Today my mom would have been 103, so unlike many of my friends, I never expected her to be around for me at my age. But since she has been gone for 40 years, I’ve missed her longer than I had her. I don’t dwell on this much, but something that happened to be last week brought my lack of mothering to mind.
My family in the 1960s.
One of the many cruel declarations against us horrible liberals asserted that we were mentally ill for supporting our LGBTQIA family and friends. It made me feel so alone and hopeless to realize this. My brain reverted to childhood, tears came to my eyes, and from deep in my past, the cry of “I want my mom” came up. I just wanted a hug from someone who unconditionally loved me.
Mom loved camellias
I can still smell the Chanel No. 5 and smoke on mom as she wrapped her skinny tanned arms around me as I cried after being bullied or taunted.
She also loved “mama redbirds”
It was hard being a chubby, sensitive child. It’s hard being her sensitive adult self.
I am saddened that the way people treat each other today can send me back to such raw emotional needs. Yikes. And I know I’m not alone. We all need to have a safe place, a virtual place of comfort like when you’re in your mother or father’s arms.
Mature-ish Suna must find that in herself. Ugh. (Yes, I have a fine spouse and friends, but they aren’t Mom.)
I tend to write about how Mom’s mental health issues made things difficult for me, but I assure you, she had many fine qualities, one of which was loving her children as best as she could.
She was also funny, an amazing artist and crafter, a great dancer, a gardener with a solid green thumb, a creative and resourceful cook, a fine whistler, and really good with makeup and nail polish. I remember all these traits, too.
I do miss my mom. I think she’s giving me strength via her memories. I need it.
It looks like I do. I made a drink from one of Kathleen’s little flavor packets and ended up with the blues: blue drink, nails, hair, and glasses. I will point out that I had a brown shirt (with a blue Roadrunner on it).
Good thing the light washed out my hair.
On a more serious note, I shared this story on Facebook this morning:
What a morning at my birding platform. First, I was just sitting here, watching Baltimore Orioles flying around, when I heard a Green Heron. Then I saw it, flying toward me, aiming directly over my head. I thought how pretty it was, but wondered what would happen if it pooped. Then a big white glob came down! Thankfully it landed just inches off my concrete pad. My blue hair is safe!
The little bits of white are poop.
Then, after measuring yesterday’s .02” of rain, I gazed over at the fence. Oh my gosh, something was hanging from one of the chrysalises I’d been watching! It was a fresh, new Gulf Fritillary. It’s our most common large butterfly, since we have lots of sorrel vines that they love. This is the first time I’ve ever seen a butterfly emerging in the wild. What a privilege!
It was pearlescent
The humor and beauty carried me through an intense work day just fine! A meeting ended early, too, so I had time to give Vicki some slightly old frozen meat to make into dog food and exercise the horses. Neither horse was into it. I think I should have let them rest.
They were peaceful on our evening stroll, though. It’s hard to get them all in one photo.
Just a little relaxation with the animals prevents the psychological blues from coming over me, though. Watching the dogs play in the long grass at sunset was a great way for me and Lee to wind down. They don’t get out much, but for once they stayed with us and didn’t run off to roll in poop.
Happy dog buddies
I’m thinking about so many of you all, dealing with what comes your way as best you can. We are in this together. As my friend Kathy just reminded me, we’re all under the same moon!
I’m pretty wiped out from doing so much outside in the heat. I know Apache and I are both looking forward to the promised cold front. But today is National Dog Day in the US, so I’ll focus on the dogs for once.
No, not you, cute little fiery skipper, it’s the dogs’ turn.
Starting from small to large, Vlassic is doing very well, still staying in the garage apartment with Lee’s older brother. He’s a great companion and gives Jim purpose. Vlassic is no longer solid black. His head is quite salt-and-pepper, and the rest of his body has white hairs, but he has not slowed down one bit. He loves to sit in the sun and go visit the horses. At least he no longer tries to herd cattle.
This photo is a couple years old, but he has some gray. I didn’t get a chance to photograph him today.
Penney is next in size. She is still the most neurotic dog I’ve ever owned, and perhaps that I’ve ever met. It’s hard to be nice to her, because if you pet her, she starts whining and groveling and trying to lick you. She must have had a weird puppyhood. She hates loud noises, but can occasionally be brave and bark at perceived intruders.
Not groveling.
I notice, though, that she lets the resident rabbits graze peacefully in the yard quite close to her. They also graze close to me. I think they’re becoming domesticated.
What’s there to be afraid of?
Goldie wouldn’t have let those rabbits in HER yard! But Penney does. And she’s happy in her neurotic way. She enjoys sitting with Lee in his chair, and sleeping under my desk while I work.
She can really relax.
Carlton is Penney’s favorite playmate. Each evening they have to have their episode of running around and playing, either indoors or out.
