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Courage and Resilience

The apricot tree is popping! In just three days since her haircut she’s bursting with spring blossoms. I’ve made sure to savor this ephemeral sight today. Though there are plenty more buds on each twig, winter weather is returning over the next week starting tonight when it could dip below freezing. A few days later snow is predicted and lows in the mid-20s. Fingers crossed enough flowers hang on through freezes to bring a healthy crop this year.

Though I’m thrilled there is also sadness. I have only seen a few honeybees so far this year. There are black flies hatching everywhere, but where I should have seen bees all over the crocuses and mini irises, I didn’t see more than a couple. Each time I checked the weather app today I thought, Where will we get our weather forecasts if they shut down NOAA? The stupidity and cruelty of the regime have seeped into every conversation and simmer beneath every conscious thought. I have moments of peace and flickers of joy, and I work hard for every one of them.

Almost everyone I know is doing something to resist the abuse of this incompetent, incomprehensible administration. Garden Buddy bought a bunch of sunflower packets to take with her to the HANDS OFF! demonstration next Saturday. Find one near you here! If you’re not doing anything yet, you can start by paying attention: You are being gaslighted. Everything we counted on about America is getting torn apart. This is really happening. We have got to fight back.

Given the already overloaded interdependent systems on our fragile earth, this full frontal assault on American democracy and human decency feels like the total collapse of our species is imminent. I’m too tired to enumerate all the unraveling threads, but I feel especially dedicated to staying physically healthy right now. The US was a keystone in public health across the globe, and every agency that held infectious disease at bay has been crippled or dismantled. Whether it’s mosquitoes, or measles, or a mutant AIDS strain, an Avian flu or some other crossover event, the elimination of US research, scientists, and health professionals on the ground around the world makes every human on the planet more susceptible to the next pandemic. I’m going to get my spring Covid shot next week because who knows if there will be another one? Cuts to Medicaid alone would decimate rural hospital and clinic systems, hampering healthcare in my county, and yours too if you live anywhere in rural America.

Some things I’m grateful for besides apricot blossoms, my strange little creature, learning how to knit cables, and red tulips, are that I got my hip replaced last fall (knowing that Medicare might collapse), that I started taking Social Security as soon as I was eligible (knowing that Social Security might collapse), and that I’ve had a good run this lifetime.

I’m also grateful for comic relief wherever I can find it, as in this musical message from the Marsh Family. They have a slew of great parodies on Youtube, doing their part to speak out and make a difference. Sadly, their Bohemian Rhapsody parody about J6 didn’t swing the electorate, but it was a smashing effort and well worth six minutes of your time. Their creativity, Garden Buddy’s sunflowers, our local Indivisible chapter’s dedication and companionship, my good neighbors, and my irate friends around the country all keep me from just hiding my head under a blanket.

My words for the year are Courage and Resilience. Because why not? As the Dalai Lama says, “Be optimistic. It feels better.” As W.S. Merwin wrote, “On the last day of the world, I would want to plant a tree.” And as Mary Oliver wrote, “You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” From that love you will find the courage to act, and the resilience to wake up and start over again each day.

Choose Beauty

How did I not notice this extraordinary pattern in Wren’s blue eye? This is one reason I love photography. I see better sometimes through a different lens. I can zoom in or out for a fresh perspective. My aging eyes can’t see this detail when she’s got her face in mine and we melt looking into each other. I’m grateful for this delightful surprise today.

I’ve looked back through images of her to see if this was just an artifact of the camera, or the light, or whether it’s been there all along—and it has! Even in one of first pictures I took of her (above) in May 2022 when I’d had her only a few weeks, you can see the starry darker blue in her iris, but not with the striking clarity of the new phone camera. I simply didn’t look closely enough back then.

Today was classic March in the mountains, windy, cold, with stinging snow flurries, and occasional fits of tepid sunshine. It was a great day to stay inside. Lunch was a grilled Havarti, mushroom, and shallot sandwich. On breaks I continued to puzzle in the sunshine. More about this one later, just a taste today.

I long for the halcyon days when there was nothing more urgent to do with my spare time than enjoy the beauty around me. The causes and conditions of this new era we’re in demand that we all participate in the fierce tapestry of resistance growing daily. I’m grateful to be among many who see clearly; and grateful for the many others who work to strengthen the warp and woof of the weave, the good lawyers and good politicians and good journalists who get paid to defend democracy. Our local Indivisible chapter met this afternoon on zoom and held the full range of each others emotions on this terrifying roller coaster.

