on losing one’s mind, and finding it again

This is how most of this week month has been:

Out of focus. Meaning, the things that are actually deeply important to me? Uhhhhhhhh….

What are they again? I can’t see straight.

Basically, I have spent the past month or so working too hard, and not getting enough bliss time in. Hard to believe, when it’s only a part-time job, which, I do from home. Hard to believe when I have pretty decent self-maintenance habits: I eat pretty well (hardly any crap), I run several times a week, I give myself Reiki every day, and I do at least three to five Reiki treatments on other people every week (not counting Kevin – he gets Reiki every day). I don’t know how much of this is background stress (some pretty major things are up in the air in our lives, plus some loved ones are experiencing health issues), and how much is the changing of the seasons (the onset of fall, as I’ve gotten older, gets harder and harder…), and how much is just not really taking my needs seriously.

All I know is, Tuesday there may have been an episode of brain paralysis, followed by a minor emotional meltdown. There might have been another meltdown yesterday morning, followed by extra bonus meltdown in the afternoon. Two in one day! Excellent! Last night, Kevin gently suggested to me that I – brace yourselves – take breaks more often, and go outside with the camera. Today, I finally did so.

I went from this:

 

To this:

Oh. Okay.

 

Yeah.

I remember this.

Exhale.

 

Bees go all in for what they want.

Bluets don’t give up. September? “Fie!” they say.

Sumacs say, “Hold my beer and watch this shit.”

 

Asters got the memo that fall colors involve orange and red, and responded with an “oh yeah?”

“Sez who?”

 

The tall anemone follows suit, indulging in a little light purple…

…before saying “screw it” and exploding.

 

 

Only one eyeball left on the white baneberry.

And now, for yellow.

Oleander aphids on a milkweed pod…

…and stem.

 

 

As for the tree that fell at the base of our driveway: it’s in the burn pile now. In the background, on the edge of the field, lurks the feral bathtub.

scenes from the day

one end of a dragonfly damselfly

comes with rocket-pack

grass supernova

sumac

“mine mine mine!”

I went looking for the Asiatic dayflower of the other day. It was gone. Simply gone. Eventually I realized that that’s what the dragonfly had been sitting on. Where the flower had been was now a sealed pouch.

two days ago

today

Wild.

one small miracle, please.

My 97 year old grandmother has decided that she’s done. She is refusing food and medication, and it won’t be long til she slips past the border of this life into whatever mysteries await her next. Yesterday I wrote her one last letter. An aide, or if I’m lucky, my cousin, will read it to her, since by now her macular degeneration renders her functionally blind.

Sweetpea and I set out for the mailbox yesterday to put the letter out for the carrier. On the way, I noticed a tendril of one-seeded burr cucumber vine grabbing at a neighboring Queen Anne’s Lace.

I guess we all grasp at life, for as long as we can, until we just can’t any more. I can’t blame her. In fact, I admire her, for her courage in deciding what’s right for her.

It’s been a week of pain, mostly, as my shattered nose figures out how to rebuild itself. I’ve had a couple of days of ruinous discomfort and eyestrain (from not being able to wear my glasses). This is not helped by the lack of exercise, and inadequate time outdoors. This morning, I felt as though I had given up my right to expect miracles, but I swung the camera bag on my shoulder anyway. I was hoping to find inspiration in anything, anything at all. As I wiggled my toes into my sandals I thought I saw something blue out of the corner of my eye. Two flashes, down by the hostas under the front windows of the house.

Oh my. What’s this? I’ve never seen it before.

Tis Asiatic dayflower (Commelina communis). In the west, we call this an invasive weed. In the east, it has all sorts of medicinal uses. Why does this not surprise me?

Little-known fact: when you don’t mow the lawn frequently, the hostas send out invader parties.

And the syrphid flies celebrate in the overgrown, gone-to-seed grass. Who wouldn’t fall in love with this guy?

The plan for today was to get out in the boats. We headed to the Harriman Reservoir.

Ahhhhhh…..

 

That’s Mt. Haystack. Just behind it is Mt. Snow, scene of last weekend’s Tough Mudder event (aka nose breakage).

I took my last prescription pain pill this morning. From here on out, it’s over the counter meds. And tomorrow, at long last, I have an appointment with the specialist who will tell me if I need surgery.

I advise against breaking your nose

Hey, guess what? Broken noses kinda hurt! Who knew? The swelling’s gone way down. My appointment with the “what now” surgeon was rescheduled for next week because – get this – he hurt his leg so badly that another surgeon advised him to go home today, thereby missing my appointment. So I won’t meet with him til Tuesday, 10 days after I broke it. That’s the outside limit for seeing someone and having it fixed on-the-spot. Not that I necessarily want it fixed on the spot, as I understand it involves chopsticks. I wanna be sedated.

I was advised by the doc in the ER not to lie down – to keep my torso at least 45 degrees upright. I don’t know for how long, but given how tender things still feel, and given how I typically sleep on my stomach, I’ve been sleeping in a big-ass chaise we have in our bedroom. This has cut into my Spooning with Best Beloved Regimen. My morning yoga routine – which involves a lot of attempting to touch my toes and downward-facing-dogs – violates the Stay Upright rule, and I have yet to use my brain power to devise another routine. So, no yoga in days. Running feels like it would be too jouncy, so I haven’t been doing that.  In short, I have gone from Super Duper Toughest Mudder of Them All, to Mildly Depressed Couch Potato, all inside a week. How’s that for accomplishment? And what do couch potatoes do? They hang out on the couch. Well, actually, they hang out in their their home office and work work work, and forget to Go Outside and Visit the Flowers.

Can you imagine the spiral of doom that is developing here? Pain + no exercise + no flower visiting = glum = why bother  = oh good lord, Sarah, just go outside already.

Recognize this? It’s a tiny baby milkweed pod! With the petals and stuff still attached!

Sumac flowers. Yeah, I had no idea, either.

Lobelia – Indian tobacco (Lobelia inflata)

Big Sis, the first black-eyed susan to open up this summer, is getting to be an old lady now.

milkweed flowers! brown-eyed susans! teensy teensies!

The sun finally came out and I gave my soul an airing this afternoon.

The first milkweed flowers!

This will be fun to watch unfold.

A sumac flower head. We’re over by the pole barn, incidentally. Kevin recently discovered something like 15 bird nests up in the eaves. So far we haven’t dragged a ladder over to investigate.

Wild rose, gotta love it.

And a sorrel. Yes, just your garden-variety lawn weed. Yet lovely to behold.

One of my favorite flowers: the brown-eyed susans. They are more commonly called black-eyed susans, but the ones I’ve seen are really dark brown. Anyway.

These fuzzy leaves are a new plant just coming up. Nearby, another b.e.s. has several flowers started:

itty bitty

baby

and big sis

I spent a while lost in the zen of letting the camera auto-focus in a field of grass.

and now for two shots, identical but for the area of focus:

un.

deux.

Tiny purple danglies – fabulous.

No clue. I’m guessing something in the sunflower-ish world, but I have zero evidence for that, so let’s just watch it play out over the next few days and I’ll get back to you.

And now, for the tiny flowers portion of this post.

A bluet. I’ve OD’d on bluets plenty of times, but this may be the first time I noticed the Y-shape of the stamens.

Cutest name award: mouse-eared chickweed.

No idea what this is. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before – TINY TINY TINY.

Or how’s this for tiny? 1/16th of an inch across. Damn.