Being a Responsible Omnivore

What are your feelings about eating meat?

I’m answering the blog prompt today, because the lack of internet at this state park means I can’t upload posts with lots of images.

Two Gadwalls

Anyway, I think people get to make their own decisions about what they eat. There are many reasonable philosophical inclinations that lead people only to eat raw food, choose veganism, eat eggs and dairy, or eat various kinds of meat. I have no arguments with decisions that work for you.

My decision is based on practical considerations for the most part. Without meat, our family could never share a meal. Too many people raised on a traditional American diet. But I want to be a more thoughtful omnivore.

Artistic dried flower.

I believe including some animal products leads to a balanced diet of vitamins and minerals. But I also am convinced that plant-based foods are also vital, and should provide most of what I eat. If I was just feeding myself, my diet would include meat every couple of days, with carefully chosen meat. I don’t want to eat animals who’ve been treated badly, so ideally the chicken, beef, and pork would have had good lives.

Blackbirds

By this I mean they get to live outside in the fresh air and eat varied food. They get to raise their young. And harvest is quick and humane. Does that make food more expensive? Maybe. But if meat isn’t your primary source of nutrition maybe that’s okay.

On the Cleburne Lake dam

We buy grass-fed beef we know, which I hope we can continue when our neighbors move—and the small harvesting facilities are often overbooked here. Much of the pork we eat is harvested from the ranch. We also eat local venison. Chicken is difficult. I don’t have a good source of real free-range chicken (mine are for eggs). So I try to be an ethical omnivore, but it’s hard to do.

Spillway and cliffs

I guess the goal is to change my habits as much as I can. In the next few years, choices may differ.

More on our pleasant camping trip and how my mental health is doing in the next blog post. I do feel more calm, anyway.

Another Pretty State Park and an Update

(Written yesterday but only got enough bars to update today.)

After thinking good old Seneca wasn’t going to make it, Lee and I managed to leave town yesterday to have a quiet Thanksgiving and 16th anniversary trip to Cleburne State Park.

A lake view

There was little traffic, so the trip up near Fort Worth wasn’t too bad. Our campsite is very secluded and right on the lake. Last night we just managed to get set up before we were zonked, so we put off the big meal until today.

Dinner

Lee bought this nice pre-cooked smoked turkey that we ate cold I made stuffing, green beans with mushrooms, mashed potatoes, and gravy, all with the microwave. I choked down canned cranberry sauce. It was fine. And there was sweet potato pie for dessert. I’m glad we bought the glass storage dishes, since we needed them.

Before we ate, we got groceries at Kroger in Cleburne. When you live in Cameron, finding new flavors of Pop Tarts can make your day! I enjoyed the store, in other words.

Also we found where Goldie was getting all that money we find buried in homes she dug with her one good paw. (Kidding)

Then, after it warmed up a bit, I went on a nice walk around the park. There aren’t that many birds here, or I was out at the wrong time. But all the red oaks, sumacs, sycamores, and other trees are putting on a nice show of fall colors, as they go in Texas, anyway.

The hike I took went up and down some limestone hills, so I got a bit of a workout. This area is apparently the northernmost part of the Texas Hill Country. That explains the Ashe Junipers and the nearby quarry.

Later, after our meal, Lee and I went to the boat ramp area across the lake from our camping site. The light was great for moody lake and foliage shots with the new and phone cameras.

When we got back to our site, we got some sunset shots and watched blackbirds coming in to roost in the reeds. There was also one Hooded Merganser making its odd call. All that lake fun was good for me.


I needed this outing. I keep hoping that my mental state will improve. It doesn’t. By Wednesday I was barely functioning. It was like a constant panic attack with no way to turn it off. I was fumbling for words and emotionally fragile. I have tried very hard to not break down, because people around me don’t cope with it well. I also don’t like acting weird.

And the small amount of Prozac I’d been on was helping me feel normal and have reasonable emotional highs and lows. The last few weeks I have suffered, though. I feel like I’m watching a ticking time bomb and powerless to do anything about where its shrapnel will fall. I have my recurring Holocaust dreams. Oh, ick.

(Note: I am completely aware this is irrational, which is why I’m so disappointed in myself).

Wednesday I finally went to my doctor, who reassured me that if I took my other medication and a stronger dose of Prozac for a while, I won’t become addicted or a Zombie. So I’m doing that while on this news-free camping trip. Heh, it’s practically Internet feee!

Seneca has also had a hard time staying balanced. The site is not very level.

