Cat Gratitude

Hurtling towards the spring equinox I awoke to the sun in my eyes this morning.  It’s been months since that’s happened.  Yesterday I made an appointment for my second Covid vaccine.  There is light at the end of the tunnel.  Soon I will be able to resume somewhat of a normal life.  Camping and river trips are starting to appear on the calendar.

As with everyone else – it’s been a rough go through this pandemic (and everything else).  If I were going to give a speech at the “Covid Survival Awards”  at the beginning (while holding my covid 19 virus trophy) I would have to thank my two, now 7-month-old tuxedo kittens, Zoey and Zander, and their baby mama, Zinnia (“Mama Z”) for unwittingly helping time to survive this time.  Their endless antics and purrs have helped to keep laughter and smiles in my life.  I’m sure many of you out there feel the same…

Zander’s Gift

He is the fraidy one

but this morning he chose me

popping up on my quilted lap

his purr inviting me

to cradle his sweet body

love his ears

and the soft fur of his belly

with my hands

In this simple encounter with a cat

I breathe deeply

inhaling our mutual contentment

savoring that for a moment

all’s right with the world

Zoey, Mama Z, & Zander

Zoey top, Zander left

Artwork by the author

See my other blog about sustainable living at onesweetearth.art.blog

Bandit’s Last Ride

It was no surprise.  Bandit, our little red cattle dog, age 17 had been declining for months.  Like any elderly soul, we dealt with his incontinence and difficulty walking.  We put a doggy ramp on the porch stairs but on his last days put a sling under him to help him outside.

I’ve written about Bandit before in other posts- Stroller Dog and In the Company of Another Old Dog. I’ve loved all my dogs but he was exceptional in so many ways.  When his arthritis got too bad I  had altered a jogging stroller and a bike trailer so he would not miss out on our outdoor excursions.

The day before Bandit took his last breath, we carried him out to his beloved stroller.  I took him for one last ride down our favorite country road to the rushing creek swollen by the recent rains.  Even in his declining state, I could see the pure delight in his face as he took it all in.

We buried him out in a quiet corner of the yard under a big pine tree.  I fashioned a cairn in his honor to mark his grave and hung his collar on top. Bandit basically died of old age, wearing himself out by living well.  If we can only be so lucky.

We borrow the souls of our four-legged friends.  At some point, we have to let them go.  Their passing leaves holes in our hearts but in return, they give us such love and fond memories.

Goodbye Bandit

Rest In Peace

Jan. 16, 2021

Bandit’s final resting place
Continue reading “Bandit’s Last Ride”

My Words for the New Year 2021

I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions.  That concept sounds so burdensome.  Instead, I have a personal tradition of picking one or more words to aspire to live by for the coming year.  I revisit these words from time to time and check in on how I’m doing.  (Writing them on the bathroom mirror is a very effective strategy.)

My words for 2020 were acceptance and focus.  I almost wore out the word acceptance with the pandemic and political matters and it’s unlikely I can ever truly accept the damage of the forest fires had here in Oregon this year.  Climate change is unacceptable and is something I will always fight against.  Thus it has been a mixed bag with that word.  FOCUS has been an ongoing challenge for me but I am happy to report that I am BETTER!  Being a creative soul I am forever distracted by my thoughts and every shiny thing that comes along in my day.  Now though, I am more aware of my distractions and am honing a system to keep me on track.

This December I mulled over what my new words would be.  I wait to see what will bubble up to my subconscious and pick the ones I resonate with the most.  So drumroll..  my new words are:

Commitment–  I allowed myself this year to go “fallow” and dabble in a lot of creative pursuits.  Now I am ready to synthesize what I’ve learned into specific avenues.

Generosity– Give more of my time, talent, and money to others

Focus – This word remains on the list as I need more work with it.

