Micro

A dozen or so

Microgardens growing here

Crowded together. 

When asked what I grow, I begin listing, and the list is very long. Because this wasn't planned as a whole, landscaped, groomed, perfect space. I dug a hole, fed the soil, tried a plant. If it grew, it could stay. If it died, I would try another.  Over and over I dug, fed, planted, waited.  I tried to read the seed packages and plant requirements, but so often I was swept away by the image on the package or the ID tag in the pot. Sometimes, those grew well, often they became compost. 

I fought foxtail grasses, Morning Glory, English Ivy, Star of Bethlehem and assorted weeds whose name I never learned. Replaced them with Lemon Balm and catmint, and some other mint, but at least those do not have spiky seeds that get lodged in dog's paws. Nor does it grow up the bricks and destroy the mortar. Yes, it's also invasive, but it is green and Eleanor loves it.  Veronica covers the soil in winter and early spring, another volunteer, protecting the bare ground. I pull it up and compost it, just enough to let other life through after it is spent. It's welcome enough in its season. 

Lots of irises, tulips, alliums this year, color in spring. 

Life returning. 

Ashes

 How can I forget

That I am dust and unto 

Dust I shall return?

"Fortunately, some are born with spiritual immune systems that sooner or later give rejection to the illusory worldview grafted upon them from birth through social conditioning. They begin sensing that something is amiss, and start looking for answers. Inner knowledge and anomalous outer experiences show them a side of reality others are oblivious to, and so begins their journey of awakening. Each step of the journey is made by following the heart instead of following the crowd and by choosing knowledge over the veils of ignorance." 

 - Henri Bergson 

daily zen

Strangely, I've used this analogy most of my adult life. Ten years of catholic school inoculated me against religion. Quite the opposite effect from what my mother intended.  And my questioning began about age seven, when St. Anthony clearly failed to find a small ring I'd lost.  If a saint can't convince a god to find a small child's most treasured possession, what good are they? Nothing should be easier, or more important if they required her belief. The only sensible deduction is that neither exist at all. 

Fuzzy

 She loves him, purring.

Sleeps behind his knee, pinning

Him down as he sleeps.

Márquez

New glasses.  

And so I rest here

A day ends a year ends here

At the end I rest. 

This is not what I could have expected, but I think a year ago I would have been glad to know there was respite. Not salvation, no paradise, but an easing, less pain, a chance. 

I have been vaccinated just over a year now, a second vaccination, a booster. Tested and shown antibodies, likely had it two years ago now.  Love in the Time of Corona. 

The war started long ago continues, the outcome unknowable.  The peace lays in our hearts, in our love for each other, and will not be extinguished. 

Lachrymating

Showed up in the Atrium at work. 

Then it snowed, and it deflated. 

Zeppo looking out. 

Before the storm. 

"When we meet somebody whose separate tunnel-reality is obviously far different from ours, we are a bit frightened and always disoriented. We tend to think they are mad, or that they are crooks trying to con us in some way, or that they are hoaxers playing a joke. Yet it is neurologically obvious that no two brains have the same genetically-programmed hard wiring, the same imprints, the same conditioning, the same learning experiences. We are all living in separate realities. That is why communication fails so often, and misunderstandings and resentments are so common. I say "meow" and you say "Bow-wow," and each of us is convinced the other is a bit dumb." -Robert Anton Wilson, Prometheus Rising 

 The cold rain and snow falls 

Tired eyes raw with blue screens 

Hope sleeps deeply now.

Meadow

 This meadow lives here

Instead of lawn. Invited 

spreading lush and green. 

Ventana

 Blank day, drifting grey,

Mud, weeds, construction noises,

Painless lumpiness. 

Holding

 My mind will not wrap,

My heart gone numb, my body

Sleeping on marble.

Despair seeping up

From under the icy floor. 

Awaiting orders.

When I got shipped over to Saudi for GWI, the night we got to our billet, we did not have sleeping bags or pads, only a woolen blanket and our carry bag. It was cold and the floors were marble. We had no idea what was ahead of us. 

These troops are a little different, most have likely seen actual combat. I guarantee, they are still cold and sore. 

At least we are holding, we are holding. 

Gratitude

Gratitude abounds

In isolated silence

Saving for later. 

I read but do not

express my dreadful worries

Backburnering hope.

Broken bones, torn tendons

Of course it hurts, nothing works

Must start again now. 

Rattled to the core

This is when we can change all

Shiva's fire cleaning. 

If I do not get up for work, Zeppo presses into my hip in the morning. When I stir enough to lay a hand down and rub his belly, he purrs loudly, Eleanor walks up me and settles on my chest. The other arm must come out to lay on her as she kneads and purrs. A recent ritual, a few weeks in the making. Zeppo past so much of his fear, there is further to go, but he is driven by his desire for love and capacity for love. Eleanor takes her own place and is content. 

