Meanwhile, back at Sky Garden Ranch…

So, after the worst year of my life (by far!), I have some good news to share!

You may remember we lost our Rasta Temple Dog last July after 14 wonderful years of puppy love. That was the harbinger of a very BAD year to come. Mike had two serious surgeries, my brother went into hospice, and my Mom died this past March. I have also been sick a lot, but on Monday I said to Mike I might be ready to get a new dog after I feel better. By Tuesday we had contacted a puppy rescue around here. We picked up Annie on Wednesday.

Annie is a very sweet five year old who has been abused by a puppy mill in Missouri, so as you might guess, she is as meek and timid as she can possibly be. When you put her down she just sits there, not moving around or exploring anything. She didn’t even drink water or eat anything for over 24 hours after we got her. I now understand this is not unusual for a rescue dog.

With Mike and I’s tender loving care, she is now coming in through her dog door and slowly checking out her new home. Still not enough courage to go out the dog door. We have to be so patient with her. She was super tired when she got here. She slept for a couple days. She has been vigilant her whole life and must now learn how to trust someone. No easy feat teaching her to trust in us, but we are up to the challenge!

“Words” from a Broken Brain

For as long as I can remember, I have always loved words. Even before I learned English, I made up my own language to communicate with my cat and doll. Words meant so much to me. They seemed like magic. With the right words you might get others to understand your most important and secret feelings. With words you could begin to understand other peoples’ worlds. They were the key to everything!

As I grew I kept loving them more and more. Even though, or perhaps because, I was a book worm at heart, words were my own kind of magic. So I read everything I could, especially about other women’s lives. I wondered how they made it through the difficult world I saw outside my door. Words were my key to understanding my world. Then I learned how words could resolve misunderstandings and bring people closer together, another form of word magic. I always wanted to learn more.

Eventually I became a librarian with a whole building full of words. So many stories from all over the world, explaining why we do the things we do. I wanted to learn everything in those books! I began to wonder if I might write a book someday, but then I would find a book that expressed my ideas or feelings better than I could and say, “See, I hasn’t meant to be a writer.”

My own version of a midlife crisis at age 49 changed my mind. I felt like I had to write to understand and explain to others what I was experiencing. This phenomenal transition was too important for others to miss out on. That is when I became a writer. I started a blog that took off, with thousands of followers who seemed to understand what I was talking about. Words helped me to expand my world, all around the world! I had friends in Europe, Asia and Australia who understood the exceptional opportunity of changing everything in midlife.

Since then much has changed in my life. A traumatic brain injury in 2008 began to stand in the way of my wonderful relationship with words. I did get back to writing and still loved it, but then I learned, through a few concussions, that I needed to live on oxygen fulltime. And the concussions took their toll. Now I can only properly handle fewer and fewer words. A conversation with another can only go on for an hour or so before my brain gets tired and needs some silence to rest up for more time with others. Some days I have trouble remember the most basic words, like yesterday I had a hard time remembering the word for “dimples.”

For all of these reasons I will not be writing here much longer. My joy in writing is diminishing slowly. The concentration required seems to hurt my mind, especially being on the computer so long. After writing something like this I have to stare off into space for a while to recuperate.

But I do still love words and will continue that relationship for as long as I live. And I will also continue to admire when other writers get it so right. I believe this writer got it right in describing my favorite vision of life after death:

“There is a moment when your dreams and memories merge together to form a perfect world. That is heaven. Each heaven is unique. This is the world of you. The land is filled with all you hold dear, and the sky is your imagination.” – From the end of the movie “1883” written by Taylor Sheridan

The Legacy of American Lawns & “Lawn Nazis”

I got a few interesting responses to my last post about re-wilding areas destroyed by farming or other forms of human landscape “improvements.” The 4th episode of PBS “Human Footprint” this week caused me to think further about our American addiction to lawns and lawn care.

Did you know one 400 acre golf course uses 358,000 gallons of water every day? We have more than 40 million acres of turf in the United States that use over 80 millions pounds of fertilizer per year.

Grass is the most resource intensive plant in our country today.

In a country where we so highly value productivity, lawns are the ultimate in unproductive.

The story goes that we can apparently blame the Brits originally. The old idea of owning your own manor and “estate” added to our own brand of individualism in the USA caused many of us to want to own a home on maybe a quarter acre in suburbia. Our home was our castle, and the surrounding space was our territory to improve and maintain. Although some grasses have American-sounding names like Kentucky bluegrass, most of the turf-grass species we plant in the United States are native to Europe.

