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I WANT MY LIFE BACK

I stopped being myself in 2013. When I was talked into moving back to Oklahoma by Mom & Dad, I didn’t know I would do so at the cost of myself, but as I settled in to my new life in Stillwater & Glencoe, I disconnected from the activities and the people I love. I didn’t even realize I was doing that. This was caused a series of choices I made, and a series of inactions on my part. There was plenty of opportunity to find a path in Stillwater, at least at the start, but I was hung up on resentment and frustration. I found it so difficult to accept where I was. I did blame my parents for a while, but they didn’t force me to move. The didn’t fly up to Alaska and stuff me in a plane. They convinced me over time, and ultimately I chose to return. Partly, it was to help Mom & Dad, who had both been dealing with increasingly difficult medical situations, but also I wanted to be back to spend time with my niblings before they got too old. I dreaded being the uncle who they had no connection with because I was so far away, only to see them rarely in adulthood. I wanted to be there for their childhoods.

In the Summer of 2013, freshly moved back, I had my own apartment with Molly & Franz. It was upstairs from Brad, Conner & Jason, which was nice. Mom & Dad needed limited help, mostly with chores around the property and going with them to appointment and sometimes grocery shopping. Honestly, at first I felt duped. They didn’t need much from me, and that allowed me to start a business making a selling artwork, as well as art & craft supplies. And that was going pretty well. It wasn’t initially very profitable, but it was nice to have something to do that was creative and belonged to me. That lasted from June to August when things were disrupted slightly.

Justin, my good friend from Tulsa, called out of the blue one day in August. He knew I was back in Oklahoma, but we hadn’t seen one another yet. His sister had decided she needed the space in her house for her family, and Justin was in her way. She had offered to take him to a homeless shelter, and he needed a place to stay. Justin deals with some mental health issues and therefore cannot work, would be unable to find his own apartment, and isn’t even allowed to control his own money. Taking him somewhere like a shelter is just going to make his life infinitely more difficult. I do think it is fair that she wanted the space for her family. They lived in a modestly sized house with a family of seven people. It was crowded. However, it will never not baffle me that she wanted to take Justin to a shelter rather than help him find an apartment. She had been Justin’s representative payee while I was in Alaska, and I know she hated doing it. But there are people who do that as a job who could have taken over and helped. She did need to be involved in that transition. But she preferred the easiest way for her. Of course Justin could come stay with me. It wasn’t even really a question. He’s always been welcome.

Justin’s presence changed things in a couple of ways. First, I lost the separation between my home office and my bedroom. As much as I tried, it was such a small space that I never could maintain things as well as they had started and my new business struggled as a result. Secondly, Justin requires time and attention. He requires much more than most people, and at the time he had some other struggles that would cause him to absolutely demand attention, waking me up in the middle of the night to reassure him, or calling me to praise him. I’ve never been particularly bothered by these aspects of Justin’s personality, but it can be draining to deal with. My life became about him and my parents quickly, and I was okay with that. I didn’t even really notice I was doing it, but I was giving myself away in small bits.

INTO THE FIRE

My parents built their house in 2015, and I moved to the mobile home where they had been living. That was really nice. There was a bedroom on either end, so it was perfect to share with Justin. And it was spacious. I liked the mobile home, but there had been plans to build a home office. That never happened, and over time talks of that faded as my parents’ needs increased. Meanwhile, my house never got put together and the rooms started to fill up with my intentions and plans, boxes of products I would use in a better situation. My parents property was a twenty acre lot north of Stillwater on a gravel road. It was just far away enough to feel remote, but close enough to go to town frequently. And the property was perfect, completely surrounded by trees except for a natural clearing of about five acres where the mobile home sat and where the house was built. The mornings were frequented by birds, squirrels, deer, and armadillos. Other occasional visitors were rabbits, turkeys, bobcats, opossums, raccoons, coyotes, foxes, guinea fowl, bats, stray cats, stray dogs, the list goes on and on…. I loved that. But I had become so married to my own resentment that the years would go on and I would not.Continue Reading

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Refreshed, Reset, Ready to Go

I’m feeling good today, is spite of the unexpected expenses.  Life happens and there’s not a lot that can be done about it!  The plumber came a day early & they are bringing a new hot water tank tomorrow morning.  There’s a relief to that, especially since I have a home warranty for the first year.  This little hiccup was expensive, and left me with no flooring in two rooms, but that’s okay.  There are bigger problems in the world.  

