A Shift of the Planet

I have so many things I want and need to say. But first, this will be my last post for a while. And when I do come back, the page will look new, the picture will be new, and I hope, it will feel like a new blog. We are leaving here in a week. When the house sold and we came back from the mountains, the whole world was a different place than it is now. I was a little sad to be going. It felt like the right thing to do but I had reservations. I would miss the house with all its endless storage space. Even with the new walk-in closet the handyman built for us in the mountain house, I didn't, and still don't, know where we will put everything we're taking.

The first week back was taken up with getting moving estimates, collecting boxes, taking care of all the leftover things from us being gone for so long. I measured walls before we left the mountains, and I busied myself with graph paper and furniture cut-outs. We walked through the house deciding what would go in a sale, and what would be taken along. We rented a storage room. We wrote garage sale ads for the newspapers. That seems so long ago.

My SO's best friend died the second Saturday we were here. He had been sick and declining for two years. We felt bad for his widow. We wanted to help her anyway we could. We spent time at her house, helped her move in her new dining room furniture, bought from us. I gave her my crystal. No place for it in the mountains. It was a sad time, but it was manageable.

Sunday the real estate agent and her husband came to take away things that they had bought. We showed them more things, and they bought more. During this time we learned that my SO's son and daughter-in-law were going to be divorced. It was worrisome but we had seen it coming for a very long time, years in fact. Their marriage had grown more and more combative, more difficult. Like so many other couples married more than ten years, they were growing in opposite directions. The real estate agent has a daughter going through something similar. We commiserated with each other for a little while.

Then the cat took a turn for the worse. We made the hard decision to have him put to sleep. We agreed that we had been living on borrowed time for four months. He'd had a good summer. We had enjoyed that time with him. It had felt like time stolen from the grip of lymphoma. I cried. I have been crying for months. I could see the effects from so much crying on my face in new lines around my eyes, a new sag to my jaw. I adored my cat. He had been a good and loyal companion to me for fourteen long years. We had been through an awful lot together. It was so hard to let him go. But I finally realized that he was suffering, and my herculean efforts to keep him alive, the money I had spent on injections and medications, were more for myself than for the cat's sake.

We drove to the vet's office on Monday morning. She was sorry to see us but she had been his doctor for some time and knew this day would come. I cried a little. I handled myself better than I had thought I would. My SO was a rock, soothing, compassionate. The cat was given a sedative. He got very sleepy. I said leaned down to say goodbye to him, and saw his eyes lock onto mine. The overdose was given. He breathed one last time. I listen as his heart stopped. It was peaceful, merciful. I thought what a shame it is that we can't by law be as merciful to our fellow humans who are dying of a dread disease. We left the vet's office after giving them instructions on cremation and the return of ashes. I was tearful but felt so positive about how it had gone. So much less traumatic than I had been imagining. I had made it through. Relief was the primary feeling.

And then -- disaster arrived.

Before we left the house, my SO had called his son to talk a little, lend support, to see if his son was doing OK. The call went to voicemail. He told me his son had turned off his cell phone. He thought about calling again on our way back from the vet's office, but didn't want to be pushy, to nose too much into their business. We have both been through divorces, and understand how hard those first days and months can be.

About 2:00, the daughter-in-law called. She was crying. I thought she wanted to give me condolences about the cat. She's an animal lover in the first degree. But no, she was wondering if we had heard from her husband. She was worried. Both his cell phones were turned off, the personal one and the work one, and she had not heard from him since morning when he had called to say some things that made her worry even more. I told her we would call when he called. I urged her to go home for the day, she was no good at work, I said, in the emotional state she was in. I hung up and my SO and I talked about the call. He said that his son was probably finding a new place to live, or home packing to go. We went on with grieving for the cat.

At 5:30, the daughter-in-law called back. She was so hysterical she could barely talk. My SO kept trying to calm her, and then he handed the phone to me. The short version is this: my SO's son had put a gun to his head and killed himself. It is shocking. Just typing he words is shocking. My SO couldn't listen to his daughter-in-law tell him this. His brain wouldn't comprehend it. He handed the phone to me. I too was dumbfounded. I finally know the real meaning of that word. I kept expecting her to say it was a joke, April Fool's. But no, she was outside her house with a chaplain. There was crime tape all around her, police cars, detectives. They wouldn't let her inside the house. She knew almost nothing. We felt completely helpless. It was as if the earth shifted on its axis.

Thirty-six hours later, we know very little more. My SO is devastated. He keeps saying how hard it is to believe that his rock-solid son felt life was so hopeless that he had to end to do this. I imagine it is a lament every survivor of a suicide -- those left behind -- have. There is an unmistakable feeling of "could I have done something to save him?" Or wondering how we could have missed the depth of his depression. We do now know he left a suicide note, but it is in the evidence room at their local police station. The contents can't be revealed until this coming Monday. Even then we don't know if the daughter-in-law will share what was written almost certainly to her. There is so much we don't know or understand, and we probably never will.

I thought I would be grieving for my cat, and I am. I still expect to find him in his usual places, or feel him creep by. I tear up easily, but it is a pure and simple kind of grief, without questions or remorse. This other grief, it is ugly and dark, confusing and tormented. I am beginning to get angry. It has ruined my feelings for this place, tainted the happy memories we have had here. It has made the future uncertain. To lose your only child, I cannot imagine the sorrow. I am sad, but my sadness doesn't even touch the sadness my SO must feel. It worries me, this sort of deep sadness. It has already caused a kind of inertia in both of us. He keeps saying that we have to hold tight to each other, and I know that he's right. I hope we make it through this black wall. The next week will be one of the most difficult in either of our lives. And both of us are eager to be gone from here, to not look back, to somehow start anew. I wish I was only grieving for my cat. But it is much more dire now. This grief feels scary and fraught with danger.

Biding Time

Hard to believe it's already September. This whole years has sped by. I guess that will pretty much be the case from here on. Daddy says a year feels about like a month to him, at age 86. This morning I thought I felt a hint of Fall in the air, as I sat outside with the cat and drank my coffee. Not sure I'm ready yet to give up this glorious summer.

I'm reading RHINO RANCH by Larry McMurtry. Picked it up on a remainder table. I have usually enjoyed McMurtry, big fan of his earlier stuff, and I will read this one as well because it's light-reading with short fast chapters. But I swear, if anybody else but him had written this book, it would not have been accepted by a publishing house. There are some funny parts, but it's mostly a throw-away book. Doubt I'll remember much in a couple of years, past maybe the rhino that the main character befriends.

We're waiting to see what's going to happen with this potential buyer we have for the Texas house. I feel like I'm in limbo right now. If the deal goes through, we will have to get in gear really fast and efficiently. I've been making lists of things we'll sell and how much we want for them. All the writing I planned to do while we were here has been laid by because of the impending BIG MOVE. I get overwhelmed when I think too much about it, all that will be in front of us in order to close by October 6th as stated in the offer this buyer has made. The last two moves were just incredibly hard on me. One because I was leaving a house I had lived in for 12 years, not to mention a 34-year marriage, and the second because I was basically doing the whole shebang by myself. This one will be difficult because of the amount of downsizing involved, getting rid of all the sentimental stuff accumulated over my lifetime. Sigh! I have just lately come to realize what a burden it is to have things "left" to me by departed loved ones.

I'm trying to stay focused on how great it will be to get this place remodeled once the money comes from the other house. That part will be fun. For now, I'm just treading water.

Onward ....

The Fear of Dying

I have been thinking about fear of death lately. Watching my cat slowly die from lymphoma has convinced me that this fear is not exclusive to only human beings. When the cat's health goes downhill after his treatments, he acts very fearful. He even will rush about a bit, as if he thinks he can outrun the bad feelings he's experiencing. He wants to be held, and does not want to be left alone. It's different from when he just feels puny. It's more like he senses that death is near and he needs to escape it.

My mother died in 1995 of lung cancer. It was the quick-acting kind of cancer. Even after some pretty aggressive chemo-therapy and radiation treatments, she still only lived 7 months from her diagnosis. About 5 weeks before she died, I moved in with her and Daddy. He needed help. She was on hospice, by they only come twice a week, at least that was the case back in 1995. Those first weeks after I was there, before she became semi-comatose, she seemed afraid to sleep. She sat up through the early morning hours, staring at the television. She watched endless movies that she had taped on her VCR. After it became too difficult for her to get up and put in a new tape, she watched straight television, whatever channel her finger happened to scroll to. Late night commercials then could get a little bit lurid, sexy, half-dressed babes extolling the watcher to call them for phone sex, or psychics with fake Jamaican accents, wanting to run up you credit card. Mother stared at all of this stuff, unceasingly, falling asleep by default sometimes, sitting up in her hospital bed. She seemed to feel more secure in her aliveness with the noise of the television blaring.