Typical.
Carlton is still one great dog. We enjoy him so much. He’s friendly, funny, and beautiful. I love that he always sleeps with me in bed, like he’s the other person. He even uses a pillow. (Lee is in his recliner next to us.)
Photo taken as I’m writing this.
I just love watching him run around the yard and sniff out whatever it is he finds in the grass. He’s just a perfect buddy for me.
Thanks for liking me.
Harvey, who’s been a grumpy old man his entire life, is still hanging in there. His liver disease and interesting bumps and protrusions don’t seem to stop him from having a good life. After his stroke last year while we were dealing with Goldie’s cancer, he has improved enough to be able to climb the stairs again and get on his beloved couch for sleeping.
He looks pretty good from this side.
He gets whatever he wants at this point in his life. We’re just glad he is still with us, growls and all.
Here you can see the lump on his leg, which is not bone cancer.
And of course, there’s Alfred, the big guy. He is shedding an incredible amount of hair right now. I took enough off him today that I swear he looks smaller now.
Fluffy dog (and wine)
He is just about as sweet as he can be, though quite insistent when he believes it’s his turn to be petted. Suddenly there’s a huge head pressed against you. You must pet it. He seems to be doing very well on his joint medication. He runs, plays, and bounces around so joyfully sometimes that I get choked up. I’m so glad he’s happy here.
Pet me NOW.
Of course, there are some nights when he barks for hours at coyotes or something. That’s why we have a fan in the bedroom. White noise.
They can be loud, but we love them.
Yeah, the only thing about the dogs is the barking when they detect an intruder or arriving family member. It’s loud. But if I were a criminal I would think twice about crossing our valiant protectors. They do a good job, so I appreciate them all.
You may remember that for the past couple of years we’ve had a problem with cockleburs in the horse pasture. I spent hours and hours removing them from manes and tails, and had a horrible time with Drew, given his dislike of being touched on his head.
Drew last winter with his bur-head
This year we Hermits’ Resters have decided to do our utmost to rid the pasture of these plants, which weren’t here before. Step One was me going around with loppers and getting rid of most of the plants around the horse pens. More came up, but I’ll get them this week.
You can see them by the gates. Made it hard to open gates.
Step Two got interrupted when a piece broke on our shredder (a mowing apparatus pulled behind a tractor—you may see them on roadsides and median strips. Part of the hill created when the pond got cleaned out hadn’t been de-burred when that happened.
Now it’s more of a scorched-earth look.
However, yesterday Chris braved the heat and made the repair (welding in a Texas summer is brutal) and he was able to finish shredding as much of the “tricky” parts of the pasture.
Looking much better
That left Lee with the job of finishing the job and shredding the rest of the pasture. Goodbye to burs, dove weed and ragweed. The horses eat giant ragweed, but not the small kind.
Horses still have stuff to eat.
This project takes a ranch family village to accomplish! The next step will come next month when broadleaf killer is applied. Carefully. I don’t want it on my wildflower areas.
What are they doing here? Grazing in the few areas the tractor couldn’t get to. Burs are still there. This calls for loppers.
Then a few weeks after that, seed and fertilizer will be applied to get the pasture back in shape. I’m hoping to get grasses that are more native, but the horses’ need to eat may mean some sacrifices. Luckily we still have all the yard and field in front of the house that still has good natives.
I assure you, I NEED to eat.
I’ve also been asked to do some horse moving, which will happen next week. Some lucky horses will have new grazing areas. Poor Apache and Fiona will stay in the area with worse grass, due to their metabolisms.
We get new grass?
That’s good with me, since I like going over and hanging out with Apache multiple times a day. I think we both enjoy each other’s company. Today we hung out a lot, because I was so happy with how well he’s doing with his ground work and trail walks. It’s so much fun.
I know I post lots of pictures of him, but he’s such a fine equine friend.
I repaired his new breast collar (Vicki helped) so tomorrow I may try to put it on with his saddle to see how it looks.
I’ll take a normal saddle, please.
Hmm, this was not my planned topic. Oh well, I hope you enjoy my horse pictures as much as I enjoy the idea of a bur-free winter.
Itch timeBird supervisor Drew had a good day todayMabel is having issues, but I have a plan. She eats only soup. Spice is doing just great. The welcoming partyTwo buddiesThey circled the hay bale while Lee shredded. Protecting it from the tractor!Tractor didn’t phase Apache
I’d avoided it all summer, but today I finally got overheated. I should have know there’d be an issue when I couldn’t even take sitting in my birding chair more than a half hour this morning. Ugh. At least I managed to see the pretty white rain lilies that appeared today.
