A Fabiolous Day ~ Grayson Highlands, 1/25/17

This piece will be short compared to all the little (which were big to me) details that occurred this past Wednesday, 1/25/17, along my journey to, at, and from Grayson Highlands State Park in Virginia. Just that I had strength enough to do the trip is a big deal. I'm getting closer to pre-surgery status. Thank Groot.

The day before on Tuesday I looked at the weather forecast which was clear for Wednesday and unseasonably warm - in the 50s. We've had little sun the past couple weeks. A sunny, warm winter day along highland vistas felt inviting.

~Gosh, I'd love a mountain trip if I'm feeling strong enough. Where should I go? Blue Ridge Parkway? Grayson Highlands?

I was viewing my Twitter account Tuesday evening. I gazed at my background photo - Fabio cantering across an open field. I had taken the photo this past summer.

Fabio is one of the feral ponies of Grayson Highlands and the Mt. Rogers Wilderness Area. He was given his name by some locals and has become a mascot of sorts for the feral ponies of the Virginia Highlands. 

~I'd love to see Fabio. 

I mulled over between the Parkway and Grayson.

~Grayson it is, as long as I feel strong enough.

I felt up to it Wednesday morning and left around 10:45 am. The drive takes about 2 hours, but it's a nice drive. The drive is part of my enjoyment on these excursions.

Once at the Park I stopped at the Ranger Station and had a pleasant exchange with Ranger Shirley. I asked, "Are there any Fabio puzzles?" I'd been requesting a Fabio puzzle for a few years. None were ever made, except for a children's puzzle of about 15 pieces. I wanted a 'real' puzzle.

To my surprise, Shirley responds, "Yes! They are brand new, and we just got the shipment. I saw the shipment box this morning." Typically puzzles and such are sold at the Park Store, not the Ranger Station. The Park Store is closed through the winter so all goods are delivered to the Station while the Store is closed.

Shirley went in the back, found the box, and opened it. A 300-piece puzzle of Fabio! I was thrilled, and so was Shirley. I am now the proud owner of the first-sold, 300-piece Fabio puzzle. I also bought a Fabio magnet for my refrigerator.

Then I drove the couple miles further into the Park to Massie Gap, parked Edward the Explorer, and began my trek. My destination was a little over a mile to a bench that sits right at the border of the State Park which adjoins Mt. Rogers Wilderness Area, a part of Jefferson National Forest.

Near the bench was a herd of ponies. But Fabio wasn't among the herd. I took some fun photos, rested on the bench for awhile, and then started the trek back. I was happy even though I didn't see Fabio.

~Maybe I'll see Fabio next trip.

As I hiked back to Massie Gap, after about 1/2-mile, I heard a whinny over my left shoulder. I stopped, turned, and looked for about 5 seconds, but didn't see a pony. So I turned to continue my trek.

I took about 2 steps. Another whinny. I stopped, turned, and looked for about 5 seconds. As I was ready to turn back to continue my trek, a pony came from behind a knoll, trotting toward me.

"Fabio!"

I could hardly believe my eyes. And he was all alone! Usually he's with a herd.

It was a true fairy tale moment!

I won't go into my conversation with Fabio, but suffice it say he gave me a showing. Including finding a small barren tree-bush to scratch his rump...going back and forth while I photographed him.

Sky. Wind. Sun.
Hawks. Crows. Birds.
Trees. Meadows. Fenceless fields.
Freedom of nature.
Cradled away from the hurriedness of modern life.
Oceans of land where these little ponies run free along a ridge in the Virginia Highlands.
The magic of Grayson.
A healing balm.
There is no monetary price that comes close...

~*~

Fabio Therapy















~*~

Creativity and the lack thereof...

"Friend" seems like an inadequate word to describe the closest of my friends.
Comrades. Partners. Those with whom I can share some of my deepest challenges, doubts, imperfections, and triumphs.

In the past I have referred to myself as a poet and memoirist. I don't think I've ever referred to myself as an author or writer even though poets and memoirists are authors and writers. Currently I don't refer to myself with any of those labels.

I still write, but not like I once did. Words don't come as easily as they used to. Many days, maybe most, it is difficult for me to express my feelings and thoughts in script. I know that comes from living with chronic pain and disability which affect my cognitive function, my energy, my ability to produce.

