Once in a Lifetime #2: Another Migration

Migrations are often seen in magazine pictures or documentaries on public television but rarely witnessed in real time especially if no one is looking...

Working in my country garden one spring or fall day - I remember the sight but not the season exactly - I became aware of the familiar honking of geese. Since the valley is a typical waterway route for the big birds and since I was all too familiar with the sound, I wasn't really taken unaware. But as the honking became louder and more cacaphonetic  (I made up that word) I upped my attention. There were no birds yet in sight but the sound was unmistakable so after a bit the expected flock of geese appeared at the edge of the trees surrounding my garden and lining the riverbed. I looked up and smiled at the beauty and grace of their flight and I kept watching, and watching, and watching, thinking that hey, this was one big flock (one F'n big flock to be quite honest) but then, as it seemed never-ending,  I realized that what I was experiencing, first hand, and undeserving, was the main migration of geese, literally thousands! It was unbelievably sensational! Their white bellies covered the blue sky, completely obliterating it the full 120 degrees of my vision. The honking increased to an incredible decibel level! I wanted to shout to my children, to anyone, but the only sound I could make was a muffled 'Oh My God!'. I was stunned, literally bolted in place in the middle of the garden where normally it was the earth that entertained my vision. The earth under my feet that provided my day with meaning and purpose. But this! This was an upside down perspective. I waited  to see how long it would go on and the whole thing was an amazing reward for my patience! They just kept coming and coming and coming. I couldn't fathom their numbers and their insatiable drive and determination to reach their destination - all together as one body. They flew nonstop to wherever. It didn't matter where they were headed, what mattered was that they chose this path. They flew low, so low I could actually see their webbed feet and the variation in black and white of their wing feathers, and the honking was deafening! I spent the rest of my day in a sort of mesmerized  trance. 

It's important I think not to resign ones' self to the inevitable unconcern of everyday happenings and thus miss the possibility of a once in a lifetime, one day happening. What may appear 'just another flock' could end up a treat for your entire being and a passionate nod to Gaia!

Once In A Lifetime #1

Everyone should make a list of important things from their lives. This is the first entry of many to come in the posts of amazing sites and experiences that have meaning to me. 
   As I sat at a table in a Chinese restaurant I noticed a monarch butterfly sailing toward the windows that lined an entire wall. A few more caught my eye and because they were flying over a concrete parking lot and had sailed over the street beyond, a seemingly fruitless flight path, it piqued my interest.  Then it became apparent that they had been fluttering through an old tree line - a thin line stretching several city blocks back from  the concrete and bustle. As I watched, the few became dozens and the dozens hundreds and then a breathtaking thousands of thousands of monarchs filled the air! I was watching a migration! It was majestic! They literally filled the entire globe of my vision! They flew each in its own space without even slightly touching wings, passed over the strip mall and continued without stopping. The whole show lasted about 10 minutes which is a long time for continuous thousands of monarch butterflies. I looked around the restaurant and realized that no one else was watching. No one. They had missed a once in a lifetime experience. I could have shouted out to the other diners when I first noticed the flight but had become instantly engrossed in the beauty and significance of the event. Realizing that I had witnessed the regal flight of a species that found this to be an ordinary day in its existence left me in an amazing state of awe. Gratitude to Gaia.

A lesson here - don't forget to look up!

Tumbling Down the Rabbit Hole.....

Hallo Eve

First off, this is another true episode in the weird stuff category. It can be verified with the city street repair dept. – I think. It was quite an eyeopener for me....

So, every summer we face the same ordeal of mowing the lawn. All the neighbors mow their lawns so we must too. We have managed to alleviate the need to mow in the entire back yard and side yards by planting gardens but we still must mow the front which isn’t much but for the boulevard, on which we pay taxes and $ for tree care even though the city claims it for itself whenever the need arises and we trim our own trees so they have very little to do here. 

Picture a heated summer day – upwards of 80 degrees F (that’s 80 F’n degrees!) – and we’ve reached the maximum measurement allowed of 6 inches so I must mow and proceed to do so. Tediously back and forth and back and forth across the boulevard pushing the not ecofriendly, noisy, made of steel lawnmower so that I’m melting with every swathe. There is no time even for reverie, it’s all just work and seems silly being that lawns are not native here and should all be replaced with wild prairie grasses. Back and forth I go when suddenly, with no prior notice, no inkling of impending disaster, VOOOMP! I am sucked down into the ground like a rehearsal for death! Seriously! A sinkhole had opened up right under my feet! MY VERY OWN SINKHOLE! It wasn't an easy pleasant glide ...instead it was an unpleasant  instant drop into the netherworld. Mother nature hadn't savored me on the way down - she just swallowed me in one gulp.....