The reason I shared this is because I’ve talked to more than one friend who thought they were the only one coping poorly right now. Even friends with different viewpoints than mine say it’s a worrisome time. So if you think you’re over-reacting or being silly, you aren’t. What we are going through is a normal reaction to grief, fear of the unknown, and feeling powerless. Let yourself feel your feelings, it don’t be afraid to ask for help if you need it. That doesn’t mean you’re weak. You are probably sensitive or have empathic tendencies.

Stick with your community! I’m SO grateful for mine. And I hope I’m better soon!

Who Needs Sleep?

If you didn’t need sleep, what would you do with all the extra time?

Let’s all remember that resting is good for us, and sleep is important for a healthy brain. But, if I didn’t have to sleep I’d spend more time with the horses. I could ride the rideable ones and work with the others much more often.

Just chilling

I would be able to tell my equine friends how much I value them, just as they are. They don’t have to perform to be valued. I’d tell Drew that a lot. I don’t think he likes the stuff we ask him to do anymore.

I like eating and walking around with Suna.

Of course some of the time I’d spend with birds and other woodland folk. I could watch flowers grow or help restore native habitat.

If I could do birds AND horses it would be ideal. This photo at Tarrin’s also contains Robins and I think a Killdeer.

I would spend the dark hours knitting or crocheting, reading, and writing. Hanging out with Lee would get a chunk of time, too. Hey that’s not much different from today. I’d meditate a lot, too.

Perhaps I could work on something other than this project.

And maybe with more awake hours I could do better at keeping up with beloved friends and family. That’s important.

The horses and dogs also count as beloved friends

So, no, I would not save the world, but I’d relish my world and try to make my community a happier place

I’d watch cranes when they’re going south or north!

Point: I enjoy sleeping. I’d miss it.

My Favorites

Who are your current most favorite people?

I’ll tell you who my favorite people are right now. They are the ones who:

  • Care about Mother Earth and show it
  • Believe everyone has a right to be their authentic selves
  • Work to protect and support their communities
  • Are capable of disagreeing respectfully
  • Do their best to keep learning and loving their whole lives
  • Accept that they can’t always do all of these things all the time, and extend grace to themselves

If I were a betting person, I’d wager that you are one of my favorite people.

Committed to Telling People What They Mean to Me.

This afternoon, Lee, our friend Martha, and I drove back to our old haunt, Live Oak Unitarian Universalist Church in Cedar Park. Due to some PTSD (at least on my part), it doesn’t happen often. But there we were, right where we used to be.

And there I was, doing what I used to do, singing with Bill. He asked me to join him, so I tried to remember how to sing.

A dear friend, Esther, passed away recently, and the Celebration of Life was today. This couple was a role model for our marriage, support when Lee’s dad was ill. I sang in the church choir for many years with Jim, and he brought me fish and game from time to time (I loved threatening to make squirrel stew from his bounty). He hated squirrels as much as Anita does.

Eek!

As I listened to Jim share the touching story of their long and loving marriage, followed by funny and moving stories about Esther from their children and more, it occurred to me how Esther would have enjoyed the evening. Gee, most of the family are professional writers, so anyone would have enjoyed it.

My choir and women’s group friends with Jim.

What sparked in me was a desire to let all my old friends I saw at the service know how much I appreciated them and their contributions to my life. I did a lot of extra-hard hugging of my women’s group buddies and former choir friends. And a few people were probably a bit embarrassed to hear me tell them how much they mean to me. I was sorry a couple of people had to leave early. I’d have blubbered even more.

I blubbered at Ricky because he called me “Sue-Nanna,” which is what he always called me. Then we talked about football and golf.

But, in these uncertain times, I don’t know when I’ll see some of these kind and loving souls again. If I didn’t tell them now, when would I? I just looked into their faces and wanted to savor every moment.

I see them on Facebook all the time, but their in-person faces. Ahhh.

Please, if you get a chance to see people you care deeply about, tell them. Show them. It won’t hurt to tell them multiple times. It helps counteract some of the negativity. I’m glad Lee, Martha, and I got to do it.

I’m committed to telling everyone I see that I care about how much they mean to me now, while I can.

Eww, That Smell

In the immortal words of Lynyrd Skynyrd:

Ooh that smell
Can’t you smell that smell
Ooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you

Collins/Van Zandt

This song has been in my head all week. You can mostly thank good old screwed-up Harvey for that.

Who, me?

The story: we came home last Monday and kept smelling something. It was about as unpleasant as smells get, quite close to skunk spray. We quickly determined it was coming from the dogs that had so enthusiastically greeted us upon our arrival.

