The Anecdotal Life Part. 50

You can feel it even at this time of the year, even while we are still fighting the ice. The air begins to have a surprising lightness and it is the light itself that gives the coming spring away. It's simply different and you can't pin down what it is. Granted the push has come somewhat earlier this year, but the unexplainable anticipation is still the same. Something is afoot, literally, even if you're still sloshing around in snow up to your hip. Certain crazy plants have jerked themselves up out of the earth with a scandalized expression on their faces. As if to say "Really darling. You can't expect me to deal with this". Namely, my primroses, which are now kaput. However, others seem to have a "who cares" attitude and sit around waiting for some neighborhood action. Even my cats are "beating each other up" around the house. Bits of fur are all over each morning.
I just reread my father's story of " The Wayward Cow" in which he had to be released of his regular spring chores to help chase a neighbor's cow. Apparently, each spring, "She took off in search of progeny and therefore a bull", my father would say mysteriously to me everytime he told the story. He usually told this story when my mother was around. I never dreamt of asking what progeny was. So my dad and the neighbor's son, his best buddy, would start climbing fences and hills and crawl through briar patches until they found her. They would drive her all the way home only to have her re-jump the fence. Then they would have to start all over again. Ultimately, they got a shotgun, 12 gauge, with a shotgun shell for birds, reduced the powder by half so that the birdshot wouldn't penetrate the cow's hide, repeated their troublesome journey over the same fences, hills and briar patch, and caught up with the vagrant cow. He said," I drove the cow and my chum aimed and fired." She was home before they were and never left again. Poor thing.
For myself, Spring consists of getting interested in flower magazines and of digging up the whole yard for no good reason. I love the boat magazines and dream further of some sleek new monster to own that is so easy to drive " a child can do it". Actually some of these boats have super duper systems ( one is named the Zeus ) by which docking becomes a yawn to do. A little joystick does it all. The magic wand....
I have yet to master docking ...period. So spring is laced with more than a little anxiety. Friday promises to be fair and I will head north to Goose Harbor to check the scuppers. ( the holes in th rear of the cockpit where the water drains out..hopefully.) This year I even know where they are. That's the easy part.... Maybe chasing cows is easier. Maybe not.
Copyright: February 18th, 2007

The Anecdotal Life Part.49

I am a recovering grief-a-holic. I hope. At times it feels like I am and at times I feel like I am drifting back down into the "slough of despondency". Losing two sisters and one friend within a forty two day period is a rough go at best. All to cancer. It is unnerving to discover that they are still scratching the surface for cures to this disease and are finding that there are so many different varieties, demanding even more answers. The worst realization was that mammograms, while somewhat helpful, may not even give you a glimpse or warning of certain cancers. Cat scans can be good, but which Ct. scan is best? Pet Ct scan? Spiral Ct. scan? I have had four sisters with breast cancer and am rightfully getting a case of the royal heebe jeebes. ( don't really know how to spell that)
As to grief recovery, well, Thursday was pretty bad. I cried all day and then made myself pancakes and that helped. If I could get back to the boat, I know could get over being the "town crier". Too cold even to venture near the marina now though. Art and writing help. Friends help. Time helps.
Whatever, I would like to dedicate today's blog to my sister, Ruth Bowen, who passed away on Sunday, February 4th, 2007....much to our total shock and dismay. We were quite a "band of sisters".They have been the four best friends of my life. No matter what went down, I could count on hearing from the lineup.
Ruth was a lady. Good breeding poured out of her. Kindness, understanding, and gracious hospitality to every living creature and being within her daily reach were constants , but my favorite part of Ruthie was her profound sense of humor and realization of the ridiculous in life. She knew what was important. I miss her so badly I can hardly stand it, but I am going to have to stand it, aren't I? I keep thinking of the that song lines " Has anybody here seen my old friend Bobby?" It's the last line I can't get out of my head; "can you tell me where they've gone?"
Copyright: February 11, 2007.