Three Months

Yesterday it was three months since my grandson, Liam, was born – and three months and one day since he died.  It hardly seems possible that it has been that long, yet it hardly seems possible that it has been that short a time.  The early days were such a blur of shock and grief and mourning and ill health.  Then the days stretched into more days and weeks into more weeks, and now three months. 

Where have they gone?  The shock is still there, but somewhat dulled by time.  The grief is a constant, but not as intense, more a background trill that can still appear in the foreground of my consciousness in sudden, often unexpected, spurts, leaving me drained of fresh tears.  My mourning, according to definition the outward expression of bereavement, is not very obvious to anyone anymore – most times it is hidden inside me now.  I can answer “great” to the meaningless queries from strangers “how are you today” instead of ignoring or answering “trying to hang in there.” 

And my ill health?  I’m balancing, somewhat, finally, on the increased heart medications, and the slowly decreasing prednisone.  I had a very short episode of afib at 6am this morning – right when my blood level of flecainide would be lowest – but quickly ended after only a minute by stepping into a cool shower.  It wasn’t a surprise – I kept thinking about Liam yesterday and the day before, knowing I needed a release. 

I finally had a cry yesterday, while I was sitting outside on my porch reading.  I’m reading Jean Auel’s final book in the Earth’s Children series.  Just released, very long in coming, poorly reviewed by many, but I’m enjoying it.  While on my porch I read the following quote from Ayla, the lead female character, while speaking to the Zelandonia in the far south while on her long painted cave tour with the First:

“When a child is born dead, or leaves this world and walks in the next soon after birth, it is because the only way a person who is not born right can be fixed is to return to the Mother, so She takes them back.  Although it is much easier to say than to do, one should not grieve for such children; the Mother has taken them back so they can be made right.”

I’m starting to tear up again upon typing that paragraph. I don’t believe it is healthy to not grieve, so I disagree with Ayla's advice.  But I wonder - is Liam made “right” now?  And will his sweet baby spirit, or the part of it that was Liam, stay there (wherever it is) and wait for me, and for the rest of his family who loves him, to greet him someday and tell him how much we missed getting to know him?  I hope so, I have to believe so...  

Camping and Condors and Spring Desert Flowers

A few days ago we went camping for two nights at Lee’s Ferry campground in Marble Canyon, AZ.  It is a spectacular location along the Colorado River, several miles below the Glen Canyon Dam (~15??), and several miles from the start of the Grand Canyon (~30??).  It is a very popular launching place for rafting the Colorado, and for fishing.  It is one of my favorite places to camp in the Spring and Fall – it is too hot there, for me, in the Summer because the elevation is ~3200 feet (2000 feet below our home).  This week many of the cactus were in full bloom, and there were many varieties of wild flowers blooming, some so small you could hardly see them.  A few of them are below:

However, one of the most exciting parts of going there, for me, is to see the California Condors that are perching or flying around the Navajo Bridges at Marble Canyon.  One or two can usually be seen in the mornings, perched on the lower cross-members of one of the two bridges (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Navajo_Bridge).  The “old” historic bridge is now a walkway between the cliffs with the river below, and an ideal location to get photos of the condors that perch on the new bridge.  Later in the day the condors catch thermals and may be seen circling in groups (up to 10 or more) near the Navajo bridges or Lee’s Ferry, or, at the Vermillion Cliffs’ condor viewing area (http://www.wildlifeviewingareas.com/wv-app/ParkDetail.aspx?ParkID=197) which is ~30 miles west of Marble Canyon.   They are amazing birds, but environmentally very sensitive, and the story of their recovery from only a few mating pairs in captivity, to their release into the wild with successful breeding in both California and Arizona (http://www.azgfd.gov/w_c/california_condor.shtml) is even more amazing.  Our latest photos, and the size-comparison sign (to golden eagles and red-tailed hawks) at the viewing area are below.

The same shot of two condors on the lower cross-member of the new bridge, while a truck is driving across to show perspective, zoomed/clipped and original size:

One of the condors on the bridge posing for the camera:

 The size-comparison sign at the Vermillion Cliffs condor viewing area:

Sun Worship

Do you remember the episode of the “original” Star Trek series, where they are visiting a planet with a developing, pre-modern, civilization that worships the sun?  At the end, the key cast members are discussing how the civilization seems too “advanced” to be sun worshipers, and Uhura says something like “I think they are worshiping the son not the sun….”   That’s an aside and my post has nothing to do with religion.  I’ll be talking about the sun here, that shiny, hot, yellow (sometimes red, pink, or orange) fire ball that holds the earth in place. 

