Category Archives: Feelings

Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Men, Shadow Mountain

Waking up

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Professor Luke. Leo, the old. Tuscany Tavern. Rabbi Jamie. Irv. Joe. CBE men’s group. Rain. Hard Rain. Mountains Green. Those forty plus Elk Cows eating Grass in Elk Meadow. Three young Elk Calves crossing with their Mothers. Waiting on them to cross the highway. Mountain Life. Shadow inside when I got home.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Elk of Evergreen

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Histapkot. Contentment.

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, the Eel

One brief shining: Rain pelted down as I drove up Shadow Mountain last night, the Air heavy and cool, while the waning light from Great Sol’s shabbat appearance outlined Conifer Mountain and Black Mountain in the mist. Shadow was inside and dry.

 

Yesterday was busy. By my standards. These days. Even though my breakfast with Alan canceled. He has a cold.

At 11:30 into Evergreen. Tuscany Tavern. Professor Colaciello, He starts teaching chemistry tomorrow at Metro Community College. This was a congratulatory lunch. At his choice of spots.

He explained his plans. “I’m going to open with, Chemistry is the science of transformations!” He has five demonstrations to follow that sentence. One using oil and water. Another using a combustible powder that he holds in his palm. A lighter. Why didn’t it flame up? Then he sprinkles it over the lighter and whoosh. Oxygen.

Dry Ice in Water. With a ph strip. The water becomes acidic as the dry Ice dissolves. Showing his dental hygienist students why carbonated liquids can destroy tooth enamel.

Later in the week, in a mildly ironic moment, he will teach his first class in the Chemistry of Cannabis. It’s an industry here and the industry requires educated workers. Part of the track for budding professionals.

Leo sat on the patio with us as we talked, ate our lunch.

 

Home for a nap with my Shadow girl.

Out to King’s Valley and Bear Park Road to pick up Irv for the CBE men’s group. Turn around and drive back to Evergreen to the Synagogue.

Only four of us. Joe Greenberg. Jamie. Irv. And myself. The topic. How to be with someone suffering from depression.

The smaller group allowed us to go deeper than we might have otherwise. Each of us had either been depressed or had a close family member who was, or had been. Not surprising.

Accompanying. Being with the person. Not trying to cheer them up or fix them, but acknowledging their pain. Letting them know you care for them. Realizing that depression has its own logic, never visible to those on the outside.

I shared my experience of waking up a couple of months ago to my dysthemia over the early months of this year. Chronic pain. Struggles with Shadow. Uncertainty about what was going on with my cancer.

When Kate was alive, she had this job, given to her by my analyst, John Desteian. She would say to me, “I sense you’re slipping into melancholy.” That would help me wake up, earlier. Kate’s gone now. Had to wake myself up. Harder.

 

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Korea, Memories, Minnesota, Politics, Shadow Mountain

The Second Day

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow, looking at me across the pillow. At 4:30 am. My son, working. Seoah and her sister. Shopping. A warm morning. The Tomato fruits setting. Kale, Spinach, Beets growing. Having my son and Seoah under my own roof. Family. A strong, dispersed family. The view from Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sharing pizza with my son

Year Kavannah: Wu wei

Week Kavannah:  Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: Knight of Vessels, The Eel

One brief shining: A quiet, gentle feeling with my son and Seoah sleeping above me as I type; a joy that comes from deep within, neither from a happy place, or even a place of satisfaction, rather a connected and comfortable spot, one where no expectations other than love lies.

 

The Jangs: Jet lag saw yesterday a quiet day with my son staying here, drafting personnel reviews while Seoah went to be with her family at the Air BnB.

Apparently it was an emotional Sunday evening with tears and alcohol at the BnB. Not sure what  triggered all that except Appa’s jet lagged yearning for a life in the U.S. he was not able to live. He fought for and with U.S. soldiers in the Vietnam War so I imagine this is a long nurtured dream.

He never went past elementary school, yet learned and successfully applied the principles of organic farming as a grower of vegetables and rice. He’s also been village headman for Seoah’s home village, Okgwa, for many years. Education does not equal intelligence or reveal skills.