Though tonight’s sunset was flat grey, last night’s was ethereally stunning. I’m grateful for a new tripod attachment that let me shoot some short timelapses, and anticipate much joy in coming months from acquiring this single implement. No matter what else you do, make time to do the things that bring you joy. Choose beauty wherever you can.

The Wisdom to Know the Difference

Spring inside the house includes tropical orchids and jasmine blooming, and far fewer fires in the woodstove. Yesterday when I realized it was DST I heard myself say I hate daylight saving time! which has been my feeling about it forever. But I decided to try to adapt instead of continuing to resist, in hopes that it will make this transition smoother and faster. Last year I never did quite adjust, because I was too busy hating that it was the way it was. DST is gonna be with us unless it’s eliminated by royal decree, so I’m going to shift my perspective. My plan is to spend that extra hour of light in the evening simply sitting and enjoying it, with a cup of tea or a cocktail, spending time on the deck or in the garden savoring that sweet evening hour before sunset.

Just because it’s spring doesn’t mean every day is balmy forty-something sunshine. We enjoyed a few blustery snowy days last week, and though it was cold overnight the snow melted each day, watering the mini irises. The dark purple are always first to bloom, and as the first patches withdraw more patches blossom, dark purple, dark blue, and these special frilly ones whose name I don’t recall. Last year, these were eaten by deer before they even opened, so I’m especially delighted to see them in full flower this year. I did remember to cover all the bulbs as they pop up with wire cloches to protect them from marauders.

I read a provocative post the other day comparing “patrimonialism” with “authoritarianism” which used the genius of AI to explore the differences. That got me to wondering, when Truth fails us in human discourse, will AI be more, or less, reliable? Then the hopeful notion popped up that maybe the Singularity will save us after all: Perhaps when AI takes over the world, it will know how to discern fact from fiction and will hold to a higher standard of Truth than human beings.

I used to spend one to two hours a week resisting the authoritarian agenda, back in the first regime; even less time politically active during those honey days of the Biden/Harris administration. Now I spend one to two hours a day engaged in some form of action to save America from the MAGA racist-misogynist-white nationalist agenda. It’s a lot. So I’m pretty protective of my down time, and once I have completed my political engagement for the day, I let it go and turn my attention to other things: the beauty that surrounds me, that new recipe for triple chocolate biscotti, a fresh loaf of bread, the latest sprouts in the garden.

After yesterday’s calls to congress, I potted up the cabbage sprouts. I’ve gotten pretty clear on what I can and cannot control, and cultivated the wisdom to see the difference (thanks, Fred, for the reminder of Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer). Healthy boundaries and proactive self-care are essential for as long as I have the wherewithal to engage in those also.

“The best thing you can do to stay mentally healthy is to lean into the fight, be a leader (if possible), surround yourself with like-minded people, and rest when appropriate. We are in for a long fight, so we must pace ourselves while remaining nimble.”

Robert Hubbell

I’ve found the 5 Calls App to be exceptionally easy and user friendly to voice my concerns to the legislators allegedly representing my interests. In all the calls I’ve made in the past month I’ve only once reached an actual human aide. The rest of the time I’ve left voicemails, and I’ve started them off this past week speaking directly to the person taking the message. It goes something like this: “I’d like to leave a message for the congressman, but first I’d like to speak directly to you, and invite you to ask your parents or grandparents if they receive social security benefits, Medicare, or VA healthcare, and see how they feel about potentially losing those benefits in exchange for tax cuts for billionaires. And then explain to them how your boss justifies his support of these policies….” Then I go on to leave my message about how the executive order to increase timber logging will affect the watershed where I live, or how abolishing the Department of Education will devastate public schools and strip civil rights protections for millions of students, and so on. Another good way to share your dissent with the status quo is with Resistbot.