It's something that we all take for granted somehow, that we are alive, that we will have tomorrow, that our hearts will beat and our lungs will expand and contract silently. As we get older we start thinking in a fleeting way about the fact that most of our life is probably behind us. And then we KNOW the longer half IS behind us. And once we get to my dad's age, or beyond, it must be something we think about in a clandestine way every single day.

I went house-hunting with my aunt this week. She's in her early 70s but is vibrant and in excellent health. She walks regularly, fishes, and until just a couple of years ago, still went mountain climbing. And yet, she kept eliminating certain houses because the stairs were too steep and in a few years she wouldn't be able to maneuver them, or mentally checking off the places that already had bars in the baths or railings along outdoor paths. She's thinking about her death, but indirectly, the way we all do during our lives.

There's probably no cure for the death fear. I've felt it most of my life, tried to imagine the world without me in it. Since I'm a pragmatist, not given to faith in an afterlife, it sometimes frightens me to my core to think about dying. Will I know, consciously, when the end is at hand. I hope for it to be fast and sudden, without unyielding pain. There's a very good book about the end of life. I recommend it to everyone who wants to know the science of dying. The title is How We Die: Reflections on Life's Final Chapter by Sherwin Nuland.

Onward ....

Bear Depredations

The motion light outside the bedroom window came on at 5:00 this morning. It woke me and both the animals. My SO is out of town so the dog and the cat are sleeping with me. I listened hard but couldn’t hear anything outside. Still, I couldn’t go back to sleep either. I got up and came into the living room. I turned on the light  outside on the deck. Saw nothing. I turned on the light over the driveway. Still nothing. I went into the laundry room and turned the light on outside the back door. Nothing there either. I suppose it could have just as easily been a skunk that made the motion light go off, but I am deathly scared of bears.

Night before last, a bear broke our cylindrical bird feeder off the metal bracket where it hung from one of the pine trees near the deck. The bracket was bent in half, the hook on top of the feeder was straightened, and the bale on the lid was misshapen. Of course, the feeder was completely empty. On the same night, my across-the-street neighbor had a visit from a bear that left tracks all over their concrete patio, including some that led right up to the window to their downstairs guest bedroom. 

Saturday night, about dusk, I ran into a big cinnamon bear at the dumpster. I was headed there to drop off a bag of garbage. He was standing on the rim of the dumpster, looking at me. I had the dog in the car with me, so I rolled down the window for her to get a good look. I am trying to get her to bark at them, but she’s as scared of them as I am. The bear looked at us and dropped down behind the dumpster where I couldn’t see him. I took my bag of garbage back home with me. I’m sure the bear went back to the dumpster as soon as I left. Every time I go there lately, bear scat is on the ground. And we have had scat in our back yard as well.

I friend who lives in the next county has been plagued by bears this year. She has lived in this area for 16 years and says this is the worst bear-year she has seen yet. At her house, a bear mangled the screen over her kitchen window trying to get in. On a recent morning, her doorbell rang, and when she opened the door, there stood the bear. He had been leaning close to her door and his paw touched off the bell. 

After that, she called the New Mexico Fish and Game department. They came out and set a trap. Within an hour, she heard the trap go off. There was a bear inside the trap but not her screen-mangling, doorbell-ringing bear. The wardens came to haul off the trapped bear. The next day, they brought back the emptied trap. Again, the trap went off, and again, it was not her bear. That bear is still on the loose.

Down in our valley, a woman with goats has had five of them killed by bears. In a small town 11 miles from here, a man had a llama killed. They are hungry and they are on the prod. It’s their gorging time, when they up their caloric intake to about 20,000 calories a day to prepare for hibernation. This year with the wildfires and the drought, they are having a difficult time finding their natural forage, so they're combing decks and garbage dumpsters. Meanwhile, I am having dreams about bears. It’s constantly on my mind. If I’m going to live here full-time, I’m going to have to get over this phobia, but how? Today I think I’ll drive into town and see if the local sporting goods stores has bear pepper spray in stock. Maybe with some of that in hand I’ll stop feeling so defenseless.

Onward ....

Back in Paradise

So much has happened, or seems to have happened, since the last time I posted here. We did list the house in Texas, and before we left, it had already been shown three times. Since then, its been shown several more times, and our real estate agent believes an offer is just around the corner. I have such mixed feelings but know that it’s the right thing to do financially. I will miss my great big house, with all its storage and that huge kitchen, gee! I will probably never have such a nice place again.

But then we arrived here, in the mountains, on Sunday and my mood, my sense of purpose, just completely changed. I stepped out of the car at the post office in the valley, just to see if we had any mail while we were gone. The fresh, light air hit me, wrapped me in good feeling. A little breeze was billowing. Everything has greened up since we were here, a big change in just a little over two weeks. It seems like where I belong.

The cat and the dog both got lively in the car as we headed across the valley and up the mountain. When we turned down our little tree-lined lane, the cat was bobbing his head, trying to see around the dog, who was galloping about the car. I rolled the windows down so they could both feel the cool air, too. By the time we pulled into our driveway, all three of us were excited. 

The dog bounded out, remembering her squirrels, and immediately began to hunt for them. The cat was meowing as I carried him in his taxi up to the backdoor. As soon as I let him out, he went in search of his water bowl and his litter box. I had to hustle to get things arranged for him and then he went to the front door, wanting out on his deck. It did me good to see him so animated. He’s been declining so steadily since the beginning of the month. I believe he is happier here where he is able to go outside for long periods of time.

I feel so much more relaxed here, so much more myself. Away from the distractions and disasters. Our friends here began to welcome us back “home” as they walked by with their dogs or were just out walking. It doesn’t quite feel like home yet, but I think it will come to more as we are able to bring our things from Texas and surround ourselves with them. 

We went to a town hall meeting in the community center last night. The presentation was on fire evacuation. There are so many things to learn about living in the mountains. Afterwards, we walked over to the lodge restaurant and sat with friends out on the patio, had a Blue Moon, then dinner, visited. We like everybody here, and there’s no pressure attached. If we want to socialize, the opportunity is there. If we don’t want to, or are not in the mood to, then there’s no judgment either. We’ve got tickets for a concert on the 26th, with a larger group, for dinner and then to the city and the university auditorium for the concert -- “Music From Anglefire.” We talked about it last night and all seem eager for the day to arrive.

Speaking of arrivals -- my aunt is here. She’s borrowing a cabin from a friend of hers in the next county, and will join up with us after today. My SO has business in Albuquerque and I’m going with him. We want to look at hot tubs after his appointment and learn how they fare through the winters here. My aunt is definitely coming to stay with us this weekend. The big annual picnic is Saturday and I’ve invited her to come. She sounded excited. It would be great if we could talk her into buying a place over here -- she loves it so much in New Mexico, once owned a cabin in the area where she’s staying now. There’s a very reasonable cabin for sale just up the mountain from us. I doubt it will happen but I intend to tell her about it anyhow.

I will try to find more time now that we’re back here and settled in, to blog. I have things I’ve been thinking about and would like to write about them, so I shall be back soon.

Onward ....

A Blog Radio Interview

For the past several days, I have been working like mad to get this place shaped up for the real estate agent. She’s someone I’ve worked with before and I pretty much know that a really spotless house impresses her and tends to make her appraise higher. My goal is to make this place irresistible to a buyer. It would be so good to sell it quickly. From my experience buying the mountain house, I know the biggest obstacle is going to be financing. It’s just not easy to get a loan in this economic climate.

Seems like we have too many things going against us, too. We’re still battling the mice, and in fact, are finding traces of many, so we’ve declared war and have traps set all over the house. I don’t want to put out poison because of the cat, who is failing rapidly, poor baby, as it is. I really wish we hadn’t needed to come back here. He was doing so well in the mountains.

