better than hers. Next appointment is with Dr. M on August 31. I have a CT scan scheduled for end of October - just over 1 year after the original surgery - and then an appointment with Dr R to review the results. That will be a little anxiety-provoking.
I am looking forward to my 4-day weekend. I need to make real plans for taking more time off, decide for sure about a class at the boat school in Maine (they are having a special - 30% off - on some seamanship classes, including a class called Craft of Sail for women only. That is another possibility. I hope to decide in the next few days.)
I'm feeling good. Apart from general anxiety about the state of the world, about my cousin C';s recovery, my aunt M's arthritis, my children's and their spouses' livelihoods and general happiness, my grandson's future, the state of health care in the US, poverty, AIDS, racism,.... okay, I'm obsessive. But basically I am happy and wish everyone in the world had the opportunity to feel good, live in peace, health and well being.
Peace.
I saw Dr. R yesterday for my first 3-month checkup. Everything fine. It was an incredibly busy morning at the Cancer Center. Are more people getting cancer? Or more people with cancer choosing this hospital? Or just one particularly busy day? Standing room only in the waiting rooms. (Reminded me of when I went for chemo #3, I think, around Christmas time (actually, I recall - December 23 it was). There literally were people waiting in line for their chemo, but that was because they had double booked so that the hospital staff could have Christmas day or maybe Christmas day and Christmas eve off of work). I asked Nurse E about my blood counts - had forgotten to ask Dr. R -- and she said they were all fine, white cell count slightly low, but normal, and hemoglobin better than hers. Next appointment is with Dr. M on August 31. I have a CT scan scheduled for end of October - just over 1 year after the original surgery - and then an appointment with Dr R to review the results. That will be a little anxiety-provoking.
I am looking forward to my 4-day weekend. I need to make real plans for taking more time off, decide for sure about a class at the boat school in Maine (they are having a special - 30% off - on some seamanship classes, including a class called Craft of Sail for women only. That is another possibility. I hope to decide in the next few days.)
I'm feeling good. Apart from general anxiety about the state of the world, about my cousin C';s recovery, my aunt M's arthritis, my children's and their spouses' livelihoods and general happiness, my grandson's future, the state of health care in the US, poverty, AIDS, racism,.... okay, I'm obsessive. But basically I am happy and wish everyone in the world had the opportunity to feel good, live in peace, health and well being.
Peace.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Sunday afternoon
Jessie and I made it to the park this morning by 5:45. I was motivated to get up early today and get there because I overslept yesterday and we didn't arrive at the park until 7:00 a.m. What a difference! It's as if there are actually 3 or even 4 different parks. Night time - which I haven't visited (the park is actually "closed" from sunset to sunrise), dawn (depending on the season, 4:30 to 5:00 until about 6:00 a.m.), morning (7:00 - 9:00 or so) and daytime (everything else). The creatures who live in the park adjust their lifestyles to the visitors who come during those periods. During the daytime, you would see Mallards and Canada geese, squirrels. Robins. House sparrows. Maybe a chipmunk. A hawk flying overhead. Even during the morning, you don't see much more, maybe because it is the favored time of exercisers - runners, people 'walking' dogs (including those that ignore the leash law and let their dogs run--not a particularly creature-friendly activity), bicyclers, old people (yes, even older than I) out for their morning constitutionals. I guess so much activity, which increases from 7:00 to 9:00 or so, dampens the creatures' enthusiasm for hanging out. I used to be a morning person. Now I'm a dawn person. There are a few others, but not many. This morning Jessie and I were the first.
Still, today there weren't a lot of creatures out and about even so early. A very large gaggle of Canada geese, all the adults and all the juveniles, who are 80% as large as their parents. I learned that Canada geese mate for life; when one of the pair dies, the other "mourns" and even has been reported to itself die of no discernible cause. The long rows of swimming geese that I remarked on in this blog before- adult at front, juveniles in a row, adult at back - is exactly how they do it, one of my books confirmed. Father in the front, offspring, mother bringing up the rear. Apparently they are not great nest builders, usually build in the grasses at the pond/water edge.. Occasionally build nests in trees and then have to (literally) push the juveniles out of the nest, hopefully into the water below.
At home my feeder has become a money pit as the birds in the area have learned of it and shared the news and it is now being emptied at least once and sometimes twice a day. I've seen house sparrows (feisty little suckers), male cardinal, house finch (beautiful red feathers), cat bird, mourning doves, white breasted nuthatch, crows. But the regulars are the house sparrows and spit and fuss with one another over who gets what perch.
