Lovely walk in the fen yesterday and in the woods the day before. While it was cold, gloomy, and very icy, (which cut the walk short) , it was OUTSIDE in nature, so that’s grand. Today? Bitter cold. Come on, spring!
(From my phone) And I’m here, still.
...I’m trying hard to keep it together. My husband is pulling me off the ceiling sometimes, as I’m finding I’m having chest pains and horrible urges to sob loudly.
When I see her, I will be cheerful and not dwell on the fact that she is most likely dying and going to die an awful death. But in my alone moments, I don’t handle things so well.
Took a short nature walk today and it really helped. Saw a flying squirrel and an ornate box turtle. The poor turtle was stuck between a rock and a hard place, literally, but got free. The flying squirrel froze when it saw a human. I tried to be still, to disturb it as little as possible.
The walking paths were snow-covered, which is surprising since it is still autumn.
Sitting at home, done with grading, waiting for night to fall. Flashes of red from outside. Three male and three female cardinals picking seeds up from the bush in back of the house. Those brief flashes of red are so beautiful and so life affirming somehow.
I stand up to look outside, and they fly away. They must have been able to sense my presence, perhaps see my shadow.
And it helps. And the sunset helps. And the trees and the birds and friends and loved ones help.
But it is impossible to inoculate yourself from grief. At least I think so, if you are a loving person, the loss of a loved one will hurt greatly.
About 13 to 14 years ago, my family and I suffered the loss of many. Some died from a freak set of accidents, some from cancer, some from old age, etc. But it was so many in a short period of time that I was truly overwhelmed and didn’t get a chance to really mourn the loss of most of them individually.
Of these nine losses, the loss of my best friend, Susan, my godmother, and my mother hurt the most. The others I feel bad that I have not mourned them individually; it was like a collective grief.
So I know I’m going to face a lot of pain, and if you love someone, that’s to be expected.
But not something to be looked forward to.
It’s the price of loving people and getting older, surely.
The cardinals have returned, cautiously picking out seeds from the bush behind the house.
And I’m here, still.
Lest I forget. Find beauty even in the quiet of a gloomy day. It’s there. Especially if love is there; I do not take anyone for granted.
Just some nature photos from a woodland walk today. So good to walk in the forest! Look up, look down. Beauty. Even on cloudy days? Yes, even then. Look closely.
And watch out for those squirrel and chipmunk holes… just the right size to trip me when walking. So I am looking DOWN as well as up for sure!
Not a gorgeous day, but a certain peacefulness in the quiet of coolness.
Thanks for reading.
A unique ecosystem, a gem. Fen-only plants and flowers along with what’s found in Illinois elsewhere. I don’t know the name of these plants and flowers, but I do know:
The colors have changed since we last visited. More reds, blues, purples.
We need rain. Toads looked too dry and searching for water.
All around us we heard skittering animals. Didn’t see them. Just heard hints of animal life.
The red winged blackbirds are no longer dive bombing from behind as we walked. Their wee birds must have flown the nests.
Next visit: early autumn.
Thanks for reading.
Recently, my husband and I spent nearly a week in the great Rocky Mountains, at elevations of 8,000-11,000 feet. I had not been in the mountains for nearly 26 years (The Blue Ridge Mountains) and before that, it was 1969 (The Smoky Mountains). I was young both times before, and the elevation was nowhere near that high as we stayed down in the valleys and had to drive up to be in the mountains.
When were were driving on the breathtaking Blue Ridge Parkway, I remember begging my husband to “Get me the ____ off of this road!” The height was simply staggering to me.
This time, we stayed in a camp that came with warnings about altitude sickness. During my time there, while I was so in love with the fresh air, the lack of mosquitoes, and those breathtaking views, I also was traveling for the first time with a chronic health condition.
Some of the things I learned:
- I am weak, the mountains are mighty. What a cliche’, but how true. As I gasped for breath while hiking, this truth became very apparent. The mountains were just there, strong, hulking, huge boulders ready to fall, while I was slowly walking, stopping often for air.
- It’s okay to realize your physical limits. I am not a young athlete. I’ve spent nearly all my life reading, writing, researching. I’m not an athlete.
- It’s okay to ask for help. I was in contact with my doctor four times (poor guy!) while gone, and he assured me each time that yes, this altitude could make my chronic condition worse and might for up to a month after I got back down–but he hoped I could enjoy the vacation anyway since I had talked about it every time I saw him. He gave me some tips.
- I don’t have to do everything the others did, and in fact, I could not. I felt sad one night while others were out at a barbecue, and I was back in my room reading and trying to recover some energy. The next day I was able to hike and go up 11,000 feet on an aerial mountain tram.
- Chronic medical conditions do not just leave because I was on vacation; they don’t care, they are not going away just because I paid for a vacation I saved for for a long time. That’s romantic thinking, and not realistic.
- I didn’t write as much poetry as I thought I would, although the natural beauty would have normally sent me to typing away! I was dealing with my health. That’s okay as well. I can write when my body is accustomed to being back to a normal elevation.
- I cannot describe the beauty of the lakes, wildlife, and plants/ flowers we saw on our mountain hike. Incredible. See the photos blog entry here: https://wordpress.com/post/lauraleewriterpoeteducator.com/1379
- At my age? I conquered an immense fear of flying and somewhat of heights in general–perhaps because I was so diverted by managing my health symptoms? I just didn’t have time to focus on my fear of heights!
- I am forever grateful for my husband, who did not complain or in any way appear annoyed or disappointed I was not more agile, hardy, or strong. As I clutched his hand during some turbulence in flight, all I could think of was how blessed I was to know him for nearly 42 years.
- I missed my maples, elms, willows, ashes, beeches, birches… I missed my deciduous trees, while being thankful to see and smell so many wonderful pines. I missed my trees!
- I was not wrong; sometimes at home I would imagine the immense clouds of summer looked like mountains.
- Those beautiful images are starting to seep into me now, and I feel poetry coming.
- I am glad to be back where there is 45% more oxygen. Just because.
- Coffee at 9,000 feet was WONDERFUL. So was the apple tart.
- I was so proud of myself for doing something others find simple; I did not.
- I cannot imagine how roads are built through such massive, imposing things such as MOUNTAINS.
- We have a beautiful country!
Thanks for reading!