We also have a strong tradition from our earliest days of feeling like we had “too much land” (after we stole it from the native Americans). If we farmed it, or ranched it, or timbered it for five years than that land was ours. This set the precedent that we should not just sit on land, we should “improve it.” Every place humans inhabit is made artificial in some way, and in our country that usually involves lawns.

The Lawn is the Ultimate Male Status Symbol, showing how deeply grass is rooted in the American psyche.

Thinking about these American traditions reminded me of how proud my Grandpa Carter was of his small home and yard outside of Kansas City, Kansas. He took so much pride in keeping it perfect with his walking mower and lots of watering. And my own Dad the botanist, a lifelong advocate of leaving things natural, still worked hard to keep a nice lawn around his home.

The younger generations may not be so convinced that lawns are a good thing.

To quote that PBS special: “Grass is a signal. Just having it says that we are part of a community.”

And yet, as Nancy Hill pointed out after reading my last piece, those who don’t choose to maintain traditional yards in suburbia may be ostrasized by HOAs and other nasty neighbors. Covenants can be legally enforced. I had never before heard of the term “Lawn Nazis.” In a country that prides itself in offering “freedom of choice,” when it comes to the land around our own homes, we can be forbidden to plant native plants or go natural.

Rewilding, some positive nature news at last!

If you tire of hearing ever more negative news about how we humans continue to pollute and destroy the earth we depend on for life itself, try watching this five minute story from this week’s CBS Sunday Morning. Trust me, you will be glad you did!

Rewilding: Letting nature take over

Rewilding is a progressive approach to conservation. It’s about letting nature take care of itself, enabling natural processes to shape land and sea, repair damaged ecosystems and restore degraded landscapes. Through rewilding, wildlife’s natural rhythms create wilder, more biodiverse habitats.

By growing native, drought-tolerate plants here, we have encouraged the return of wildlife, birds, bees, etc.

This idea/story offered me a sign of relief, showing me that sometimes nature wins in a great win-win way for people too. This is what my late father was always talking about, letting nature take over, because she did a great job up until now! This is also what we have tried to do on our own three acres in southern Colorado. I just do not comprehend those who buy land in the country and begin mowing the crap out of it immediately. We hated “yard work” when we lived in suburbia, and guess what, all the birds and bees and other wildlife there also could not tolerate it. They need biodiversity to thrive. Rewilding is a form of ecological restoration aimed at increasing biodiversity and restoring natural processes to the land.

Why is it so hard for man to simply leave nature alone to take care of itself? Why are we so convinced that we need to “improve” it? We as a species must learn the answer to this question before we “improve” ourselves into complete extinction.

The Loss of a Precious Pet

Rasta was my Christmas present in 2008…what a cutie pup!

We lost our precious Rasta pup this week. After a couple of weeks of trying to avoid reality, we found we had to accept that his quality of life had taken a brutal turn for the worse, with the loss of his other eye to glaucoma and a stroke. He was 14 and a half and had one of the best lives a pet could have. He was loved and appreciated his whole life.

“The cutest puppy in the history of the world!” to quote our friend Rad

I have not had much direct experience with death in my life. Yes, I have avoided it, I must admit. Mike didn’t have that luxury as his beloved mother died at an early age. There has been a touch of non-reality to death in my life, even though I have lost pets before. Unfortunately, Mike had to deal with the actual physical body for us. Our vet comes out to your car and puts your pet to sleep in your arms. I will never forget the shot to his heart. Then Mike prepared him for burial and buried him on our land, in a place that is not physically accessible for me.

Here are a few personal observations about loss and grieving from my perspective:

There is a certain non-reality to death. They were here and now they’re just gone.

I feel extreme sadness and yet I know that Rasta is better off not suffering anymore.

We removed the obvious reminders of his life around us and yet I still look for him constantly, miss his greeting when I come into our home, save delicious leftovers for him, and talk to him. I can’t get out much anymore. He was my constant companion.

There are so many TV commercials for pet food, etc. making it abundantly clear that pets have become our new version of children…

We should not make any comparisons about how we each suffer loss and grieve. Everyone feels pain and loss differently and it can bring up difficult previous memories of loss and pain. We all grieve in our own way.

This kind of pain leaves me searching for any type of escape or distraction from the loss. Just to forget this loss temporarily feels like a blessing.

Goodbye Rasta. Rest in Peace. We loved you so very much!