No, it was Harvey and to a lesser extent, Penney, who each had suspiciously damp spots on them. The spots reeked. We blamed ourselves for letting them out while we unloaded the car, since it was clear that the horses had gotten out while we were out of town, judging from the extra-fresh deposits dotting the property.

Excuse me, but I also stink.

We tried to remove the wretched spots, but Harvey wasn’t having anything of it. There was attempted hose squirting, damp towel wiping, and in total desperation, Febreeze spraying (yes, I’m aware that’s probably not good for him, but he already has a terminal illness, so I went for it).

His unamused face.

New development: on Wednesday, I was sitting by the pool and heard Penney crunching something. What was it? A very putrid and extra-decayed armadillo carcass, identifiable only by the tail. I got a towel and picked the sickening mess up, tossing it over the fence. Eww.

No armadillo can escape Goldie, even minus one leg.

I then saw Penney heading to a spot in the yard. Oh no, it’s where the carcass had been, a slimy, disgusting mess of decaying animal. I almost barfed, and I did not stop to take a picture of it. Thank me now.

It was great.

I thought fast and put my fake cactus over it to prevent future rolling activities. When Lee came home, I showed him, and he brought over a giant bucket full of concrete. First he put a net down to ensure the whole goo pile was covered, then the heavy bucket no dog could move. The cactus was an attempt at making it decorative. But, as long as no dog can get to it, I do not care.

So there

Meanwhile, no amount of air freshener, essential oil, Scentsy products, or other things that bother Lee’s sensitive nose were able to remove the scent. Time has helped a little, thankfully, but you can still tell when Harvey walks by. The smell of death surrounds him!

I smell wonderful.

Do you think we were done with the putrid ‘dillo? Au contraire. Thursday I was sitting on the patio enjoying the pleasant weather when I heard the tell-tale crunching. Dang it, Penney had found another piece of yuck. I discovered it was a lower jaw, judging from the little teeth. Great. Over the fence it went.

It’s over there, somewhere.

Done yet? Oh no, it’s the ick that keeps on icking. Lee mowed the lawn one last time for the year and apparently spread little bony bits that had been hiding. Penney found them. She’s persistent.

Always on smell patrol.

I think we are done now. You may wonder why the resident scavengers didn’t take care of that carcass for us. That’s easy. Alfred and Goldie would have none of those interlopers in their realm. Thanks, guys.

I don’t like dogs.

Let’s hope the smell wears off soon. Please.

The Owls’ Lesson

Owls are everywhere in my life now. You may recall that I saw the same Great Horned Owl (I assume) each time I walked through the woods on the prayer trail on Hilton Head. It would fly up a new branch where I could see and hear it but not photograph it.

Eternally grateful to this healing space.

Since I got back to the Hermits’ Rest on Sunday, owls have been calling morning and night. I’ve heard them occasionally before, but even the Merlin app has heart multiple Great Horned Owls calling back and forth.

They were back there, somewhere

Late yesterday afternoon, we were talking to the man who leases our property for his cattle and the owls were so loud we had to stop our conversation. I began to wonder if they were trying to get my attention.

They were very close.

Now, I doubt the owls give us humans a second thought. Still, this morning I heard them, as well as all dusk and into the night. Sometimes it was like owl stereo.

I have not been at all grounded since we got back to Texas. Yesterday I had that annoying buzzy head and feeling my blood rushing that I used to get often. Today I was in panic attack mode most of the morning, barely able to speak. Then my nervous stomach kicked in to where I couldn’t go to my horse lesson. I was feeling puny and powerless.

I was also prickly like this noseburn vine!

After feeding the horses, I sat down to try for the third time of the day to breathe and meditate. That’s when the owls went into heavy hooting mode. So I just listened. Finally, I was able to regulate my breathing and get back into the moment…just in time for flocks of Sandhill Cranes to clamor their way across the crisp afternoon sky.

I thought about what lesson I could draw from being surrounded by these apex predators. What could I take on for myself?

Owls aren’t in your face. They blend in with their surroundings and keep their power to themselves until they need it. That seems like a useful strategy to borrow.

I’m hiding, Suna (photo from Pexels)

Owls have their communities (hoot, hoot) and stay in touch with their beloved members. I need to do that better, especially with those not on social media. I’m thankful to those who prod me to keep in touch.

Most important to me is that owls know where they fit in with the grand scheme of things. They help keep prey populations from growing too large, but don’t take more than they need. They act as if the trees, meadows, mice, and birds are not less important than them. I think humans (me) could learn from this.