To produce. Something I long to do but so often lack the ability.

On my better days and weeks between my routine epidurals and injections, I sometimes feel a spur of creativity. Often the surge has dissipated when I later would have time to pen my thoughts; that energy has had to go elsewhere and there is not enough left to get the thoughts into printed words. And then creativity evaporates.

I have always felt a fondness toward nature. As a child and teenager, I'd sometimes sleep outside in a sleeping bag in the summer, alone with the stars and bugs and wet dew in the morning. I regret that I never pursued anything professional in that field. And now, I don't have the energy to do so.

Since becoming disabled, I often seek solace with nature. She cradles me and speaks to me without words. I have become an observing participant with her. I talk to her. She often causes my heart to swell and happy tears to roll. She comforts me. Sometimes, I feel like Snow White in my often critter sightings. It seems they understand me as we observe each other.

I'm not naive to think nature will always take care of me, so to speak. Lightening could strike. A bear could attack. A flood or earthquake or tornado could sweep life away in a moment's time.

This evening I watched part of a PBS documentary on Rachel Carson, the author of Silent Spring which is about the overuse of DDT and its detrimental effects on nature, published around 1962, a time when DDT was in vogue.

After she started writing the book, Carson became ill for weeks or months. Along with sinusitis and other symptoms, she developed a type of arthritis in her knees and ankles and couldn't walk for weeks or months. A horrible circumstance for anyone, but especially a Naturalist. (Not long after those symptoms she developed cancer.)  During those weeks/months of disability (but before the cancer) she wrote in her personal writings or perhaps in a letter to a friend, I'm not sure which, something along the lines that her creativity had left her and she felt the author who once lived within no longer resided there.

With tears in my eyes I whispered aloud to the television, "I know. I so understand."  It is something I too suffer.

I wrote a friend today, that somehow I want to believe there is a purpose to this suffering. That somehow it will turn to good for something. I may be fantasizing or just wishing, and that's okay. I don't know if I'll ever quit hoping and wishing.

I opened this essay, if that's what it is, with a paragraph about "friends." I hope to come back to that with a Part Two.

"How are you?"

Since surgery on 8/30/16,
I have been quite isolated.
I still am,
though I am now able to get out of the house on some days.

Other days it takes all my effort to just get out of bed,
much less get dressed.
Thinking and conversing on those days is difficult;
cognitive energy goes into performing simple daily tasks.
Socializing takes lots of effort,
and then I end up...
isolated.

Most days I have to gauge where and how to "spend" my energy,
("spend" in quotes,
because I prefer thinking of energy as more like time,
more like a state of being,
rather than a commodity,
even though it is a "commodity").
I know everyone has to do this.
But it is more complex when a person lives with chronic pain/illness/disability.

Since my surgery
I have suffered deep depression and intense anxiety,
along with insomnia.
I have had some good days.
But most have been rough.
My days pre-surgery were rough enough.

Since living with nerve damage
(which started in Spring, 2011),
I often find it difficult to answer the question,
"How are you?"

If I'm suffering and the question is from a close friend,
I usually let on.
"I'm miserable,"
or "I'm having a shitty day,"
or something to that effect.

If I'm suffering and the person asking is more of an acquaintance than a close friend,
I typically respond,
"I'm hanging in there."
Sometimes I respond that way with my close friends.
It's such a drag to always hear,
"I'm struggling."

But every day I struggle.
And more so since surgery.

In the past few months, I've been journaling mostly with pen and paper.

I wrote a a few CBT thought-records,
due to my high anxiety.

I journaled explosive rants,
sometimes in LARGE ALL CAPS.
I chiseled scratch-marks diagonally across whole pages of my journal.
Not literally chiseled,
but that's how I felt.

And I journaled some "good" things too,
("good" in quotes,
because I don't like thinking of life as "good" or "bad,"
but rather,
that life simply is,
even though it is "good" and "bad"),
like what I accomplished on a given day
or what I have to be thankful for.

I got maybe one working poem out of my past-few-months scribblings.
Now,
maybe two.

~*~

Well, this mini-ramble has ended up differently than I was thinking.
I thought I was going to write about my social media history and the whys behind my involvement and then dis-involvement.
Maybe later.

