Ugh oh. It’s always a bad sign when I write three or four paragraphs and then go back and delete them all. Every single word.
But that’s what I’m doing tonight. Nothing’s sticking. Nothing’s gaining traction in my head and leading me somewhere even remotely interesting.
Oh sure. As soon as I wrote the above, the ‘poison ivy dot’ that appeared on the inside of my thigh last night started itching with a vengeance. I guess the Universe is giving me a counter-irritant?
I’m complaining about having nothing to write about this evening and so my body manufactures a poison ivy dot. See, I know this is a trap. If I scratch the itch that’s emanating from this single raised dot of irritated skin – and really, emanating doesn’t do it justice; It’s pulsing, taunting me. It practically has a life all its own – I know with preternatural certainty that the dot will spread its cursed tentacles across the back of my leg and thus will begin a summer of chasing the poison across the wasteland of my skin. From thigh to wrist to finger to foot – and everywhere in between.
Being Dramatic
Oh sure, you think I’m being dramatic. If you’re judging and dismissing my dismayed lament as exaggeration, it’s obvious you’re one of the lucky ones. One of those people who states with abandon (and yes, a taunting hint of glee in your voice), “I could roll around naked in poison ivy and never feel a thing!”
And as I type this – literally as I sit here – other dots are popping up on my body. Now there’s one on my pinky finger. And another on my back.
Aaargh. Obviously Spartacus must’ve gotten some urushiol (poison ivy oil) on his coat and then burrowed under the covers last night.
Honestly, I think I’m at least partially talking myself into this spreading across my body as I sit here. Either that or perhaps I’m having an allergic reaction to something else.
I think I’m going to call it a night and see if I can find a Benedryl tablet in the medicine cabinet. Sometimes it’s best to throw in the towel and raise the white flag.
I know I’m not divulging anything new if I clue you in to the fact that these two creatures are the best snuggle bunnies ever. And I’m not talking about snuggling with each other, either (like they’re doing in this photo)!
No, Spartacus and Tigger are my stalwart companions, day and night.
My day invariably begins with Spartacus jumping into bed with me, burrowing under the covers, and literally pressing his back into the small of mine, perfectly aligning his body along my spinal column. He’s slept with us all night, mind you. But he usually gets up early with Karl, and upon his return, stakes out his favorite territory – my back.
Meanwhile, like clockwork, Tigger trots into our bedroom as soon as he hears me stir. He mrrrows at me (every single morning!), seemingly asking for permission to approach (or perhaps just saying good morning), and ensconces himself on the other side of my body. He, too, snuggles up and conforms his body to mine, except he’s up against my front, with my hand buried into the fur of his tummy. I can’t imagine any of the other cats I’ve loved in my life putting up with, much less seeking out, such assertive cuddling!
I have to admit, some days it’s almost impossible to drag myself out from under the covers.
Nighttime Ritual Too
But just as they protect me, front and back, each morning, they also tag team me at night as well. It’s adorable, really, to witness their routine.
Every night, Spartacus expectantly stares at Karl when he starts falling asleep on the couch. He then escorts Karl upstairs, luring him with the prospect of some of the same snuggles Karl sees me receiving in the morning. Tigger is almost always already upstairs on our bed by that time.
After about half an hour (believing Karl’s asleep?), Spart returns downstairs, jumps up beside me on the couch and promptly falls asleep. He keeps me company while I write. Tigger, meanwhile, comes downstairs for a quick drink when he hears me closing my laptop, but is then eager to return to the dreamtime.
I’m guessing you’re all acutely aware of how tired I am tonight. My snuggle bunnies are calling.
Just another benefit of that unconditional love I wrote about yesterday, I guess.
Between my walks yesterday and today (both of which I managed to get in just under the wire, dodging the rain), I managed to photograph some beautiful things. I just love how every once in a while I discover something small beside the road and when I zoom in on it, it appears even more exquisite than it did when I first glimpsed it.
Most of my walks lately have been silent. I wonder if this causes me to notice the little things even more. I don’t know.
The first flower I came upon today – which I don’t think I’ve written a post about before (although I may be wrong) – was the buttercup. I saw a flower being written about on Facebook a week or so ago, and the people writing were calling the yellow flowers buttercups. But they didn’t look like the buttercups I grew up with.
The ones I grew up with looked like the one above. I remember holding them under the chin of my friend Chris, or my mom, or even under my own wrist – you know, to see if it reflected yellow, which meant you ‘liked butter.’ Ha – I never was a big butter fan when I was younger. But I always loved the magic of buttercups.
