Deer, Turkey, Toads

This was a surprisingly good and productive day.  Brent & I went to Glencoe to do a final cleanup of trash & get the propane tank listed and picked up.  The only thing left to do out there is the owner of the mobile home to come out and get it, but everything we were going to do is done (unless the mobile home pickup results in a mess, which we may need to hire someone to cleanup).  Everything takes so long.  On the way to the recycling center, there were deer and turkeys in the Johnson’s yard across the creek.  Both are common, but not usually at the same time.

Brent is fun to hang out when he’s not focused on trying to get out of the task.  He has relaxed since buying his house and moving.  When we couldn’t get find a place to take a refrigerator, we took it to Brad’s and to my surprise Brent went in and visited with Brad, AJ, & Kenzie.  They are remodeling at Brad’s and he is not talking about moving any longer.  I don’t agree, but it’s not my house and not my life.  It was actually a pretty good visit in spite of the smell of smoke.  Brad says he quit again.  I’m glad to hear it.  I would love if he started taking care of himself more!!

Photo of the Day (Stillwater Recycling Center)

It was a long day, and I didn’t get home until 8, so I only did a 25 minute walk.  I got in a lot of movement throughout the day, so I still feel pretty good about it.  The park was full of toads and there were teenagers hanging out on the playground.  That made me feel good actually; I worry about young people not spending enough time just still being kids.  I got in my steps, avoiding stepping on toads, and got back home.  I’m so tired now, but I have a washer & dryer now and I put a load of laundry in for the first time and so I almost feel like this is where my time in Guthrie starts.  I don’t have anything to pull me away to do other tasks.  

[Walk #335, 1.15 miles]

Happy Birthday To Me!  Today is my 39th birthday, and while it has been a mostly peaceful day, I have found myself avoiding a lot of memories and feelings that are just under the surface.  I just wasn’t in a place to deal.

I spent the first half of the day listening to episodes of the podcast Frangela: The Final Word.  TOO FUNNY!  I love these two, and have for a long time on The Stephanie Miller Show.  I don’t know why it took me so long to get into their podcast.  I’m glad I did though.  After a bit of that, I took a nice nap on the front porch, where I discovered one of the kittens had returned.  I don’t have faith in the survival of the others, but his return offered at least a glimmer of hope.  My nap was followed by going up to spend time with my dad, brother, nephew, and roommate.  Justin made vegan chicken burgers and fries and the rest of us gave Conner a hard time.  I know he was getting frustrated, but it was kinda fun anyway.

The gathering was fairly brief, a little chaotic, but okay.  I do find myself needing to manage my expectations of others in these situations.  I have a tendency to want people to put their own issues away for a few hours, and at least give the appearance that they care to spend time with me.  But they don’t.  I should know better.  I don’t mean to sound accusatory at all; they are just living their lives as normal.  It’s me who is expecting too much.

I’ve had a wonderfully productive week.  I got the shelving assembled and put in that goes along the east wall of my bedroom.  I’m putting things together slowly with it in; I don’t want it to just feel like a pile of stuff, so I’m going through things and purging a little as I go… very little.  I did identify some books on ikebana that I intend to find a new home for… if I don’t change my mind.  Those books are so thin that it will hardly make a difference in the end!  I finally put some books on the shelves in the living room as well; I’ve had three shelves empty for the past year or so, which is silly really since I had books in boxes waiting to be put out.

Justin helped me put in a row of junipers that will hopefully mature into a nice hedge to break up the front yard, and we also put in another chaste tree up at the house.  Things seem to be coming together slowly in the yards.  I need to spend some time cleaning up the flowerbeds at the house;  they are covered in weeds, need mulch, and the plants could be pruned.

Plants showed up!  I’m not sure why they were sent so early, but part of the order that was supposed to arrive in November showed up in the mail.  It isn’t a good time for planting.  I might look at how to hold them until fall; they are bare root plants.  If I can’t easily wait, I’ll need to get those in the ground or at least in planters in the next couple of days.  I’m not sure how well things will do if they are planted in August, but it does look like we will have a rather mild week and that will help.

The orange rose, which had put on very pink blooms before, has changed and the newer blooms are much more orange.  Maybe it needs to mature before the roses will be their true color, and maybe they will be pale.  Either way, I’m really liking the look of these and I’m glad I put them near the porch.  In time they will be tall enough to tie to the side of the porch and they can be enjoyed like the ‘Fourth of July’ or ‘Golden Showers’ roses are.

So this next week’s plans are all about figuring out those plants that arrived early.  I do need to mow and get started on the flowerbeds as well, but I will also spend some time uploading more blog posts.  It’s nice to be ahead of the game.  I usually stay three or four weeks ahead, but I’m only a few days ahead at the moment and need to manage things better to make sure the blog is always active.  On that note, I’m looking for feedback on what is working and what isn’t.  Leave me comments on this post or on any post you want so I know what people are thinking.