Appa’s long sober so it was not him drinking but Seoah’s brother-in-law, the six foot green grocer, and her sister, Min Yun. I imagine the unexpected confluence of jet lag, altitude, and American beer led to stronger effects than anticipated. Travel, eh?

Seoah’s sister recovered well enough to convince her husband to drive her, Seoah, and their kids into Cherry Creek for some fancy, label focused shopping. My son was happy he didn’t have to go. Me, too.

I spent a quiet Monday here with Shadow as my son worked. In the evening I went out to Ripple, a new pizza and soft ice cream joint, picked up a large pepperoni and green olives which we ate together.

Sharing a meal, just him and me, called up the Irvine Park years when we lived in my condo. Irvine Park had a lovely square with a Victorian fountain, a bandshell, and great oaks, one of which played backstop for many evenings of catch.

Yesterday, talking about Hawai’i, Seoah said, quite casually, “Yes, we’ll all live there.” Indicating my son and me. If my son does decide to retire at the end of his twenty years, one year after he finishes in Korea in 2027, that’s been the plan.

A good goal for me. A Hawai’ian sunset.

 

Just a moment: I knew this was coming. Trump Administration Will Reinstall Confederate Statue in Washington. NYT, 8/5/2025. Gotta pander to that base with the Epstein files nipping at your MAGAmatic heels.

Asia, Colorado, Family, Feelings, Korea, Mountains, Shadow Mountain, The West, Travel

Culture

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Lughnasa and the Korea Moon

Monday gratefuls: Appa and Umma. Oon and his very tall father. Seoah’s sister, Min yun his wife. Their daughter. Seoah’s brother. My son. Seoah. Air BnB. Aspen Perks. Korea in Colorado. Nathan. John Wayne. Westerns. The American West and its cinematic distortions. Rivers. Elevation. Farming.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My son

Year kavannah: Wu Wei

Week kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: The Pole Star, #19

One brief shining: In the midst of the Jangs at Aspen Perks I tried to follow Appa’s eager questions, his weathered Korean face alight with curiosity about John Wayne, rivers like the Colorado and the Mississippi, mechanized farm equipment harvesting, yet the languages we spoke landed in each other’s ears with little meaning save tone and willingness.

 

The Jangs: My son and Seoah came to Shadow Mountain around 8:30 am after having spent the night in the Air BnB with rest of Seoah’s family.

Seoah sniffed the air, said, “I remember this smell.” A smile on her face. She’s spent a lot of time here over the years, especially during Covid when she couldn’t get back into Singapore for three months.

We all hugged. This time with surprising force, missing each other in ways only the body knows how to say. Tactile spirituality, love. My son’s muscled back and arms, Seoah’s eagerness. Her affection. No zoom equivalent possible. Only sorry I couldn’t run my hand through Murdoch’s ruff.

Later, after my son got some work done and Seoah had done laundry, we drove over to the Air BnB. A nice space with four bedrooms, an updated kitchen, and a Mountain view to the south.

When I walked in, various pairs of shoes lay next to each other against the wall and Seoah’s sister came over, bent down, and helped me slip on the slippers they had brought for me. Culture reigns.

They had locked all the windows because of Bears and a television/movie driven sense of the American propensity for violence. Away from home in a strange, yet strangely familiar place.

The language barrier rose right away when I tried to explain the Continental Divide to Seoah’s brother, a mechanical engineer for Samsung. I did not succeed. Appa (father in Korean) motioned me into a chair and sat next to me on the couch. We rested while everyone got ready.

Appa and I met for the first time in 2016 when Kate and I went to Okgwa for my son and Seoah’s pre-wedding feast prepared by his and Umma’s neighbors. Served at a low to the ground table I’m not sure I could have gotten up from today.

They wanted to thank me for my contribution to the trip so Appa paid for the meal. Ten of us. Expensive with the conversion from wons to dollars.