It’s hot. God, is it hot! We’re breaking temperature records every day, and dry records, as well. I hauled water down to the crepe myrtle we have planted along the driveway, and two days later, we needed to haul more down there. It’s really difficult to do, and I can’t believe we’ve managed to keep them all alive that way for such a long time. The man we hired to water while we were gone has done a fair job of keeping those trees alive, but some of the other stuff I planted in the spring has already died, and more keeps following. It’s just ridiculous how dry it has been, really since we moved in here. It’s one of the reasons I want to leave. There are others as well.

I’ve thought about this -- why I have become so disenchanted with Texas. The heat and the constant drought is just one reason. This place has been overrun with creepy-crawlies, too, and that’s contributed. The last time the dog was bitten by a copperhead sort of capped it for me. She is so much happier in the mountains, as is the cat. I think they both thought we had already moved, and they seem depressed since we’ve been home. They feel repressed, and I have realized I share that feeling. There are so many small-minded people here. I get angry every time I read the local newspapers. Our friends back in the mountains have been e-mailing, inviting to us all sorts of things when we return. It’s nice to have people who want to include you in social situations, who are like-minded, and have experienced more in life than this one little spot. 

I did an interview for blog radio yesterday. It was fun and I felt it went pretty well. I like the internet  for things like this. It’s much more intimate and effortless than actual radio where you have someone poking a microphone in your face, and all the business that’s surrounding you. Television is even worse. This felt much more like a one-on-one conversation. The interviewer also felt like it went very well. Here’s the link to the interview: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/dennistardan/2011/08/01/a-conversation-with-cindy-bonner

Onward ....

Cozy Field Mice and Daddy's Bad Spill

So, we're back in Texas. It's hot. I expected that. The cat and dog are both depressed about not having their deck to spend the long days. I'm having allergy problems. So is the cat. We did hire someone to come rake up these leaves and haul them off. Getting ready to have the real estate agent out on Thursday, so we're trying to spiffy things up for her. I cleaned the upstairs, packed up two boxes of books I don't want to keep, and uprooted a mouse who was making a nest under the bathroom sink up there. Guess this happens when you leave a house empty for two months. The mice move in. Anyway, my SO set traps, so maybe we will catch this thing tonight. You know the cat is sick or otherwise that mouse would've been history the first day we arrived.

While we were gone, I found out this past Friday, Daddy had a bad fall. It could've been worse, I guess. He could have broken bones. What he did do is rip the skin off his forearm, from his elbow to his wrist. He couldn't staunch the bleeding so he drove himself to the Emergency Room. There were no stitches to be taken but they bandaged him and advised him to report to his doctor on Monday. He did, and for the last four weeks he has been going in three times a day to have silver sulfadiazine burn ointment applied to the wound and a new bandage. I think it scared him enough he's ready to get Life Alert. I had the home health people here send me some information on that service. The most troubling thing about this who incident, at least to me, is that he can't remember what made him fall, and nobody, not even his regular doctor, seemed to think he should be tested for TIAs or something else that could have caused that fall. 


And here we are going forward with plans to put the house on the market and move permanently to New Mexico. It's a hard call but one that makes sense financially as well as logistically. I was thinking today as I cleaned upstairs, that at the other house I would have been done with the entire house in the time it took to clean just that one-third of this house that I managed to maul through. We don't need this large of a house and with this Eagle Ford Shale oil and gas boom, it is hopefully, the right time to sell, too. The only misgivings I have concern Daddy.


Wonder of wonders -- I was writing while we were there. Something new and not ready to be discussed but it felt so good to get lost in words again, even if it was short lived. I think all the reading I was doing there was partly responsible. I tend to forget how inspiring just simply reading books can be for a writer. I also seem to have more time to correspond with writer friends and that also is inspirational, just to talk about writing, like a REAL writer. I had a couple of stimulating telephone conversations as well. 


So it will be August tomorrow, when we get up in the morning. The hottest time of the year. I know I will be ready to get back to the mountains when we leave again in two weeks. I'm already counting the days.


Onward ....

Leaving the Mountains

Night before we're leaving to return to Texas. It's been so nice and cool here, highs in the upper 70s, lows in the 50s. We've been sitting outside in the mornings with fleece and jackets on -- heavenly. And yes, I do know how lucky we are.

Took the dog for a walk with a neighbor who was also walking her dog this evening. We talked about the area and she said she will probably be putting her house on the market in about a year. Then she said she didn't know where she would move because she loves it here, loves the mountains, the scenery. So I asked why she would want to move, then, if she loves it so much? I can't come to terms with that.

We're only going to be gone for a bit over 2 weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. Which is one more reason -- or one more indication -- that the time is now to sell the Buffalo Wallow. It will be hard to do. We both love the place, and it holds so many memories of dreams we shared when we moved in there. But dreams change, and so do financial situations. It feels like the right thing to do, financially, to sell the Buffalo Wallow and move here to the mountains full time. I have just been having trouble reconciling myself to living in a smaller -- much smaller -- place. I will have to get rid of loads of old things that have meant so much to me in the past. But I still keep reminding myself that stuff is just stuff and doesn't contribute one iota to a person's level of happiness. Why is this such a hard thing to convince myself of -- has it only to do with that nest-building instinct that most women seem to have? Oh well ..... time to move on.

Part of me will be happy to divest myself of all these leavings. That's what I think of a large part of it -- leavings from another life. People leave things to you and then you're sort of stuck with it all until you can justify yourself to the fact that you have just been chosen to be the one to figure out what the hell to do with these leavings. Antique stores are full of leavings. I'm about to add a bunch more to their inventory.

On another, much more depressing note, the cat has really declined in the last couple of days. We took him to the vet this morning and I'm hoping he can rally one more time -- at least long enough to get him comfortably back to Texas. But for some reason this time does not feeling as positive as other times, and I am just hoping now that he can make it home. I have cried buckets and part of me would like a denouement to this phase. Although, my SO keeps reminding me that we have had him, and been able to enjoy him, far longer than we thought in the beginning. And he has, I truly feel, enjoyed this trip to the mountains. Up until two days ago, he was playing with his toys, chasing the birds on the deck.

For now, I'm taking one day at a time. With high hopes. Still trying to be a realist.

Onward ....

It's a Zoo!

Sitting out on the deck in the mornings, I can't help but think of that old line -- It's a zoo around here. Well, it's more than just a saying at this mountain place. Yesterday we had a blond black bear walk down the road in front of our house, cross our driveway, and stroll up between the house and the propane tank, just as if it owned the place. My SO walked to the end of the porch as the bear went by and spoke to it, he says, just to see the way the thing might react. It turned like it was going to come up on the porch and shake my SO's hand -- that was how it reacted. Not what I wanted at all. I was frantic and trying to locate the camera on my phone, which wasn't even turned on yet, to take a picture. Our neighbors across the street were yelling, "Bear!" It was a zoo.

I've already blogged about the black-tailed hare. We have also, in addition to a whole family of fox-eared squirrels,  a group of chipmunks that have moved in. They are driving the dog insane. She thinks of nothing else but those chipmunks. She isn't interested in other dogs that walk by, in the squirrels, in taking walks, in eating! She just wants to "dog" the chipmunks, galloping up and down the deck and porch each time one of them moves.

We also have birds galore -- our own aviary as my SO likes to say. We've been taking the hummingbird feeders in at night -- because of bears -- but as soon as we hang them out in the morning, the hummers attack them (and each other). We have a male rufous who is especially aggressive. I've never had a rufous at a feeder, and he's a joy to watch, like a orange-red flame buzzing past. We saw one of them poke its beak down in the fragile tomato blossoms yesterday. I'm hoping that it pollinated them.

Other birds we have in abundance are grosbeaks and nuthatches. The pygmy nuthatches are all over the place, spilling the seeds from the feeders in search of black oil sunflower seeds, which they take up onto the pine branches and hammer open. They also drink and bathe in the drip tray under the basil plant. That has gotten the kitty's attention. He stalks them and bats at them, but so far hasn't knocked one down. He tires easily of this, though, and after one or two attempts, goes back to the cushion in the lawn chairs for a nap. Occasional visitors to the feeders are redwing blackbirds, hairy woodpeckers, and stellar's jays.