My cousin C was in a car wreck; another drive ran a redlight or stopsign and t-boned her. She was taken by ambulance to the hospital. She broke her pelvis in a couple places, a couple ribs, nicked her spleen and broke her wrist. At first they thought it was pretty bad, but she fooled them - stubborn old broad (those are MY family's genes!!!), and she's doing okay. She was in the hospital a couple days and now is in rehab for 10-14 days. Those who are inclined to include her in thoughts and prayers, it would be appreciated. My own thought/prayer is to be thankful that it was not much worse, she is going to be okay.
You never know, do you, walking through your life not paying attention (sitting in your car as you have the right of way and drive through an intersection), and wham! Everything changes!
I see Dr. R for my first 3 month check-up on Wednesday. I feel a background noise of anxiety, nothing terrible, nothing even in my consciousness most of the time, but there in the background like emotional white noise. Not sure what I am worried about. I just have a blood test and talk to her. Clearly I am doing well. I guess it is a milestone and I look forward to putting it behind me.
I'm pretty sure I'm going to sign up for another class at the Wooden Boat School - this time Lofting. It's the last week in August. It will be a present to myself - a vacation doing something interesting in a beautiful place. Looking at everything so differently than in July 2009 when I was there last . How the world changes.
Love.
Peace.
Still, today there weren't a lot of creatures out and about even so early. A very large gaggle of Canada geese, all the adults and all the juveniles, who are 80% as large as their parents. I learned that Canada geese mate for life; when one of the pair dies, the other "mourns" and even has been reported to itself die of no discernible cause. The long rows of swimming geese that I remarked on in this blog before- adult at front, juveniles in a row, adult at back - is exactly how they do it, one of my books confirmed. Father in the front, offspring, mother bringing up the rear. Apparently they are not great nest builders, usually build in the grasses at the pond/water edge.. Occasionally build nests in trees and then have to (literally) push the juveniles out of the nest, hopefully into the water below.
At home my feeder has become a money pit as the birds in the area have learned of it and shared the news and it is now being emptied at least once and sometimes twice a day. I've seen house sparrows (feisty little suckers), male cardinal, house finch (beautiful red feathers), cat bird, mourning doves, white breasted nuthatch, crows. But the regulars are the house sparrows and spit and fuss with one another over who gets what perch.
My cousin C was in a car wreck; another drive ran a redlight or stopsign and t-boned her. She was taken by ambulance to the hospital. She broke her pelvis in a couple places, a couple ribs, nicked her spleen and broke her wrist. At first they thought it was pretty bad, but she fooled them - stubborn old broad (those are MY family's genes!!!), and she's doing okay. She was in the hospital a couple days and now is in rehab for 10-14 days. Those who are inclined to include her in thoughts and prayers, it would be appreciated. My own thought/prayer is to be thankful that it was not much worse, she is going to be okay.
You never know, do you, walking through your life not paying attention (sitting in your car as you have the right of way and drive through an intersection), and wham! Everything changes!
I see Dr. R for my first 3 month check-up on Wednesday. I feel a background noise of anxiety, nothing terrible, nothing even in my consciousness most of the time, but there in the background like emotional white noise. Not sure what I am worried about. I just have a blood test and talk to her. Clearly I am doing well. I guess it is a milestone and I look forward to putting it behind me.
I'm pretty sure I'm going to sign up for another class at the Wooden Boat School - this time Lofting. It's the last week in August. It will be a present to myself - a vacation doing something interesting in a beautiful place. Looking at everything so differently than in July 2009 when I was there last . How the world changes.
Love.
Peace.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Tuesday morning
Four days in a row at the park. 3 of the 4 Jessie and I took long walks and we stopped in the rock garden where Jessie sat in the shade of the stone wall and hoped for a careless chipmunk to pass by, while I practiced T'ai Chi. It really is a perfect place to do T'ai Chi and I owe a debt to the man I used to see practicing T'ai Chi in this same spot some time ago, which is what gave me the idea to do so. That was before my cancer diagnosis, when I used to bring Jessie to the park on weekend mornings, but later - in fact what I thought at the time was "early" but now seems so late, around 8:00 or 8:30 a.m. This morning (and yesterday to some extent) there were quite a few more people there, some already as we arrived, and others arriving while we were there. That suggests to me that people make coming to the park at around 6:00 a.m. on weekdays a regular thing, but they like to sleep in on weekends. Better for me. My goal is to get up and get to the park by 4:30 a.m., or whatever time the sun is actually really coming up. Even 5:45 is too late at this time of year. The sun is well over the horizon. Of course, we're now into the shortening days period - hard to believe. Certainly the 6 months that the days lengthen seem to take a long time, while the 6 months that the days shorten seem to fly by.