After the meal, the party moved over to Shadow Mountain so every one could see my house, meet Shadow. Nathan was here, working on the greenhouse and my son recruited him to take a family picture in front of the house, similar to one we took during our 2016 visit.

Not sure whether it was  lack of sleep or my introverted battery drained dry by trying to communicate, but after everyone left to go to H-mart, I sat back exhausted. Really exhausted.

Asia, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Judaism, Memories, Paganism, Plants

Not Even Past

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Summer and the Korea Moon

Friday gratefuls: Ruth and Gabe. Nathan. Tarot. Morning Darkness. Cool morning. Shadow the mover of toys and socks. The sleeper. Alan and Joanne. Dandelion. RTD. Japanese lanterns. Red tie guy. His allies and facilitators. The rest of us. The most. Our long, slow slide into a third-rate country.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Japanese Lanterns for Artemis

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Ahavah. Love.

Tarot: The eight of Vessels-rebirth. How can I enhance my joy in the Tarot.

One brief shining: Ruth drives her pale green Subaru up the hill to Conifer, to Shadow Mountain Black Mountain Drive and she brings Gabe, Jon, Kate, Merton, Rebecca, BJ, Sarah, Annie with her, the living and the dead who occupy our memories and still shape our lives. Family.

 

Family: Its many branches planted here and in the here after. Jon and Kate. Tanya. Leisa. Rebecca and Merton. Of recent and sometimes blessed memory.

Not gone. Not at all. Haunting or supporting. Often both in the same moment. A remembered moment of hearts spread out on a restaurant table. A father watching movies with his son. A hostile mother demeaning her children. A hand held gently. A smile and a hug just when needed. Those quiet, small moments when love flashed between the two. Or among the three.

Mothers and fathers. Daughters and sons. Brothers and sisters. Grandfathers and grandmothers. Cousins. Kin.

Mark works in the desert of the Arabian Peninsula. Mary starting a new expat life as a permanent resident of Australia. Melbourne. Guru in K.L. My son in Osan along with Seoah and Murdoch.

Mom and dad. Long dead now. Yet not absent. No. Following Faulkner: “The past is not ever dead; it’s not even past.”

The stories. Of Charlie Keaton. Of Mabel. Of Aunt Mary and Aunt Mame. Aunt Nell. Uncle Riley. Aunt Virginia. All ghosts now, all hidden from earthly view yet still alive, still shaping us in ways we sometimes know and in ways we often do not.

How will we dance in the minds of our family after our deaths? Will it be a slow, graceful gavotte. A passion fueled tango. An elegant waltz. Perhaps a rock and roll moment, abandon and energy. Something we cannot predict, nor ever know.

 

Artemis: Nathan brought by two Japanese lanterns yesterday. Adding to the koi already on the door and his wooden accessories. Artemis has a distinct Asian inflection, appropriate for this guy whose family long ago fled west across the Pacific to Korea, Malaysia, Thailand, Singapore, Australia.

Artemis is, in that way, a family shrine as well as a temple to my mixed pagan and Jewish spirituality. Her Tomatoes have many spiky yellow blooms, her Squash Plants have begun to throw vines over the raised beds, while the seeds of her fall salad garden right now take in moisture and heat, have located Great Sol’s path above them and will soon emerge above ground.

Still to plant: Herbs, flowers. And, later, in October, garlic.

Dogs, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Mussar

Hearing on the Side of Merit

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Monday gratefuls: Relationship building. Shadow. Learning curve for us both. Still steep. Shadow the hugger. Morning darkness. Staying longer. Artemis. Kate, always. Natalie. Ruth and Gabe. The duvet. Ruth’s skills. Gabe’s skills. Each Tomato Plant. Each Squash. Syntropy. Entropy. Science and the Ancient Brothers. Indiana Fever. Those Twins.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ruth’s sewing. Gabe’s bedmaking.

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei. Find the flow. Go with it.

Week Kavannah: Hearing on the side of merit

One brief shining: Ruth took on a difficult task, sewing patches by hand on my duvet where Shadow the render of cloth had worked to release many sneeze producing Goose Feathers; so good to see a woman sewing in the house again.