It's the seeds on the ground, the rejected seeds that the pygmies fling down, that have attracted all this wildlife. Last night, before we took the dog out for her final latrine, I turned on the floodlights and there was a big skunk grazing in the rejected seeds. The skunks here have a wide white swath down their back, wider than Texas skunks, and they're fluffier. We made noises and shined a flashlight on it until it left the premises. We noted that it disappeared into the culvert under the driveway, which explains why the dog is always nosing around those culverts on our walks. The seeds are also the reason we have the squirrels and the chipmunks, and probably bears if we don't do something to clean the pile up. Think we'll get on that today. I don't mind the zoo, in fact, it makes life interesting, but I'd just as soon not walk out one day to find a black bear lounging in the chaise.

Last night as I was dozing off to sleep, I heard coyotes yodeling down in the valley. I swear, it's a zoo around this place!

Onward ....

Notable Books, According to Me

Awoke this morning feeling good about life, about living in a place where the air is sweet and fresh, where you need a jacket to sit outside in July to drink your coffee, where the main sounds are the crows cacking and the tickle of squirrels climbing up the barky pine trees. Yes, this house is small, but it has a beautiful ceiling. It rained yesterday. The roof leaked a little over in the corner by the television. It's the first real rain we've had since we bought the place. I found a flashlight to check for other possible leaks, ran the spotlight up and down the ceiling beams. I found a lot of cobwebs, but no other wet places.

I've seen ceilings before that this one is patterned after -- on old adobe porches primarily. Long beams spaced about three feet apart, with planks adjoining in a perpendicular fashion. The boards on the ceiling here are knotty pine and smooth, with rougher beams that are actually supportive and not just decorative. These beams extend through the exterior wall and out to the edge of the porch overhang. On the porch the beams are painted, but inside they have been left natural to darken with age. Now, that the paneled walls inside have all been painted a light off-white, the beauty of the ceiling really strikes out. And now that I have inspected them with a flashlight, the ceiling has also been de-cobwebbed.

The atmosphere here is really conducive to reading and I have been getting a lot of that done. Don't know why I seem to have no time for reading when I'm at home in Texas. I downloaded some books to my Kindle before we left Texas. Tiger, Tiger by Margaux Fragnoso is the first one I read. It's about a woman's relationship with a pedophile, and is particularly timely with the Jaycee Dugard story so much in the news right now. It was one of those books that hangs with you, disturbs you and makes you try to rationalize. Also downloaded was Remember Ben Clayton by my friend Stephen Harrigan. Stephen is another writer who hales from Corpus Christi, which is our only real connection. He's a wonderful writer and this novel is his best to date. I'm finding it fresh and factual, particularly since it's dealing with a time period I researched considerably for Right From Wrong, and his characters are lively and real. I'm not completely finished with it, and plan to say more about it later.

One thing I have found with all this reading is how easy to handle and convenient the Kindle is. It doesn't tire my hands out the way a real book does, and mine has a little light attached to the cover, so I can read in the dark, which I have been doing for a while every night before I go to sleep. The one thing that is not handy about the Kindle, though, is that it is easy to lose your place, and you never know what page you're on at any given time. There's a bookmark, but it isn't always easy to get back to the mark if you happen to accidentally hit the paging button a few times. The other thing you miss out on with a Kindle, is photographs that might be inside the actual book.

This is the main reason I bought from Barnes & Noble online, with a birthday gift certificate, a book called River of Traps by William DeBuys & Alex Harris. It's about these two men's years living in the New Mexico mountains in the shadow of the Truchas Peaks, and an old Hispanic man who befriended them. Harris is the photographer and there are some lovely full-page black-and-whites inside, and the descriptions and history of the area are beautifully told by DeBuys. The old man, Jacobo, is wise and witty and so familiar to me of similar men I had friendships with during my years of living and working in San Antonio.

Finally, there's a bookmobile that comes to our village once a month from up at Cimarron, which is about halfway between here and Raton. In June, I got a card and checked out two books, one of which turned out to be a lovely, informative treatment of The Mountains of New Mexico by Robert Julyan. The author has visited each of the mountains he discusses, gives so much information about the geography and how the land was formed, that even though I had originally intended to only peruse it for mountains in our area, I ended up reading the entire book cover to cover, and took it with us when we visited the Capulin Volcano when the boys were here. I'm one of those people who needs to know where I am in the world, in a much more detailed way than just by giving an address or distance from some larger town. I still feel a lot of mystery around me here, and won't quit reading until I think I understand this place, its people, its present and its past.

Meanwhile, it's time to take a shower and get this day started. It's nearly noon and I've done nothing but read, drink my coffee, and listen to the birds in the trees.

Onward ....

House Guests, a Volcano, and a Serious Discussion

I cannot keep track of the counter numbers on this blog. I don't even know if anybody reads the damned thing. I've thought several times about giving it up, but then I think of something I want to put down here and so it goes.

The pecan pie turned out OK. It didn't taste like my usual pecan pie, but it was devoured so I guess that's a good sign. The boys came and stayed with us for five days, and it really wasn't long enough. They are the easiest house guests in the world, so enthusiastic about everything, and appreciative. They make me really proud.

We took them over to the Capulin Volcano National Monument east of Raton. We hiked down into the crater and back up, which I thought was a hard slog, but I only thought that in the beginning. The rim walk was the real killer. I seriously believed for a while that I would not make it around the rim. It was brutal, and at 8600 plus feet, a real breath taker, and I mean that literally. I my lungs hurt, my heart pounded. The uphill climb was the worst. When we got to the top, finally, I thought I would really enjoy looking down on the lava flows. We'd watched a little movie before embarking on this trek, and it had explained about the pressure waves and lots of other geographic phenomenon characteristic of a volcano like Capulin. Instead, I was so thrilled to be done with the worst of the climb, I just sat on one of the benches they had up there and tried to get my breath, to fight down the vertigo that kept trying to take over, and to quell the nausea. We took some pictures on the way down but I haven't downloaded them from the camera yet.

On Sunday, we took them to the airport in Albuquerque and had a real heart-to-heart on the ride back about selling the place in Texas and making this our permanent home. There are some things that have to happen here for me to be in favor of such a big move, and we began on some of those things this week. We bought some furniture for one thing, and the carpenter we discovered is coming back to do some more work to the place, and to help me paint the bedroom. My SO is going back to Texas tomorrow morning to check on things at the house, and to do some personal errands and make some business calls. He'll be gone a week. When he gets back, the bedroom will be done and all that will really remain is remodeling the kitchen. But that will have to wait until the house in Texas is sold.

It is going to take some real getting used to, living in such a small house again. This house is just barely bigger than the first "starter" home my ex and I bought way back in the early 1980s. I'll have to get rid of half of my "stuff," more than half. But it's just stuff, and I said way way back that I was not going to let "stuff" run my life the way it has done for at least the past 25 or so years. It's not worth it. We'll have a big sale after the house sells, fingers crossed. We have a figure we want to get out of all this which will allow us to become, once and for all, debt free. Both of us are ready for that.

Meanwhile, the cat has taken a real downturn in the last couple of days. Today has been an especially bad day. I tried to go to sleep with the SO at 10:00, but here I am back up with the kitty. I held him for about an hour, and he responded to that. I tried explaining to him that he would feel so much better if he would eat something and drink some water. And that I would take him to the vet in the morning. He turned to press on me the way he has done his entire life, showing me that he loves me, too. And then he got down from my lap and ate some of his can and got a big drink, wandered off to the litter box, and now he is back in the chair he commandeered practically from the first day we moved in here. It's a big old semi-circular 1970s style low back easy chair with rust colored upholstery. I'll be glad to get my good living room stuff here eventually.

Guess it's time to turn in, or try to again. I'll post some more things I've been up to tomorrow.

Onward ....

High Altitude Cooking

I am about to try to make a pecan pie. Pecan pie has always been one of my specialties, but this pecan pie will be made at 7900 feet above sea level, instead of the usual 200 or so feet.

When we first got this place in the mountains, everything I cooked was underdone, or overdone, or squishy in the middle and done on the sides, or just burnt. I'm a fairly decent cook and this was very disheartening to me, after 40+ years in the kitchen. I had seen those high altitude adjustments on the sides of boxes and packages, but it never occurred to me that this was my problem, until I had a conversation with my aunt, who had also had a cabin near here at one time. Ah-ha! Higher altitudes DO make a difference in how ingredients interact with each other.