And then it’s mealtime again. Whew! My precious mealtime rituals, moments of dedicated peace and pleasure. This week’s Sandwich of the Week was an impromptu indulgence. When I was growing up the Colonel occasionally brought Brie and baguettes home from the grocery store. I don’t think good Brie was as readily available back then, and it was always a special occasion when he found triple cream. I loved it, but he was austere even in luxuries. He scolded me more than once for putting too much Brie on a piece of bread. His admonition shamed me, but it also puzzled me. Was there such a thing as too much Brie? Somehow I internalized that limitation. I’d occasionally run across a sandwich at a restaurant that included Brie, and always ordered it with a little frisson of in your face to the Colonel; but it never occurred to me that I could make a Brie sandwich at home until recently. The other day, with half a small wedge of triple cream Brie in danger of turning, I sliced it thick and laid it between buttered toasts, one slice with raspberry jam and the other with maple cream. OMG. It was positively divine.

Today’s lunch was another indulgence. Farm fresh eggs are back after winter’s pause. Best eggs here are $8 a dozen at the store, so I rejoiced to learn that the Bad Dog hens are laying once again, and celebrated with two fried eggs this morning, a few bacon crisps, and the heel of today’s warm loaf, with butter and jam.

Clean hankies on the line in today’s abundant sunshine.

Breathing

Today’s the first day of meteorological spring in the northern hemisphere, and perhaps not coincidentally, yesterday was Tibetan New Year, the Year of the Wood Snake. At Mirador, no snakes yet, but spring is popping in the garden.

Wren, Topaz and I ventured through the woods a couple of times this week despite the mud, and enjoyed breathing the fresh spring air. Wren’s nose enjoyed it the most, as there were many enticing scents on the breeze. I enjoyed it because an unexpected side effect of the hip surgery seems to be that my breathing is easier than it’s been in years. It makes sense, with the pain and constriction relieved, that my breath flows more freely.

Tiny cabbages took only five days to sprout and their first set of true leaves are now budding. The onions took a few days longer, and just yesterday the fennel seeds finally sprouted. The garden roller coaster begins its slow, winding climb upward.

I baked a nearly perfect coffee cake Thursday. You know what that means. I’ll have to try again in order to perfect it. It’s been a busy week, between work and the resistance and a couple of appointments. One was to an allergist in the city, and I left extra early because of construction on the highway. Because I didn’t relish the prospect of being away all day, I set my intention to PBS (Pause, Breathe, Smile, whether you need to or not). It was easy: I listened to ‘Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me’ the first half of the drive up there so I was laughing most of the way. I gave oncoming cars and the flag persons big smiles and happy waves. It felt great. I relaxed and enjoyed the gorgeous day, and kept afflictive thoughts at bay.

No one on the road could see that I wore my ‘Drag is Not a Crime’ ball cap, but the nurse who marked me up for allergy testing saw it and said “I like your hat!” This opened the door for a heartwarming conversation in which she said something that really touched me, “You’re safe here.”

Safe politically, maybe, but then she proceeded to stab me fifty-seven times! She was so sweet. She said, “Let me know if you need a break,” as each pinprick stung down the first side, “but I’m pretty fast.” She was. She got them all done in less than five breaths. I was grateful for the skill of mindful breathing, relaxing my body and breath, inhaling slowly, exhaling slower, and bringing curiosity to the sensations rather than resistance.

After a short fifteen minute wait, a different nurse came in to read my back, and I was mightily surprised to learn that I’m not allergic to any of the fifty-four common allergens they tested for. On the top left, marked H for Histamine, is the welt that indicates the tests are working, and below that a C for Control. While some of the pricks look more annoyed than others they all rated the same small measurement indicating no significant reaction. This was great news on the one hand because I’m not allergic to cats, dogs, sagebrush, or juniper, but perplexing on the other hand, because I still don’t know what’s causing allergy symptoms. Oh well. Probably nothing that’s gonna kill me.

As I was leaving, the sweet young nurse said, “I hope you’re okay.” I knew she didn’t mean my allergies. We picked up our political conversation, and she said she and her husband are trying to do things but it doesn’t feel like much. I told her, “Everyone who is doing anything needs to do a little bit more, and everyone who isn’t doing anything needs to do something. We’ll get through this.” I recommended Indivisible.org to her, and told her I’d email her a few more helpful links. I gave her a spontaneous hug and she said, “I needed that.” I’m grateful that my Drag hat sparked a meaningful encounter and an opportunity to spread the resistance. I bought the hat years ago from ACLU, where there’s plenty of provocative merchandise that supports their great work. Wearing something even as subtle as a Drag hat is a great way to connect, and grow the resistance one conversation at a time. Just as we keep growing ourselves, one breath at a time.