Let the year unfold!  What are your words for 2020?

and my poem for you this New Year

A Toast for 2021

It’s the season of new

the Earth has spun through the heavens

and arrived at the place we call the beginning

a bookmark we humans have put in the order of things

the New Year, the first day of the first month of the 21st year of the 21st century

All is new, yet all the same

a cycle in a continuum of millennia

yet a comfort that we have a fresh start in our minds

Shall we proceed then with our new slippers

virgin calendars full of exotic pictures

day planners devoid of marks

and forge on with gusto?

for we have been given another turn

a blank canvas to paint another 12 months upon

Let us mix up our palettes with new intentions

hope, faith and the unseen circumstances that will surely find us

stroke, splash, and drip with abandon

make your marks with love, touching others with color

bringing forth new memories

painting this Earth a brighter place

Check out my other blog onesweetearth.art.blog on sustainable living.

The Darkest Night is Just Before the Dawn

We have arrived at the Winter Solstice, the tipping point where we in the N. Hemisphere mark the point where the earth will begin to rotate back to the sun’s full exposure. The Winter Solstice marks the longest night and the shortest day of the year.  While our modern calendar denotes it as the first day of winter, I and others from the time of the ancients mark it as the return of the light each day forward, bit by bit.  It is a time of hope and new beginnings – like a solar New Year. 

In a couple of hours, a few friends will gather at my home, take a walk, circle around a bonfire, sharing readings and thoughts.  We will also toss into the fire the things we are hoping to leave behind.  There are plenty for this year 2020 that I don’t even need to mention.  As we turn the corner in the heavens, let us heal from these disasters and let the fires of hope burn bright.

Happy Solstice!

Winter Solstice at Midnight

It is fairy dark

You can see their

Tiny torches in

The moonless night

Seeds stir

In their slumber

The earth turns on its axis

toward the light

The blaze of the fire

lights the shadows

hope burning bright

in our hearts

Sky Dance

Some of you may have witnessed this event called a “murmuration” of starlings- thousands of starlings swirling through the sky in a grand, seemingly coordinated performance. If you haven’t, do watch the video included with this post. I have noticed them more this year than in years past.

With technical photography, scientists are understanding more about the phenomenon. I think its one of natures “trade secrets.”

Murmurations

I am not fond of starlings

But in late autumn

Sometimes they crowd in the treetops

In a chirping chorus

Like a reunion of relatives

With an abundance of news to share

Who knows what stirs these rather uninspiring birds

To gather in in such a cacophony

Then on queue as if the din is too much

They rise from their perches to find positions

In an undulating dance that wafts over harvested fields.

They dip, swirl and twirl as one body

Thousands of avian forms performing with

Ballet grace in the sky

I pause from my walk to watch with reverence

A celebration?

A spiritual rite?

Scientists still don’t know quite how or why

A mystery

But I know magic when I see it

Alanna also blogs about sustainable living at onesweetearth.art.blog

Why I push My Dog in a Stroller

My dog Bandit is now 17 years old. He walks like a very slow wind up toy that sometimes tips over. The things that keep him going in life are his pain meds, love of food, and our stroller walks. Most of the time it’s local but on occasion he gets to the beach or on mountain trails. The stroller functions as his wheelchair. We are an item as we walk down the local roads. Often we are greeted by smiles and waves as people drive by. Then I get a lot of puzzled looks like “why is that woman pushing that 45 pound dog in a stroller?” Small children are often filled with a combination of delight and confusion.

I wrote this little poem to provide some insight…

Stroller Dog

I  missed our walkabouts

His cattle dog body

All worn out

So I bought him a stroller

That saw four children grow

Then fixed it up

So he could go

But instead of being side by side

I happily push him in his ride

By orchard, vineyard, fields of clover

Sheep and cows, up hills and over

His old dog face now young and free

I know he’d do the same for me

Up the lanes he would be panting

coasting down I would be chanting

“Good boy, good boy!” with so much glee

and he would say…

“Thank you, thank you for loving me.”

Young Bandit age 5
Bandit also has a bike trailer!