This trip I've had better luck with things. Last week, I made a cake that turned out all right. It was kind of crumbly but I was using only ingredients I had on hand. The icing resembled penuche fudge, but it was OK, too. But this time, I'm making a pie for my son who is arriving tomorrow, and I want it to be as close to perfect as I can make it. So we will see how this pie project turns out.

From what I read, you have to adjust the sugar down, the fat up, and the oven temperature either up or down -- this seems to be a matter of opinion. When I've used the oven for various meal dishes, I have been adjusting up by 25 degrees, and this has been working pretty well. One variation on this whole affair was addressed by a cook in Denver, who adjusts up for a while during the baking time on the pie, then adjusts down toward the end. Might try that method. However, we are a good bit higher here than Denver, and every thousand or so feet seems to make a difference.

OK, I'm off to the kitchen to see how it goes. Will report back in a future post.

Onward ....

A Wild Hare, Smoke, Dust, and a Heatwave

I saw a black-tailed hare, a rare sighting in this area, I am told. Probably the fire over the mountain pushed the creature this direction. We were sitting on the circular staircase that leads up to the porch and deck -- me, the kitty, and the dog down at the base. I had just talked to Daddy on the cell and was watching the sprinkler dampen the dirt where my SO has optimistically planted grass seed. A little movement up the hill caught my eye. I saw the movement had already caught the eye of the cat. He was staring up the hill, through the pines. The ground is so thirsty, so dry and brown, that a dull-colored hare was not, at first, easy to see. I probably would not have if the thing hadn't moved. It was as tall as the dog, had ears that shot up pink and shaped like fat exclamation marks. He moved awkwardly, warily. And then the dog turned her attention from the fox-eared squirrels she worries all day, high in the top of the pines. Her shepherd head jerked around, ears forward. She's a sight-hunter and when she saw the hare move again, she was up and on the bound.

The hare took off, looking like a small antelope it moved so fast. The dog was halfway up the hill, and already past our property-lined when I called her back. There was no way she was going to catch that hare anyway. It was up the hill and gone in a flash, a wild thing on the run, an odd leaping gait, ears high, powerful back legs working. Even if I had thought to turn the camera on my phone towards the hare, I would not have been quick enough. The chance to see a black-tailed hare would have been missed.

My neighbor was envious when I told him what had happened. "Those are rare," he said, a little note of disbelief in his voice. He doesn't know me well enough yet to understand that I made sure of what I saw before I reported it to anyone. It isn't my way to make up something like that. For one thing, I don't have enough knowledge of nature and her ways to make it up. But I do have a good memory for unusual markings, for characteristics and body shape. And I have my trusty laptop and know the right "search" words to enter, Now, I find myself peering up the hill every evening at dusk, wishing for the hare to make a return appearance, even though I'm sure it won't. I know how much my SO would have enjoyed the experience, too.

It's hot. Man, is it hot. And it's smoky. Only the mornings are bearable and remind us of the loveliness from the winter and early spring. The fire over the mountains exhales in the afternoon, and continues to release rancid smoke that stops all outside activity. I long for the long evening walks with the dog, but the air is unhealthy. Any outside chores should get done before noon. The smoke, the dust from the road when cars go past, the record-breaking heatwave -- if it would just rain. Rain is what this country so badly needs. Rain, please, God. For the sake of the firefighters over the ridge, for the sake of the trees and the dusty ground, the grass, the dry streams, the wildflowers, for the sake of ME!

We're going to a Trash to Treasures sale at nine. We contributed some items to the sale, and now we're going to see what we might want to buy ourselves, and also to see if the stuff we took over there sells. Funny how you have hopes for silly things like that, for your castoffs to be useful to somebody else. The money made in the sale goes to the homeowners association for things like new lodge bedspreads, and fresh flowers planted in the beds by the restaurant. We simply needed to clean out our basement. The people who were here before had left a lot of what we consider junk down there. The rest of it is fit only for the dumpsters. We try to take a little each time we make a trip down the mountain to the garbage bins.

The boys are coming this Wednesday, flying in to Albuquerque, three hours drive away. I almost wish they could have postponed their trip. I'm desperate, as always, to see them both, but the conditions are such that I hate for this to be their first visit. I so much wanted the place to make a good impression, for them to see right away the appeal of this place to us, why we chose it and love it here so much. But with the fire and smoke, the heat and dust, this is not the green mountains we adore. My hopes were, I guess, too high. But the truth is, for the past two days, I have been longing for my Buffalo Wallow. At least there's air-conditioning back in Texas.

Onward ....

Fire in the Mountains

Our cabin sits in the middle of the Santa Fe National Forest. We have about 100 ponderosa pines on our 1.3 acres, as well as other trees - white oak, fur, etc. All of these trees drop either leaves or needles, and it has been so dry this year, that these dropped leaves and needles crackle underfoot. Humidity has hovered around 5%, and when the wind blows, it blows tremendously, reaching speeds of 50 mph. All of this makes this area vulnerable to forest fires.

And we have one. It's called the Pacheco Canyon Fire. It's burning about 19 miles away, over the Gascon Ridge. When the wind is right (or wrong) we get a lot of smoke. We drove down to Gascon and I took pictures of the fire. I sent one of the pictures to an Albuquerque television network and they published it on their website.

It scary to see a big plume of smoke on your immediate horizon. Even though all our neighbors have tried to abate my fears, they say we shouldn't worry until the fire crests the mountain ridge, it's still unsettling to look outside at an orange-yellow sky and to see flakes of ash sifting down onto the deck.

On another note: today my cat is officially 14 years old. He has rallied in recent days and seems happy here in the mountains. He drinks more water these days than I have ever known him to drink, and particularly likes to drink it outside. I'm just happy he's still with me, and have decided to enjoy the days I have him.

We went out with new friends last night, after drinks in their living room. They have a beautiful home, and I'm trying with all my might not to be envious. Ours is truly a simple cabin, was never meant to be anything but a cabin. That's the only drawback to having a place in a resort-ish community like this one. Our place was one of the first built here, back when there was no homeowners association, golf course, etc. Since the mid-80s the homes have gotten progressively more elaborate, until now, up on top of the mountain, there are million-dollar mansions with views to die for. Still, I admit it is fun to get gussied up and get to know new people. We were greeted by several people at the restaurant, mainly because of our friends, but it does make you feel like you belong. That's a feeling I truly do not mind.

Onward ....

All I Now Know About Black Bears

The black bear is the New Mexico state mammal. Black bears come in chocolate brown, black, cinnamon, honey, and blond. They can live as long as 30 years in captivity, but rarely that long in the wild. The females typically weigh around 90 to 150 pounds. The males can get up to 300 pounds. Their territory can range up to 350 miles, but is usually only about 25 square miles. They have sharper noses than a bloodhound, and are smarter than a German shepherd. In New Mexico, they go into hibernation in October or November, depending on the weather conditions, and come out of hibernation in March or April, but sometimes as late as June. When they first come out of their dens, they forage for grass and other browse, eating about 2500 calories a day. Towards the end of summer, however, they up their calorie intact to about 20,000 calories a day, putting on lots of fat for the long winter sleep. 

During this time of fattening up, they mate. But the female’s fertilized egg will not attach itself to the lining of her uterus until she has gone into hibernation. This is to save the energy it would take to grow a fetus while she is fattening for winter. Because of this delay, gestation can be 7 to 8 months, but the actual time when the fetus is growing is only about 2 months. When she comes out of her den, she will have one or two cubs to raise. They will weigh about 12 ounces (squirrel-sized). Cubs are weaned around seven months but will remain with their mother for up to 2 years.

Black bears do not typically attack humans unless provoked. They are basically docile, but they are relentless in their search for food. The will break into a car to get the candy bar still in its wrapper under the back seat. Their sense of smell is that acute. The will empty a hummingbird feeder in a few seconds. The will maul an outdoor grill to get to the grease on the bottom. They are constantly on the lookout for food sources. A compost pile is a gold mine. The easy pickings from humans turn black bears into instant food junkies and increase the chances of bear encounters.

If you live in bear country you should never leave food out, or fail to clean up your kitchen after you eat your meals. You should keep lower windows closed at night, garbage containers secured, and never feed them. In fact, it is against the law in New Mexico to feed them, either directly or indirectly, and you can be severely fined. If a bear comes into contact with humans, it usually must be put down. It’s best to avoid this, as they will generally leave you alone. If you feel threatened by a bear, you can use pepper spray to deter it. Most of the time they will only bluff charge and something like pepper spray will send them on their way. 