I am now at an entirely new level with my environment and my first emotions are a mixture of embarrassment, humiliation, and guilt (products of my catholic school upbringing). Did anyone witness this humiliation? Did I commit some horrible crime to deserve being swallowed whole? I glanced furtively around from my new perspective to see if anyone is watching and, satisfied that I’m safe from being a neighborhood curiosity (a title I may already have earned), I crawl back out of the hole and stand beside it on the bit of walk that leads across the boulevard from the sidewalk to the street. Stunned and bewildered, I try to reason but, upon the instantaneous recognition of the situation, my brain had dissolved into the atmosphere leaving me on my own with no thought but WHAT JUST HAPPENED? (Or WTF!!!)

I look across the hole where the lawnmower sits waiting on the other side, silent, the only witness. Why didn't IT fall down the hole, why did I have to go down instead? The hole is approximately 2 feet in diameter, not all that large.   I peer down in and decide that it should be investigated so I climbed back down there to have a look around.  Now you have to remember that I had only set out to cut the grass to an approximation of legal length with no desire for additional entertainment...

I had registered a cooling effect on my first involuntary trip and so on seeking to learn more I was relieved to realize that I hadn’t begun a decent into the fiery depths where evildoers dwell. That was a plus.

Upon surveying the hole I found that it was actually quite a nice cavernous space, maybe six by eight feet extending from the curb all the way under the public sidewalk. I took in the ceiling which consisted of grassroots (that’s a rock n roll band, right?) and weed roots (no band) and various bits of detritus, seemingly, almost magically, suspended in midair - albeit at ground level. At this point various advantages occurred to me. Although there was no tunnel to any easy cash my newly found underground grotto could still be put to use as a lovely respite from the heat. I could put a cot down here and maybe carve some graffiti-like art on the walls illumined with gilt so that future historians might be fooled into thinking it was some sort of pre-boulevard establishment. I could cool it even further with a huge block of ice covered in straw, bring my ipad, nook, iphone etc. down there. Flashlights wouldn’t be necessary as long as all tech stuff remained fully charged. Add a shelf for bottled water and other sundries. Maybe a chair should I deign to invite a guest. A truly comforting image of  relief.

I would have to figure some sort of ceiling support and fix a door to the ground outside. All of these ideas came tumbling into my brain much like I tumbled into the hole! (- my brain, which had returned after the initial shock had subsided and it felt it was safe.) The earthy odor was invigorating! I felt like moving in for the duration of the summer….it reminded me of the fallout/bomb shelters that were popping up (figuratively speaking) all over the neighborhood when I was a kid. My father wisely determined that the efforts were pointless and if all 11 of us and the dog were to take up living quarters in a 12 foot square space we might as well let the bomb drop before we climb in. The war would be inside...

Considering further I decided that the door would have to be inconspicuous as anything placed on the boulevard is fair game to passersby. I figured I could plant bean sprouts on my door and pick them and eat them while I lolled on my cot under the ground with my nook in my hand….very healthy all around….

Somehow the door would have to blend in, remain inconspicuous. I’ve repurposed many things on the boulevard.  As a matter of fact, this summer, through no fault of its own with regard to my earthy episode, I put the gas powered, eco unfriendly, steel bodied lawnmower out there and it lasted all of three minutes!!! (We now have an eco friendly one that is so silent I have to keep checking the height of the grass to be sure it's actually functioning.)

In the end I knew this would not go over well if the city boulevard police were to spot my spacious lower level domicile so I resigned myself to the fact that it just wouldn’t do and with misgivings crawled back out of the hole (first checking for any lurkers who might spot me) and reluctantly gave the street guys a call. Two weeks later, as nothing had transpired from the first call other than my driving stakes into the ground and purchasing my own personal roll of caution tape with which I cordoned it off, I called them again, and again for a third time and, so, on the fourth call, after a 5 month period of no action, I mentioned the fact that someone could inadvertently fall into the hole while engrossed in their iphone, break their neck and sue the city for damages. In a day there were dump trucks lined up to erase all traces of my venture to the underworld, city workers in florescent vests scrambling all over plugging every tiny nook so that nothing, not even a breath of O2 could exist down there. It was surprising how much fill it could hold. It was kind of sad too, realizing that my respite residence had had such a short existence and that only in my brain...And that was it, and I'm left wondering - is this a daily occurrence all over urbanity? Does this happen to all mowers of boulevards? Or is it that I'm just specially designed for weird stuff? Geeze! 

Anyway, be careful my friends while you walk the walk – lawnmower or no – because you never know what opportunities 'will open up for you'! 😲(Alice had it made!)

Brain Tricks

This is another older post but I'm just practicing so bear with me.....