We will, of course, stay away from those we love, out of love. To do otherwise would be selfish in the extreme. Thankfully, all our friends feel the same, and we so far have successfully repelled the virus.  Even Dylan's parents are still well. And we had to stop and remember how grateful we are that none of those we love have been sucked down the false rabbit holes of the day. 

Varnish

Summer heat lingers

Pulling back old paint, varnish

Erosion season.

Made a photo of some of my tea stuff for another site. 

June

Cold June storm rolls in,
Clouds pouring hail, making mud,
Garden breathes deeply.

AC and Furnace in a single week. More storms this evening, this time over the lake so likely even more water. I hope the mountains get more snow. This was all well predicted, wave after wave trudging across the valley.

Gust

Between my arm and
Body my warm purring cat.
Tail covers elbow.


Lots of rain overnight. After whistling gusting winds. A good soaking rain, much cooler. Garden is ruffled, and very happy. I'll go out and find the sneaky weeds this afternoon.


22 May 5:54 pm 62˚F Winds NNW 44 Gusting to 53MPH 3.00 miles visibility

At work everyone is still adjusting, after a couple of months of minimal work, more sitting than any of us have had since we started in the OR. We remember that it took a while for our bodies to adjust to standing on hard floors so long, and we have to learn again. I was the resource/break/lunch person yesterday, and I racked up 16k steps. My legs are seriously pissed off at me today, and were complaining all night.

Memorial Day feels very weird this year. We normally don't do anything on these civic holidays, nor do I exactly need a day off. So... yeah.

High up, it snowed.

Swamped

Swamped in a grey mood
Frustration loop spinning in
Useless dusty ruts.

Can't seem to get myself out of this irritated, bored, tired mind fog. It's been going on all day. I've tried doing things, which hasn't worked well, as I drop and break things and stick myself. Doing nothing leaves me restless, I get up, walk outside and dither, come back inside. Not quite warm enough to read outside, too windy. Not raining, not sunny, the sky a dirty white block of greige barely over our heads.

Hamsterwheeling thoughts of regrets and unsolvable past mistakes and injustices and losses. I feel on the verge of sobbing, without any particular emotion or thought behind the tears. The grief and burn-out has abated somewhat, but today welled up in a stinking morass.

Everything breaking, everything falling apart, everything a muddle. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, a great emptiness.

I did weed and water. I did clear around the compost heap that I have not properly turned, sorted sticks for the garden shredder. I got the dishes run, litter boxes emptied. This is not much, lacking even a sense of accomplishment today. I circle and circle.



Zeppo is stretched out on the arm of the sofa next to Dylan's arm, head dangling over the edge. He begins to love and feel love, trust will grow much more slowly. We have not had him a year yet.

Pull

My favorite so far.

Real

A place to write haiku together. 

My favorite so far,

oh little virus

BARBARA • PHOENIX, AZ

You’ve forced us to stay inside 

LEXY • NEW JERSEY, USA

Let’s dance without pants

LIZ • JERSEY CITY, NJ

Talked out, cold, empty.  Tomorrow, a more suitable desk and warmer room.  Hoping to get set up to work from home.

This shit is real.

Cotyledon

Rain totals 0.28" from last night, ground soaked deep. Evidence of germination, lentils and beans and sunflowers, they all look alike at this stage. Ontology recapitulates phylogeny†.

Mud in it's season
Soft for the cotyledons
Hidden underground.


We took to bed early, nothing else to do and so much time to do it in. Dylan has a book. Eleanor stretched out on Dylan's right leg. Zeppo jumps up, steps over Eleanor, presses his face into my nose, I start a belly rub as he drifts up onto Dylan's left leg. One big lump of cuddle.

I slept oddly. Dreams that I didn't register as dreaming until I woke up enough to think about it. No, I wasn't actually checking someone's mail surreptitiously, but legally, leaving no trace, but confiscating one package in a strange apartment with a mailbox in the wall beside the door.

Woke from one, got up, checked the weather, Zeppo singing for food. Fed him at 0345. Crawled back in bed, Dylan got up briefly, put on an audiobook, we settled back down. Eleanor had not moved from the middle of the bed. Zeppo jumped back up, stood on Dylan's shoulder, then flopped down between our faces, pressed his nose to mine a few times, and purred and purred. His purr is loud, truck engine with extra gravel.

Heard a guy roaring outside, Dylan went to check. He was struggling with his plastic bagged groceries, but seemed to be moving on. A moment later, the same screams. I'm in my pjs and robe, crocks (this is what I do for slippers), so I hesitated, but watched him in front of the neighbor's house struggling to carry his groceries. Fuck it. I grabbed a Trader Joe's bag, and ran out saying "Do you want a bag?"

He was wordless with frustration, but not angry, his hands out in despair. He took the bag, and I did my professional soothing voice.

"This will hold all that. It's ok, you're going to be ok. Take it easy, breathe."

I glanced behind me, and our local blind* guy with cane and rolling bag was walking toward us. Impeded sidewalk for someone with a cane. Frustrated Guy still flooded, so I talked to blind guy. "There's a man who's dropped his groceries here, take it slow."