They make various sounds which mean various things. They have a way of clicking their teeth, making a hollow sound like a bamboo rod on a fence. When they do this, they are attempting to smell food. They rarely growl except in movies. Only 10% of their diet consists of meat and fish. They are excellent climbers and may stay up a tree most of the day, coming down in the evening to forage until dawn. If you see a bear raise on its hind legs, head and nose up, it is hunting for food. If you see a bear, don’t make eye contact, but also, don't run. They will usually avoid contact unless they sense that you are a threat, like a mother with cubs.

There have been many bear sightings in our development. Last year a yearling cub fell over into the dumpster down by the maintenance shed. It broke its neck and the New Mexico Game and Fish people had to be called to put it down. The man who did that deed came and spoke to all of us at a Town Hall meeting on how to be "Bear Aware." I feel I know a lot more, now, about black bears, and I am even more scared of them than I was before.

Onward .....

Before We Move; the Mountains Again

And so, before we make a big move, it's probably a good idea to spend more time up here in the mountains. If for no other reason, than to experience the changing weather.

We got here on Tuesday, which happened to be my birthday. The paint job in the front room was a pleasant surprise. It really does brightened things. I don't feel like I'm in such a cave anymore. A handy man came yesterday and spent the entire day, doing odd jobs. He hung the new chandelier and it completely changed the way the dining area looks. I'm getting happier with the interior by the minute. I like the curtains I made, too, although I don't think my SO does much. They cost me about $7 and my labor, about an hour and a half at the sewing machine. We hung the new blind in the laundry room. It's a cerulean color, a cellular blind but one that opens so it's possible to still look outside but should keep that room warmer in winter. It cost more than $400 but I won't go into that.

It's hot here. I'm not happy about that. The big front room is especially hot. We're having the handy man back next week to install some ceiling fans. I can't sleep when I'm hot and I'm kind of wary of leaving windows open at night since it's bear season. We don't have any a/c. Nobody up here does. Right now, we need it during the day. It got up to 88 yesterday afternoon. I don't like to sweat. In fact, it's hard to sweat with only 5% humidity. But it's still better than being back in Texas where heat indices yesterday were between 107 and 109 degrees. If it would only rain a little I think it would cool things off. Everywhere, really.

We came in two cars. I wasn't wild about that, but we had too much to haul and I wanted my car here to pick up my son and his partner from the Albuquerque airport in two weeks. Plus, my SO will be working next week, and the vehicle we've left here has no working a/c. I, at least, want to be cool in the car. I brought the cat with me. I think the trip was hard on him. His kidneys are functioning poorly and he wet the carrier several times, which is not like him at all. But I anticipated this and put piddle pads under him and carried extras. He did finally start drinking water in his carrier while we were on the road. That's a first. He's doing as well as can be expected. I'm happy to have him with us. And we have our little kitty hospice setup in the living room here just as we had back in Texas.

Two days before we left the dog was bit again by a large copperhead. It happened late on Saturday, and this time she was very sick. During the night she began to go into shock, and I had to cover her with a blanket and lie in the floor with her until her shaking stopped. It was scary and upsetting for both of us, and I vow the next time to take her to a vet no matter what time of day it happens. Fingers crossed that there will be no next time.

So, here we are again. I will try to do better with this blog.

Onward ....

A Buffalo Named Rose

When we first looked at this house, a little over three years ago, there was a buffalo living here. Her name was Rose and she was about half-grown. She scared people. I think she probably scared potential buyers away, much to our good fortune. There are exactly 2.77 acres here, and Rose had decimated all of them. Not a blade of grass grew. Tufts of buffalo fur clung to fences and trees. Buffalo "pies" littered the ground.

Poor Rose was lonely. She was misunderstood. My real estate agent was afraid of her. The owner would have to try to pin Rose up to show the property. Rose didn't like being pinned. She broke down the gate. It was told to us that Rose killed raccoons, that there were often raccoon carcasses lying around. But she also had a little cat-friend. A black and white tuxedo kitty, a stray who climbed trees and hung out around Rose, seemingly without fear.

When we arrived to look at the house, our real estate agent was already inside. She opened the front door and beckoned us to hurry in, that Rose was loose. We had already seen Rose over by the patio. We toured the house. We liked the layout. We liked the geodesic dome in the center, the uniqueness of it. We could see past the dirty pink carpeting and all the needed repairs. Most were cosmetic. But my SO was also interested in the lay of the land. He asked to go out and walk the property. The real estate agent said, "But there's a buffalo out there." My SO said, "OK. You don't have to go with me."

The agent cringed as he exited. She continued to show me interior features, but she kept a close eye on my SO outside walking the perimeters. Finally, I joined her at one of the windows. Out along the high boundary fence, there walked my SO. Close behind him, curious and cautious, was Rose. She followed him like a puppy, keeping about ten feet between herself and the strange man. As I explained that he was born and raised on a farm, had done ranching, been around livestock all his life, the real estate agent clearly delighted in watching Rose following him around as he inspected the grounds. The agent began to call my SO "The Buffalo Whisperer."

Obviously, we liked the place. We came back to look a few more times before an offer was made. We began to call it The Buffalo Wallow, because that's pretty much the way it looked, bare dirt, all those tufts of fur hanging about. There are over 80 trees on this small bit of land. I think more than anything, it was the trees that sold the house. We knew they would be a pain when leaf-shedding time came. There were drifts of leaves everywhere, years of leaves because the house had been sitting empty for at least two years that we knew about. We made the offer. We were shocked when it was accepted. The owner clearly just wanted to be rid of the place. We wondered if we could have offered even less than the low-ball offer we had made. Instant equity. And the economic crisis had not even hit Texas yet.

There are still signs of Rose. Occasionally we come across one of her pies, or a bit of buffalo hair. Mainly, the grass has never recovered completely. It's on the mend, but slowly. There was once a working sprinkler system, and Saint Augustine covered the ground. We have found a few leftover runners and have babied them along through two extended, devastating droughts. It is a little bit of paradise here, but it is hot. And it is a lot of upkeep. We like to travel. We go away for a few weeks and come back to as many weeks worth of work to get the place back into shape.

I fall in love with houses, with spaces, with lawns and porches, with seeing my stuff just the way it suits me. I have to desensitize myself when I began to think of leaving a place. I have to let go of the visions I have, the daydreams of future times. I have to fall out of love. I'm in the midst of that process as I write this. Of giving up on my Buffalo Wallow.

Onward ....

June Budding

First day of June. I hope this is a better month. It's hot as hell outside, and I can't wait to get back to the mountains. Wanting to spend my birthday there this year. Actually, more and more, I'm wanting to move there permanently. The painter has been there since we left, and I'm anxious to see how it turned out. Little apprehensive about the color I chose for above the fireplace. I was attempting to match or blend with the bricks, and I'm worried it could be too garish or dark. Fingers crossed.

Last night I talked to a carpenter about some of the things I want to do next up there. He seemed nice and competent. He came to me recommended by the lady who cat-sat for me back in January. I liked her, and trust that since she runs the recycle center she knows just about everyone in the area. We sure don't. And there is a tendency for people to hear where the cabin is and then to want to stick it to us on price. It does no good to explain that ours is one of the smallest and oldest houses in the development.

Emailed with the real estate agent friend who helped me with the last three houses. Without looking at all the improvements we have made to this house in Texas, which she also sold to me, she quoted a figure she thought we could get if we sold right now. It was a good price, not as high as I hoped, but certainly a good bit more than I paid. With the economy still in a general slump, even with the oil/gas boom going on locally, I would be happy with that price. I could pay off the loan here and the loan in New Mexico, get totally out of debt, and still have money leftover for remodeling the kitchen up there. Certainly is tempting. The only holdup is the fact that I would be moving 800+ miles from my dad.

Meanwhile, we continue to nursemaid the kitty. The last prednisone shot gave him a real boost, but it does seem to be wearing off somewhat. I'm concerned about taking him with us on the long long car trip, but I don't know what else we can do. He sleeps a lot, and is distant, but still engaged and active.