Engage, Rest, Repeat

Wren and I got a special treat yesterday when I had to leave my car at the shop for a couple hours. A friend picked us up and took us to The Velvet Lounge, a private venue hiding in a Victorian house in town, where she entertained us with original live music and treated us like princesses.

I sat in a comfy chair at a little table with a cold beverage and a plate of snacks. Wren sat in the chair next to me for awhile, and seemed to really enjoy the show. After awhile she crawled into my lap for a hug and curled up. In the warm, inviting ambience we enjoyed a deep and rejuvenating rest.

I’m energized and grateful for having participated in our local Indivisible meeting online this afternoon. Our usual one-hour meeting lasted forty minutes longer, so filled with enthusiasm and intention were we. Our numbers doubled with new members since we reconvened a month ago. If you’re looking for a way to get involved in saving our democracy, check out some of these links that we compiled. Each day, engage, rest, repeat: and amplify the good work by getting others involved. We’re in this together!

ESSENTIAL:

https://indivisible.org

https://indivisiblecolorado.net

https://chopwoodcarrywaterdailyactions.substack.com

Vetted INFORMATION SOURCES for news and actions:

Robert Hubbell https://roberthubbell.substack.com

Robert Reich https://robertreich.substack.com

Heather Cox Richardson  heathercoxrichardson@substack.com

Joyce Vance joycevance@substack.com

Ryan Grim https://substack.com/@ryangrim

Harry Litman https://harrylitman.substack.com/?utm_source=global-search

Inside Medicine, up to the minute public health news: https://insidemedicine.substack.com

Let’s don’t forget the climate: https://350.org/?r=US&c=NA

ARTICLES

Here is the link to the Atlantic with images of some of yesterday’s nationwide Not My President’s Day rallies, ranging from Alaska and California to Massachusetts and Florida:         

https://www.theatlantic.com/photo/2025/02/thousands-gather-protest-against-trump-musk/681721/?utm_source=atl&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=share

February 28 Economic blackout Newsweek: https://www.newsweek.com/nationwide-economic-blackout-february-28-list-stores-being-targeted-2030269

From Choose Democracy: https://choosedemocracy.us/what-can-i-do/?fbclid=IwY2xjawIcqiRleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHXmNa7WUAZqJwiSB-98yUY_Qa-GWrE_NUNKyYUJAeShgGQUA7V3obC-4Fg_aem_yUKME3-xczyin1bVWZrDzA&utm_source=substack&utm_medium=email

A Peaceful Weekend

As the coup continues to unfold, I am hearing from friends and about friends of friends who are losing their jobs in the great federal purge. It won’t be long before Mump supporters feel the pain: but will they be able to admit where it’s coming from? Meanwhile, here in the kaleidoscope, climate chaos keeps the colors and textures of the changing season spinning.

I woke up Saturday morning in a vivid memory of the dim halls of the Pentagon when I was six and the Colonel took me there to get my social security card. My breath caught as I thought of his admonishment then. I don’t recall the words but the message was loud and clear: This is who you are now: memorize this number and never let anyone take it from you. Well, I no longer have to worry about identity theft since that’s just happened to every one of us now.

Another sunset, another casserole. I’m calling it the Three Soup Casserole, and this time I added chopped broccoli and my new favorite Penzeys seasoning, Wauwatosa Village.

This gave me a couple of meals for the week, one for the freezer, and some to share with a neighbor. It is truly so simple! And pretty darn tasty, too.

Simply spending time in my kitchen cooking and baking to nourish and treat myself and others brings me comfort and peace. I’m also staying engaged with the resistance in the ways that suit my constitution and current abilities, including amplifying accurate information and upcoming actions. Monday, for example, there’s a “Not My President’s Day!” protest near you. And everyone is jumping on the “No Buy New Year” bandwagon, more about that later.

But once I have done in a day what I’m capable of contributing to the greater good, I allow my attention to return to my simple life, the result of all the choices I’ve made in every moment leading up to this one, and I let myself rest in contentment, with profound gratitude for the conditions of my little life in every moment flowing into the next. As I slice pats of butter to finish the casserole, I slice extra thin to use less butter now so that a) there’s more butter for later because who knows how long we’ll have it, and b) my heart really doesn’t need an entire stick of butter on a single casserole. I slice slowly and feel the butter, and lick my finger when I’m done carefully placing all the pats and taste the butter, and appreciate the butter, because that’s the truth of that moment.