Spartacus enjoyed tromping around on them today. I didn’t pick any, so I’m not sure if they reflected on him. But I do know he loves butter.
Spartacus Wondering What All the Fuss Is About – Photo: L. Weikel
Another Beauty
I’m not sure what wildflower this is, but it was a singlet – alone in the midst of a lot of greenery. I don’t remember seeing it yesterday, so it’s possible it only bloomed this morning.
Forgive me – I feel like I can get lost in the act of just staring into the faces of these wildflowers. They’re simply lovely.
Somehow or another, just seeing them today reminded me of the countryside in which I grew up. I have to wonder how it is that those days seem so long ago yet almost just yesterday.
There’s nothing like some stormy weather to bring sky visions that make me want to swoon. Actually, instead of falling away in a faint, I simply find myself stopping every several yards to gape in wonder at the magnificence unfolding across the aerial landscape.
When I have to walk alone (I should clarify: when only Spartacus and I are on a walk) I find myself snapping impatiently at the poor pup, who only wants to keep moving to the next scent station while I insist on taking yet another photo. I can almost hear him whining “But Mommy, you just took three photos. We need to keep mooooviiiing.” And so he tugs on his leash, which jerks my arms and jiggles my phone, and causes me to mess up the photo.
But the shifting clouds and sunlight, the shapes transforming before my eyes, the shafts of light creating elevators to the Hanaqpacha (Upper World) beckon irresistibly. I know first-hand: if you blink your eyes they’re gone. And just because the sky is full of mysterious permutations at the moment does not mean they’ll be here tomorrow. Far from it. They may not be here five minutes from now. Thus, I must seize the moment, puppy impatience be damned.
Soften your gaze – North Wind – Photo: L. Weikel
North Wind
Much to Spartacus’s chagrin, I couldn’t stop stopping today. The magic was relentless. I was simply happy we were managing to get a walk in at all. Just as my ‘work’ day was coming to a close, the aforementioned stormy weather really kicked in and I started to doubt. But the wind and rain only lasted for an hour or so, and Spart and I soon decided to risk it.
Look at the above cloud bank. Soften your gaze. Do you see the face within the great blue grayness? It’s reminiscent, to me at least, of the bronzed face of Harrison Ford (as Han Solo) in the second Star Wars movie. I didn’t see that face until I got home. I took the photo for the simple purpose of capturing the power aloft.
Good Boy
Maybe ten minutes later at the most, I couldn’t allow the exquisite beauty unfolding before my eyes to go unrecorded one more moment. “Spart! Hang on! Come ‘ere!” My commands punctuated the shushing of the wind as it worked to unfurl the newly budded leaves of the ash, sycamore, and maples behind me. The setting sun illuminating wisps of clouds in peach colored garb wouldn’t wait.
He listened – for the most part. Well enough to deserve two treats after Mommy took her dumb photos. What a good boy.
I just realized something: I don’t have any photos taken of my beloved Tohickon Creek in April. At least I don’t have a single photo from April 2020 – and none so far this year, either. (I’ll have to make a point of remedying this situation!) I discovered this when I went looking for a recent photo to use of the creek and the latest one I could find was taken last week, on March 30th. Feeling resourceful, I thought, “OK, I’ll search my archive and try to find one from last April.” Nope.
The reason, I suspect, is because April is Trout Season in Pennsylvania, and the Tohickon, being stocked with trout, is a tremendous magnet for those who commune with nature in that manner. W’re thus routinely inundated with fisherpeople throughout the month of April.
Sounds of Nature
The reason I went searching for a photo of the Tohickon to begin with was because I wanted to write a little about an interesting article I read about how the sounds of nature soothe our anxious minds and make our lives better.
As you can read for yourself, the sounds of running water and birds are the soothers-in-chief. Not the slightest surprise to me. There are times when I visit my Tohickon, park in the little pull-off close to the bank of the creek, open my car window, and just close my eyes. Listening to her voice is a balm to my soul that’s almost indescribable.
And of course, I only wax rhapsodically about the birds around our house in practically every other post I write. Speaking of which, they’ve been pretty quiet lately – hungry brooding hawks, I suspect, having a somewhat chilling effect on the allure of our feeders. But even when they’re playing it safe and sticking close to their nests, their joyful songs inevitably resume after a short period of silence.
There is one creature, though, who’s lately been basking in the glory of the sounds of nature, the warmth of the sun, the inherent freedom of being outside without a harness, and the comfort of being surrounded by his humans.