Went back inside, no more wails of distress.


† It doesn't actually. But my biology teacher in high school had us learn the phrase to show off.
* I've spoken to him a few times, he knows my voice.

Screen

Listening to KRCL live. Charge RN brought in a pack of stick on green moustaches! I wore one on the mandatory* mask for the door screeners.



Planted the shamrocks, added the previous owner's much abused fire screen to moderate high desert sunlight.

Went in this morning, since I was not told specifically not to. They were going to send me home, then needed someone at one of the only two doors unlocked. I screened and directed people for a couple of hours. I don't mind, but it's perhaps not the best use of hospital funds to use an RN as a door greeter. Everyone is drifting between shrugging cheerfully and mildly irritated resignation. I'll be offering my time to do phone screening later today, not going in for the next couple of weeks. I can afford nearly two months just with my accrued time off, assuming they don't offer anything else.

Stopped at Trader Joes on my way home. Big sign saying "We're all in this together" and not to take more than two of any item, and not more than one cart full. While they weren't fully stocked, there was enough. I picked up more tinned herring, shelf stable cream, frozen meals, and our normal groceries, three bags worth. Didn't use a cart at all. And a half gallon of milk for our neighbor, who got gouged at the big grocery store, and was worried about getting more. He wanted to pay me, I refused.


Reading Ghosts of the Tsunami, perspective.

The big wave heaving
Roaring silent destruction
Are we high enough?


*It'll stop some droplets if someone coughs at. Not much help, but more is overkill in this situation. Just wash your hands well. With soap.

Dwarf

Dwarf Alberta Spruce, newly planted. If it gets too big, it will be long after I will be around to care. I will keep it pruned, as and when.

Thinking about this virus as I would Pink eye, which is ridiculously infectious, and in much the same way.

Reading a Peter Cotton short story, Redeemable.

Found an old post that I rather like.

A quiet before
harbingers of plague and war
Our backs together.

Pan

Panic in the air
Classes and events cancelled
I wait, so calmly.

"Don't just do something! Stand there."


When those around me grow frantic, I plan and dig in, erase worries, breathe. And wait for the trauma patient to roll in. This is my training, this is my nature. I worry most when no one else is. My role is to watch for the right thing to do. When there is nothing for me to do, I protect my sterile field. My mouth is closed and relaxed, in a way that makes speech reluctant.

Yes, the masks are on lockdown, because lots of boxes of masks have gone missing, and supply is already a problem. Mexico already makes a lot of our drapes, this could be a windfall for their economy.

One of our surgeons that I worked with briefly this week, has been in contact with the basketball player that is down with TheVirus. I don't think I touched him, but it is a potential vector. Dylan works with the public, the most unwashed of all, and is likewise feeling the anxiety.


So, I dug up nascent foxtail grass and planted lentils and black mustard seeds. Dig in dirt, tend my little spot of soil. Wait for signs.

The Law of Unintended Consequences is declaring a takeover, or not declaring which is more to the point. Everybody turn in your cards and pull out a random hand. The infinite improbability drive is engaged.

Watch for falling petunias. Or whales.

Flinch

Swamped in a hard year
So behind and underneath
I dig up to light.

Both cats agree that the only place to sleep at night is on the bed with the people. Saw Eleanor give Zeppo one lick on his ear, as they nuzzled heads. They take turns with us, Eleanor confident that she is loved, lets Zeppo get his turn.

This morning, still in bed. After Eleanor got well ruffled sitting on my chest, she sneezed and jumped off. Zeppo beside me let me massage him, both hands, I put my head to his back, he purred and relaxed, one leg in a nonchalant attitude. When I sit here, he makes pass after pass for back strokes and tail catches. I nearly pull his tail, and he returns over and over. He reaches up to pat me if I miss a turn. He'll rub his face into my hand.

If I move my hand toward his head in a way he isn't expecting, he flinches. And it breaks my heart. I apologize, and let him approach in his own way, in his own time. He's doing so well, we have to remind ourselves how slow this process can be. How far he had to come, and how young he is still.


Dylan fixed our doorbell/intelligence test yesterday. I polished and restrung it today. The old spot needs a little paint, maybe later today. Maybe when I apply the greenish wash to the orange painted brick later this year.




Had a scrub tech of less than a year yell at me yesterday on a matter of sterility, in front of surgeon and resident, and she was not correct. This was after I twice had to direct her away from patient care parts of my job that are not in her job description and that needs to be done by a licensed person, or working under the direction of a licensed person. Since I don't trust her to follow directions, I will not let her do this under my license. So she decided to shame me in front of the surgeon, which fell flat. I hate having to talk to my manager about this sort of thing, but manager invites it, and uses the information appropriately, so I do.

Massage this morning, which both helps, and identifies the actual sources of pain. I have exercises planned. I also smell really nice.



A photo list of black cats.