It seems I'm into tricking my brain right now. Hmmmmm....perhaps I need to find a new sport? Anyway, here's another way to learn just how one's brain deals with difficulty - the difficulty being one's self. This implies that one's brain is not completely attached to one's needs in order to enjoy it's life. One's brain can at times be a bit tricky. Take for instance this example; no matter how many times I reach for the curtain cord, whether to open or close the curtain, I invariably grab the wrong one and have to switch and just that little tiny teeny dig at me gets me really pissed with my brain - I don't mean the alcoholic kind of pissed either. Why is it that this trick has to be played over and over again seemingly hilarious to my brain which is watching and waiting with grande anticipation for just the moment when that little tug reveals to me that it's got me again. And oh how my brain must enjoy the throes of completely unabashed joy each and every time. Really, just writing this makes me want to go pull the cord and get it right so I can upend my brain for once. But no, it won't happen. I know because I've tried it. I've tried, just at the very instant of choosing which cord, and it doesn't matter if the cord is one of those unending ones which go either way or if it's actually two cords because either way you'll (I'll) get it wrong, but just at the very instant, I plan my brain gotcha and switch cords and DAMN! It switched as well and I'm left with double jeopardy!!! I cannot NOT open and close the curtains as my brain/body demands light, preferably sunlight and at night I still get the creeps if I'm sitting with my back to the window, a furniture arrangement which sometimes leaves me with no choice as when I put my giant piano into my not so giant living room and had to ditch my couch for a small little tiny love seat which is not very inducive to good posture but that's not what this is all about. So every time I go to open/close the mere apprehension of failure is cause enough to AAARRRGHHH down the streets and into the night. Crap, now I have to go close the curtains.....it leads to the alcoholic kind of pissed...

The Chicken Move

The Chicken Move

This is an old post but since I'm new in here I'm testing some of the functions of posting in a blog environment.

OK. I had to move the 15 chickens (layers) from our Rose's place to another farm. About a 150 mile trek all told. So, went to Rosie's with boxes....wrangled the chickens into the boxes and into my jeep. So far so good, only a few battle scars to my face. Chickens can be violent. They would make good terrorists. We could unleash them on Donald Trump..they would have a hey day with his 'comb'. Then the journey to their new coop where dogs and cats like the chickens and protect them but do our chickens know that??? NO! They are terrified! SO, again, another battle with the same chickens - there are 15 of them - did I mention that? - more battle scars, cats removed from the coop, dog outside guarding the entire situation and finally, new home, a few snooty girl fights among them and I managed to drive away with only a few minor injuries. Life is exciting - right!
It's interesting to note that the original post was from way back in December of 2015....so the Donald Trump thing still holds true today!!!

The Catholic School Girl's Bathroom, Episode Two

So, after getting used to the Catholic girls bathroom rules etc. and after a couple years brushing up on them, I became a bit more confident and my personality started to take on weird turns. It may have been the result of repressed mischievousness being one of nine siblings. Anyway, this is a catholic girls bathroom story again....as I said I became more confident...fear of the nunners was replaced by intrigue....how to get around them...I was in 3rd grade, seven years old and still very little. As it happened we were sent to the girls bathroom in groups of 6 or so and it came to me suddenly that here was an opportunity to play out a trick on my fellow classmates. I have no idea why or how I came up with it but I determined that in order to carry it out I had to be last in line of my group so that if I stalled in the stall I would be left alone in the girls bathroom. At that point I would lock the stall door and very deftly, and since I was small it was pretty easy, crawl out from under the door, quickly shoot to the next one, latch it shut and on down the line till all the doors were closed and latched so that the next group of girls would have to crawl under if they wanted to pee. I thought this was very funny. My little brain giggled in anticipation while I sat at my desk and waited for the next group of frustrated little girls to return to the classroom. Eventually someone figured it out and ratted on me so that on my final trickster event day, as I crawled out from under the first latched door, I came face to toes with an ominous pair of black shoes poking out from under the folds of black nunner robes....CRAP...I glanced upward, my butt half still in the stall, my brain half on alert to the terms of my dilemma ....and there was Jesus, still hanging on his cross, disgusted, thinking this little girl will never learn, I'll be hanging here eternally and she'll still be up to her tricks in the Catholic girls bathroom. I could imagine him shaking his head in defeat, if he could have thrown up his hands in defeat he would have done just that...I was mortified....guilty before even being charged and already supplicant on my hands and knees. What could I do but back crawl into the stall and think. I stood up and waited for some brilliant excuse to come to me but there was nothing... and for a moment felt cheated of my trick and then felt fairly relieved that I hadn't finished latching all the doors and would be spared the humility of crawling around the bathroom floor in front of Jesus and the nunner. Again I have no idea what my punishment was. Probably banned from the Catholic girls bathroom altogether which is the most likely result as I remember riding home on the school bus at the end of the day being squashed between a hundred stinking children with my bladder full up to my armpits and barely (and often unsuccessfully) making it home before relief. There were many afternoons when I walked home in wet knee socks with my shoes squishing underneath me and hoping no one noticed the river that followed me to my door. Life was hard for a seven year old girl in Catholic school.....Amen