Yes, sometimes Spartacus seems to have ‘the’ life.
Spartacus Enjoying the Sounds of Nature – Photo: L. Weikel
Spooning, cuddling, call it what you will. I venture a guess there are only a few people out there who don’t find immense comfort in the ritual of holding or being held. Or, as in our case, switching off in the middle of the night by mumbling a barely recognizable, “Hold or be held?” and then adjusting ourselves according to the wishes of the one being asked.
At least we take turns giving each other priority preference.
But the pleasures of spooning do not end with homo sapiens in our house. No sir. As can be seen from my photo, above, even two of our three cats were recently caught spooning with each other.
Cletus and Tigger
A few weeks ago I managed to take this photo of Cletus and Spartacus sleeping sort of adjacent to each other (more sharing a pillow than cuddling – with Tigger hanging out on the periphery). Precious, of course, was nowhere to be seen. She tends to sleep by her self, often choosing to perch on the back of a couch and snoring so loudly you’d swear it was another human.
Cletus, Spartacus, Tigger – Photo: L. Weikel
While the animals definitely have affection for each other that genuinely seems to be more than mere tolerance, it is nevertheless rare to have two male cats (albeit neutered) who are completely unrelated to each other actually cuddle up.
But then you give the whole scenario some perspective and you realize just how potentially stereotype-shattering this whole ‘spooning’ exercise really is in our household.
Perspective
Ah yes, there it is again: perspective. It really is fascinating just how much of a role our perspective plays on everything we perceive. Our perspective – or the overall context in which we perceive creatures or anything, shapes and colors our entire experience.
It was with this truth in mind that I pulled back from my closeup of Cletus and Tigger spooning in order to give a wider view of the potential sleeping arrangements available to our pets.
Many rooms at the Inn – Photo: L. Weikel
Clearly, there was a deliberate choice to share a deluxe pillow together, as there were a plethora of beds available for them to sleep independently.
I’m left to wonder, in all honestly, just how much comfort and reassurance our cats require in these strange times. How similar are they to us when it comes right down to it?
No matter how you look at it, it’s pretty adorable.
As you all know, I’m riveted by the Constitutional drama spooling out before our very eyes this week. But instead of discussing any of the abominably appalling details of what tried to pass for a defense of DT today, I’m electing instead to offer a comfort post.
I was going to title this Spartacus and the Pussycats, but – nah. My pets have no aspirations to emulate an early 70’s cartoon band, thank goodness. Nor would I condone them going on the road in the midst of a pandemic, even if they did. Somebody’s got to be the adult around here.
Instead, I’ll just give you some puppy and kitty cameos to make you smile.
Tigger Striking a Pose – Photo: L. Weikel
Fiddling While Rome Burns
I have to admit it feels just a little bit like I’m fiddling while Rome (or perhaps more accurately, D.C.) burns. But no. I don’t want to go there.
One place I will go, though, is to give a shout out to a young Penn State grad, Gabby Richards, who is the Communications Director for Representative Mary Gay Scanlon. She and Daniel Gleick, Communications Director for Representative Val Demings, wrote a letter on behalf of Congressional Staffers urging Senators to convict Donald Trump of inciting an insurrection.
What’s most remarkable about the effort of Gabby Richards and Daniel Gleick is the unprecedented nature of Congressional staffers taking a stand and speaking out on such an issue. I’d seen an interview featuring both of these staffers on Rachel Maddow on January 29th, when their letter had over 300 signatures. Tonight, however, Richards was interviewed again by Lawrence O’Donnell. She disclosed that she and Gleick had opened up the letter for additional signatures yesterday, I believe, and within an hour they had 100 additional signatures, and as of this evening they are up to 550 staffers entreating Senators to stand up for our Republic.
Precious Knows – Photo: L. Weikel
Two-fer
I will end this post here. You’ve essentially received a two-fer. Comforting photos of lovable pups and kitties, and a nod to some inspiring young people taking a stand and publicly entreating our representatives to Do. The. Right. Thing.
My feathered friends were in fine fettle today. Comings, goings, dodging of snowball-sized snowflakes. There was even a chickadee photo-bomb thrown into the mix. Life doesn’t get much better than having access to such color and sassiness, puffery and strategy.
We’ve formed a mutual admiration club that only seems to improve with time. I ensure their supply of sunflower seeds is topped off and never in danger of depletion and they provide a non-stop tutorial in avian culinary predilections and territorial posturing.