In the past few months I have felt like I have some symptoms of seasonal affective disorder, acronym SAD.  Every cloudy, rainy, or snowy day, when the sun rarely or never shows, I feel down, or SAD.  Most sunny days I feel better.  I’m wondering if this is due to the prednisone or to the grief, or whether it is a combination of both, or more (like not keeping busy enough, and not being able to take my walks).  I can’t remember those SAD feelings being as defined or weather-determined in past years.  Today is at least starting out sunny, even though quite cold, and it is wondrous and beautiful.  I feel “up” and ready to go. 

It seems strange that I would be a sun worshiper because I have sun intolerant skin.  I hated my blue white skin (yuck - veins showing through) when I was a teenager (now I have age spots, so it doesn’t seem as blue).  My friends would lay out in the sun at the NJ shore, rubbing themselves with baby oil, and have a nice tan by the end of the day.  I would lay out in the sun, slathered in that same baby oil, that they promised would help me tan better than Coppertone (which only helped me burn because it was well before the advent of sun screen).  I would end up sick as a dog later in the day, with blisters the size of my fist on the back of my thighs (yes, I’m a great candidate for skin cancer).  In a week or so huge sheets of skin would peel – how fun.  My mother had the same sensitive skin.  When I was a tiny child, and my family went to the shore, she would always be under the big umbrella, with long sleeves.  She covered us with pancake makeup to protect our skin - so I could play in the sun and go into the water.  I was the only kid happily playing while slathered in orange waterproof goo, with sand stuck all over me.  Now I’m one of the only people at Lake Powell, out on the lake on a beautiful sunny day, with white light-weight long sleeves and light-weight long pants tucked into socks, with every square inch of exposed skin (including my fabric covered arms and legs) covered in frequently applied sun screen.  BTW, I don’t use a “high protection number” sun screen – I find that applying 15 protection every hour, or more, works much better for me. 

I’m one of those “burn and peel” people who should probably live in Seattle or another cloudy and rainy city.  I know I’d hate it there.  Here I am in my own personal paradise where the sun shines a lot (hence our solar panels), with sun-useless skin, and I’m an "emotional" sun worshiper, dreading those few days when I’m SAD because I can’t see the sun.  Thank heavens for sun screen!

Hurt Feelings

It’s so easy to have your feelings hurt or to hurt others, so often without even realizing it.  It is worse when you are stressed or already upset about something else.  And I have so many reasons to be stressed and/or upset.   The prednisone has made me half crazy.  Even though I’m finally on a mid- to low-dose, I still feel like I have hair-trigger reactions to stressors.  I can often catch myself, knowing it is “the medication” and rationalize myself out of my quick negative reactions, but sometimes I just can’t seem to stop it.  And grieving for Liam has magnified those reactions – I can be fine one minute, and sobbing the next.  

But I am hurt more, and upset more, when I know I have hurt others, no matter how unintentionally.  Teasing can be fun and my son and I do a lot of it.  But there is a fine line between teasing or trying to be funny, and coming too close to the sensitive reality of a situation.  I crossed the line – twice.  The first time I didn’t even realize it.  My son will graduate with his master’s degree in a month, and is job hunting.  I’m trying to be the voice of reason, with a teasing overtone, that it isn’t going to be easy in this economy to find the right position.  But I crossed the line, and pissed him off.  That was several days ago.  Then last night I made a comment, again teasing but crossing the line, about “that’s what a good husband would do” and that was the final straw.  My son is a good husband, probably one of the best.  He is already very stressed about the job hunt, very stressed about keeping “things” together (being a man) after the death of his son, very stressed about providing loving support to his grieving wife, and I hit him, twice, in a sensitive spot.  I’m the one who is hoping to help make things better (for lack of a better word) for my wonderful son and daughter-in-law, and I inadvertently aimed for and hit the jugular.  I apologized and told them that it wouldn’t happen again (at least those particular targets), and hung up and started crying, and crying, and crying.  Then my husband made a comment about “why do you always move things” (which I do in my OCD way), and I started crying again, and crying and crying.  I guess I needed the release.  Instead of crying several times each day, I’ve only been crying once or twice a week.  It probably isn’t enough, and I’m letting grief build up so that it has to explode out of me.  So of course last night my heart acted up into afib for a few minutes, until a cool shower bounced me back into normal sinus rhythm.  That’s a good indicator that I’m letting the stress build instead of releasing it.

But meanwhile, “helper Mom,” “supportive Mom” turned into nasty Mom and hurt his feelings - hit him while he was already down.  My husband said, “he will get over it,” but I know it will be remembered for a while.   I’m sorry son – please remember I love you.