Catholic School Girl's Bathroom

So I did my usual late night brain deluge of weird ideas, recollections, and scenarios and this one had to do with 8 years of Catholic grade school that probably established half of the oddities in my personality for the rest of my life. When I was plopped into 1st grade at the age of ‘just turned 5’ I had already had about 6 months of public school in another town. I was only 4 when I started and they didn’t have kindergarten so first grade was it. Then we moved and ended up in the Catholic school where things took a turn for the weird and fantastic. I was just a little kid and very small for my age and I didn’t have a whole lot of life experience. So when I was introduced to the rolling paper towel dispenser in the girls bathroom I was intrigued! I had never seen anything like it. Every time the towel was pulled a crank would turn and the dispenser would make a sort of metallic clang and then after a few seconds it would click and then it would be ready to turn again and there, right in front of me was a clean spot every time! I couldn’t get over it! And no matter how many times I pulled the towel a clean one came around. Engineering wasn’t in my brain yet so I just figured there was this one towel and somehow it got clean every time I pulled. I still remember = pull, clang, click, pull, clang, click…which must have been highly annoying to the nunners whose tea room was on the other side of the wall….so while I was indulging in a high concentration of magical towel pulling, all of my attention totally engrossed in the clean white towel from the rolling towel dispenser, it did not register that something creepy was about to bring my rolling towel dispensing to a shrieking halt….’STOP!!! JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?’ I froze. One little hand on each side of the rolling towel. I was stuck. It was like the game Statue we used to play where all the kids would dance around and do goofy things on the lawn till whoever was it yelled freeze and you had to stop in whatever position you were in even if one foot was over your head or up behind your butt and whoever moved first was kicked out. It was a stupid game but that was my reaction to the evil voice behind me. Then I started trembling, ‘TURN AROUND!’ Slowly, shaking, I let my fingers slide off the rolling towel and turned and there came face to face with Jesus on the cross! A black wooden cross as big as my face with Jesus hanging there suffering at the end of a string of blackened beads the size of crab apples! WHAT!!?
WHAT WAS THIS??? Jesus hung there against multiple folds of black cloth that fell all the way to the floor. I lifted my eyes following the big black bead trail to where it wrapped all around the waist of a creature that I had never imagined. Things like this were not in my life’s tableau at that age. The worst thing that ever happened at public school was falling on the playground and skinning my knee or getting paste in my pigtails in art class while I was making lovely ornaments for my mom and dad…. My gaze crept up ...more black cloth in wide folds led up to one huge white bib. Stiff and stark white, so white it could glow in the dark, made out of some kind of hard cardboard so stiff that it moved as one piece whenever the creature moved – which wasn’t much – there was only a threatening stillness (later when I had time to think I would wonder why the nunners needed these bibs and why there were never any crumbs or stains on them and thought maybe they must have a stack of them in their tea room so they could change them periodically during the day…) and then the creature’s seething face, eyes gleaming behind gold wired glasses and then a crown of white! But on that crown was no white lace veil like one would expect, just more black. A sheet of night hung from that crown and fell almost to the floor. I was just a little girl, very small for my age and I knew this was not a good thing. If I hadn’t already peed and washed my hands and dried them on the rolling towel dispenser which is where my problem started I would have peed right there on the floor in front of the giant black creature and Jesus on the cross! I wondered if maybe Jesus had found the rolling towel dispenser too and this is what resulted... I vaguely remember a long arm extended, a finger pointing straight out the door, long billowing black sleeves. I thought that I could be snapped right up and stuffed up those sleeves never to be seen again and only brought out for daily torment. I had a good imagination but I didn’t know it was imagination so I thought this all could really happen and no one would ever find me…
I have no recollection of whatever happened after that. Whatever my punishment was. I was scared shitless and maybe that was it. I remember having to use the rolling towel dispenser again and when I did I would place two fingers on each side and verrry slowly tug the towel till it stopped and wait for the threatening clang, the click, swipe my hands across the clean part and run like hell out of the girls bathroom hoping that the nunners weren’t having their tea or if they were I would be blessed with lightning speed and could get to my classroom before even the fasted nunner could get to the girls bathroom door and block my path. I swear the Catholics build those schools just to frighten the hell out of little children…