age – The Hermits' Rest

I’m Back, and I’m an Angry Semi-old Woman

I say “semi-old,” because I’m eligible for Social Security (still am two whole days into the new administration!), but I don’t consider people really old until they’re in their mid eighties. So, most of my friends aren’t old.

I’m say back, because I took yesterday off to honor the memory of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Lee and I watched many, many episodes of the West Wing, a wonderful television show from a quarter century ago about a US President and his staff. Perfect.

I was a little mad that we got such wimpy snow. If we’re going to endure super-cold weather, we should get pretty snow as a reward.

I say angry, because right now I’m rather irritable and impatient. This makes me quite inarticulate, which irritates me more! I can’t even make rational statements other than how much I care about disenfranchised folks.

Happy picture of Penney loving her coordinated chicken toy on a matching rug.

So I had been wandering around feeling all my feels and hoping the biting, cold wind would suck away my angst. I’d been hearing some heavy equipment going beep around the ranch for a few days, and suddenly it was close. That messed up my bird recordings, which made me grumpier.

I heard a crack. Loud. Looking up I saw a backhoe zipping off to a pile of branches, carrying my Osage-orange tree, the only one on the ranch that’s on a part we will still own after Lee and Sara sell the cattle pastures at the end of the month. My tree, the coolest tree here, just got toted off.

I was steamed, as they would say in the old days. So I marched through the gate, dodging cow patties in my house slippers, with no coat on (it was about 36°), and went to find that backhoe or bulldozer or track-hoe or whatever it was. I found a very young stranger in it, and informed him he’d just killed my valuable tree (they are pretty rare, long story about settlers planting them, the wood being good for bows…). He said but it was dead. He was clearing dead trees from the tornado, as our tenant asked him to.

The tree was not dead. It had leaves and produced horse apples this summer. It’s deciduous. Grr. But, I looked at the young man, who was just doing what he was told to do, and asked him to please not knock over any more living trees, especially around my pond, because I do nature research there. His eyes got big. Well, I do engage in research! I was doing so right then!

Kid getting the heck away from me. Or going to move stuff elsewhere. Hope it’s the latter.

Anyway I apologized for getting upset, and he said it was okay and called me ma’am dozens of times. This isn’t my time. Right now is not a good time to raise a ruckus about hippie stuff like trees. I sure feel old and helpless and expendable. besides, I need to stay under the radar, not act like a nutty tree hugger, even if I am a nutty tree hugger.

I’m not leaving you all, though. I want to share fun pictures and silly stories to bring some cheer, for all my non-old friends.

Perspectives of a Crone

How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?

I’ll answer this question about the passage of time. The older I’ve gotten, the more I see life as a gift to be savored and enjoyed, not rushed through. I enjoy each day now, rather than waiting impatiently for some future when things will get better or I’ll achieve some goal.

These are the good old days, as Carly Simon said 50 years or so ago.

Horse butts tell you the wind is coming from the west.

Today was windy and cool, but I stood outside and savored the trees and birds anyway. My freshly washed hair did suffer.

By making even the drudgery of the day pleasant, I pleased myself very much. I had a fun discussion about horse personalities with a Tractor Supply worker while we reassured the woman around my age who was being trained on the cash register that she’ll figure it out. Why rush to get out? I met two nice people, and the horse owner told me it was great meeting me.

I then had a perfectly fine time in the local grocery store, too. It’s amazing what treating people nicely can do for your day.

This is the perspective I’ve gained as I’ve entered my “crone” phase of life. I’ve still got lots more wisdom to gain, but I like where I am now.

Horse report: Apache seems happy with his boots. Drew was fine until I tried to brush his tail and mane. Out came the teeth. Puzzling. Tomorrow is farrier day. We will see what that brings.

Old and Frustrated

How are you feeling right now?

For September I’ve decided to do an experiment. I’m going to answer the daily prompt that WordPress keeps asking me to respond to, and see how it fits in with what I want to talk about.

