Life's Contentments this January

Rise and Shine, Sleepyhead!

A new year is here.

These past two years have been filled with frustration.  Arriving safely at photographic points and maintaining my balance depends on my other person’s willingness to help, and that help is lacking oftentimes. 

My sphere of outside contact with others has shrunk to the size of a pea, and interferes with the scope of my writings, causing anxiety.  I struggle, but I don’t give up.  I hope you aren’t struggling to find a reason to read further.

Christmas

is officially over!

My last gingerbread cookie

with a tea stained cup of piping hot

English Breakfast Tea.

On a whim at the beginning of January, I gifted myself a Gratitude Journal with a different affirmation for each day and prompts for mindful reflection. It is one that allows a person to work it at their own pace.  It’s not easy for me to shift my perspective, so my ordinary moments feel extraordinary.  I find it exhausting trying to promote a bit of happiness.

I’ve been stuck on the first page for four days now.  My affirmation is “I have courage”.  One of the things I wrote that I have been looking forward to is “Deciding what I want for the rest of my life”. 

As I write this, I guess the simple answer is gratitude, since I bought this dang journal in the first place, and the rest of my life could be just one day; but if it isn’t, I never believe the rest of my life is as long as I thought it was forty years ago.

A gift this past Christmas from my husband is an old book published in 1937 titled “The Birds of America, from original drawings of John James Audubon”.  The 500 plates are reproductions of drawings Audubon published in 1827 to 1844, so the ordinary person could afford to view his paintings.  It also has a six-page introduction by conservationist William Vogt.

Matte ink is used, and the paintings are still beautiful, although all pages suffer from edge tanning.  A slight drawback of the book is the weight of it.  It’s like lugging around a small boulder on the plastic tray of my walker creating quite a noticeable bit of drag when I push forward.

A dear friend since childhood gave me the book “Webb’s Cosmos, Images and Discoveries from the James Webb Space Telescope” which was published last year.  I obtained the book “The Universe and Beyond, Sixth Edition” soon afterwards.  All books, but I doubt one could ever have too many books.

It's definitely cold here, so one obviously knows it is wintertime, but it still seems milder than most recent winters.  No snow, not even a slight coating; no sleet or freezing rain or a week of temperatures not rising above the teens F.  Winter’s fury could show itself at any time, so I feel a little bit like someone waiting for the other shoe to drop the minute I publish this.

My outdoor garden this month is void of little treasures to find in the cold, or maybe, I’m just tired of the same photo fifty different ways.  My indoor garden, a converted desktop, harbors eight Peperomia plants trying to not look like the mutations they have become. 

I struggle with dry air from the heat pump running long periods of time making each plant’s watering needs different from the next.  In winter the sun moves at a lower arc across the sky, causing light to come through the window hitting the nearest plants.  They suffer, even though they are five to six feet away. 

The thickest leaf ones are nearer the window now, while the fuzzy leafed one has been moved the furthest away because it is susceptible to sunburn, and the thin leafed ones are in the middle and at the far end.  The miniature leafed one that looks so puny, just laughs at the rest while it soaks up all the sunlight. 

There was a time when I was the houseplant whisperer, but after this most recent experience, it seems I have become the houseplant undertaker.  

My mistake is not being attentive, not checking up on them every day to see if one needs that magic elixir of life - water.  I believe indoor plants contribute to one’s wellbeing, but I suck at contributing to their wellbeing.  I’m working at improving.

Their photos appear here, more as proof of their tenacity, than my capabilities.

Perhaps some form of gratitude will drift along eventually; I’m optimistic that way.  I just hope you aren’t grateful that this writing is over.

Warm Hugs,

Yvonne

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Saturday's Critters

January Blues

DREAMS

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

Langston Hughes

When I was a youngster, I thought everything would be within my reach at some stage in my life.  Then I became immersed in the sea of job hunting, and feeling like I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

I could sell myself well in interviews, so while I was expected to jump right in as a seasoned employee, I was not a seasoned employee.  The struggles were immense to overcome, but it was the only way I could get jobs that paid me enough to survive with a roof over my head and food.