It's supposed to reach 100 degrees today. The third day, I think, that temperatures will have exceeded 90 degrees, so we are officially in a heat wave. And it won't be over today, either. 90+ weather for the rest of the week, too. I am taking today off of work, which is sort of a drag, since it is too hot to want to do anything except find air conditioning and plant oneself.
Already as we arrived at the park this morning, I could feel the heat beneath the day's surface, waiting to jump out. At first we didn't see the Canada geese, and I thought perhaps they had finished their molting, taught the juveniles enough to prepare them for the journey north (to more comfortable temperatures), and had left for their namesake country. But when we completed the east loop, they were there, at the pond with the Mallards. Their plumage does look fresh, and they sat on the bank of the pond with long black necks stretched out. Meanwhile, the Mallards - especially the grey-brown females - looked melted into the dusty shore. And at 6:00 a.m., it was only 70 degrees. Even the surface of the pond looked dusty, stagnant, hot. Makes me want to .... go bowling. When my kids were young and we lived in NYC and had no air conditioner (unlike our spoiled existence now with 1 window air conditioner that cools my 12 x 15 foot living room, barely), when it became unbearably hot I would take the kids to the movies or bowling. I always associate bowling with hot hot days.
I try to imagine the people and the creatures of the Gulf Coast, where this weather is the norm rather than the exception, and now the smell of oil and tar permeates the air. Yesterday I heard 30 seconds of a radio "news" story talking about the fact that it costs about $50,000 to "clean" a bird and some small % of the birds cleaned survive even a year. Sometimes I am ashamed to be a human being. Some time ago I heard about a book called "The World Without Us" and I read about half of it. I need to go back and finish it. It is about how the earth could restore itself if human beings were just to disappear. I don't know the ideology of the author, or his "point," but sometimes I turn back to my memories of that book as a solace when my heart hurts for the planet we treat with such indifference. And that's not even to consider how we treat one another. We should be ashamed of ourselves. I think to myself if I live long enough that my grandson grows into a young man, and he came to me and said, "Abuela, how could you let this happen to the earth? To its creatures? To its plants and grasses and trees? To the fishes and the wide blue ocean? What did YOU do, Abuela, to stop this?" what will be my answer?
Peace.
It's supposed to reach 100 degrees today. The third day, I think, that temperatures will have exceeded 90 degrees, so we are officially in a heat wave. And it won't be over today, either. 90+ weather for the rest of the week, too. I am taking today off of work, which is sort of a drag, since it is too hot to want to do anything except find air conditioning and plant oneself.
Already as we arrived at the park this morning, I could feel the heat beneath the day's surface, waiting to jump out. At first we didn't see the Canada geese, and I thought perhaps they had finished their molting, taught the juveniles enough to prepare them for the journey north (to more comfortable temperatures), and had left for their namesake country. But when we completed the east loop, they were there, at the pond with the Mallards. Their plumage does look fresh, and they sat on the bank of the pond with long black necks stretched out. Meanwhile, the Mallards - especially the grey-brown females - looked melted into the dusty shore. And at 6:00 a.m., it was only 70 degrees. Even the surface of the pond looked dusty, stagnant, hot. Makes me want to .... go bowling. When my kids were young and we lived in NYC and had no air conditioner (unlike our spoiled existence now with 1 window air conditioner that cools my 12 x 15 foot living room, barely), when it became unbearably hot I would take the kids to the movies or bowling. I always associate bowling with hot hot days.
I try to imagine the people and the creatures of the Gulf Coast, where this weather is the norm rather than the exception, and now the smell of oil and tar permeates the air. Yesterday I heard 30 seconds of a radio "news" story talking about the fact that it costs about $50,000 to "clean" a bird and some small % of the birds cleaned survive even a year. Sometimes I am ashamed to be a human being. Some time ago I heard about a book called "The World Without Us" and I read about half of it. I need to go back and finish it. It is about how the earth could restore itself if human beings were just to disappear. I don't know the ideology of the author, or his "point," but sometimes I turn back to my memories of that book as a solace when my heart hurts for the planet we treat with such indifference. And that's not even to consider how we treat one another. We should be ashamed of ourselves. I think to myself if I live long enough that my grandson grows into a young man, and he came to me and said, "Abuela, how could you let this happen to the earth? To its creatures? To its plants and grasses and trees? To the fishes and the wide blue ocean? What did YOU do, Abuela, to stop this?" what will be my answer?