Brazos rain lily Zephyranthes chlorosolen
Vicki and I had a horse lesson today, and of course we worked to stay hydrated as we groomed Drew and Apache. I got through my lesson and felt a bit tired but okay. I think what got to me was that Apache acted like he had to pee and so I just sat on him with the August sun bearing down on me and got too hot.
An earlier pee time when he made us wait.
By the time I was trying to unsaddle him I felt bad. I HATE getting all messed up by heat and having to make people stop and take care of me. I ate into Vicki’s lesson time, too. Human bodies can really let you down sometimes.
Trying to look perky after I cooled off.
Sorry to whine about my body not doing my bidding. It could be a LOT WORSE and I know that. But I really do try to not overheat, though that’s a challenge in August. That’s one reason Apache and I are trying to stay in shape but not overdo it. It’s a fine line.
The moon cheered me up again, as it will.
Still, I’m feeling my grief over losing our friend Gail settling down to a more reasonable level, but I remain saddened that someone I admire has gone into hospice. I know I’m at the stage in life when friends start to pass on, but it’s worth honoring them all and sharing stories.
While I try to regulate my thermostat, I’m glad I have flowers to enjoy.
I’ll continue with memories as I get through another travel period starting tomorrow.
The tarot card of the day is the 3 of Cups/Water.
Otters!
I’m happy to see more fun otters from the Gaian Tarot. The card tells us to have fun with friends. I did that today, with both friends and family. I’m so relieved that I’ve been drawing happy cards except on sad days!
That might not be news everywhere, but it rarely rains here in August. It was a bit less than an inch, but pretty spectacular. I was out looking at birds when I realized the wind was picking up. I had a hard time making it to the porch!
Ominous
I’ve heard the winds were more than gale velocity, so it’s no wonder cushions flew and my birding station became a bare concrete platform.
Yes. Lee likes to mow paths.
Lee, the panting dogs and I watched the storm from the new porch, since the wind was blowing away from us. Sometimes the rain was close to horizontal.
More debris
We ended up outside longer than planned because, unsurprisingly, the power went out for an hour or so. It was too dark in the house, so I came out and read while bonding with nervous dogs.
My buddy Carlton
I managed to get all my work done despite another power outage, since they came between meetings. So, all was well and the grass will be green.
Sky post storm
Oh yes, I remembered to photograph my new planter, which it turns out is English. I’m just a fan of pansies, even if they’re out of fashion, so I’m glad to have it. It rained during the time I was going to plant baby plants in it, but maybe I can soon.
Yep. Pansies.
Sorry it’s not too exciting right now. Wait, I’m not sorry. It’s GREAT to not be all stressed about anything! Even the tarot card of the day is cheerful.
Or King of Cups
This guy is gazing at a bird, accompanied by his otter pal. Yay, another otter. The meaning is to use the wisdom you’ve gained from introspection to be of service to others. I get the hint. Now off to bed.
I hate to get in bed after the house cleaner makes the bedroom look so good! Lee’s recliner is so sweet with its pillows. But he can’t sleep in it like that! The bed is for me and dogs. If you think that’s all weird, I can assure you that LOTS of people of a certain age sleep in recliners.
The title is my weak analogy to yesterday’s blog title, The Salmon of Knowledge. I was pretty sluggish today after all yesterday’s exercise, though I ended up with almost as much exercise today, thanks to swimming in circles around the pool and vigorously winding yarn into ball, which counts.
Of course, I spent time in nature. Hope these Mockingbird babies make it.
It’s healthy to take a day off from being busy, though, so I gave myself permission to sit on the porch, watch documentaries on octopi, and enjoy food Kathleen made. The porch is getting even more relaxing. Two of my cushions arrived, and now lying on the couch is as comfortable as my bed.
Lee says the pillows are too loud. I say they pull together the trim, couch, and blue chair colors. Wait until he sees the outdoor rug…
Being the Slug of Exhaustion today also allowed me to ignore anything stressful that I possibly could. I just looked at my surroundings and enjoyed them, enjoyed the family, and will take the stress back up tomorrow.
Yet another Gulf fritillary Pond turtle covered in algae. It was going somewhere. Great Blue Heron going somewhere. Great Egret, relaxed.
Since I have nothing deep to say, let me recommend the Billy Joel documentary, And So It Goes, part 1 of which just came out. This part covers the years I really liked, the 70s, when he was quite amazing to see live. You end up really liking his first wife.
Oh, here’s something exciting. The unused RV that had been next to my tack room went away today. It will be easier to get to my square bales of hay that way. It looks all color-coordinated now!
Tarot card of the day
Today I pulled the Explorer (knight) of Water (cups). It’s a pretty darned happy card, hinting I’m in a good place, emotionally today, able to navigate the waves of feelings smoothly. It also may indicate a new emotional path, sort of like yesterday’s 10 of Water.