Alanna also blogs about sustainablity at onesweetearth.art.blog

What We Lost in the Fires

DAVID RYDER/GETTY IMAGES Phoenix, Oregon

September has been a gruesome month in my home state of Oregon. We were traumatized by wildfires and smoke that began Labor Day Weekend staying in our homes for 10 days to avoid breathing the toxic cloud of air that descended over the state.  Thousand of people were evacuated from their homes.  The fires ravaged over a million acres of land burning several 2800 structures including homes and businesses.  About 11 people lost their lives.  Many are homeless and without jobs. The towns of Detroit Lake, Talent, and Phoenix were decimated as with many communities up the McKenzie River Hwy.  Many of the larger fires are still burning.

Particularly heartbreaking to me is knowing that some of my favorite places were hit especially hard; the Breitenbush Hot Springs Community, the McKenzie River corridor, and the Opal Creek Ancient Forest Center and Wilderness.  These were places that recharged my soul.  Nature will renew them- but not in my lifetime.  It looks like my ashes will be scattered among the ashes.

Continue reading “What We Lost in the Fires”

Bidding Farewell to RBG

We lost a giant this last week. Ruth Bader Ginsburg passed away at 87 years old working tirelessly for womens rights and equality up into her death. She was a lion in a diminuative, soft spoken body. Her passing was a blow for many of us.

330px-ruth_bader_ginsburg_2016_portrait

RBG legally orchestrated women’s’ rights and equal rights in this country after overcoming tremendous discrimination in her own career. 

rbg

Ginsburg was one of the first eight women to enter Harvard Law School and was told by the dean they were taking the place of qualified males. Even after graduating from the top of her class, she could not find a job because of her gender. With the help of her supportive husband, she persisted, raised two children and ultimately rose to the Supreme Court. She continued her hard work to her death sleeping only a few hours a night. Ginsburg survived cancer two times and followed a rigorous workout twice a week with her personal trainer. RBG became sort of a pop icon for her famous dissenting opinions on the Supreme Court becoming known as “The Notorious RBG.”

rbg sticker

To learn more about her life watch RBG, the documentary on Netflix, it is truly inspirational as well as the dramatized movie “On the Basis of Sex.” She has been a role model for us all, especially women young and old. Learning about her life gives hope and offers a welcome reprieve from the current events.

Losing someone of this character leaves a hole in the universe. I think this poem by Maya Angelou sums up the magnitude of this loss.

WHEN GREAT TREES FALL

by Maya Angelou

When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.

Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance, fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of
dark, cold
caves.

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.

Alanna also blogs about sustainable living at onesweetearth.art.blog

As Oregon Burns

We are among the lucky. Thus far we have only lost power and internet service. There is a fire a few miles away but it seems to be holding. My heart goes out to those who have lost everything and the 500,00 who have had to undergo the stress of evacuations.

As Oregon Burns

A dry wind howls from the east

We extinguish the candles

 and do not sleep

As Oregon burns

A black cloud draws across the sky like a flat curtain

Led by the dark horses of the apocalypse

Continue reading “As Oregon Burns”

Of Voles and Holes

Image courtesy https://www.thetimes.co.uk/

If you have country property here in my corner of Oregon, you have probably noticed an explosion of small mammals, including ground squirrels, rats but especially voles this year.  Rodents have population cycles peaking every few years and then falling after the predator population catches up to them.  This is a banner year for voles

Voles are rodents, bigger than mice with smaller ears and short tales.  They are chiefly vegetarians munching on roots, nuts, young plants, and bulbs.  They are proficient tunnelers.  You don’t want them in your garden.

On the positive side, they aerate the soil and distribute nutrients in the soil layers.  My inner biologist recognizes their role in the great circle of life but my outer gardener is extremely frustrated.  I am perhaps the first person to write a poem about vole holes?.  Adding a bit a humor has made the situation in my lawn more tolerable.

Continue reading “Of Voles and Holes”