“But you can't plead with autumn. No. The midnight wind stalked through
the woods, hooted to frighten you, swept everything away for the
approaching winter, whirled the leaves. ("The North")”
The mating dance of the Sandhill Crane. It's one of my favorite things about the birds. I get to see the ritual as it unfolds, and speaking of unfolding, aren't their wings impressive? That is a picture of two adult cranes with a juvenile in the center. I am hoping to get more photos of the kid cranes, but as yet I haven't spotted many. This has been a strange time for spotting birds. They just aren't coming in very fast. I spotted just a single snow goose the other day, and the mergansers haven't arrived in Smith Canal yet. I haven't read anything about the avian flu that struck the birds in the last year, in a while. I suppose I should go have a look see. Although, I am sure I want to know what the article might say.
“I love the autumn—that melancholy season that suits memories so well.
When the trees have lost their leaves, when the sky at sunset still
preserves the russet hue that fills with gold the withered grass, it is
sweet to watch the final fading of the fires that until recently burnt
within you.”
“Just as a painter needs light in order to put the finishing touches to
his picture, so I need an inner light, which I feel I never have enough
of in the autumn.”
“Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.”
How many times can I say... ooh...awww... when it comes to Autumn? Well, as it turns out, every single day I leave the house! If you dig Autumn, all others I apologize profusely!
“And that afternoon, as the sun slanted low through the changing autumn
leaves, I remembered to savor the moment, soak in the beauty, breathe
deeply and feel the immensity of God.”
Beginning the Journey Toward Hope in Chronic Illness
It's Autumn, and as I have mentioned in several posts, I feel pressured. I feel rushed. I feel inspired, but I feel like fitting in the time to savor the incredibly healing benefits of even one glorious Oak tree or grapevine, is selfish. However, sometimes one should say, well, fuck it, and head out to the farmland and the city parks, and simply let the season thrill you, and heal you. Never underestimate the power the natural world plays in the well being of the body. It's been a tough year for me. It was a mixed bag of blessings and grief, but my therapist encouraged me yesterday, during our regular monthly session, to treat myself with some kindness. Love. So, Autumn is peaking in my area right now, and I am out in it with my camera, documenting what I see, feel and smell. All it takes is one incredibly lovely oak tree and I instantly feel myself reach a state of calm. Hearing the migrating birds fly over has the same affect, and a sweet potato for dinner helps me sleep like no drug can. I feel pretty good, except for my arthritis, but even that hasn't stopped me too much. I am reaching happy. How about that?!
“Actually, throughout my life, my two greatest assets have been mental
stability and being, like, really smart,” the President continued.
“Crooked Hillary Clinton also played these cards very hard and, as
everyone knows, went down in flames. I went from VERY successful
businessman, to top T.V. Star … to President of the United States (on my
first try). I think that would qualify as not smart, but genius … and a
very stable genius at that!”
~Donald John Trump
It's that time of year again. Thanksgiving is upon us, and with it comes all those delicious opportunities to spread Covid-19. You remember Covid... right? You know, that pesky little virus that killed millions worldwide, and in the United States, 1,152,647, as of the writing of this blog post. Sigh. The variant, Omicron, the variant that Hubby gave me for Christmas, 2021, continues to mutate and at this point, we are on HV1, which first made its presence known last summer. So, here's the thing, there is a lot that can be done to take care of oneself, and others, but do we still make the basic efforts to do so?
1. Wash your hands.
2. WEAR A FUCKING MASK!
3. Ge the vaccine and the boosters.
4. Don't drink bleach!
5. It doesn't hurt to wipe your groceries down went you get home from the store. Tedious, but so is contracting a deadly virus. Sigh. You all know where you stand on this, but it makes me so sad to know anyone who takes the time to read my ramblings, may not be here a year from now, because we were all so ready to get back to "normal"
6. Gloves are a good idea. Hey, remember a few years ago when that report came out about what is actually found on shopping carts? Feces? Forget about it! Or rather, remember, that cart will hold the food you eat.
Of course a deadly pandemic occurs while Trump was in office. When I considered all the apocalyptic scenarios that would happen after he was elected on election night 2016, why didn't I think that would happen? When it was my turn to experience Captain Tripps, I felt so many things, as I lay face first into my Covid pillow. I thought about how Hubby and I had moved about the full first year, without catching either the original strain, of the equally dangerous, Delta variant. I wondered just how bad it might get. Would Hubby be okay? Eventually it became apparent we would survive. Weren't we lucky!? But now we had Omicron... what the Hell would that mean for Hubby and I, down the road?