There's an unusual phenomenon taking place with him and I don't know if it's typical or not with an animal who is dealing with a terminal disease like lymphoma. He is exhibiting regressive behavior, doing things he has not done since he was a youngster. He's catching lizards and grasshoppers, spending his naptimes lying on sheets of newspaper, asking to go outside, and then doing his latrine business out there. All of these are habits that have long been stowed away since he moved inside the house, but that have obviously remained in his psyche.

It's probably some comfort to him to fall back on old ways. I don't know. I do know that he has pulled away from me, no longer wants to cuddle much or have his head petted or any of the lovey-dovey things we have done with each other for years. My friend, who used to work for a vet, thinks it's him weaning me away. Interesting idea, but I don't think I buy it. I don't believe that animals have the same sort of thought-processes humans do. But there could be something to the idea of our bond breaking down because of the disease. I think his brain has been affected somewhat. I'm still touched by certain moments, but mostly saddened by the loss of closeness. Still, I will continue to help him all I can, through this last stage of his life.

Onward ....

Unexpected Death in the Family

My aunt. She was 95, so why was her death unexpected? Well, she was one of those you think may live forever. She was my dad's only remaining sibling. I got the news, and dreaded having to tell him. He took it stoically. I expected that, but I know he will grieve in his own way and in private. His family, those Germans, they put on that brave face.

This aunt was a complicated lady. She was not warm and fuzzy. She was kind of a rock, really. Judgmental. Prudish. Stubborn. Even a little mean sometimes, but she was also the image of my paternal grandmother. I know this from pictures. Tiny women, both of them, with thin gray hair and round faces. Merry eyes, but also piercing, intelligent. There was no fooling with this little woman, you didn't dare.

All that aside, she had friends all over the world. She had a male housekeeper, an Asian man, for 30 years. They went on missionary trips, she and her late husband of 60+ years. She once wrote a memoir and gave it to me to read and to give an opinion. I did a little editing on it. I think that irked her. I also told her I thought it could be published with a little bit more tweaking, adding some more details, fleshing it out some. I don't think she ever did that. Most of the time these things are done for posterity anyway, and to plump the family history. I'll probably dig out that memoir to read again, after all these years have gone by since I read it the first time.

A stroke is what took her. Finally. She'd been having mini ones for about 9 years. But the big one came last week, in the middle of a game of Chinese Checkers. Her memory was already not what it once was, and her partner, a little old lady friend in the assisted living home with her, had a memory that worked even less. The man who owns the home said they were fun to watch, when they played their daily games of Chinese Checkers. They would forget in the middle whose was which color, and whose turn was whose, until finally one or the other would declare them self the winner, and the game would be done.

And so another member of my family, a relic from my childhood, gone. I loved to go to their house, when I was a little girl. They had a daughter, a single child, my cousin whom I spoke with for over an hour this afternoon. She was a dear favorite of mine (still is) and of my brothers. They were one day apart in age, but she and I were both girls, in a family overloaded with boys. She had a love affair with horses during her childhood, collected horse figures, and had a shelf that ran all around the room about three feet from the ceiling where these horse figures resided. I thought she was completely cool. We still seem to have tons to talk about.

She lives in California -- they all did. But her work occasionally brings her to Texas. It did so a few years ago, right after my divorce was final. She spent a weekend with me. We talked for hours, never really got it all said. Strange how that works with some people. The local Czech festival was going on when she was here and we went to it, meet some cousins we really didn't know, distant cousins, maybe only half cousins. They were instantly like old friends. We ate Czech food, listened to Czech music, talked about our granny, who was Czech. My cousin knew Granny a little, was about 7 when she died. Whereas I was only a baby and have zero memories, but I inherited her eyes. My cousin also has those same eyes, and our hair is the same color as well. People at the Festival that day thought we were sisters.

I hate that all the people I grew up knowing are dying. But I think of how my dad must be feeling right now, just before 10 o'clock. He's the last of his immediate family. How lonely that must be.

Onward ....

A Rough Week & Sweet Moments

It's been a rough week with the cat. He has his good moments, those that give hope. He was doing so well at the beginning of the week that we were even planning how we would take him with us when we go back to the mountains in June. Now, on Thursday, we see that the likelihood of him still being alive then is slim.

Last night was a particularly difficult one. I may have slept three hours. There was a big storm, with heat lightning but not much rain, and it seemed somehow portentous. I didn't even know if the cat would be with me in the morning. He seemed so agitated, restless, a fire in his eyes. He really didn't sleep well with me there beside him, and I have decided not to do that again. He doesn't want much affection, but still enjoys outside and being in the same room with the rest of us. He seems disoriented, and often even a little goofy. My SO talked to the vet this morning and she explained that his kidneys are not processing the toxins and that's what is causing the behavior changes and poor appetite. I think after the long weekend is over, we are going to be faced with making that hard choice.

And WHY, you might ask, don't you just go ahead and have him put to sleep since it's inevitable and the whole ordeal is such an emotional strain? My answer is that he has been my good companion for 14 years and he deserves to live every minute that it is possible for him to live and be comfortable. He still enjoys going outside and watching the birds. And yesterday he jumped up and caught a grasshopper. Those moments keep me from putting him down just yet. As long as he is like this, I think he deserves his last days. However, he is obviously the center of our thoughts and decisions right now so I am unable to blog about much else. 


Yes, it is stressful, and even sad, but in a way, this time is a parting, too, a way of saying goodbye. My heart still breaks but not with the intensity of the first days. I can see now that when it appears to be too much for him, I will do what I have to do. I opened a Dove caramel this afternoon and the message inside was "Be Fearless." That also seemed like a foretelling. I will be with him when he takes his final breath. And we have already decided to have him cremated. I've been planning the people who will get all the accoutrement this cat has acquired through his years. Probably the homeless animal shelter can use the litter boxes and condos, the beds and bowls. There are many of all of these things. And they are spread among four different locations. This was a well-traveled cat. Just in the last year he has been to New Mexico, Colorado, and Arizona. Some people I know haven't gone that far or to that many places. He surprised me with how well he adapted. In the end, he mainly just cared about being with me, wherever I happened to be. And so I will be with him, as well, when he faces his final journey.


Onward ....

A Grave Diagnosis

Lymphoma. It is terminal.

LABOR DAY, 1997. My oldest son is home from Houston for the long weekend. His dad is on the sofa in the den sleeping off a few beers he had drank while we barbecued. It's almost dark. There had been a storm a week or so before, knocked quite a few limbs from the nine pecan trees in the yard. There was a pile of limbs where the greenhouse would one day stand. A soft mewl comes from the wood pile. My son and I both hear it. We go over to inspect. There's a big-eyed kitten on the far side of the pile. He's looking at me and mewling softly but insistently. I want to go for him but each time I try, he appears ready to bolt. I'm afraid that he's hurt. I get down on my hands and knees, calling, "C'mere. Please, c'mere" over and over. He continues to mewl. He looks tiny. He inches forward, slowly. Oh so slowly. It takes 45 minutes for him to inch within my reach but finally he does.


He is gray tabby, but only about half. The under half is pure white. His face is blazed symmetrically with white. Tabby-like, his eyes are golden, outlined with black and black streaks run from the corners of his eyes back along his cheeks. Gray ears, a long straight tail. He weighs maybe 2 pounds. I hold him close to my heart. His heart is pounding wildly in my palm. He doesn't seem to be hurt. I think he's probably just hungry. All I have is a can of white meat chicken, for humans not kittens. His fur is downy soft, silky. It will remain that way all of his life.

Kitten fur, even at age 14. He is my lovey-dovey. My cootie pie. My braveheart. My soulmate. He is my sweet boy, my lap cat, my loyal friend. We are spending our last days together. There will be a big empty hole in my life when he leaves me. The hole has already begun, but right now it's just mostly a hollow lump in my throat that I can't swallow.

His doctor is gone. She left just after she took the biopsies on his kidney and stomach. Another doctor called with the results. "This is a grave diagnosis," he said. The regular vet will be back Tuesday. I will phone her and discuss all of this further. For now, I just want to keep my kitty comfortable.

His belly is shaven, looks so vulnerable and tender now. His eyes are starting to droop. He responded well to the prednisone shot she gave him, caught a lizard the next day, something he hadn't done in at least five years. But that rebound is over, and he is thinner yet. I'm not sure I can take this, but it has to be endured, watching my kitty waste away. I am spending my days holding him, letting him rest in my arms, where he wants to be right now, trying to reassure him, trying not to just sit and cry. Hard but he has earned this time, this love, this vigilance. I can't shut the door on him at night so I'm already exhausted. We both are.