It was a crap way to work, but I was on my own with help coming from nowhere.  I worked hard, was sometimes out of my depth, but lucky; and it was the best I could do for myself.  I suppose that is all we can ever hope for.

Dreams were downgraded year after year until any that were left became sand sifting through my fingers into oblivion.  I improvised.  If one door closed on me, another one was found that I could enter.  I never settled for less, I settled for different.

Was this ideal?  Probably not, but I worked my butt off with what I had to use, and that’s as good as it gets.  I suffer bouts of depression these days from feeling like I should have been able to do better.  It’s such a lonely place… this feeling of despair, and such a deep hole to dig oneself out of.

So… I guess this is your middle of January gloomy doomy blues of a post to fit the season.  I let go of the last dream I clung to ages ago, so maybe that is why life sometimes feels like a barren field frozen with snow, but never a broken-winged bird.

I have cats to soothe me and a garden to dream about.  I also have Peperomia houseplants waiting to be repotted, a sister, a niece, across the street friend and a cross country schoolmate to keep in touch with.  It’s a small world, but a rich world.  It’s the best I can do, so I guess it’s enough.

As I step out onto my front porch with birdseed in hand, the eight-inch-deep snow is more like four-inch puffy clouds of snow still melting in this deep freeze of sometimes minus F. temperatures.  Next Monday we begin to thaw.

I will not miss the fear of electricity going out, but I will miss this lovely phenomenon of dry snow, when at the moment the burden of its own weight on a tree bough becomes too much, it falls like a sheet of fluffy white to the ground below… at times on its own and other times with help from a bird.  Mesmerizing!

Sometimes I end by saying ‘stay warm’, but it is also nice to brave the cold and let it immerse you with the spirit of winter and all its complexities.  The cold’s beauty can rival any spring day, for minds that are wide open.  Take care.

Photos including sunset taken week before Christmas.

Other photos taken in January.

Invasive English Ivy (green leaf) (above photo)

Native evergreen wild ginger, Hexastylis arifolia (below)

Some type of winter annual

I believe this is a Cooper's Hawk.

I opened the front door just as this hawk swooped in 

between the house and porch post and flew past my face 

and out through two more porch posts, to the street 

and back again to perch on the dogwood tree 

by the front door steps.

After maybe a five minute stay, it took off 

and flew out between the tall juniper tree and redbud tree 

to hunt elsewhere. 

A breathtaking experience!

(Photo taken through storm door glass, so not the best quality)

The garden out front had a peachy glow,

so I knew there was a pretty sunset on the backside of the house.

Winterberry fruit that is cracked open on a rainy day.

The other seed is from the White Ash tree.

Empty Black Walnut half shell left by squirrel.

Coral Berry or Buck Bush with its berries that last most of winter.

Front of house on a sunny day.

An old type of Narcissis that comes up early,

but waits until it begins to warm up before blooming.

Maybe a House Finch,

 taken through a screened window during snow storm.

Winterberry in snow storm

After 8 to 9 inches of snow has fallen.

We will be seven days below freezing 

with sometimes single digits or minus digits 

in the evenings.

Since this week is never above freezing, 

except a short time one day

this slight snow melt is due to the sun shining.

Some days remain cloudy with no snow melt.

Beautiful male Cardinal

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My Corner of the World

Saturday's Critters

WHATEVER ~ For lack of a better title.

My life is mostly memories now, and whether they are as the caressing warmth of a late summer day, or as the jarring chill of an early winter morning, they are the sum of my existence.

Well…  maybe.

It’s a good feeling to think I really mattered in life, but the truth of it all is that I will never know if I ever mattered at all. 

Our neighbor next door on the corner of our block, came into a windfall of money just as the wife was becoming really depressed with all the operations she had yet to endure after a scooter accident a year ago.  After selling their home to a corporation that fixes up homes to sell again, they disappeared out of our existence in less than a weeks’ time.