Well, as it turns out, Hubby decided to retire because he couldn't get the strength he once had back. One day he was fine, the next day he is left with Tinnitus, and a seriously decreased energy level. We both have memory losses and the occasional heart flutter. Neither of which existed prior to our catching Covid-19. I couldn't eat normally for most of 2022, and to this day I can't mushrooms. Why? I have no idea, but it started about 2 weeks after I was symptom free. I consider myself lucky on that score, as my bout with the food repulsion was manageable during 2022, most folks who experienced this phenomena had it to very different degrees. It just seemed so sad for that to be a symptom. Omicron killed less folks than previous strains did, but it was not mild in the sense that it left lasting damage. And we were among the lucky ones.
Please... just take it seriously. I never want to get it again. Frankly... the thought scares the Hell out of me. And I really don't want to lose my husband because someone just couldn't be bothered to take care of themselves.
“There is a particular kind of afternoon sun that exists only in autumn.
A golden light drapes itself over the world of that hour. It falls
through the afternoon sky, fine and faint as a swirl of cigarette smoke
caught in the wind, nearly transparent. So sweet, that light, insisting
softly, goldly against the windows.”
‘Mid pleasures and Palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble there’s no place like home!
A charm from the skies seems to hallow us there,
Which seek through the world, is ne’er met with elsewhere.
Home! Home, sweet sweet Home!
There’s no place like Home! There’s no place like Home!
An Exile from Home, Splendour dazzles in vain!
Oh! Give me my lowly thatch’d Cottage again!
The Birds singing gaily that came at my call,
Give me them with the peace of mind dearer than all!
Home! Home, sweet sweet Home!
There’s no place like Home! There’s no place like Home!
To thee, I’ll return overburdened with care,
The heart’s dearest solace will smile on me there.
No more from that cottage again will I roam,
Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home.
Home! Home, sweet sweet Home!
There’s no place like Home! There’s no place like Home!
I photographed that little fella, he was only about the size of a chocolate chip, in a park in the Bay Area, and now I am a little worried for him, as the first big storm of the season will rain down later this week. It is predicted to drop as much as 3 inches of rain before it's finished, and dump a good bit of snow in the Sierras. Now, I take it all with a grain of salt, because many times storms weaken before coming onshore. Rain loves to hug the coast, but even if that happens, this little guy, is a baby spider among millions, just seems so darn fragile. Sigh. I dunno. I guess he will be okay, perhaps going underground, or into a crevice in the tree he is in. In any case, he will get himself to safety I am sure, but I can't help but think of him, he was so pretty, and seemed so happy building his web. I really enjoyed meeting him! Boy, have I changed! Now I just wish I had the courage to look up what kind of spider he is!
Autumn Days Yellow, mellow, ripened days, Sheltered in a golden coating; O'er the dreamy, listless haze, White and dainty cloudlets floating; Winking at the blushing trees, And the sombre, furrowed fallow; Smiling at the airy ease, Of the southward flying swallow. Sweet and smiling are thy ways, Beauteous, golden Autumn
~Will Carleton
The tumbleweeds, and the other dry vegetation, is so pretty right now. I know that sounds strange, but I find beauty in the last hints of autumn. In the wild weeds and small homes built by the ballooning spiders. I have a wonderful new obsession, and I can't believe I never saw it's crazy beautiful artistry before now.Tiny newborn spiders making a home for themselves. Imagine! With a little luck they will grow up to be big spiders, like my friend Boris did. What a happy thought. I mean, they have their place, hopefully outside in nature where they are needed. I try my best to not be needy about the tings a spider could help me with. And I have a great hope I will see Boris again one day.
Tiny nitnat bugs were flying over my head yesterday afternoon, as I made my way around the Clifton Court Forebay. I rolled the sunroof back, and snapped away. Critters. They looked like little faeries, or maybe little angels. While most folks would call them pests, I find them, well, enchanting. shrug. I guess it's Autumn, and I love every inch of it. From the amazing migration of geese to the ballooning spiders, to the last of the thistles, to the tiny nitnats that will be gone come winter. There is too much to see, and so little time left!
Autumn is a love song, and it is sung with so many happy voices. Can you hear them? I love it when I wake up, and hear the sound of Canada Geese, and Sandhill Crane flying over the house. Soon it will be a couple thousand Snow Geese, and Greater White-fronted geese. After that the Bufflehead ducks and Swallows. It's music. Autumn definitively has a marching band! And the tiny spiders and old forgotten weeds have a voice in it too. I promise. Go and listen to the sounds of November. Breathe in it's scent. It's intoxicating!