When I serve myself a portion, I taste all the ingredients and savor the nutrition, and feel in my body my gratitude for this food, and for having enough to share. When I vacuum the rugs, I appreciate the machine, the rugs, the electricity, and the sun that provides it, and each element that transforms the sunbeams into vacuum energy; and I appreciate a clean floor.

And the Saturday burbles along with a meditation here, a short walk there, a few conversations; evening comes noticeably later now, and then dark, some mindful entertainment on TV with little Wren, and gratitude for turning into a warm bed. If you also have one, I hope you appreciate your good fortune as much as I do mine.

Like magic, I wake up alive and it’s time once again for breakfast ritual. This morning it was truly simple, a couple of big soft ginger cookies and a hot lattĂ©, made even more special by switching to an old favorite mug I haven’t used in awhile. A special friend gave it to me, and I pulled it out when it dawned on me that a tall mug would probably keep the lattĂ© hotter longer than the wide bowl I’ve been using (also a special gift) — and it did! Simply using this mug, this special plate, infuses the breakfast ritual with meaning. Even the preparation of the beverage this morning was more of a meditation than usual, as I contemplated the essence of elements: distilled nectar of the vanilla orchid, boiled sap of a Vermont maple tree, steamed fruit of the tropical evergreen coffee shrub. How they all made their ways here! to this moment, in this kitchen! It’s a miracle.

I can see that tonight’s theme is food, sigh. I started a post about drag queens a couple of days ago but it got unwieldy and I’ve had to set it aside to keep working on, so I return to my other happy place. Lunch. Except for days I can’t, I make a point to have lunch right around noon, and take a break from whatever else I’m doing to sit and enjoy a cheese sandwich and a good book. I’m grateful for the old Kindle, and today I’m especially grateful for the recently deceased author Tom Robbins. Some of his earlier novels delighted me and I believe imparted a sense of adventure that wouldn’t have sprung naturally from my upbringing. I was sorry to hear of his passing last week, and immediately checked out his last novel, Villa Incognito, which I hadn’t yet read. Like all his novels, it’s hard to say what it’s about, but it does resonate strongly with me at this time. I highlighted many passages about the folly and corruption of man, and the nature of god or gods.

Ice cream is a gift from the gods, which no one can deny. I’m grateful when I have some in the freezer, and even more so when I have both chocolate and vanilla, so I can swirl them together and savor every smooth spoonful. After more spring cleaning today, and exercising with my long-distance exercise buddy, I got back into the sunroom and planted seeds for three varieties of onions, bulbing fennel, and two types of cabbage. I’m late getting them in, but I’m recommitting to growing as much as possible of my own food this summer, now that I have a new hip and am getting some energy and mobility back.

And then, the kaleidoscope outdid herself this evening…

A Day Off

For some, a day off entails strapping thin strips to the bottom of their boots and careening downhill on snow. But for me, a day off is a tamer endeavor.
No, it doesn’t include running, yet, but it did involve a lot of moving around.

I’ve decided to take at least one day off from external influences each week. Whatever fresh hell today brought, I can learn about it tomorrow. Body-mind-spirit all require relief from the stress of knowing what the usurpers are doing. Seriously, if they don’t break our spirits first, the stress alone could break our bodies. Every day this week I’ve engaged in several forms of activism, and today is a day off to nourish my resilience.

Which of these will be the final whimsy piece in the puzzle?

Another warm, springlike day motivated me to open both doors for some fresh air in the house. With music to help me move, I was in and out all day, cleaning the mudroom, the patios, carrying some things to storage in the yurt, feeling grateful for the wildlife and the woods, and for the emergence of the first tender crocus leaves in the yarden.

Though Wren looks ferocious, she’s just playing with the doe, who stands and watches as Wren charges past her and races around the yard.
Closing in on it, Kathleen’s Rule goes into effect: If you pick up a piece you have to place it.
…and then there was one…

On the evening I finished this puzzle, Changing Light, Changing Seasons by Brad Gorman, I stepped outside to a similar sky. A moment of layered joy.

This week’s best sandwich so far included chicken salad with celery and plenty of red onion, chopped romaine, mayo on both slices of rye, and sweet blueberry jam tempering the heat of the onion.

I’m grateful for fresh, homegrown Florida grapefruit. I saved some seeds from the last one to try to sprout, but then I learned that citrus seeds need to stay damp in order to germinate. So I opened my second-to-last Christmas grapefruit today and carefully supremed it so I didn’t damage a seed.