I’m grateful to the owls for reminding me to stay focused on the here and now and to hold on to my strength for when I’ll need it.

Owl time.

Grief comes in waves, and sometimes they push you under for a while. Today I let waves of grief and fear wash over me, though I’m not sure why it hit today. If you are one of those who struggled today, remember you’re not alone and can try to soar and swoop like the cranes and owls tomorrow.

Blessed be.

Ambiguous Impressions

What’s the first impression you want to give people?

Ooh. I never thought of this before! I’m usually so anxious when I meet people that I just try to power through it. I do a lot of talking, because I’m nervous. I do at least ask questions and listen to the answers. And being short, wrinkly, and gray haired isn’t going to interest people who base first impressions on looks. I probably come across as a boorish old lady.

This small town made a good impression!

I’d LIKE to make a first impression as someone interesting, intelligent, funny, and friendly. At least that would be a good first impression on people who judge others on their personality.

I judge a lagoon on its birds, not its beauty. One final visit before leaving Hilton Head.

This makes no sense. My apologies. I have no idea what kind of impression to try for, or even if I should try. No wonder I’m a hermit. I think maybe I no longer care what people think. They can like me or not. I now don’t want or expect the people I meet to like or dislike me. Let’s get to know each other.


I do know I spent the day in the car, driving through Georgia and the Florida panhandle. Seeing hurricane damage was very distressing. I felt awful for the poor trees and humans.

Poor tree.

We saw some interesting small towns and a lot of peanut and cotton farming. We were behind a truck pulling a load of peanuts that started pelting us. That was fun.

Mound o’ peanuts

After a lovely sunset, we are tucked into a Pensacola hotel and resting comfortably. It’s always fun going in the back roads!

Can’t Say Where I’d Like to Be, But Here Is Good

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

With so many people like me dreaming of moving somewhere they feel safer, it feels weird to just blurt out someplace I’d love to live. I, like many others, have been looking at places and realizing the hurdles are very high. Also, nowhere on earth is perfect, and this is not the only country with far right factions coming into power.

Take a deep breath.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that it’s no longer fun to think about moving elsewhere. Dollar signs and fears for a safe future intrude on my vision of green fields, standing stones, and holy wells. I also feel I’m acting on my privilege by feeling able to just pack up and go. So many have no choice but to stay where they are and deal with what they’re given.

Just a dream

But here on a barrier island on the east coast of the US, where I’ve been privileged to be staying for the past two weeks, it’s good. I am lucky enough to have access to what sustains and grounds me when I need it most.

Ah, back to the grounding topic.

Yep, I need to go home to my ranch with all the animals and birds, but the chance to be gentle with myself as I prepare for whatever I’ll need to deal with in the future. The woods have been good to me.

Thanks, woods.

Let’s talk about something fun! The new camera has been fun! Lee and I made it to the bird sanctuary I went to last week, but this time I brought the new camera with the macro lens. I got lots of photos of mushrooms and moss.

The birds were also fun. I heard yet another Great Horned Owl there, so low and hooty. (The prayer trail owl was there again this morning—three days in a row.) I’m amusing myself.

I’m the only bird that let Suna photograph me!

I do wonder if joining BlueSky was a good idea, though. I have to carefully choose what I see. So far CBS News is upsetting enough.

Breathe!

Ring of Fire

What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever found (and kept)?

I wish I was at home where I could photograph it, but I found a very cool item in about 1977 when I was a college freshman at the University of Florida.

Random free photo.

My roommate, boyfriend, and I were walking to the oldest dorms on campus, which were surrounded by huge camellia trees (too big to be shrubs). It had recently rained very hard, so the ground was moist and musty. I went to look at a camellia blossom in the ground and saw what appeared to be the round top to a soda can.

Camellia at the condo building.

I kicked it around a bit, and it came up as a big lump. My roommate said I should clean it off, so I did my best, as it was all muddy. It became clear that the object was a ring!

We didn’t think it looked like much. Still, we took it back to our room and washed it. There was an oval, milky white stone in a setting that looked like flower petals. It was dark with age. But we shined it, and lo! It was 18 carat gold! We then realized the stone was an opal.

This is not it. But thanks, AI.

Plus it fit! We figured it had been lost years ago and only resurfaced after the hard rain washed soil away. Our guess was confirmed when Mom and I had the ring cleaned and looked at by a jeweler, who remarked that the setting was very unusual and said I shouldn’t try to replace the stone.

I’ve had the ring for nearly 50 years now! I do wear it on occasion.