Male Royal Flycatcher

Birds and flowers are my drugs of choice.

This is a Male Royal Flycatcher in full glory.

Hikaru Dorodango

Hikaru dorodango are balls of mud, molded by hand into perfect spheres, dried, and polished to an unbelievable luster. The process is simple, but the result makes it seem like alchemy. This is something I plan to try. The balls in the photos below are by New Mexico artist, Bruce Gardiner. The different colours come from the use of different soils

Best Day of the Year

Dana sent me these photos of a mating pair of
California Quail that visited his bird feeder yesterday.

I’m back! I “came back” yesterday for the finest day of life so far since I moved to Gabriola.

Early in the morning, I hauled my incinerator to the front yard and started burning tons of twigs, pinecones and broken branches removed from the front yard. I worked right through until 3:00 pm. I kept changing my shirt because I was sweating so much in the heat. Temperature records were broken everywhere yesterday and today is going to be just as hot.

But it’s supposed to rain on the weekend and I’m glad already. The island dries out so quickly. Next week, we’re back to sunshine.

What a treat in this wonderful weather to get in and out of the spa without feeling any chill at all. Poor Sheba didn’t get much action yesterday but once I was done we had a good walk in the woods. And wow! What a walk!

The greenery is stupefying and in the meadow at the high point of the trail there seems to be a wild Lobelia growing. It is low and deep blue with little white dots just like hybridized Lobelia. It is breathtakingly beautiful. And the smell of the Cedar in the heat is like incense.

It felt good to be “back” — to feel myself again and to feel the happiness I’m used to feeling about living here. Walking in quiet is a privilege. All I hear is the rush of birds and the wind as I brush away the many flying insects I encounter. I’m glad I built my porch! No bites or stings, though.

In the evening I called Dwight. I’m hoping he comes to visit in May. He said he would. He, Dianne and DR are all coming back for a second time and it will thrill me to watch them take in the difference here between Winter and verdant Spring. 

Last night was my last puppy training class. I love all the puppies and the play times we have together. Ella is a particular favourite. She’s a rescue dog from Mexico and we really love each other. I’m really glad I went and I’m really glad they’re over.

I went to bed happy knowing today would be another day like yesterday. I’ll be working in the yard and on the fence and Sheba and I, at some point, will go to Sandwell Parkfor a walk.

(Mediterraneoarrived in the post. It’s one of my favourite films, made by the director who made Cinema Paradiso. It won and Oscar and is a sweet, kind, lovely happy film that I’ll watch tonight.)

•

When I was a kid I used to love walking up the Capilano River bed in summer. Something I remember about that time are the messages painted on many of the rocks. They were all religious and the most common one was, “He died for our sins.” Or: “Jesus died for our sins.”

A blogger I follow mentioned finding the same thing in his area recently and so I mentioned my memory and he made me laugh writing: “He didn’t die for our sins. He rose again after three days so he gave up a weekend for our sins. Just sayin’.”

Summer and Medications

In the morning, the sun shines on my studio as it rises. Soon the yard here will be a paved courtyard. I know that sounds horrid — that word “paved” brings cold ugly images to mind — but with large gaps between and moss, plus the trellis and fountain I hope it will still look cozy/lovely.

•

I am relaxing; I can speak one single syllable at a time but I can string several together to get phrases out. Every day is better since Monday’s crash. 

It’s awful to become so emotionally incontinent and mute. Even though, in the middle of it, I meet Anna and her mother and can unaccountably speak — with a stutter but I could communicate with her.

Every time this happens, the same analogy emerges in my brain to explain how I feel: It’s as though I am the pilot of a plane but the co-pilot (my amygdala) has the controls and it suddenly starts flying erratically but I don’t know why because our intercom is broken.

I cry, breathing is difficult if I try to talk and I get all twitchy/jerky; all I want to do is “get through.” But no seizures. No seizures!

•

Wednesday was a medicated day. It was the hottest nicest day since I moved here. Today is expected to be even hotter.

Darrell came by. He’s going to start the trellis earlier than planned and then he’ll start on the courtyard. I’m, of course, thrilled. We positioned the fountain and the height of the trellis and discussed the front screen door. He’s so understanding of my speech; it’s easy to communicate with him. I like it when he’s around. He’s so kind! He’s gifting me with more salmon. 

Talking about the trellis got us onto the subject of sunlight and I mentioned that the trees that are, right now, making my backyard very shady. And he, like all the locals I encounter of late, started talking about the coming heat: “Just wait. In a month you’ll be loving those trees and that shade.”

When I moved here in the Fall, all anyone talked about was power-outages. Now it’s the coming heat.

I decided that today, regardless of feeling like a zombie, I’d do something. I raked the yard, chilled, and then took Sheba to Drumbeg. When I got back, I did some fence work and I’m really glad I did. I’m back into it and will do much more today.

In the evening, I watched a movie and felt good that I did not crash emotionally all day.  

•

We are rushing into summer. I sense evidence everywhere. The most obvious change is the greening of the island. The acres of dark wet tangles of brown branches have turned into stunning lime green pillows. The wet soil has dried out, releasing the familiar scent of Fir needle resin and dry twigs crack under my feet.

My birds are almost all gone. It’s sad without them. I guess bird feeding is a winter activity. There are still some, thank heavens, but very few.

My yard is going to be keeping me busy just as I hoped it would: I’ll be clearing pinecones, pruning bushes, watering, picking up dog droppings, weeding and fertilizing.

The best signs of summer, though, are the stands popping up outside homes everywhere selling plants, kindling, cheese, eggs, crafts, soap, etc. and the farm stands and Farmers Market will be opening next month.

I Can't Stand Hillary

Story here.

Emotional Doldrums

“My speech is a window to my mind.”

I succumbed; I took drugs last night. I felt defeated and wanted to come up for air today. 

I went back though this blog to read about past meltdowns and through my notes from Dr. Shoja and the keyword is “overstimulation.” I’ve no doubt now that my current state is because I welcomed visitors for too long and too close together. 

I have to control the amount of stimulation I take in; I keep forgetting that and relearning the same lesson.

I want to be better and I am better. The cessation of seizures proves that. But my speech serves as a barometer of my condition. The fact that I am mute right now and cannot even talk well with friends tells me with certainty that my Amygdala is going crazy.

•

It’s supposed to reach 20° today. Every time I express my enthusiasm about the arrival of the good weather, locals cringe: “Just wait. Soon you’ll be wishing it would rain and cool down.”

•

Yesterday morning I got Sheba’s claws clipped and in two weeks she goes in for her first of five grooming sessions. I got a brush and comb so I can groom her and get her used to them before she starts at the groomer’s. 

Afterwards we went to the beach where I met Ava and her (single) Mom from Mudge Island. Ava lovedSheba. We walked together for 45 minutes and we talked and I barely stuttered. She was such a lovely warm and welcoming woman, I felt completely relaxed.

Then I came home and, as I did yesterday, went immediately back into town while Sheba slept to have lunch and do errands. But as soon as I got into the village, I crashed again. I fled quickly to the car, reclined the seat and went to sleep in Robert’sparking lot. When I woke up, I came home, had two migraines back-to-back and stayed horizontal for the rest of the day.

When Beth was here, we watched TV and I stayed awake. During these doldrums, TV is a nice nursemaid in the evening. I’m glad I got the exposure with Beth. The TV takes my mind off my situation.

•

It’s now 6:30 am. The day is breaking and I hope the medications have me capable of productivity today. The doldrums steal all my energy. I want to be my more active self again and finish my fence decorating. I’ve slept and napped most of the past two days away.