I’ll save and dry the peels, then use them in a variety of ways from tea to cleaning vinegar. Or maybe I’ll just compost them, we’ll know more later. I harvested four perfect seeds and planted them in four pretty little pots, after clearing space for them on the second shelf on the grow rack.

I’m grateful I was able to keep my attention in my home today: no outside influences, so that I could focus on housekeeping, spring cleaning, fresh air, music, movement and playing with plants, with joy and gratitude, without distraction or distress.

And then I baked. Another project that’s been on my mind for awhile like planting citrus seeds has been maple-pecan scones. This time I added a few dried tart cherries in with the toasted nuts, and remembered the egg wash before I put them in the oven. These turned out perfectly! So simple, so delicious. Then I glazed them with Mount Mansfield maple cream, which sets with a firm shell but remains melty soft underneath. I can hardly wait to wake up alive tomorrow and enjoy one with coffee.

Wherever you are, whoever you are, I hope that you find a way to nourish yourself today: pause occasionally to take a few deep breaths, get outside, move to some music, indulge in a treat; be kind to yourself, and be kind to someone else.

Self Care

There the slow dancers are at the waist that’s being tenderly held. This puzzle continued to delight me through its entirety, but that’s no surprise, all of them do, each in its unique way. The butterfly below is just one of many design cuts with several facets. The eyes of the face in the painting resemble eyespots on the butterfly wings which evolved to deter predators in one of several ways. That’s a very clever design.

Another clever though more obvious design is cutting glasses over the eyes, which might have even been wearing glasses from the shine spots.

And then the musical pieces: the clef coming out of the mouth of the singer, and the notes from the stringed instrument. What is that instrument? Guitar? Mandolin?

Each puzzle reveals its unique strategy as it comes together. Sometimes I start with colors I like, or whimsy pieces I like. In this puzzle I started with the pinks, leading me to complete the pink dresses and the umbrellas. Having glanced at the lid before starting, I’d noted that the pinks occurred in two quadrants and was able as the color blocks came together to place them in the right area on the board. Then I built outward from those two main blocks (above) until suddenly I could see how these two triangular halves of the puzzle fit together (below).

The clean white lines of the cocktail glasses made this section easy. Self care for me recently has included far less alcohol, but I can still appreciate an elegant cocktail and pleasing glassware. The pitcher and cocktail below escaped my notice as I separated whimsy pieces at the beginning, and only took shape as I assembled the pink dress.

This one is too simply too pretty not to call attention to. The one obvious pineapple piece had no correlate that I could discern in the fruit bowl, but the bowl is a reminder of another important element of self care: eat your fruits and vegetables, even at a party!

For me, an important part of self care is having a dog at my side. That’s a whole separate essay, or maybe a memoir. I love this dog with his quizzical tilt which could show his interest in many things: the conversation, the food, the music, who knows?

Nearing the end of the puzzle, I like to photograph negative space, and save one whimsy piece for the very last. It was hard to decide, when I ended up with a couple of spiders, a frog, and a crow.

I’ve heard for the past few years the claim that the US suffers from a loneliness epidemic. That may be true. It certainly makes sense when you think about the alienation from the natural world that most 21st century Americans experience; add to that the pathological immersion in screens of all sorts, and top it off with the perils of social media, and sure, I can see loneliness. But what I see more as I meet and teach more people is that there is another epidemic that correlates: the trance of unworthiness, as Tara Brach calls it.

My students are mostly women. Is it mere coincidence I see so much of this suffering, or are women more susceptible to this ailment of insecurity, not-enough, self-doubt, even self-loathing? I get it. I suffered from it for most of my life. It’s taken years of inner work to start to trust my capacities, to even like myself much less love and appreciate myself. I’m grateful that mindfulness teachers, practice, and skills are helping me wake from this trance and learn the true meaning of self care.

A hot bath and a massage are great, fresh fruits, a wooden jigsaw puzzle, a long walk in the woods are all wonderful aspects of self care. Brushing and flossing your teeth is great, but the kind of self care that can truly heal also includes making time to cultivate a deep inward connection with yourself: training your mind and attention, honing your core values and consciously living in alignment with them, making wise choices, and opening your heart to see purpose and meaning in your own life. And then remembering to be grateful for this precious life that you get to wake up to day after day. Until you don’t.