Something is blooming on September 1, at least.

So, how AM I feeling today?

Mostly I’m feeling very old. This has been a hard few weeks among my circles. Today another wonderful friend and role model, Norma, died after a valiant struggle to recover from infections. She was a wise breastfeeding advocate, a wonderful writer, and a font (fount?) of humor, especially Jewish.

Yesterday there was another loss close to our family. It reminds me of all the things that you leave behind for others to deal with. Oh please, family, pick a few things you like and auction the rest off. Just scatter my ashes around some trees. I’d like to help.

Yeah. I’m old. But I don’t feel like it. I have so much more to learn. Sigh. I hope my friends who’ve passed (as well as me) get a chance to come back and learn more. Maybe I’ll be a horse.

I still have so many cute horses to pet and tell them they’re good. (I’m doing that here, as Drew stops like a champ.)

I’m also frustrated. But that’s temporary. It was one of those days where whatever I tried to do didn’t quite work out. For example, I missed my 10am meeting, thinking it was at 11. Then I showed up a half hour early to lunch with Anita. At least lunch at the coffee shop was great!

Soup I had for lunch, and plug for the coffee shop.

And I didn’t get upset about this (on purpose, since horses can tell you’re upset) but the darned horses opened a gate and got out TWICE today! It’s no trouble to get them back in at meal time, but when I was relaxing in the pool and looked over to see Apache walking up to the chicken house, I was not amused.

Mmm. Lots of green grass over by the septic field. It’s a place I’m not supposed to take them, but they took themselves.

Note that it’s much harder to entice horses away from what they perceive as better food after they ate their rations and supplements. Still, I was very surprised to see Apache, Mabel, and Fiona come when I called. Dusty came close, so I haltered him and got him in.

I found Droodles hiding between the tack room and Kathleen’s RV, where the grass is quite nice, because it’s shady. He indicated that he’d like to stay, but accepted a cookie and a halter, so I succeeded in not losing my cool (once, a little — I’m human).

I put a bungee cord around the gate they keep opening. I’ll be interested to see how it holds up overnight.

I’m sure the horses are just as annoyed with me as I am with them, because I didn’t give them a bale of hay today. That’s because as I was moving their saddles back to the tack room from the horse trailer, my wagon blew a tire. I can’t carry hay. I’ll empty the wheelbarrow and use it in the morning. I’d love to use the utility vehicle, but it’s bed is full. Woe is me, ranch lady problems. But, hey, I can now open the shipping container doors to get hay out and have figured a way to get to more bales, so I’m a semi-competent ranch lady.

Autumn of Life Is Here

When the fall color arrives here in the middle of Texas, it’s subtle, and you don’t see it coming. I love this season and take comfort in the quiet beauty of our cedar elms and oaks as they prepare to lose their leaves for the winter.

Today dawned sunny and crisp, but not cold. It was a welcome relief to see the sun for the first time in many days, and even more welcome was the sight of the new pond finally completely full and draining to the other side of the dam. After four cloudy, drizzly days, we had a large front move through overnight that brought enough rain to fill the drought-parched tanks for the first time since last spring. I guess the drought is over, at last.

The way this season has crept up reminds me of how I’ve been moving into the autumn of my life and not realizing it. I’ve been lucky to be very healthy since we came out to the Hermits’ Rest and have been growing stronger and more capable thanks to working with the horses and other animals.

But this illness that came up last week has been a very unsubtle reminder that I’m not a young person anymore. A cold that I’d usually just power through over a few days has made me weak and tired. I didn’t expect that at all. I keep trying to go out and get things done, only to feel worse and fall asleep for a few hours. I’m not bouncing back.

I am glad that it’s been so wet and muddy out, because it the weather had been good, I know I’d have been trying to force myself out to work with Drew, who needs me on him and working with him. But our working area is a little lake right now, and I am barely able to maneuver across the muck to get the food buckets for the poor horses. (They are not suffering; in fact, I think they are enjoying the pleasant temperatures and the abundant hay.)

