Oh, April Gone

April was lovely spring, especially magnificent red bud bloom, and Baldwin's birthday found us at river to see a dramatic fly over of hawk and eagle. Baldwin gave me a wildlife motion detection camera that we have set up at a creek crossing, capturing footage of deer and turkey as expected, and large coyote!  

Living with Wound

I'm not an especially good nurse, least of all to myself - as growing up with a grandmother who believed in mind over matter (Christian Science), at my base I feel I have failed. But I am charged with caring for this disk about size of a silver dollar and perhaps deeper, a result of MOHS surgery to get the last cells of a squamous cell carcinoma on my right ankle. I have been prohibited from work in the begging to be planted garden in mid May. It is a no go to walk to the river and swim. I need to get off my feet to allay swelling which might hurt chances for a skin graft - altho i am unsure if I will need one - the explanations are slim and unsatisfactory. I am impatient. 
Watched the kids with inner tubes set off for the river with their good friends. Waved. Asked them to splash for me. Sweet ones. At 74 it isn't too hard to settle back into vicarious pleasure. I have walked to the river a few times since the surgery. I like disobeying.

Small Incident with Hawk

Should be photo of hawk, but I have not had a good opportunity to take one. Today Mr Li and I surprised hawk as we neared the last creek crossing before the open field by river. I didn't hear hawk but caught his/her flight as it disturbed the corner of my sight. It left a headless squirrel on the path - reminding of the headless chicken abandoned in the front yard. A serial killer's mark! Hopefully the hawk will return to the kill; if not, coyote or other animal will most probably have a treat.

Preparing for the return of family from their winter in the DR. I even scored a papaya at Aldi's - of course, silly of me, as they have been eating fresh ones almost daily. 

The photo is of the swimming hole, a new addition to the blue slate outcrop by the beach beside the swimming hole. The beach is under water or was when this picture was taken a few days ago. Yesterday I discovered the blood root - profuse colonies on the mountain below the cliffs near the hammock. The spring beauties are out in the sandy soil by the river. 

Last days of March

So, so so - I haven't been sick; I've no excuse for not venturing here. Has the river run my thoughts off? Three chickens have been stolen and murdered; I am down to two, red and black. One death I blame on the hawk, whose swoop I caught right off my deck in mid afternoon. Another bird's abduction was interrupted by Mr Li, the chicken's body left in the front yard. Red feathers still mingle with the grass, the body I disposed of on a low pyre up Red Bud. Most recently in the dusk, a black hen who was prone to escaping the yard, was taken - no sign left. I think a coyote. 

Otherwise, a good month, more sun than gray (the winter has been a dark one). And no heavy snow as last year that was so destructive. I do have a continuing skin cancer saga: a squamous cell just above my right ankle (on inside) - first detected around Thanksgiving! Biopsied, than tumor dug out, than when new squamous cell tumor popped up in January, cut out - now pathology report says still cells in area of wound. I am scheduled for MOHS surgery in May and plastic surgery to close wound. Wish it might be sooner, but the doctors are busy. I may have lived too long in this skin suit.

I did complete early a 40 day lent challenge to dispose of 40 items in house. But I am behind in my effort to write a poem a day. Seems my priorities have become domesticated? My paper-mache piece I began in September is as it was in November when once I worked on it. Am I uninspired and dispassionate, or just old and dull? Or despairing of the world?

Ground Hog in yard this last day of February

I was looking for pictures from my recent visit to DR, but couldn't track down! and found this photo from last Christmas - my three most dear and wonderful grands. 

As Mindy said, Baba's arm is long enuf for a good selfie! so here we are. Two weeks was hardly long enuf. The lack of sun here in south west VA this winter has been damaging to mood and to bones; Sharon in Ocean Springs says that it has been a lugubrious winter on the Gulf Coast. The playas in Las Terranes are perfect; 4 mile walk in  morning trailing Baldwin and Mindy - after school  swim with the kiddos. All my aches were gone under the tropical sun. My plantar fasciitis did not aggravate  even tho I went barefoot or with flip flops. And my stiff thumbs loosened, and my itchy dry skin lessened and my wound healed (from removal of skin cancer). Fresh fruit! ah...
I hope that by next winter I can manage 3 weeks at least. Alma loves caring for Mr. Li. One chicken died on Alma's watch and three days ago the red tailed hawk snatched one of my good black hens. I'm down to 4 hens - Alma could keep them at her house. I can figure out how to turn off the water to the house and leave house in good shape to weather the cold.  Maybe I could do a month.

red canoe and yellow hammock

So much depends on a red canoe, tied to a tree by the river (knock off - WC Williams):

The river too cold for paddling, at least for these old bones. The hammock too wet for a lazy idle here in the first sun in three days. But I pace and do a small qigong practice:

Mary Oliver died today

Oh, what a poet, voice to our spirit, to our deep connection with this world -- Mary Oliver. Her poems, her presence, invite us to see as she sees in commune with the outside, the pond, the wild geese, the song bird. Oh, what a joy to read her words. Thank you, Mary Oliver. 

I woke this morning in a dream of Van, sharing poems - and I stretched in my warm cocoon of a bed with cat to my right and small white dog to my left and smiled. As if a parallel life that might have been, I seemed to have shifted into this possible story in the night - familiar (as if I have been there before). When I learned of Mary Oliver's death, I wondered if the dream was prescience.

Snow this afternoon.