August 4, 2006

• Cool Summer and the Serenity Test

  [On
  Wednesday, Koji and I walked out to the end of the cul de sac and back
  with my camera.  Then I came home and left him to go back out and
  get some shots in the yard.  That time, Muffin and Granny
  Mousebreath went with me.  Most of these shots are
  self-explanatory, and I'll caption the others.]

  I have been hearing about the killer triple-digit temperatures across
  Europe and North America.  During springtime here, even before the
  trees were completely leafed-out, it seemed that we in Alaska were headed for a
  hot, dry summer, too.

  
  A year ago, the spring snow melt combined with abundant rainfall to
  flood the muskeg.  I spent those months between the time our
  computer quit and the time that rosabelle‘s
  gift of a rebuilt machine got here and got rebuilt again after the
  postal service destroyed it, watching tadpoles and mosquito larvae
  develop as the predatory water beetles fed on them.  The open
  water attracted a pair of phalaropes as well as the usual sand hill and
  whooping cranes and other waterfowl.

  That was a year ago.  This past winter the snowfall was less
  abundant, and
  we had a dry spring.  The marsh never flooded, was dry as soon as
  the snow was gone.  We had some sweltering days with temps in the
  eighties
  between the thaw and the summer solstice.  Then all expectations
  for a hot summer were turned upside down.  The large waterfowl
  arrived on time and nested elsewhere because our muskeg was dry. 
  Occasionally, I hear a whoop or a honk, or the crazy cries of the
  loons, but not nearly as often as last year.

  
  A dry spring followed by cool, cloudy, rainy weather delayed the
  blooming of berries, herbs and wildflowers.  Too late for the wood
  frogs’ mating season, but in plenty of time for the mosquitoes, the
  muskeg held a few small pools of standing water.  There were so
  few
  wild roses this year that I never even noticed them during their
  blooming season.  A few days ago, I waded through the undergrowth
  to the nearby rose bramble in the woods where I usually find hundreds
  of rosehips each fall.  I saw only two little green developing
  fruit.

  Fireweed is a local folk-marker of summer.  Old sourdoughs gauge
  the end of summer by when the fireweed “tops out”:  florets on the
  tall spikes open a few at a time from the bottom up throughout the
  summertime.  The early purple shoots are
  the first wild “greens” available to forage after the snow melts. 
  This year, they were scarce and late.  

  [The bronze leaves on the tips of this bush are signs of  a recent light frost.]

  Another difference I note this year is that the number of open florets
  on each fireweed stalk is greater than usual, as if the plants are
  trying to make up for lost time, to get to the top as soon as
  possible.  They’d better hurry if they are going to top out before
  the first killing frost.  This year, we had frost during the last
  week in July.  Our optimistic frost-free season here extends from
  Memorial Day to Labor Day.  Frosts in early June are not uncommon,
  and I have seen several frosts in mid-August in the 23 years I’ve lived
  here.  I don’t ever recall a July frost before this year.

  ---

  Serenity Tested

  
  I have gotten great benefits from many repetitions of the serenity
  prayer both in 12-step meetings and on my own, although when I do it
  I’m not asking an external god for a grant of grace.  For me it is
  more in the nature of an affirmation of the serenity, courage, and
  wisdom to decide what needs to be and can be done, and to do it. 
  As much as anything, it is a reminder to myself to expend my energies
  wisely and not to sweat the small stuff.

  My serenity has been severely tested in recent weeks.  There have
  been the usual personal physical challenges, and interpersonal strains
  from living with someone in active addiction.  I cannot honestly
  claim and will not pretend that my serenity has been continuous or
  flawless.

  That’s
  probably a good thing as it relates to Doug and his gaming
  addiction.  I refuse to accept it as something I cannot change,
  requiring serene acceptance.  I’ve got the skills and the
  motivation to try and help him transcend his addiction.  Even if
  he chooses not to work on it, I need to interrupt it sometimes so that
  needed work gets done.  Although most of the time I would prefer
  to maintain an unruffled placidity, for everyone’s benefit I must
  sometimes confront him.  That’s not a matter of deciding IF, but only WHEN.

  [Muffin]

  It’s always tough getting his attention, and doing so invariably
  triggers angry and loud reactions from him.  The process disrupts
  the peace around here and upsets our four-legged housemates, but it’s
  important to get it done.  When it’s over, something therapeutic
  has resulted for Doug and there a period of time during which work gets
  done around here before he drifts back into that other reality.