My knee continues to hurt a little.  I should be wearing a brace until it feels normal again, but I have no clue where mine is.  I hate to just buy another one, but I think that’s where we are!  

Probably because my knee was hurting, but I found it disappointing that to downtown and back is about a quarter mile short of three miles.  That means I have to add tangents to make up for it, so I probably need to do that going.  After the second mile, all I want to do is get home.  I think when I get to the point where I can do two miles to downtown and then stop for shopping or coffee or whatever before returning, things will feel less daunting on the walk back.  Or maybe when the knee is not hurting.  Otherwise, my breathing is good.  My pace could be better, but I feel good on the walk.  It’s a nicer walk  overall than rural Glencoe was.  I do have things I love about those rural walks, but I think this one is just slightly better.  There’s greater opportunity for variation certainly.  One thing I might try is just going until I reach 1.5 miles and see where that is.  That would at least give me a walk I could do that would guarantee I meet my 3 mile goal.

[Walk #342, 3.13 miles]

  • Location of Walk: home to downtown, Guthrie, OK
  • Magpie: cypress cones

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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.

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The week started out very hot.  I actually lost a rose bush to the heat; it had been struggling to grow anyway, so I’m not terribly surprised.  I was still not feeling great part of the week, so it felt a little like I was getting back to life in slow motion.  I did manage to get the lawn mowed, which was more exciting than it should have been, and cut down one small tree.  Other than that, my only real efforts in my garden were pruning and deadheading.  Oh, and lamenting the loss of that rose.  I was looking forward to that one, but the heat was even stressing some of the crapemyrtles, and they can handle heat pretty well.  We had a storm come through last night and that pretty much took the worst of the heat with it.  We can enjoy a couple of cooler days now.  I have not seen most of the youngest kittens for a couple of days, which is a worry.  Sometimes they do disappear for a few, but I’m worried that they didn’t make it.  The property is so large and wooded, and the cats all spend time exploring, that I might never really know what happened unless they show back up on the porch.

Dad’s birthday was Friday and we all had dinner made by Conner, which was nice.  We also had a variety of cakes, including one failure by me and Justin.  I don’t know why it just wasn’t working, but my third attempt was good.  It actually stayed at home because it was too hot to take.  At least I know I can make a cake, even if it took me three tries!

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Blackjack Oak

Quercus marilandica ashei

Just outside my bedroom window is a rugged Blackjack Oak.  She isn’t fancy or flashy; neither is she demanding.  She takes care of herself and has a pioneering look about her.

When my parents moved to this property in 2006, most of the native trees were cleared from the areas where they would be living, being replaced with more pleasing fruit trees, crapemyrtles, and one Bradford pear.  Along with a few other trees, they did leave one small oak tree.  That tree offered a shaded spot to sit and enjoy the property, while being a fairly compact plant.  It has not stayed that way.

I moved into this place in 2015.  At that time, the once diminutive oak had become a little more of a presence.  The branches had arched and reached the house, occasionally scraping against the siding.  Ultimately it needed to be trimmed a little, but it’s increased size had created even more of a shaded area, some of its lower branches now no longer putting on leaves.  She had started looking a little bit raggedy.  It made me wonder about how long lived blackjack oaks are, worrying that she had only a limited time left and that I would need to think about  what to do when a replacement or removal was needed.