It just so happened I received an article about those very habits in my inbox this morning, which made my observations all the more enlightening.
Patience – Photo: L. Weikel
A Mere Sampling
It should be noted that the photos in tonight’s post are from only one of my feeders. The truth is, there’s an entire cadre of winged ones that don’t even deign to visit this particular feeder, probably because it’s so close to the house. As a result, these photos are but a mere sampling of the visitors we entertain.
The truth is, these spoiled creatures have access to seven other feeders on another side of our house. I just happen to feature photos mostly from this feeder because they’re the easiest for me to take. Indeed, sometimes it’s hard for me to get anything accomplished when they’re flitting and kibitzing with each other right outside my window.
And then there’s the occasional Boeing 747 that lands on the feeder, scattering all the little ones from hither to yon. I’m talking the red shouldered woodpeckers and blue jays, mostly. While these beasts were around today and sending everyone away in an occasional frenzy, they seemed a bit camera shy.
Don’t talk with your mouth full – Photo: L. Weikel
The Others
After I topped off the seven ‘other’ feeders, including the peanut coil, I stood very quietly on the porch and just observed. It did not take a full sixty seconds before everybody got the word that the goods had been delivered. A free-for-all was here for the taking.
Many of the birds that grace our land enjoy nibbling their kibble directly from the ground. Cardinals tend to be ground feeders (although they obviously won’t hesitate to imbibe from a feeder if need be), as do juncos. I didn’t realize that until today, when as I stood stock still on the porch to see who would show up if they thought I’d retreated inside, I saw at least fourteen juncos show up and do a little dance under the peanut coil.
I’m pretty sure they were more interested in the sunflower seeds I’d scattered there than the peanuts, but you never know. I’m always surprised by the little guys that try to wedge a peanut twice as big as their head out of the coil. I have to wonder: is that a ‘meal for the day?’
Crowd at the bar – Photo: L. Weikel
Sacrifice
I made the conscious choice to keep my phone (and hence my camera) in my pocket as I stood in observation mode on the porch. It was a sacrifice, but I didn’t want any movement of mine to scatter them. I wanted to see if I could get them to feel safe enough to eat freely in my presence. At one point, my quick count of all those prancing on top of the snow, clinging to the feeders themselves, and kibitzing from the overhanging branches of the maples came to at least 68.
I have to admit, it was a precious few minutes early this afternoon when I was graced with their trust. I’d decided to refill the feeders at that moment because the snowball-sized snowflakes that had pelted the area in a barrage of white fluff (it got deep fast) had subsided. The Weather Channel app on my phone was remarkably accurate this storm – and true to their prediction, I had a window in which to refill the feeders.
As I stood there watching and listening to the house and goldfinches, chickadees, juncos, cardinals, sparrows, woodpeckers, blue jays, wrens, and nuthatches call to each other, the snowstorm resumed. The flakes were no longer big enough to build a fort with singlehandedly, but they were falling so thickly and furiously, my eyelashes were coated and I could swear the birds were ducking.
This was a wonderfully beautiful, long-lasting snowstorm that I was delighted to enjoy with the birds that share our land and home with us.
Cletus and Spartacus, on the other hand, the ones who usually are first out the door? That was not on their agenda today.
Spartacus “I feel so much better” – Photo: L. Weikel
Reprieve
Ah. Do you feel it? A slight ripple of calm, an underlying current, a non-verbal sense of ease encouraging us to take a deep breath for the first time in as long as we can remember. What do we even call it? A reprieve?
Merriam Webster Dictionary gives us this salient definition:
Reprieve. (Noun) (…) 3. : a temporary respite (as from pain or trouble)
Yes, that’s a pretty accurate description of how I felt today. For whatever reason, pretty much from the moment I opened my eyes to right now as I write this, I felt as though the headlock of pain we’ve been forced into lately just dropped a way. For a time, at least. <<Poof>>
If I’m honest, there’s a voice inside that’s naively hoping this is the harbinger of a new day. That it’s more than a simple reprieve; that it’s a new era. Alas, while I may wish it were so, I nevertheless trust the words that come to me, particularly the words that come to me during this sacred time of the day when I set aside everything else and dedicate my attention to my 1111 Devotion.
The word that came was reprieve. And the operative part of the definition that caught my eye (which was also included each of the other resources I checked ), the part I want to ignore but feel constrained to instead highlight? The word temporary.
We’ll Take It
But you know what? Life’s too short to keep ourselves on tenterhooks. Not only is it exhausting to try to remain ever vigilant, it’s also a fool’s errand. It’s better to trust our intuition, grab some joy or peace or simple relief when we can, and give ourselves a chance to recharge our hope batteries.