A group of workers came in and literally wiped our neighbors’ existence off the face of our block, by ripping out their entire garden and disposing of it at the landfill.  It was quite jolting to see nothing left but a row of tiny new shrubs along the front of the house.  A solemn reminder that we don’t always escape the whiteout of our existence when we no longer exist in that time. 

I suppose it may be different for families whose generations pass on their legacy, but my legacy will be only what remains in the minds of those who knew me and cared about me.  When they pass on or forget, it will be as if I, my pets, and my gardens never existed.  It is a sobering thought that doesn’t amuse.

Basically, my legacy is only what exists in present tense.  The sum of me is me today, at this moment in time… nothing more, and nothing less. 

I’m beginning to feel the shortness of  life, like I'm a nanosecond in the sea of time.

Keeper of the Ash Tree Seeds

Little Tyke

Winter Savory

Still evergreen in all this freezing weather.

Hiding in the Leaf Litter

Mockingbird in Flight

Seersucker Sedge, I think.

I moved it to a better location when it sprouted on its own last year.

It's happy here.

When one has cats, one must always check all nooks and crannies before closing any closet door.  Well… not following my advice, I was woken up at 2:00 am by a talking closet door that when swung open coughed up a perturbed cat disappearing in a flash down the hall and out of sight.  She was trapped three hours, as my medicine acts much as a sleeping pill, sending me to the depths of sleep.

She seemed fine and the day after she was surprised with a veterinary visit which almost didn’t happen.  It was a bit of a struggle to secure her in the carrier, and her visit was just a short in and out to get a urine sample.  I guess that added trauma was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

She closed down and during the next seven days she only ate one half of a three ounce can of food, refusing steak, chicken, baby food, and nine different flavors and textures of cat food, despite having an appetite stimulant applied to the inside of her ear each day.

She remained in my writing room, with the gate put back up and the cat pan reinstated in the corner.

She had another veterinary visit in the mix, but he found nothing medically wrong with her, although she had already lost a pound.  This is when one has to really start thinking outside of the box.

I overnighted an order of a Feliway Optimum pheromone plug in, played very soft music for her to listen to, and spent practically every moment of my time in my writing room with her, gently stroking and talking to her.

It was the eve of the seventh day as I laid in bed, that I heard her meowing for me.  Optimistically, I opened a can of her regular food and she ate half of it before calling it quits.  I was relieved. 

The next morning, she appeared anxiously at the gate, and ate three fourths of a can of her food.  There was no stopping her after that. 

Deciding to feed her smaller portions more times of the day to put her weight back on, she is doing just fine now.  In all of this mix, I had realized that I had been ignoring her way too often, and am currently working on strengthening the lovely bond between us. 

Only a person with a cat knows what I am talking about.  When a cat totally trusts one, it gives one that feeling we often attribute to loving us.  Whatever it is, it’s one of the best feelings in the world to me.

Lyre-leaf Sage sheltered admist the moss on the lee side of an old log.

Freeze damage to tips of Narcissus.  

Base of old gnarled Blackhaw Virburnum.

Planted when I started the garden.

Sheltered in the driftwood.

Tough daffodil with buds ready to open.

Mind you, this is still January.

Seed pods of Appalachian Mock Orange

The weather fluctuates between freezing then warm, then not so warm, then repeat, much like it always does this time of year in the middle of winter.  Rain is always plentiful, and I bite my lip to not utters these words “not again”; as rain once again caresses the ground in gentle drops, while a thunderstorm could be coming in just over the far horizon.

Without this weather, our spring would be a failure.  This abundance of water brings on the lushness that overruns our gardens in springtime when the moans of the weed picking blues might be heard over the buzz of plants new to the block greedily staking out their territory.

We have an appointment for a week of rain near this month’s end.

Not again.

Oops! 

Soaking up the sun on a chilly day.

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My Corner of the World

Saturday's Critters