We will see. As I grow more Hermit-like in my self preservation mode, I’ll be interested to see if anything manages to stir me in new emotional directions other than inward!
Why would I want to leave my hermitage? All the porch lights make it so cozy for exhausted slugs.
Resilience. That’s the first concept that comes to my mind when I think about Molly Jong-Fast, the author of How to Lose Your Mother: A Daughter’s Memoir (2025). To have made it to adulthood as a functioning human being after experiencing her childhood defines resilience. Some people wouldn’t have made it. Sure, Jong-Fast is a bit messed up, but by gosh, she’s here analyzing the heck out of politics with her inimitable New York accent (Lee loves her podcast).
This memoir covers a pretty crappy year in her life, during which she spent any time not dealing with sickness or death of those around her mulling over the truly baffling history of her relationship with her mother, Erica Jong, author of semi-autobiographical books that were shocking in their time (Fear of Flying, etc.). Jong-Fast spends many pages going over how famous, talented, and interesting her mother was or wasn’t. Mostly, Jong-Fast believes she wasn’t any of those things.
What I found most interesting about this book was that although we have much in common mother-wise, I really had a hard time emphasizing with Jong-Fast. I think I like her, but her negative attitude towards herself got under my skin. I can’t tell you how many times she says she’s a bad daughter or how insistent she is that Jong is a bad mother. She is unable to give either her mother or herself the benefit of the doubt other than a few token attempts.
I guess I’d hoped that all the AA meetings she’s been at would have helped Jong-Fast be kinder to herself, but here she is, still berating herself for not making her mother happy. Sigh.
Yes, Jong was not your average mother. I don’t think she could have been, because other than her final husband, she really only liked or was interested in herself. I honestly can see how her daughter would end up unable to love her like other daughters love their mothers. They both have tried their best, for who they are.
Boundaries. Yeah. They both have problems with boundaries. Jong can’t separate her consciousness from her unconscious self, and Jong-Fast can’t let herself stop trying to get in there with her mom.
Who am I, a therapist? No. So I will stop. Everyone in the book has a therapist of their own anyway, right down the block, like every other service they need. New York is so foreign to me!
So…how to conclude this? The people in this memoir are fascinating and (to me) not like people I know. They live in a world new to me and have experiences unlike mine. Quite educational! And you will certainly find Jong-Fast to be a fascinating human. I just can’t quite figure out the moral to the story unless it’s that you never do know your parents and you certainly can’t fix that when they have dementia.
Eh. I don’t dwell much on romanticism at the medium-old age of 67. Still, I do know what my caring spouse does that makes me feel loved and appreciated. He hits most of the love languages, too.
He notices little things I do and tells me what a good job I’ve done.
He picks up little things when he’s out that he knows I like—flowers, a book, a tasty treat, etc.
He shows interest in my interests. I can’t tell you how much it touches me that he spots birds and tells me about them or takes an insect photo to upload on iNaturalist.
He does many things to make my life easier or more pleasant, without me asking.
Yeah, Lee may be grumpy sometimes, but he’s a good guy, and quietly romantic.
Tawny Emperor butterfly he photographed for me this morning.
I hope I do something he finds romantic!
This is our engagement photo. I hardly recognize him without facial hair!
PS: it rained a good bit today. In July! That led us to romantically sit on the new porch and listen to rain.
Whenever I start to go in and on about my pessimism it makes certain beloved relatives worried. When I realized that this afternoon I began to muse about how okay I’m actually doing right now. I guess if things have to get scary for those of us not in power, now is preferable to even a few years ago, for me. Spiritual growth is a big help.
Lee says a giant porch chair is a big help.
It’s taken a long time to get to where I don’t panic and start feeling paranoid. Even if “they” were out to get me, it wouldn’t hangs who I am or how I act. Like a friend mentioned in response to yesterday’s post, I’m going to choose to be kind. I’m also not going to give up my ethics and morals. Not panicking doesn’t mean not doing the right thing.
By the way, porch furniture came mere minutes after my son finished the beautiful trim work. He did so well.
(Aside: more than one person I know called their representative today and talked to a real person.)
Look at that fine detail. Craftsmanship!
Anyway, I’m coping well, my anxiety only pops up occasionally, and I’m enjoying my little hermit life. I’m staying in my lane, not asking questions of anyone who’s not wanting to share with me, and enjoying the heck out of my tiny circle of friends and loved ones, dogs, horses, and fowl. That, and birds, is enough to create a peaceful oasis.
This excellent hammertail robberfly was my nature fun of the day.
Please remind me of my peace when I start whining about being lonely, left out, or missing old friends. It does happen. Those I care about are in my heart! That has to be enough.
Carlton helps!
And all of you who read and comment and share your stories with me are also in my heart. Thank you for showing all of us how much good and caring for others there still is in the world.
The Hermits' Rest 