I won't have another cat. Not for a long long while. I've had two before this one but neither of those, not even combined times ten, can compare to the love I feel for this one. If anyone is reading this, please bear with me and my melodrama. A tragedy is happening right now. I feel compelled to write about it. I'm sorry.

Onward ....

Sick Kitty ... Again

Got back to our home in Texas on Tuesday night. I wasn't ready to come home but the kitty is sick. We don't know what is wrong with him this time, but I suspect he has developed diabetes. It started about a week ago while my SO was working up in Colorado. Kitty stopped eating. He seemed to be OK otherwise, just wouldn't eat at all. I went to the store to get different food, and he ate that with relish, once and no more. I thought maybe he was homesick so I took him outside. He enjoyed going out but it did not improve his appetite. If he was not outside, he was sleeping in the chair he has claimed as his. If he was outside on the deck he was sleeping. And finally just outside under the trees, he was sleeping. A hawk swooped down to check him out, and that was the last time I let him sleep beneath the trees. He already knew he was sick. It took me a little while longer.

So now we are home, and taking him to his vet this morning at 8:00. I've been with him all night. Slept upstairs in the loft room with him. He seemed to appreciate that, but at 4:15 I awoke and he was gone. There was a wet spot where he had been sleeping. I think he drooled. It neither looked nor smelled like anything else. I came downstairs and found him here, sleeping on my house slippers. I took him onto the couch with me for a while. He is as light as a feather. I think he's lost about three pounds. He doesn't seem to be suffering but he does act confused. The dog frightens him; it's usually the other way around. He doesn't recognize my SO, and doesn't want to play. When I hold him he seems to search my face and his eyes are kind of wild. It is breaking my heart to see him this way, lethargic and weak.

Fourteen isn't so old for a coddled kitty. My hopes are that this is something we can treat, something that won't compromise his quality of life too much. It was just over a year ago we successfully battled back toxoplasmosis. I'm praying that this will be something we can also defeat. But if it's not, I know that I will feel a deep loss and loneliness. I have loved this cat dearly for 14 years and he has loved me back. We are best friends. We have been through a lot together. He has always been there for me. I will never have another like him, another one as special. It will be hard. I'm trying to prepare myself but that isn't easy either. I have already shed a lot of tears. Yes, I admit it: I get too close to my animals. I can't help it. They give add such joy to m life.

Onward ....

Mountain Wind

We have been back at the cabin in the New Mexico mountains for a week. Every single day, except for last Saturday, has been windy. The people that live here full time say this has been an unusually windy year so far. And it's dry here -- even drier than back in Texas. Last summer, the first time we came to this valley, it was green and lush. The valley now has the barest bit of green grass, and that is because two days before we arrived, there was a 13-inch snowfall.

When a front is moving through, the wind is continuous and can get fierce. Two days ago, wind gusts were clocked at 60 mph. Most of it, though, seems to stay in the treetops. And the wind generally comes in waves. It's a phenomenon called mountain or local wind. The air coming from the prairie, or from the desert, depending on the direction it is moving, collides with the mountains, and the air coming behind the initial blast, puts on pressure on, creating an upward column of air or wind. The pressure is so great that it forces the air well past the peak of the mountains, into the upper atmosphere where it is flattened by colder air, and eventually collapses over the top of the mountain. This makes the rush of wind that we hear when we sit out on our deck. It starts in the treetops, a sort of roar of wind, until it blasts into our area of the valley. Blows like hell for a few minutes, then calms completely once again, until the next buildup of air collapses down over the mountain peaks. It's quite an interesting experience. Like waves of wind, and that's what we've started calling it -- wind waves.

If the oncoming air is off the prairie from the direction of Texas, then it's possible that the wind will only blow through the treetops, and will miss us down on the ground completely. If it's coming from the desert, from the direction of Santa Fe, it roars down the valley until it finds us, and rattles the trees, blows the bird feeders, and gongs the wind chime. I like the sound of these waves. And if I'm sitting inside, wind whistles down the chimney and through the flue.

Every time we come for a long stay, I love it here more and more. We are in paradise on Earth. Great neighbors. I really wish we could stay longer, and maybe next trip we will.

Onward ....

Leaves

This week we have been at war with the live oak leaves all over this place. We have been literally buried in leaves. As everyone in this part of Texas knows, our native live oak trees shed their old leaves in the Spring. Close on the heels of the beginning of the shed, comes the pollen strings. For people, like me, who have an allergy to live oak, these pollen strings are a thing to dread. The air turns yellow. The trees turn yellow. The pollen is sticky and falls on anything that's outside and has the misfortune to be located beneath a pollinating tree. Only one of our vehicles -- mine -- fits inside the garage, so during this period, my SO is constantly washing pollen off of his Suburban or his Silverado. The lawn furniture also gets one of its infrequent washing. The skylights on the roof become opaque with the stuff.

At the end of this period -- the yellow period -- comes the falling of the used up pollen strings. They fall and get stuck in spider webs. They fall all over plants located beneath the trees. They hang on the eaves of the house and on the power lines. They litter the ground and the flower beds. And they stain everything a shit-brittle brown. They ruin your clothes if one should happen into the washing machine. They are supposed to be good fertilizer, but I have only found them a nuisance. And if they aren't picked off of flowering plants they land on, they will cause a leaf blight or bring in insects that cause it.

All the while, the trees continue to shed leaves. Every time the wind blows, the ones already on the ground shift back and forth across the driveway and the yard. They blow from the roof of the house and into the hot tub. They fill up the bird baths and the flower beds. They harbor all sorts of creepy things, too, like copperhead snakes and scorpions. We have 84 of these trees, all of them large, a hundred years old or more, and so we are absolutely awash in dead brown leaves. These leaves are hard and brittle and to compost them, they must be ground with a shredder, which we do not own. Ah, leaf season, how I do loathe thee.

A couple of weeks ago my SO started calling around to see if he could locate somebody, anybody, to come remove all these leaves. But he ran into the same problems: 1) nobody wanted to quote a price without seeing the extent of the leaf cover, 2) none of the people he talked to had a place to haul them off to or else they were going to have to get back to us on that score. We soldiered on through the leaves in a kind of zombie-like inertia for a few more days, trying to ignore the leaves as much as possible, despite all the sneezing and the tracking of them into every doorway in this house -- there are five doorways in, which translates to a lot -- a REALLY lot -- of vacuuming.

I guess we both had the same thought at the same time, because without discussion we decided all at once to tackle the leaf problem by ourselves. We bought an extension ladder. We have been needing one anyway and kept putting it off. But the leaves piled on the roof posed the biggest hazard and to get up there, we needed a sturdy ladder. With the severe drought going on in our area, piles of dried leaves on a roof are simply a fire waiting to happen. We have a gasoline powered blower, so the ladder was the last thing we needed. My SO came home with one on Tuesday.

Thursday he got on the roof. The leaves up there created a slippery situation so he went forward barefooted, throwing down his shoes one at a time. The asphalt burned his tender feet, but he said he felt he had more traction that way. I climbed partway up the ladder and handed up the blower. But before that, I moved everything, pot plants, plant stands, water bowl for the dog, out of the way of the avalanche of leaves I knew was about to rain down. I also threw a tarp over the hot tub.  It was even worse than I thought it would be, the avalanche. Leaves were fully two feet deep around the house by the end of it. Along with the leaves came pollen and pollen strings that hung on the gutters, not to mention worm poop from the infestation that plagued us a few weeks ago. I had been wise enough to wear a dust mask but I was still covered in debris. From the ground, I used a broom to sweep down the muck that hung in the gutter covers. While my SO was up there, I fed up the car wash brush attached to the end of various hoses, and he washed the four large skylights, not beautifully, but at least we can once again see stars through them at night.

Friday we spent the day loading leaves into our little dump trailer that fits behind the riding lawn mower. We took piles and piles of them out to the North Forty and dumped them out in low spots where water stands on the rare occasions that it has rained since we moved here. In a few years they will mulch themselves into dirt. It has been agonizing work but we are finally done with it, and with these leaves. For another year anyway.

Last night we took wine in the hot tub to celebrate and to soothe our sore aching shoulders and our backs. Ahhhhh, the hot tub. Now there's a wonderful investment.

Onward ....