“The Picnic,” by Archibald John Motley, Jr., from Liberty Puzzles, Boulder, Colorado

X-Rays

It’s their third winter together. I had hoped by now they’d be cuddling in front of the stove. I was grateful to see them lying peacefully, but seconds after I took this Wren succumbed to the Topaz vibe and gave up the rug, went back to her pillow. Oh well. At least they’re communicating in their own way.

The broccognocchini that kept on giving. For the second leftovers, I sautéed sliced portobello mushrooms and the next-to-last garden onion, then tossed in the gnocchi and more tomato sauce. Simple. Delicious.

The third leftover meal was even more simple, gnocchi boiled, drained, back in the pot with more red sauce, topped with parmesan and fresh chopped basil from the sunroom. The fourth and final leftover leftovers from the night before came out of the fridge, got a dollop of mayo, half a can of cannellini beans, celery salt, a sprinkle of homemade paprika, a sprig of fresh parsley, and an accidental cat hair I only just now noticed in the picture! Ick. And oh well. Hope I shook it off before I broke up the parsley but I don’t remember. The salad was delicious anyway. And so simple.

And now for something completely different! I’m grateful for a gold star at my three-month post-op visit. How the time has flown by! On the one hip, I mean hand, it’s hard to believe it’s been that long: I still remember that full moon night in the hospital vividly, and how utterly helpless I was when I first came home. On the other hand, it feels like a long journey from then to now, walking around without the cane half the time in the house, squatting to put firewood in the stove for the first time in years, shoveling snow, going up and down stairs like a grownup this week. Because the PT exercises gave me such trouble in my right hip initially, they x-rayed that as well as the left hip last week. The news was great for both hips: mild arthritis on the right side, just a little pinch at the front but a good smooth ball joint, “nothing like the deterioration of the other one”; and good bone growth starting onto the socket cup and top of the post in the right hip. He could see it, I can’t, but I’m willing to take his word for it. Not for the first time in my life, I’m grateful for x-rays.

Driving home after a successful venture out into the world, I was grateful to see this beautiful big buck strolling into the woods along the driveway. I paused and savored the vision. He was like my prize for a good doctor visit, for good healing, for taking care of myself.

Milestones

My mother Ali, second from left, and her mother, with her sister’s daughter on the right and me on the left. We two were bridesmaids at the wedding of our other girl cousin. The remaining six of us nine cousins were boys, two of whom have now also died. This is by far not my favorite picture of my mother, but it was recently shared with me and she is laughing, as she is in two of my three favorite photos of her.

Today marks twenty years since my mother died, by courageously stopping eating and drinking after years of decline from PSP. That’s one milestone. I’m grateful for a lot of milestones today. I still miss my mother. I can’t imagine how furious she’d be about this election outcome. She’d be apoplectic! (one of her favorite words)

Not a milestone, just another loaf of perfect bread and some triple cream Brie. Simple pleasures…

This morning I clipped my own toenails! It had become increasingly painful and difficult to reach my left foot before the new hip, and I’ve just now got enough mobility to reach my feet again. Without pain! That’s another milestone. I read recently that the ability to tend one’s own toenails is an indicator of health and longevity in seniors.

I drove twenty miles beyond my own driveway for the first time since before surgery, another milestone, to drop my car off at the salvage yard. Not to be junked, though it is rapidly becoming what some might call a heap, but to have its fender repaired. Deb picked up me and Wren and with her little dog we went to the Paonia River Park, a project of the Western Slope Conservation Center, to walk the trail. Another milestone! I didn’t make it very far, but I did get as far as the citizen science station to take a photograph of the river. There’s a post with a bracket where you place your phone, snap a shot of the river, and upload it to chronolog, “a platform that allows organizations and individuals to create and explore time lapse photos of natural environments.” Check out the River Park’s time lapse at the link.

Another light snow overnight settled like fairy dust on everything.
I roasted an organic chicken last week and got four meals out of one quarter of it, including a couple of delicious sandwiches.

Finishing three Liberty puzzles before the Season officially starts might count as a milestone. Ocean Life is a treasure of gorgeous sea creatures. It provided melancholy solace through this discouraging last week as the Great Unraveling accelerates. Another milestone is the resolve I feel to not let this development destroy my equilibrium. I feel brittle and fragile, but also confidently aware of a deep resilience that is new in me, a direct result of mindfulness practice.