 

Ruth after sewing a heart on Gabe’s baboon.

Grandkids: Ruth and Gabe came up yesterday. I’d told them I needed help with some things. Patching the duvet was one. Shadow had torn it open in several spots a while ago and each time I used it more Goose Feathers would float up, up, up and away. Some tickling my nose. Achoo.

Ruth has the dexterity of her father and her grandmother. She sewed for two or three hours, also sneezing. When she finished, every hole had been patched. Some with sewing. Some with cloth tape. What a relief.

Gabe lifted my heavy (to me) foam mattress and put on new sheets and pillow cases. “These look like you, Grandpop,” he said of the blue Flower printed design. He also carried down a bag of dogfood for me. Also a relief.

We had pizza together. And talked.

We talk about books, about relationships, about grief, about school, about the future. We laugh and get teary. To have this sort of relationship with two I’ve known since infancy continues to be one of the jewels of my life.

They left around four.

 

Dog journal: The saga continues. Once again Shadow refused to come in to stay in the evening. Even though I’ve moved her second feeding to seven p.m. She came in to eat, but bolted again when I tried to touch her collar.

When I went outside, she came up and hugged me, as she likes to do, jumping up softly and putting her left front paw around my waist. After we did this several times, I picked her up and brought her inside. I don’t know, right now, any other way to keep her safe at night.

 

Mussar: Hearing on the side of merit. Judaism teaches judging others on the side of merit. Assuming good intent, thoughtfulness when encountering difficult interactions.

Rich Levine offered a twist on that: Hearing on the side of merit. As a lawyer and as a college professor, listening is a significant, major part of his work life. Hearing on the side of merit entails stopping, perhaps, when encountering a divisive or contrary idea, going to first principles and finding an area of agreement before answering or responding.

Easier to write about than do. Mussar suggests small, incremental changes in outer behavior, intentional changes that then reshape the inner self. Hearing on the side of merit is a good practice for this week.

Dogs, Feelings, Greenhouse, Judaism, Plants, Science

Learn From It

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Sunday gratefuls: The Second Law. Entropy. Shadow and her wiggly, huggy ways. Happy Squash and Tomato Plants. Greenhouse in the Tomato zone. CBE Men’s group. Suffering. Jamie. Joe. Jim. Bill. Irv. Bailey and Babe, Bill’s Pugs. Floods. Wildfires. The Way of the Natural World.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow crosses the Threshold

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hear on the side of merit.

One brief shining: Went out to Artemis to retrieve my watering can-which I use to fill Shadow’s water bowl-and went inside, feeling as I did the warmth of the heater Nathan hung over the door.

 

Artemis: My temperature sensor showed no more than 90 degrees during the heat of the day and no less that 61 degrees late yesterday evening and this morning. A bit outside Tomato temperature preferences of 85 to 65 degrees so I’ll have to adjust them. (OK. I admit I just checked. I remembered them incorrectly.)

The good news. Between the exhaust fan during the day and the heater at night I’ll be able to maintain optimum temperatures.

Nathan gave me six Tomato Plants, all doing well. He also gave me two Squash Plants which I planted in the outside raised beds yesterday. They are much happier in Soil. They needed to be outside because, well, they are Squash and throwing out Vines is their thing.

Artemis lives.

 

Dog journal: We’re inching toward leash acceptance. Shadow is less reactive, but she still won’t let me easily touch her collar, clip on the leash. Slowly, slowly.

Yesterday afternoon she was outside. I was about to leave for the CBE men’s group and wanted her inside. Calling to her from inside. She came in! The first time she had crossed the threshold when I called her. Slowly, slowly.

She’s sitting right in front of me watching me type, seeing if she can will me into feeding her early. With those eyes? Almost. But no. Dog’s prefer regular feeding times. I’ve been fussing with her second feeding, moving it later in the day so she may think anytime is the right time. That will fade.

She gave up and went to chewing on one of my old socks. She likes to throw them in the air.

