mumma yaga

 Mar. 28  (...although now it is two days later.) I realized a few minutes into my walk this morning, that today was a solid-ground day. It is interesting that I use that metaphor because my metaphor for depression is the swamp, where the mud sinks down forever, at least way past how far one's boots go! As I took in the pale warm morning, it felt like spring - so corny, so mundane, a few degrees difference in the temperature and that watery sun - how is it so thin and yet so promising? But that is the spring, everything is pale almost-green; we ourselves are frail and thin from the long, long winter.  I will cook a capable meal. I have run several errands and accomplished first steps of other work. It is very difficult being functional two days in five. I remembered today that my neighbour had hurt her arm and I was a helping hand for some driving and the odd coat zipper, or can opening. So I was being useful to someone. That is definitely a signal that I am not in my dotage. A not

 Mar. 24 Circle of the sun: I felt so much better this morning, with the pale watery sunlight, the mild air, my first crocus. The neighbours' snowdrops and crocuses bloomed earlier this week.  Rocky has been sick, lethargic and other unpleasant symptoms. He had me out in the night (midnight, two am, and 4:30, two nights running but last night he slept through and only disturbed me at our usual wake time, needing to barf. He did not eat anything yesterday, even his chicken and rice. His ears have been bothering him too. I took a sample to the vet and there were no parasites. However they did not screen for bacteria or virus.  It is early afternoon and Rocky is less lethargic. He scampered at a squirrel and has eaten some leftover eggs and later some dog food. I am waiting for the brown rice with broth and prebiotics to cool to offer it him. Why is it that the most dire possibilities come to mind in the early hours before dawn, and on a Friday - the last day of doctors' office ho

Past midnight, March 20 How is it that you will have a day when your mental bucket is empty and then wake up the very next morning with the "spoons" to run a level-four errand? (Sorry about mixing metaphors.) I must have slept well, and after the morning walk, I decided I needed some rainboots, today. The field was wet with melting snow and the morning's rain. My crocs (fake) have holes in the tops though they are lined and my feet were wet in five minutes. Rocky picks his way among the watery mounds of dirty snow because he likes to keep his paws dry. I follow in his paw steps as best I can.  ***** After that, I plunked myself (old lady word) in the car and set out early, found sturdy black boots for a good price and a pair of summer (fake) croc sandals, also a good buy. In a maze of a hundred aisles, with the help of some excellent staff helpers, I found the items on my list and my way to the cashier. A live person! (as opposed to a self-checkout.) Pretty nice. I am not

Mar. 10 Snow is falling. There seems to be little wind and it feels peaceful. The temperature is right on zero so it's warm, especially with the snow. It is Friday, yay. Even though I don't work at a Monday-to-Friday job, I still feel happy when it is Friday, from habit. End of the school week for the grandchildren: they are good at getting out the door in the mornings, most of the time, and come home happy.. What calm I felt this morning. I managed to get out of the grocery store for under $200 dollars. That's twice this month. I put back the Cheezies I almost bought. I love the Humpty Dumpty ones. They are the best. But the empty calories and fat! Yikes. Processed beyond recognition; once they were corn and a bit of cheese. Now they are delicious but poisonous. There was an interesting article yesterday about colon cancer in younger adults. The author surmises that a lifetime of eating highly processed foods may be destroying bodies. * Sigh. I was as conned and ignorant a

 Mar. 8 He is old. His ears are scarred from long infections and are prone to more irritation. His neck is stiff and on Monday he sprained his left front shoulder. He lies in the sun at my feet while I smoke a cigarette on the porch.  I wonder if the maple misses its brother, taken down last year, too old and broken to survive in the city, where it might fall on the house. In the spring the leaves will come out, burgundy. The old tree leafed pale green, like a fair-haired adopted sibling, and dropped handfuls of yellow blossoms all over the lawn.  No more.  We all are old now.  China grumbles war, Russia shakes an invasion over its neighbour, breaking the lives, the buildings and bridges. Homeless join the homeless - refugees of all the wars and hatred in the world.  I look at the Prime Minsiter's face in the paper and wonder what he thinks about in the darkness in bed. Does he see some good that he might do if he dared, if he cared enough to call down the rich, call down the corru

Mar. 5 When you are having an emotional thunderstorm and the electricity is sparking, you need a lightning rod to draw down the energy and calm you.  You might be crying, or raging angry, and it feels like a storm. Someone who loves you can be your lighting rod or ground. A speaker at a long ago La Leche League conference wisely said, "Children need loving most when we are the most "unloveable"." * Children have not developed calming skills and personal touchstones to bring them to earth. They most need a loving hand when they are being their most challenging. Help your children, and each other, learn to reach out to a lightning rod - a hug, a sit-down-have a cup of tea, hold out your hand. There is a strong physical component to finding grounding when we are in storm mode. It may mean going outside to breathe, to stand on the earth. It may mean asking for a hug, (or offering) even though you don't want to give in to a hug. Give in and let go.  At a later time y

The chanterelle has a flowery fragrance, which is one of the ways you identify it! The smell of coffee can take me back to being five, visiting my Aunt Jean and Uncle Roland in England, the hardwood staircase that faced the front door. I am sometimes transported, by a smell on the wind, to another place and time, so real and tangible as to be almost hallucinogenic: a hillside in Japan, a morning on a Caribbean island, or the shores of my childhood. That is how powerfully our sense of smell is present in our minds.  I am the one in the house to whom everyone comes and says, "Does this smell okay to you?", for mold, or freshness. I am the one who always says, "I smell gas." And, although I may be the only one, I call the gas company, and yes - there is always something wrong. My position is actually changing as I age into "senior" status, as my children age into adults with the same intelligent nose.  It is interesting that our modern culture seems to shunt