Artists Featured This Week

Armadillo

I squish through
henbit and moist soil
under moonlight, slowly
taking the usual path,
intriguing cats who think
they might soon be fed
and startling an armadillo
digging for grubs or worms
in the yard, ensuring that
it will continue being soft
and moist.
She’s a frequent visitor,
nearly at times earning
a name, an honor not
even given to the cats I feed.
The distance increases,
nightly pulling, stretching.
The air is cold and heavy,
the armadillo a distraction
from the fear and frustration
I find myself falling toward.
I’m anxious to see Mom,
the path has turned to gravel
and the house seems further
than it was last night,
when the armadillo was on
the other side of the yard,
making a racket through
last year’s dry leaves
still undisturbed where
they fell, spilling out
around the trunks of trees.
One day, the nights
will be for sleeping
and everyone will be whole.

Notes

Written April 2018 in Payne County, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Armadillo” from Scissor-tailed Flycatcher (Scissortail Press, 2020)

August is more than halfway over. Here in Anchorage summer has already conceded defeat to this in-between drippy season that is a sort of pre-autumn. I love it, as I do most weather. My mom is like that too — perhaps it is from her that I’ve taken this attitude. It doesn’t matter what is going on outside; everything has its own merits and it is all worthy of awe. Mind you, I’m overjoyed that I no longer experience the many many months of humidly hot days that are Oklahoma summers. But even a few days of that should be taken in every once in a while.

My semi-subterranean home has once again become a refugee camp for anything small enough to find a way in and away from the cooling temperatures and the wet. I don’t mind sharing my home with these tiny animals. Mosquitoes are not welcome, and I’m afraid are dealt with harshly. Flies are relentlessly shooed and may also be dealt with if they don’t take my hints that they’ve overstayed their welcome (which is quite short anyway). Beyond that, I don’t give trouble to anything that gives me none.

I was chasing flies around the bathroom, swatting them in the general direction of the open window, hoping they’d move along, when I noticed that this year has not brought a single insect in so much as pairs. It is as if the insect & spider community is sending delegates and are only individually represented. For days there has been a seemingly dumbfounded ant scooting his too big body in and out of the spaces just under the cabinets, always at times that are inconvenient for me to capture and release him outside. As far back as I can remember into my childhood, I’ve wondered about these individuals, about the lives they’ve lead until now. I was initially worried that this was a queen looking for a spot to start a new colony (oh, please! not my little bathroom!), but I think it is just a wayward member of a colony from the flower bed just beyond my porch.

Chances are very great that any ant won’t live long anyway. My house is host to a variety of harvesters and spiders all ready to prey on the other refugees. Spiders are amazing. Even at the times I believe my home is free of all crawly things, I’ll see one appear from nowhere and scuttle off to an again unknown place. This is again one of those instances when the ‘live and let live’ rule applies for me. In my book spiders are good. In a basement environment, the lack of more insects is likely thanks to the arachnid guardians who have set up snares at the entrances. I thank them.

All of this makes it sound as if my home is crawling with critters. Just the thought of that gives me chills. It isn’t like that. Anything that dares leave the sanctuaries of the laundry room or bathroom quickly becomes a brief plaything for the kitties, and then a light snack. Even in those relatively safe places, the insects and spiders have to be fairly clever at hiding. Bothering me definitely includes making yourself too well known. If a garden beetles plops himself in the middle of the bathroom floor, he’ll be excused onto the porch where sadly I’ll leave him to his fate.

But really, I like knowing that the world is alive around me. While it makes me feel increasingly small, it also makes me feel more connected to the world somehow. And allowing benign ecosystems to form in darkest corners of my basement apartment makes me feel a little bit benevolent.

As promised, this should explain my feelings on my recent switch to a vegetarian diet. I would like to preface this briefly. This is my personal belief and I am not preaching this way of life as right for everyone. Each person brings their own set of beliefs with them through life, and they are just as valid as mine. I offer this as explanation for my own actions. I do not judge others for making different choices with their lives.

I feel obligated to explain myself. Let me try to make sense of what is going on in my head, but don’t be surprised if contradictions arise, as my brain is rarely at peace with itself. This will also be a bit longwinded.

In January, I made the decision to stop eating meat. So, I stopped. I failed to take into account that so few people make this life choice. I forgot that there would be plenty who would not understand and who would forget that I no longer consume animals. I had not planned out what I would say to those who questioned me. I had no speech prepared. What’s worse, I didn’t even have a clear sense of purpose.