Things are changing. They are on the precipice of getting better.
It’s possible we’ll still be faced with rage and violence this week from people who’ve been radicalized by DT. But I want to believe that today was an example of the winds of insurrection being hit with the doldrums. Perhaps, if we’re lucky, the wind will soon be permanently out of those sails.
Spartacus Concurs
And so I offer this photo of Spartacus from earlier today. I mentioned the other night that he was bouncing back quite nicely from the shocking appearance of ‘cherry eye,’ and this is my proof.
A little background on this photo: We received a video this morning of one of our ‘Grandcats’ (we have four) stalking and pouncing on an empty paper bag, which Karl and I kept playing over and over. (Yet more proof that we were feeling the playfulness and simple joy of this reprieve.) It felt so great just to laugh.
In the midst of our chuckling, Spartacus, feeling oh-so-much-better than he was feeling last week at this time, started prancing around in circles chasing one of his chew toys. Plopping it in front of me, the message was clear: this reprieve is for all of us to enjoy, Mommy.
There’s so much stress swirling around all of us these days. It’s in the atmosphere, on the news, in the grocery store, on the Capitol steps. It’s bombarding us on our phones, in our homes, and definitely squeezing hospitals all across the country – and around the world. It seems there’s no escape.
But there is. It’s called Nature.
I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir here. Nevertheless. Even if I am, I’m going to repeat myself. Because no matter how vigilant we are about maintaining our balance or taking a break from the news, it can be all too easy to talk ourselves out of it in times like these. Taking a walk, watching the flow of a creek, or sitting on the porch for 15 minutes to watch the sunset can feel entirely inappropriate when viewed through the lens of how dire life can seem at the moment.
Case in Point
Over the weekend, when I wrote about how so many of us are feeling under pressure, Spartacus was also feeling the stress. The very same day my tooth broke, Spartacus woke up with an extreme flare-up of what’s commonly called ‘Cherry Eye.’ I describe it as extreme because he has occasionally sported a red bump in the corner of his eye before, but never was it so huge as it was on Sunday. It was extremely disconcerting to look at him. It almost felt as though he, too, had been feeling the pressure – and while I took my stress out on my tooth, he manifested his where his body was the weakest.
Even worse than how awful it looked was how sad he became. He was totally thrown off his game by losing most of the sight in his eye – and sadly, that’s how large the prolapse was. Even when he slept, his eye wasn’t closing. He barely sniffed at his food. We even took a walk, but in spite of the mild weather, his heart wasn’t in it.
I’m glad to report that the ointment they gave me for his eye worked wonders – even on the bulge as big as it was. He feels so much better now. (I’ll post an ‘after’ photo tomorrow – or soon, at least. I promise!)
Spart’s Cherry Eye – Photo: L. Weikel
Lost My Point
Ha ha – as I sit here, I swear, I’ve lost the point of where I was going with this post. I didn’t intend to write in such detail about Spartacus’s affliction, but there it is. I’ll share it, since it has a happy resolution. I didn’t want to write about it while we were going through it because it’s one thing to write about a broken tooth and quite another to write about your puppy (even if he is 12 years old) looking like he’s been in a war.
I didn’t want to bum any of us out any more than we were already feeling!
I Remember Now
I was writing about the simple joy of being in Nature and how essential it is for all of us to be reminded of that fact, especially as we face these intensely stressful times. I related the story about Spartacus because this afternoon, he and I were hanging out on the porch for a moment as I filled the birdfeeders, and I was filled with gratitude that he was feeling so much better and was shamelessly basking in the sun.
We’ve had a satisfying array of visitors to our feeders, and Karl’s trick of hanging chunks of Irish Spring soap to the feeders seems to have quelled the deer from draining the tubes each night. As I listened to the birds chirping and cheeping in the branches and bushes surrounding the porch, alerting all their friends and neighbors that the two legged was finally refilling the feeders and maybe even putting out some peanuts, I recalled an article I’d read recently about the impact of birdwatching on our happiness.
Just another example of how being in Nature is a balm to our souls.
In spite of all the anxiety we’re feeling over extremism in our lives and the possibility of more violence over the next several days, give yourselves the gift of appreciating the simple, natural, pleasures in life. The cardinals and chickadees. The squirrels and goldfinches. The puppy who can see again, scrounging up shelled peanuts that fall to the ground when you’re filling the peanut coil.