Chasing Bulls

We allow grazing on our 20 acres of land to keep the property taxes low.  The local rancher with whom we have a grazing agreement brings several bulls to the area in late November or early December, and then takes them up to higher ground (and to be with his cows) during the first week of May.  This year we have four bulls.  They don’t just graze our 20 acres, but wander around several square miles.  However, the rancher drops off their supplemental hay on the 20 acre parcel directly north of our property, and their main catch basin for water is about 300 feet directly south of our front door (across the dirt road), so they are fairly close to us most of the time.  Several times each day, if they are in our immediate area, they walk up the rancher access track to the water basin, which brings them within a hundred feet, or closer, of our house.  If our smaller dog sees them walking towards us, or what she thinks is towards us, she barks like crazy.  The bulls just ignore her, unless she goes outside when they are near – if that happens she chases them until she is tired.  Since she was raised as a “city dog” and not a ranch/country dog, we worry that she might get hurt, so we don’t purposefully let her chase the bulls.

Anyway, it is now April, and only a month until the bulls will be with the cows.  And you better believe they know what is coming.  As of a few weeks ago they started to vocalize more, they are getting into fights, butting their heads (their horns are clipped), more often, and they frequently have their full erections dragging the ground as they are grazing (they may not be called erections, since they hang down, but you know what I mean).  They are much feistier than they were during the winter.  Add that to the fresh green grassy weeds that are growing in clumps all around close to our house, thanks to the copious moisture we have received, and we have some horny, feisty, irritable bulls grazing within a foot of our house.  This evening one of the black bulls was grazing within a few feet of our front door, and kept coming back again and again after being chased away.  I would chase him across the driveway by our house into the “teardrop” between our circular driveway to our road – but he would just stand there and stare at me until I went inside, and then in a few minutes our dog would go nuts again because he was back at our front door, breaking the rocks on our walkway.  I even got in my car and drove straight at him, across the sage and brush, while he was in the teardrop, and he just stared at me.  I even bumped him with my car, and he just stared at me.  That tender green growth must have been worth the harassment, and he must have known that my little Ford Escape posed him no risk.  I finally called my husband at his neighborhood Saturday night nickel poker game and said “I need help with the bulls.”  He quickly drove over, and chased that stubborn bull away – the bulls respond to a male chasing them with a deep, loud voice, and a big stick, better than they respond to me.  They must sense the challenge of the testosterone!  My husband is going to put weed killed on the green weeds sometime soon so we won’t tempt the bulls to the house. 

Only a few more weeks and they will be gone until next winter, and then we start all over again.  But no matter what the hassle, it is worth the decrease in our property taxes.  

A Twilight Zone Morning

Yesterday morning my husband came home from an errand and said it looked like there was a fire at our house as he was driving towards our home on our dirt road.  He said that it started to the south, then it looked like it moved right to our house, but it was moving very fast.  I poo-poo’d his comments and said that it was probably a dust devil (we can have some pretty big, pretty powerful ones where we live).  He said it was moving too fast, and that it didn’t look like there was rotation in the moving smoky clouds.  I still thought he had seen dust devils….until he looked out the windows to the northeast, and I saw was he was talking about.  There was a haze of what looked like white smoke above the trees and in the gorge to our east – then we would see a plume of smoke going straight north, but too fast to be a car driving - but, on what road?  And the ground was still moist enough from weekend rain/snow that the roads weren’t producing that much dust.  Then we saw it further to the northeast, then to the southeast, then by our neighbor’s barn.  He called our neighbors, and they said “just a dust devil.”  It kept happening, it kept moving.  We started humming the theme to “Twilight Zone” and got out the cameras to film this mystery from our back porch.  We didn’t smell any smoke.   It seemed to calm down a little, at which point we went inside and forgot about it for ~15 minutes - until I looked out my office window and saw it happening again.  Plumes here and there, with a haze across the trees and the gorge.  I said, we have to drive over there and see what is happening.  We took our cameras, hurried into my husband’s car and drove east on our road, into the middle of the haze.  And then it happened, and then happened again, and again.  A juniper tree literally exploded pollen, all at once, right as we drove by, then another, and another.  It was an awesome sight, and an event that we had never heard about before, nor seen before.  It was an amazing 45 minute show!

When we returned home I immediately googled exploding juniper pollen and found many pictures and videos – most call it cedar explosions, some refer to “cedar fever” - since around here the junipers have been called cedar trees (or mountain cedars) since the pioneers first occupied the region.  Apparently the trees have little capsules of pollen that all release at the same time on each tree, and many trees in the same location can release within a few minutes of each other.  It can be stimulated to release by shaking or hitting with a stick, or by winds (it was a bit windy yesterday morning, but not really very bad for around here).  Here is a link to some videos of this event, that happens in January in Texas:  http://republicofaustin.com/4-of-the-most-horrifying-cedar-fever-videos-youll-ever-see/.

Just another day in paradise, with a bit of twilight zone thrown in for excitement.