There’s nothing
but emptiness,
Or so it
seems…
It’s what we
say when something is missing,
Isn’t it.
If the
liquid is missing from the glass, it’s empty-
But, of
course, it isn’t.
It’s just filled with air.
The same as
when I say my life is empty,
It really
isn’t,
It’s just filled
with things that don’t turn me on at that moment.
Isn’t life a
bitch at times?
I think my
drive to be all I can be putters to a stop at the end of the driveway. It’s the boundary of where I am allowed to be
100% myself…my sanctuary. While I’ve
never been much of a joiner, I’ve given all I have at being a doer .
I respect
and care about all living creatures, but my Achilles heel has always been cats
with a few dogs thrown in. I’ve seldom
fostered an animal that didn’t melt my heart into giving it my home forever
after. I’m a sucker that way.
There was a
time when I added a cat living in my front garden to the group of six cats and
two dogs I already had as rescues. It
quite literally was the straw that broke my spirit of caregiving. I was worn out within six months, six months
of never finding her a forever home until we finally made it happen with the help of friends.
Its hard
work, but I’ve always known it wasn’t an option to bail out. Where I have gone my pets have gone…Nevada,
Pennsylvania, Colorado, Panama, Central America, and Tennessee. No one has ever been left behind. I always knew I would be able to make it
work, and I always have.
Its hard
work, as many of you know, putting in the effort of taking care of one’s pet as
its aging process enters into that territory of your heart ever so slowly
breaking as their journey is coming towards its end. It’s like living with joy and sadness bundled
together within ones heart; your heart breaks and your heart rejoices each
moment they are with you.
Tuckered Out
No doubt in my mind that the nondiagnosable problems
Dustin has been experiencing is dementia.
It matches the episodes when he wonders aimlessly around,
exhibits problems of brain fog or being in a stupor,
and has a difficult time remembering commands.
I never approach a challenge in life with
the feeling that I might fail, but fail I do.
Although told I was as knowledgeable and productive as those above me, the
lack of a college education beyond the first year became a concrete fortress
around climbing any ladder of success. I
climbed ladders in menial jobs, and escaped their emptiness and boredom at the
end of day. My deliverance was my home
life, such as it was.
Alone most of the time, I cherished my
rescues keeping me company, although the responsibilities of their care was
draining at times. I made it my mission
after reading an article about Audubon International’s program for the everyday
person, to become an environmental steward of my property and work towards
certification. I achieved the
designation of ‘Certified Audubon Cooperative Sanctuary” on December 2, 1998.
June 19, 2003 Audubon International
notified me it’s time to recertify my home as an Audubon Cooperative Sanctuary –
but this time for good. Instead of being
a part of the Audubon Cooperative Sanctuary Program for Backyards, I could
still be a part of the Audubon International family as a valued individual
supporter.
I continued supporting them for a few
years until it became obvious by their newsletters that they had no time for small
potatoes, and had moved on to certifying towns, golf courses, and communities. Although I was a Certified Audubon
Cooperative Sanctuary, the program nor support any longer existed. I was left in the wake of progress to bigger
and better things.
The bronze plaque stating my yard is a ”Certified
Audubon Cooperative Sanctuary” is still displayed at the beginning of my
driveway, and has been a life saver at keeping city and neighborhood complaints
away, but I do miss the program immeasurably.
I still garden as if Audubon International is hovering over me at every
step of the way.
My backyard always appears incomplete,
and I’m beginning to feel it will continue that way eternally. In winter it looks as if a disastrous
mudslide settled in, but at the early beginnings of spring, a mudslide that is
coming to life with the first flowering plants…WEEDS.
Weeds to me are wildflower I’d rather do
without, but the lovable do exist among the usually nonnative unlovable. I just live with the whole mess, and pull out
the totally obnoxious. It’s a compromise
I’ve accepted in my older age of slowing down.
I tried to annihilate the daffodils at some
point of going native, but they have pulled themselves down into the tangled
web of roots so well, it’s a feat that never totally happened. The aggressive ones no longer exist, but I do
have stragglers of lesser ones that pop up each spring and are left alone. I have a sweet fondness for them.
It’s fair to say, I suppose, that my life
has always been somewhat lesser that greater, but for someone who never fulfilled
many of her dreams, my spirit is surprisingly okay with that. I am content to begin another spring of taking
in the exhaustion along with the serenity of living.
N. x odorus 'Plenus'
Double Campernelle Daffodil
Cassata Daffodil
It was found face down on the ground after a rain.
I cut it, removed a slug from its face, and popped it into a vase to enjoy.
Littleleaf Buttercup
Ranunculus abortivus
A native plant
Hairy Bittercress
Cardamine hirsuta
Non native annual or biennial species with exploding seed pods
Creeping Speedwell
Veronica filiformis
Non native and invasive
Purple Deadnettle
Lamium purpureum L.
Non native winter annual
This ones a mystery to me.
Viola sororia var. priceana
Common Blue Violet
Viola sororia
Flower opening up
Viola all chewed up
Beauty Mark
I think it is a a Blow Fly
Empty Lily Seed Pod
Common Golden Alexander
Zizia aurea
Hugging the ground and blooming
Columbine leaves unfurling
Mr. Dandy Lion
Virginia Bluebell flowers preparing to open
Trillium leaves opening with flower bud
Dutchman’s Breeches
Dicentra cucullaria
The corms were planted years ago, but no blooms yet.
Bloodroot
Sanguinaria canadensis
With an aphid
Leaves clasps the bottom of the stem.
(Out of focus here)
Allegheny spurge
Pachysandra procumbens
Female Spicebush Flower with Housefly
House Fly wings can beat up to 1000 times a minute,
but they're generally slow fliers,
maintaining a speed of about 4.5 miles per hour.
Mourning Dove tracks
Snowstorm March 12
Keep Your Passion Alive
With love from me to you
x
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