And the horses have puddles to stomp in.

As I’m pulling myself out of the depression episode and feeling my mortality more than usual, it’s taking effort to not go into reflective mode and dwell on goals not achieved, mistakes made, and errors unaddressed. The sun’s helping me remind myself that I’m still able to learn new things, be kind to those who’ll accept kindness, and forgive others.

I should do more looking at reflections and less reflecting. This is the creek, with water at last.

While it’s true that I notice my memory failing and don’t know how much longer I’ll be a useful member of society, I do have confidence that no matter what, I’ll be able to enjoy each new autumn when it arrives. It may just be different from now on as I go from the autumn to the winter of life.

Lessons from Mom. Thoughts from Me.

Today I am babbling about freedom, rights and responsibilities from a personal perspective.

I’m 62 years and 4 months old. That’s the age my mother died. It took her a long time to do it, but she finally left her world of pain.

Mom as a little kid. Photo from my sister.

She died of lung cancer (spread all around), caused by a lifetime of tobacco use. She smoked through her pregnancies. She smoked while bottle feeding us Karo syrup or whatever poor people used to feed babies back then. She smoked in the car on every trip our family took. She smoked while cleaning the house, leaving long caterpillars of ash behind on the floor she’d vacuumed. She tried to hide her smoking. She’d smoke out her bathroom window. That led to the intake of our family room air conditioner. She smoked while on so much morphine that she didn’t see the burn holes in her polyester pajamas. It was her last pleasure. It was more important to her than her family or her own life.

I resented her for subjecting me and my family (especially my brother and dad) to her addictions. I wanted her love. She loved alcohol, pills, and tobacco more. Calling Dr. Freud!

I truly resented people who continued to smoke around me, knowing what my family had been through. What a relief when I could actually go to a restaurant or bar and not get sick from the smoke. What joy I found when my friends who were addicted started to only smoke outside, away from their children and elders.

I don’t blame the addicts; no one sets out to become addicted. But I sure am happy to see people behaving more responsibly about it. Sure, their freedom to smoke when and where they want to got taken away. And hey, not everyone they smoked around would eventually get sick. Not every smoker gets lung cancer, after all.

Nonetheless. Laws were passed and establishments made rules. Lots of people were pissed off, but they managed.

Today we have people who appear to care more for their right to potentially spread an extreme contagion more than they care for their families, friends, and communities. I hope it doesn’t take watching a loved one die because their lungs no longer work, like my family had to, to convince them otherwise.

Thoughts from me

Freedoms:

We’re free to drive cars, but not to run stop signs, speed, or go without lights after dark. We’re free to burn trash out in the country, but not when conditions are ripe for fire. We’re free to own guns, but not to shoot others just because it’s fun. We’re free to build a home, but not on someone else’s property. We’re free to worship as we want, but not to force others to do as we do. We’re free to love, as long as it doesn’t harm others. We’re free to hate, even in absence of good reasons to do so.

With freedom comes responsibility.

Note: I didn’t write this to judge you or anyone else. I am not telling you what to do. This is just to explain why I have strong reactions to things going on these days. People get to make their own choices. People have rights. With rights come responsibilities, though. It’s worth thinking about what responsibilities we all have to others.

What’s Wrong with My Age?

Sometimes an article floats by on Facebook that really makes me think. Yesterday, this article on the perks of aging that no one talks about did that. The article talks about a woman named Ashton Applewhite, who has been writing about aging and ageism for a while. She spends a lot of time blogging, writing books, and speaking about what is and isn’t ageist. I guess someone has to do this, especially in these times when it’s considered a good idea to point out every instance of every -ism that you come across and try to make whoever made the mistake feel very, very bad for their ignorance or innocence (I may have issues with this, but it’s off topic).

In between lots of ads, the article makes points that may be new to my youngr friends, but are obvious to me. For example, my favorite: when you get to a certain age, the amount of f***s you give about other people’s opinions of you diminishes greatly.