  There have also been outside events and forces impinging on my
  consciousness and challenging my serenity.  I mentioned the car’s
  malfunction last week.  The car remains disabled in the driveway
  and might be there for another week or more.  This weekend is the
  annual Talkeetna Bluegrass Festival and Ray, the local mechanic who
  takes care of my car, will be working there.  When he is free to
  get back to mechanical work, he has others waiting ahead of me.

  [Granny Mousebreath]

  I did get the name and number for a mechanic on the Talkeetna Spur
  Road, and have not yet decided whether to wait for Ray to get around to
  me or to call this other guy, Bill.  The circumstances surrounding
  my getting his name from a neighbor relate to another recent challenge
  to my serenity.

  Wednesday night, our phones went down.  Our local telephone
  cooperative is also my ISP.  Into the wee hours of Thursday
  morning, every time one of us picked up a phone, we either got dead
  silence or the rapid beep tone denoting trouble on the line.

  It was that way when I got up Thursday, so in the early afternoon I
  walked over to my neighbor to see if they had any idea what the problem
  was or had heard any prognosis for repair.  They had been thinking
  the problem was with their own instrument, not realizing that the
  system was down.  I interrupted a search for an old phone that
  they thought was there, somewhere.

  [My
  spud bud--during the hot weather in May, I found three sprouted
  potatoes in the pantry.  I planted them in containers.  One
  has been very slow; its sprouts have barely broken the surface. 
  Of the other two, just this one cluster of flower buds are showing
  now.  When nights get too cold, I can bring the pots inside until
  these things are in full bloom.  Then we'll have a mess of little
  new taters.]

  I still don’t know what caused the phone system to crash.  When it
  came back online last night I called Greyfox.  He said he had
  tried several times yesterday to call me.  At first, he got only
  clicks, then once there was a single ring at his end of the line before
  it switched to the trouble beeps. 

  In mid-afternoon, Greyfox got through to two different wrong numbers,
  women who said they’d been getting a lot of wrong number calls. 
  One of them cried plaintively that she couldn’t make outgoing calls and
  was being driven insane by non-stop wrong numbers.  Life in the
  hinterlands, here on the edge of the back of beyond, can be interesting
  at times.

  [This
  is actually a picture of something that's not there.  For the
  whole time we've lived here, over seven years, there was an old blue
  pickup truck parked there.  I sold it and the man who bought it
  got it running and drove it away.]

  Occasionally today the phone service has been interrupted
  briefly.  I think I’m handling it fairly well.  I tend to
  become uneasy when my car is down, and having the phone takes some of
  the pressure off because I know that I can call a friend or neighbor if
  I really need a ride somewhere.  Having both the car and the phone
  offline at the same time would be stressful if I hadn’t reminded myself
  yesterday that so far I haven’t had any urgent need to go
  anywhere.  Worrying about the what-ifs would just be borrowing
  trouble.

  Being out of touch with Greyfox took some of the pleasure out of
  yesterday, and I suppose I was picking up on some of his frustration,
  too.  Another mild annoyance involved my inability to blog and
  post the pics I took on my walk around the neighborhood
  Wednesday.  I’m working on that right now, and if you’re reading
  this, you’ll know I succeeded.

  GOOD NEWS!

  
  My favorite cat, Cecil, one of those rare cats who bonds with a dog,
  had been missing for over a month.  He came home around 2 AM
  today.  He had gone wandering for a few days several times
  previously, but always came home if it rained.  He’d been gone for
  several days by the fourth of July.  It rained that night, and
  when the wet and the noise of the neighbors’ fireworks didn’t drive him
  in, I knew something was wrong.

  I’ve thought of him and spoken about how I’ve missed him to Doug and
  Greyfox every day that he was gone.  Several times lately I had
  said something to the effect that I supposed he wouldn’t be coming
  back, but I was never sure as I had been when Pidney went missing a few
  years ago. 

  It was raining last night when Doug heard noise outside and opened the
  door.  Cecil was wet and hungry, but shows no wounds.  His
  fur has the rough feel of an unhealthy animal and he seems to have been
  traumatized.  He’s insecure, wants to stay close to one of us or
  his dog Koji, and meows more than before.  Last night, Doug and I
  both had the feeling that he’d been captured, taken away, and had been
  traveling home in the interim.  I plan to keep feeding and
  pampering him.  Koji is doing his part with the affectionate
  attention. 

  

   

  • 6:34 pm
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