 

CBE Men’s group: I led an evening on the theme of suffering. Based on a chapter from David Brook’s book: How To Know A Person. My aim was to take the conversation out of the head and into the lev, the heart/mind.

I opened with this Brooks observation that he cited as the subtext of the book. Experience, Brooks says, is not what happens to you; it’s what you do with what happens to you. This is a big idea.

It fits with suffering. Rabbi Jamie offered this Buddhist thought. Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional. I don’t agree. Yes, pain is inevitable. But. Grief is suffering. Anguish and despair during and after a divorce. Suffering. Rejecting suffering pushes away an opportunity to grow, to change.

The question I believe is what you do with your suffering. Do you let it overwhelm you, diminish you, or do you learn from it? Hear what it has to say. Allow yourself to change, become a new person in light of what you’ve learned?

Suffering teaches us; offers an opportunity for change. Neither fear it nor get stuck in it. Pay attention. Learn.

 

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Garden, Greenhouse, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

Learned Enough?

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Thursday gratefuls: Shadow. The leash. The last big hurdle. Tomato plants wilting in the heat, then restored by water. Rich. Susan. Tara. Marilyn. Joanne. MVP last night. The quarter Moon. The Elk Cow and her Calf crossing the road. Wild Neighbors. The second law of thermodynamics. Science. The Humanities. Colleges and universities. Learning is life. Loving is life.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hearing on the side of merit

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei. Flow.

One brief shining: Shadow lies behind my chair, the yellow leash still attached, now in the third day of desensitization; when I take her outside for a walk, part of the process, she jumps up, paws on my chest, then her left one slipping around my waist in a clingy hug.

 

Dog journal: My empathy has often been close to exhaustion, not with Shadow, but because of her struggles. And mine. This relationship has not been easy. Climb one Mountain only to realize the next peak is higher and right next to the one just summited.

Natalie says the leash is the last big hurdle. God, I hope so. I’d like to settle in to a doggy rhythm with Shadow by my side. I know it’s going to happen. Not when.

 

Mental health: No doubt, dear reader, you caught the melancholy tones in my posts over the last six months. As so often happens for me, I only notice them much later than others.

The pain. Also exhausts my empathy, especially my empathy for myself. Avoidance comes to dominate movement. Move less. Hurt less. Though because, as Halle said, we’re meant to move, this tactic has self-defeat built in. Move less, hurt longer eventually more.

With those two drains on my empathy, Shadow’s struggles and the pain, I’ve had little left over to do what needs to be done. That is, manage all this in a healthy way.

Not to say life has been awful. No. But it has been stretched taut, leaving little room for dreams. Though.

The Greenhouse: Was a dream that is now a reality. I forgot, though Shadow should have more than alerted me to this, realizing dreams has its own cost.

This works. That doesn’t. The heat in the greenhouse, the point after all, reached 104 yesterday. I put a remote thermo sensor in it with a readout station in the house.

When I went out to check all of my Tomato Plants had shriveled, looked dead. I hit the manual button for the irrigation. It ran for twelve minutes and the Leaves filled back up. This means I will need a fan to help modulate the heat.

On the other end the temperature went into the low forties two nights ago. Tomatoes prefer night time temperatures in the sixties. Need that heater which I agreed Nathan could install later.

Learning and growth come when we move outside our comfort zones. Yeah. So I’ve heard. Well, I’ve spent plenty of time over the last six months way outside of my comfort zone. I must be learned enough by now.

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Health

It’s a Pain

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Wednesday gratefuls: Greenhouse. Tomato Plants. Plant labels. Garden twine. Morning darkness. Shadow and the leash. Her anxiety. Her comfort seeking. Death of a beloved. Seeds. Seed Keeper’s Exchange. Heirloom Seeds. The Bird of Morning. Who makes firm a person’s steps. Tanya. Carla. Kenya. Kathy. Leisa. The Steffey women. Harder physical therapy. The Fourth of July.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Patriotism

Year Kavannah: Wu Wei. Follow the chi.