~*~

Bird Brainiacs, Masks, and Trinkets

While organizing our kitchen-closet food-pantry in the fall, I found a bag of raw, whole almonds. Hubby and I seldom eat raw, whole almonds due to all the crowns in our mouths. Some almonds are too hard on the crowns.

So, I thought I'd use the almonds to feed the squirrels. I scattered some on the railing of our backyard deck. The almonds disappeared, but I wasn't sure how. The wind had picked up shortly after I scattered them, and I thought maybe the wind had blown them off the railing. I peered over the back of the deck into the thick foliage but saw no almonds. I thought, Maybe the almonds got blown off but are camouflaged by the foliage and mulch.

A couple more times over the following month I scattered almonds on the deck railing. Again they disappeared, but I wasn't sure where or how.

This past Saturday we received about 7 inches of snow. The temperature since has ranged from single digits to high 20s Fahrenheit. The snow is lingering.

Late Sunday afternoon right at sunset, I cleared the snow as best I could from the deck railing and off the top of a round metal table that sits on the deck. I put some millet in a bowl on the table. I scattered millet and almonds across the deck railing and on top of the snow on the built-in deck bench located beneath the railing.

Yesterday morning, which was Monday, I looked out the window onto the back deck. The almonds were gone and four chickadees sat on the deck railing looking fat and fluffy and happy. No way, I thought. Did those little birds eat all those almonds? Can they even eat almonds? I hope I'm not poisoning them!

I web-searched "almonds and birds." I learned that almonds are not poisonous to birds and that chickadees (and other birds like blue jays) do indeed eat almonds, even preferring them over sunflower seeds. I had read years ago that birds can eat up to twice their weight per day. I thought, Maybe the chickadees did eat the almonds.

Late Monday afternoon, I trekked around the perimeter of our backyard through the 3 to 6 inches of snow. I was looking for animal tracks as well as getting a little exercise and fresh air.

There were two deer, a buck and doe, in the neighbor's backyard two houses down. Their tracks led from the wooded area of our backyard over to where they were standing. The deer and I looked at each other momentarily. Then I continued my walk looking for tracks, and they went back to foraging on something beneath the snow.

Some other tracks had me puzzled. The tracks criss-crossed back and forth in certain areas of the backyard. These same tracks led to the deck. What made these tracks? They look too heavy to be chickadees. Anyway, it seems chickadees would fly, not hop. The tracks look like something with a tail? Could it be squirrels? But that doesn't make sense. Seems like squirrel tracks would be more sporadic; these tracks look methodical.

I scattered more almonds and millet on the deck railing and bench. I placed some on top of the millet in the bowl on the table and scattered a few on top of the snow around the bowl.

This morning, now Tuesday, I looked out the window and a lone chickadee was standing on the deck railing pecking at an almond. But then flew away without finishing her meal. The other almonds looked untouched. Hmm, I wonder if the almonds are too frozen this morning for chickadees to eat? Maybe they have to thaw a little first.

I looked out again about 30 minutes later.

Crows! There were four eating the almonds. A fifth flew in to help. I was fascinated watching them bird walk the railing. A couple of them hop-flew down to the ground and walked through the snow, their tails dragging.

I chuckled to myself. Yes, crows! They can scarf down those almonds in no time. That answers my mystery track question too.

After watching the crows from my window this morning I web-searched "crows." I found the following article most fascinating, especially about face recognition: Meet the Bird Brainiacs: American Crow

One paragraph states:

"As they trapped and banded crows around the University of Washington’s Seattle campus, he and his collaborators wore a latex caveman mask. When they later returned to those locations, either maskless or wearing a Dick Cheney mask the crows had never seen before, the birds ignored them. But anybody showing up in a caveman mask would spark a crowpocalypse. It wasn’t just the trapped birds that responded; apparently others had witnessed the abduction and remembered it. Whole gangs of crows followed the evildoer, scolding and dive-bombing. The birds knew that caveman face, and they didn’t like it one bit."

Maybe folks in New York and DC and everywhere Trump travels should wear Trump masks and abduct a few crows.

That same article also states:

"The crows in your neighborhood know your block better than you do. They know the garbage truck routes. They know which kids drop animal crackers and which ones throw rocks. They know the pet dogs, and they might even play with the friendly ones. If you feed them, they probably not only recognize you but your car as well, and they might just leave you trinkets in return. These birds live their lives intertwined with ours, carefully observing us even as most of us barely take note of them."