Blackjack oaks are a type of red oak common from New Jersey to Eastern Kansas and as far south as Georgia and Central Texas.  They are small and hardy trees, happily growing is poor soils and dry areas.  They don’t represent the prettiest of trees, consisting of crooked and twisted branches, many of which stop putting on leaves when those above them block the light.  It gives them a distinctive half-dead appearance that my oak now suffers from, but it does not indicate any sort of problem with the tree itself.  It does have a tendency to droop the leafless branches, making it hard to walk under and requiring annual pruning, but it’s a manageable problem.

These trees are slower growing, but longer lived oaks, especially the western subspecies in Northern Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas.  These individuals make up a significant percentage of The Cross Timbers, the oak savannah that bisects Oklahoma, separating the heavily wooded East from the arid West.  It’s a forest made up of post oaks, blackjack oaks, and eastern redcedars.  Blackjack oaks can live for more than 200 years, averaging about 80 years.  My fears of needing to replace my tree are unfounded.

No, this isn’t the world’s most beautiful tree.  It’s leaves even feel like they haven’t fully formed, as if they can quite figure out how to evolve into something clear.  The acorns are tiny, barely worth talking about.  The limbs are crooked and bare, at least the lower ones.  They don’t have the lush growth of most of the other trees that surround the house.  However, the tree is home to many birds and those tiny acorns are enjoyed by squirrels and even brazen deer who venture up to the house to graze on them along with the crabapples that grow next to the oak.  And it provides much of my house with shade, having expanded from a shady spot in the center of the yard to a defining feature of the property.

This tree has its issues, but I love her and I’m glad she’s here.

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I have never been very much into gardening.  I love having things growing around me, but the process of actually putting those things in the ground and taking care of them… no.  But I’ve found myself with a lot of need for distraction lately.  So, I have turned to gardening.  In the heat.  It;s keeping my brain occupied, but I also keep remembering something my brother talks about all the time: managing one’s expectations.

For years, I’ve watched my parents return from nurseries and garden centers with car loads of beautiful plants for the flowerbeds, but with no idea where they will go or who will plant them.  Inevitably, most of the plants would end up underwatered, unplanted, neglected, or planted in the wrong spots.  The whole ordeal that had started off as fun would end up a disappointment, and a source of frustration.  The expectations did not meet the reality.  The way they managed that was to try to change the reality around them, but that never worked.  Brent’s point was always that it was the expectations that were the problem.

I lived for many years in Alaska.  I love the climate that promotes lots of beautiful growth, but with lots of shade and very little heat.  I would love to have a garden full of cypress trees draped above head, ferns popping out along the bases of the trees, and fuchsias in hanging pots lining the porch.  Moss would grown on the roof of the shed and everyday a light rain would keep the soils moist and the plants would grow up around me and there would be flowers in bloom all summer.  I want a beautiful deck to enjoy the cool evenings and have people over.  Unfortunately, that is not the situation I find myself in.  If I was constantly trying to make that happen, I would spend a lot of my time disappointed and convinced that gardening doesn’t work.  What I have to do is work within the framework available to me.

I want tall shade plants:  Junipers and crapemyrtles are excellent plants that grown to 10-14 feet and provide a great amount of shade.  They have the added benefit of attracting birds and butterflies.  So, I am planning a landscape that depends on these two plants primarily as shade plants.

I want lots of flowers:  Roses.  Roses in Oklahoma, well in my part of Oklahoma, require little care and bloom almost all year.  Climbing roses tied against the house give a nice shade to the inside and allow for the appreciation of blooms.  I also cannot think of a flower that comes in a greater variety of shapes and sizes.  I’ve had a lot of luck with roses, so I’ve popped them in strategically around the house.

I want plants growing on the ground that aren’t grasses:  Grasses are a pretty common xeriscape option, especially as I live on the border of two grass prairies.  I don’t care for them though.  What I do love is vinca, or periwinkle.  Vinca keeps my flowerbeds full of green leaves without having them be full of weeds and grasses.  It also helps keep my soils moist, which the other plants appreciate.

Moss growing on the roof??? Okay, I admit this one is harder to substitute.  So, I’ve decided to try Virginia Creeper.  It does grow wild here, but usually deep in the wooded areas.  If I can provide the right amount of moisture, I’m hoping I can get this creeping vine to grow up the side of the metal shed or vinyl siding on the house.  This one is going to require more effort, and I plan to start it next Spring.