Week Kavannah: Savlanut. Patience.

One brief shining: The yellow neoprene leash disappeared underneath the bed last night and has not yet reappeared this morning though I’ve been up since five and six lies only ten minutes away, meaning my Shadow’s anxiety has not abated overnight.

 

Dog journal: Oh, the not so subtle agony of Shadow and the leash. I got it on her again near the end of the day. When I clipped it on her collar, she froze, then burrowed in between my legs, looking up at me with a familiar doggy expression: “Help me, please.”

Desensitization. I imagine that’s what Natalie has in mind. A phobia treatment where graduated exposure lessens the fear associated with the phobic situation. Natalie loves animals, that’s clear in her demeanor and practice. Not sure whether Shadow’s reaction to the leash fits.

Might be I forced Shadow too much when putting on the leash. Didn’t seem so to me, but Shadow is a delicate, reactive, and smart Dog. She sees bad intentions where none are meant.

This Shadow journey has proved fraught for both of us. Worth it when she finally let herself give and receive affection. Yet the journey has more than one temporary off ramp. Just hit another one.

We will both need savlanut to find the path forward again.

 

The rest of it:

When I wrote this paragraph yesterday, I stopped too soon:

“Or, and I didn’t say this with her, an end to all of it. No, not suicide, not that. Rather successful pain relief in my hip and back. Wanting it. Needing it. Not sure I’ll get it.”

There are times, not often, but more often than I want or desire, when chronic pain crosses paths with a sad or bad mood for other reasons. Sometimes thoughts then go like this. Oh, to hell with eating well, a heart attack would be better than a slow death by cancer. Or. Why do I even go to p.t.? Why not sit, read, watch television, wait for it to be over. Or, I’ll be glad when this life finishes.

This is not active suicidal ideation. No. But it does have in it the seeds of those thoughts. Note this is not about cancer, rather it’s about the slow degradation of life’s quality by either constant pain or knowing that any movement will produce pain.

Pernicious. Unwanted. Undesirable. Yet they occur to me, these thoughts. They disappear when the pain eases. When I right myself with patience, acceptance, persistence and grit. Time with friends and family. Not always easy to do.

Experiencing Shadow and her travails. Yes. Can create this sort of toxic nexus. Why, I think, they’ve been more common since she came. Not because of her, but due to that axis of frustration and resignation.

 

Dogs, Feelings, Fourth Phase

Shadow and the Psyche

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow. Her leash and harness. Natalie. Maddie. Dark thoughts. Greenhouse. Greenhouse thermometer. Happy Tomato Plants. Garden tools. Organic fertilizer. Seed markers. Twine. Gathering the tools. Learning how to use Artemis, a living part of my property. Living with pain. Thinking of Tanya and her sisters: Cathy, Carla, Kenya.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tomato Plants growing

Week Kavannah:  Wu Wei.  Seek the way.

One brief shining: Shadow had an hour of leash training, walked with me in the front, stressed at first, calmer later but when back inside and Natalie had gone home, she crawled up in my lap-which she has never done-and would not get down, the leash still attached to her collar as Natalie suggested.

 

Dog journal: The leash. Natalie, whose own dogs had gotten in a tussle, came back after a three week absence. After a lengthy session with little apparent progress we moved inside and she slipped the leash onto Shadow with ease.

We went out the front door, Shadow on her yellow leash with me , and Doc, Natalie’s Border Collie, on his purple one. Terra incognita to Shadow. Cars passing on Black Mountain Drive. New smells, new visits.

Shadow spent time wrapping me in the leash. Circling me until her little body and mine meshed together, Dog and human, with a yellow neoprene bond. This went on for a bit until she got more comfortable, walking, sniffing. Going on what Natalie calls a sniffary. A word from dog training circles.

Natalie wanted me to leave the leash on Shadow 24/7. While inside on her collar, while outside attached to her harness and to me. I agreed.

But. When Shadow slid under the bed for the night yellow neoprene following her, I remembered her first leash. Which she chewed up while under the bed. Oh.