In the past I experienced a particular crow sighting where it seemed one crow followed me and a little Yorkie around the Yorkie's yard. The crow didn't bother us but would perch in different nearby trees as we moved about the yard. S/he seemed to be watching us.

I wonder if the crow following the Yorkie and I was friends with the Yorkie and was watching out for her? ...Or maybe the crow was interested in a Yorkie meal. Oh my.

I wonder if I'll receive any trinkets?

The Nightmare

Beginning Sunday, January 1, 2017, I jump onto my computer every morning to track my son's 99-mile canoe trip on the Wilderness Waterway in the Everglades. It really is wilderness; complete with alligators, crocodiles, and pythons. Oh my! And lots of birds and mangroves. There is sparse amount of ground and no fresh water that a canoe-trekker can filter to drink. So all drinking water has to be brought along for the journey.

This morning, I logged onto my computer shortly after I awoke at 6:30. I knew that today is their trip through The Nightmare, a narrow strip of water only passable at rising and high tides. One map states it's 8.5 miles, but that must include Broad River, which isn't so broad and can also be a nightmare from what I learned on one YouTube video.

The crew left at 4:41 AM this morning, canoeing through the dark. They have left in the dark hours on two other mornings, perhaps so they could practice for what was ahead of them knowing that they would have to maneuver The Nightmare in the dark due to high tide hours.

Below is one YouTube video of part of The Nightmare which is what my son and crew maneuvered through in the dark this morning.




They made it through The Nightmare by 7:21 AM. Yay!! (Sunrise was around 7:16 AM.) They now canoe Broad Creek which includes another tangled narrow route. **I'm guessing they camp at Harney Creek Chickee tonight. They'll probably arrive by lunchtime, unless they are slowed by tangled mangroves. (**I guessed wrong! Update at the bottom of the blog post.)

A chickee is a not-very-large open wooden platform with a roof in the open waterways. Here's a link to a photo of where the crew camped Wednesday night: Rodgers River Chickee. Yesterday and last night they were able to stretch their legs on some land at the Broad River Campsite. Read about the interesting history of chickees her on Wikipedia: Chickee.

I love being able to track their route, but it can also be nerve wracking.

~*~
My son, Josh, and five friends left Friday evening from Asheville, North Carolina, carrying three canoes on two different vehicles. I last heard from Josh via text on Saturday. I won't hear from him again until after they are finished with their trip; they have a solar charger but are keeping communications at a minimum in order to save power. They have a GPS satellite phone which they use, along with nautical charts, to help them navigate the waters.

They had planned to launch from Everglades City, Florida, early Sunday morning. But, according to the tracking link, it was more like 1:30 PM when they launched.

I track them via a web link that their satellite phone is linked to. It's the same phone Josh and his friend used when they backpacked Iceland for 52 days in the summer of 2015. I tracked them then too. That same friend is on this trip, along with four others for a total of three guys and three girls. A question I'll have to ask Josh when he returns is how they all went to the bathroom on those canoes?

Along with the satellite phone link, I keep open a few other links on my computer: two about the various campsites along the route, two regular maps of the Wilderness Waterway area (one more detailed than the other), and nautical charts which I find online as the crew canoes their route along the Waterway.

Each day I can figure out which campsite they'll probably stop at. So far I've gotten them correct (**until today). It's not that hard to figure out. But the last 17ish miles will be hard for me to guess, unless they paddle 17ish miles that day to the end of their trip at Flamingo, Florida.

Link to the National Park Service Wilderness Waterway Trip Planner
~*~


I checked the tracker around 10:30 AM. They made it to the Harney River Chickee at 10:21:15 AM. Woohoo! GPS times are very specific.

**I checked the tracker later at 11:21 AM. I guessed wrong today about them staying at Harney River Chickee. They only took a pit-stop there (or piss-stop, lol). So. my guess now changes to Shark River Chickee. But whew, that's a lot of miles in one day -- 18.5, I think.

I checked the tracker again around 5:15. And my second guess was wrong too! :D The crew is camping on the ground tonight at Cane Patch, 4 miles east of the Wilderness Waterway, which still means they paddled around 18 miles today, I think. According to the tracker, they landed at Cane Patch around 4:00 PM. The site was once a small sugar cane plantation. Link, with a little history and cool camping story: Cane Patch.