Daily rain?  Now I’ve gone too far!  Brent and I have talked a lot about irrigation systems.  I’m going to invest in the right things so that next year I can have both irrigation and misting available around the house.

I want a new deck:  My back porch is rotting.  It’s time for it to go, and with Brent’s help I’d like to add on a ground level deck with steps down from the house.  It’d be a nice place to spend evenings, as the back yard gets all the evening shade.  That project is happening this fall.

When I look at my plans, they seems overly ambitious.  I worry I’ve gone too far with what I want to do.  Maybe I have.  I’m trying to keep it simple, space out my work, and achieve something more than I have now.  And I have probably set my expectations too high.

So, I’m not going to be creating a replica of the gardens of Versailles, and I won’t be building a living sculpture.  There won’t be any sidewalks with flowers arched above to take a stroll through or fountains with flamingos.  That’s okay.  It doesn’t need to be outlandish to be beautiful.  My plan will probably get pared down over time, or I will wait another year to complete parts of it.  It will be mine, and that is what I’m excited about.  I never really cared about gardening until I started getting my hands dirty.  It’s fun to transform a landscape and to see the plants take shape over time.Continue Reading

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I’ve been thinking about the concept of ‘home’ for a while now.  What is it that give our spaces that feeling that makes us feel good being there.  It isn’t uncommon for an apartment to feel distinctly not homey, particularly ones first apartment after leaving the house where parents and siblings still reside.  It makes tempting the idea that it is the people that make for a feeling of ‘home.’  But it seems equally common for an apartment to feel like the place where that person will spend the rest of their life.  And that happens to folks who live alone.  So, is it the people at all?

I love being with my family.  There was always something about returning for a visit to my childhood home that had a fantastic mix of nostalgia, comfort, and distance.  In 2005, I moved far enough away that visiting required planning and money; my visits to my hometown were reduced to about once every two years.  By my first visit, my parents had sold my childhood home and moved to the country into a brand new manufactured home while they planned out their dream home.  There was no way, I thought, to feel at home in a mobile home sat in the trees just outside of town.

I was wrong.  While it wasn’t the same, the feeling was.  I was in a house that had only even existed for about a year, but it was filled with familiar furniture and my parents.  For me, that ruled out the structure and the location.  What seemed to be at play was the combination of the people, the memories I carried with me, and the stuff in the house.  Had my parents simultaneously discovered their mutual love for Victorian furnishings, throwing out the carefully cultivated collection of things in the house, I think the space would have felt as cold as I expected it to.  These objects brought with them the stories that define us as a family.

“I always want objects in my home that have a connection to me or something I’ve loved.  It’s still stuff, but it’s stuff that has meaning.” Nate Berkus makes a great point, and one I’d like to explore in depth for myself.  When I had one of those cold apartments, just out of high school, it was filled with items I can barely remember, mass produced and cheap things.  The only items I even clearly recall are items that had a story, even if the item wasn’t old.  The dresser my dad painted for me for my new place, the sofa he reupholstered, and that is about it.  It would take me years to collect items of meaning, to be given things once belonging to grandparents and parents, and to have the maturity to honor those things and treat them with the respect they had earned.

Six months ago, I moved into the mobile home where my parents spent years hoping to build their dream home.  They settled into their new house over the summer, leaving vacant a space that had surprised me, on a land that is peaceful and beautiful.  I’m honored to live here in this space that has become a part of the story, where my nephews spent so much of their childhood, where birthdays were celebrated, where holidays with family were enjoyed, and where my parents lived and loved and convalesced.

Many of the stories are lost; it had been incumbent on me to ask the necessary questions and carry on the mythologies and lessons of my family, but I have failed to do so.  But I’d still like to explore what meanings these artifacts have for my life, for the lives of my family members, to recall the world in which they came to us and present them to the world.Continue Reading