Peace.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Saturday morning - You're at the Right Blog!
No - you didn't land on the wrong blog by mistake! It's still me, Laurence Anne, and INDY - I'm (still) not dead yet.
But I have decided to mark completion of my cancer treatment and being NED (no evidence of disease) - to change the name of this blog but to keep using it to write as and whenever.
I know I'll keep on writing about Jessie and my visits to the park, and probably other non-cancer things, too. I understand that family and friends who began reading this blog when my recovery was still in the future and the burdens of chemo and radiation lay before me or were weighing on me directly, I understand you won't feel the same urgency in continuing to read what I write here now. That is fine. Please know I am so appreciative of your interest and support for me over the past 9 months. And I AM doing well. I AM getting stronger, less fatigued, day by day, week by week.
Of course, you are welcome to keep visiting this blog and reading what I write here. And from time to time, I will certainly keep writing about my citizenship in the country of cancer survivorship - I have a 3-month "checkup" coming in 2-1/2 weeks. The first one since finishing up, and even though I feel wimpy admitting it, I do feel stirring in me, that cold finger of fear as it waves its threat across my bowels. "What if.... What if..." it whispers. "What if everything turns out fine," I answer.
A cool bright sunny morning in the park for Jessie and me today: A bright red flash just above us where a male cardinal dove into the leaves of a tree in the rock garden where we stopped for a bit. I did my T'ai Chi form while Jessie patiently sat in the morning sun, blinking (imagining chipmunks within the reach of her jaws, perhaps?) A bunny hopped onto a dirt path where its brown body blended so well that Jessie missed it. We didn't see the heron, but I think she's on the larger island in the middle of the pond. Many juvenile Canada Geese and Mallards grazing in the dewy grass across the park. It was a cool but bright sunny summer morning - basically perfect. A good beginning to my 4-day holiday weekend (I'm taking off an extra day).
Peace.
p.s. Please check out the link that I added to this blog. It will take you to "Creamy and Crunchy: An Informal History of Peanut Butter, the All-American Food," an up-coming book by my friend, Jon Krampner. Who knew peanut butter may have anti-cancer properties? Mmmm.
But I have decided to mark completion of my cancer treatment and being NED (no evidence of disease) - to change the name of this blog but to keep using it to write as and whenever.
I know I'll keep on writing about Jessie and my visits to the park, and probably other non-cancer things, too. I understand that family and friends who began reading this blog when my recovery was still in the future and the burdens of chemo and radiation lay before me or were weighing on me directly, I understand you won't feel the same urgency in continuing to read what I write here now. That is fine. Please know I am so appreciative of your interest and support for me over the past 9 months. And I AM doing well. I AM getting stronger, less fatigued, day by day, week by week.
Of course, you are welcome to keep visiting this blog and reading what I write here. And from time to time, I will certainly keep writing about my citizenship in the country of cancer survivorship - I have a 3-month "checkup" coming in 2-1/2 weeks. The first one since finishing up, and even though I feel wimpy admitting it, I do feel stirring in me, that cold finger of fear as it waves its threat across my bowels. "What if.... What if..." it whispers. "What if everything turns out fine," I answer.
A cool bright sunny morning in the park for Jessie and me today: A bright red flash just above us where a male cardinal dove into the leaves of a tree in the rock garden where we stopped for a bit. I did my T'ai Chi form while Jessie patiently sat in the morning sun, blinking (imagining chipmunks within the reach of her jaws, perhaps?) A bunny hopped onto a dirt path where its brown body blended so well that Jessie missed it. We didn't see the heron, but I think she's on the larger island in the middle of the pond. Many juvenile Canada Geese and Mallards grazing in the dewy grass across the park. It was a cool but bright sunny summer morning - basically perfect. A good beginning to my 4-day holiday weekend (I'm taking off an extra day).
Peace.
p.s. Please check out the link that I added to this blog. It will take you to "Creamy and Crunchy: An Informal History of Peanut Butter, the All-American Food," an up-coming book by my friend, Jon Krampner. Who knew peanut butter may have anti-cancer properties? Mmmm.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)