It actually all started about twelve years ago. I had become interested in adopting a vegetarian diet back when I was in high school, but had great fears of alienation from my friends. A minor medical problem helped prompt me to follow through with my plans, since I was not supposed to eat fried foods or red meat. I slowly phased poultry, pork, & red meat out, opting for fish or non-meat choices. Slowly, I changed my diet, but never officially (or fully) eliminated meat from my diet. I simply repressed my reasons for cutting back and found that not thinking about it was easier than dealing with the moral dilemma.

Several years later, my convictions gone, I was once again eating beef. And I didn’t give any more thought to it. So much was happening in my life, and I was not the center of my existence for many years. This made it easy to not focus on what I felt or believed, worrying too often about how my decisions would affect my friends and family.

As long as two years ago, I was reevaluating my life and again considering cutting meat out of my diet. I think I needed to grow up to understand how right I believed that decision would be. Over the past year, I have tried varying degrees of not eating meat, trying to stop, but failing.

I was eating lamb when it dawned on me. I had an overwhelming need to purge the animal from my body — to remove it’s masticated carcass from within me. It made me cry. I couldn’t believe how barbaric it now seemed to have actually ordered slabs of an animal with thoughts and feelings. It just seemed so simple a solution too — don’t eat anything possessing intelligence.

I really was unsure of what I meant by this and how this would play out. I honestly expected to revert back to not giving my burgers a second thought. I considered eating fish, but couldn’t justify that until I had sorted out what my feelings were. I knew what I wasn’t willing to eat any longer: cattle, pigs, chickens, moose, sheep, turkeys, deer, cephalopods, etc. If it was having thoughts about something, it was off my menu.

So, that is the reason. I believe that it is wrong to continue eating meat when you believe that the animals you are eating can think and feel. I also feel that it is wrong to keep animals in buildings, feeding them genetically manipulated “food,” just for the convenience of having prey when we want it. I believe that we have evolved as a species to a point that renders the eating of meat archaic, barbaric, & unnecessary.

I welcome comments or messages on this subject. It is still a loose mass of barely solid concepts for me. It is coming together slowly and it just feels right. Thanks for taking the time to read this.

Here are a few quotes from others who got it:

One farmer says to me, “You cannot live on vegetable food solely, for it furnishes nothing to make the bones with;” and so he religiously devotes a part of his day to supplying himself with the raw material of bones; walking all the while he talks behind his oxen, which, with vegetable-made bones, jerk him and his lumbering plow along in spite of every obstacle. ~Henry David Thoreau

I did not become a vegetarian for my health; I did it for the health of the chickens. ~Isaac Bashevis Singer, quoted in You Said a Mouthful edited by Ronald D. Fuchs

I have no doubt that it is a part of the destiny of the human race, in its gradual improvement, to leave off eating animals, as surely as the savage tribes have left off eating each other…. ~Henry David Thoreau, Walden, 1854

A man of my spiritual intensity does not eat corpses. ~George Bernard Shaw

I have always eaten animal flesh with a somewhat guilty conscience. ~Albert Einstein

My refusing to eat meat occasioned inconveniency, and I have been frequently chided for my singularity. But my light repast allows for greater progress, for greater clearness of head and quicker comprehension. ~Benjamin Franklin

Images: vintage illustration of cauliflower; AI Image of sheep (created using Wonder AI)

Featured Image Art: Eileen Hood, “Sheep & Lambs” (1917)

Hymn III: Birds & Vapor

Before knowledge, peace existed.
Innocent children don’t long for the touch of others.
I’m reflecting on bird calls,
sorting out in my mind the ones that seem familiar
from the ones that are new.
Except for the mockingbirds —
their song has changed as much as I have.
I can barely tell the difference between
childish pursuits and adult desires.
Except for skin.

I find myself a poor litmus test of what I want,
what I remember wanting.
Whispers in my ear from the past — or is it the future?
I’m forgetting things I thought were important.
I don’t remember the smell of skin pressed against
my face as I sleep.
I’m trying to remember how close I can get to the sun
without tumbling to the ground.
Have I reached that limit?
The men are turning to vapor, mists deposited in a wizard’s pensieve
filled with what I choose to remember as unbridled passion.
I’m searching through windows for faces,
for quiet morning sun spilling in through panes,
spotlighting the drifts of dust as they dance
like a great flock of tiny birds.

It feels like he’s still standing there, if he was ever standing there,
eating cherries on the front porch,
spitting the pits out into the garden.
I am thinking about fruity cereal.
I am thinking about the taste of cherries lingering in his mouth and the taste of mulberries lingering on mine.
I am thinking about birds and music and sex and dust.
I am thinking about the faces, the many overlooked faces.
I am thinking about vaporizing.

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
calling for you and for me;
see, on the portals he’s waiting and watching,
watching for you and for me.


Notes

Written 2 November 2001 in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

Brian Fuchs, “Hymn III: Birds & Vapor” from Okie Dokie (Scissortail Press, 2019)

Published in Social Distances (Scissortail Press, 2020)