I unclipped the leash. She came up on the bed to greet me this morning as usual. I’ll have to get the leash back on her over the course of the day. Not easy. Gonna have to communicate with Natalie.

 

Maddie, the palliative care nurse: She’s a sweetheart, enjoying the drive up here from her base in faraway Westminster. Not sure how she’ll like that drive come winter.

We talked medical. My recent MRI. My trip to Panorama Orthopedics. She suggested a seat cushion for the car. Will try that. She pressed me about other symptoms.

I admitted to weariness. Chronic pain. Handling medical and domestic logistics. Cancer always hanging there, sometimes foreground, usually background but never gone. Wanting simpler, easier.

Or, and I didn’t say this with her, an end to all of it. No, not suicide, not that. Rather successful pain relief in my hip and back. Wanting it. Needing it. Not sure I’ll get it.

“I guess I’m feeling down, Maddie.” We discussed what to do. Up my sertraline dose? Counseling? Agreed to talk to Susan. Who prescribed a new anti-depressant. I don’t recall its name. We’ll see. A trial until I see Susan again on August 6th.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Greenhouse, Memories, Plants, Seed Keepers

A Family Tragedy

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Summer and the Greenhouse Moon II

Monday gratefuls: Keaton Cousins. Tanya. Kenya. Carla. Lisa. Cathy. Diane. Richard. Kristen. Ikie. Melinda. Annette. Sibs. Mary and Mark. Joe and Seoah. Ruth and Gabe. Shadow. Fire. Water. Earth. Air. The Greenhouse. Tomatoes. Squash. Planting today. Seeds. Beets. Radish. Lettuce. Kale. Chard. Salmon for fertilizer for the Tomatoes.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Tiny irrigation system

Week Kavannah: Wu Wei. Work with the chi.

One brief: She was my age, Tanya, one of the five Steffey girls who lived in Arlington when I was young, slender and delicate, pretty in a country girl way, married to David, a farmer, and she died two nights ago trapped in the garage during a house fire.

 

Family: Got an email from Diane yesterday with the news that Tanya, a first cousin also born in 1947 like me, had not escaped a house fire in her home in Rush County, Indiana.

We are close, we Keaton cousins. My mom convinced my dad to move back to Indiana from Oklahoma so she could be closer to her family, the Keaton side.

While I’ve not seen most of them in a while, except for Diane, all those Thanksgivings, summer family reunions, overnight visits, we knew each other well. And care about each other.

We lost Lisa, the youngest Steffey, a while back to a stroke. Ikie to complications from a spinal problem and Annette to the end of a tough life. Now Tanya in a house fire. A large extended family withering away, one by one, as the seasons come and go.

Sadness, loss, disbelief. Faraway from the Rockies, yet so close in my memory. My heart.

Since moving to the Mountains, I’ve not made it home much. The last time September of 2015, my 50th high school class reunion. Not long after my prostatectomy. Don’t remember if I saw Tanya on that trip or not. Mary saw her this summer while visiting.

I’ll miss her.

 

The Greenhouse: Planted the Tomato Plants yesterday. In the Greenhouse because they like/need heat. Had a large Salmon fillet I had cut into portions and frozen too long ago. Unthawed them and put Salmon beneath each Tomato Plant.

Nathan came later in the day and topped off the outside raised beds with compost, installed a nifty irrigation system, picked up his trash. We shook hands, wished each other well.

He’ll be back because he has to install the black mesh fencing to keep out the Deer and Elk, the heater for the winter, and Cedar lap boards to seal the bottom of the greenhouse. I enjoyed working with him, getting to know him.

This morning I plan to Plant seeds in the outside raised beds. More salad fixings. Radish. Beets. Lettuce. Arugula. Kale. Chard. Nasturtiums. A few Marigolds for companion planting.

The Greenhouse has come to life.

 

Dog journal: My Shadow spent her fifth night in a row outside. Protecting us from marauding Mule Deer who would eat our Grass during the night. She protected us all. Damn. Night.