Welcome to May. The season of Beltane, when the position on the wheel of the year marks the halfway point between the spring equinox and the summer solstice.
Beltane is a time of growth.
A time to stoke our creative fire held deep within our bellies.
A time to celebrate optimism and life.
A time to frolic like a randy squirrel.
Take time to notice what is happening in Mother Nature’s world. Listen for Spring Peepers …
or for the call of a Pileated Woodpecker deep within a wooded area.
Look up and watch for Chimney Swifts darting across the sky. Their unique chittering call is another way to identify them.
Look down and catch the growth going on at your feet.
Spend some time by a river and watch for the herons.
Delight in the blessings Mother Nature offers as the wheel of the year spins and the dance continues.
I feared all my demons would fly out of my head when the doctor created the hole for my VP shunt; something similar to the scene from Night on Bald Mountain from Disney’s Fantasia.
Thank goodness my demons were well-behaved and remained tucked in the corners of my brain– the places where cobwebs shroud to the neurons.
The surgery went exceedingly well, aside from my hallucinations in the recovery room. I am told I kept calling for my sister. Yes, the very same sister who is dancing amongst the waves in the celestial ocean of the Universe.
I do so miss her.
Mi manchi profondamente, mio amato immortale.
Onward.
I now have an upside-down smiley-face area in my skull. It’s not really a true hole. It was a hole but now it’s sealed tight as a drum.
Nasty, right?
Does it hurt, you ask? Like a MF! And the headaches? Man, oh man. But, aside from the pain in my head, I feel GREAT! The following symptoms are gone: peeing myself, tremors, stuttering, falling, shuffling gait, unsteadiness, memory fog–the entire basket of nasties that have plagued me since 2017 have smiled and waved goodbye.
Just the headaches remain. However, they are not the same headaches I’ve suffered through for seven years–that feeling that I was constantly wearing a diving bell three sizes too small.
Imagine carrying this around on your head for seven years.
I do have one thing I need to write before I go any further: To all those doctors who told me I didn’t have NPH; those morons who told me I needed a psychiatrist–GFY! I’m sure you can translate.
So, now what? Am I fixed? Well, possibly. I still don’t understand how the shunt and I are going to work together. I still need to learn how to bend properly, but I’m confident I’ll build up my strength, drop the added weight Ben and Jerry forced upon me over the past year, and find joy in walking my dogs again.
Let’s go for a walk, Mama.
All in good time.
For now I’ll listen to the wind whooshing through the hole in my head and thank my Goddess for her bounty.
This is a question I’ve asked over the years. I’d pull it out for my first date repertoire; or my son and I would make suggestions while waiting for a movie to start or standing in line for an amusement park ride.
My offerings included steak and ice cream sundaes. Billows of whipped cream and caramel sauce, on the sundae, not the steak, and charbroiled but still rare — the steak, not the sundae.
Hey, Longhorn, I had the idea first!
Well, I was wrong. My last meal has nothing to do with ice cream or the rump of a cow. How do I know this? Because I had my last meal about an hour ago.
There you go. A good ole PBJ on soft white bread.
I didn’t have grape jelly, my jam of choice is strawberry but the end result is the same…comfort.
Nothing says a gentle last meal like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Ahhhhhhh.
Okay, where am I going with this? Well, you see, I’ve been on a journey since 2017 to find a neurologist who would listen to my when I explained my physical symptoms such as tremors, dizziness, shuffling gait and falling, slurred speech, cognitive decline, incontinence, headaches — the list was long and frightening– without rolling his or her eyes and stating: “You need a psychiatrist.”
Even though my MRIs and CT scans showed enlarged ventricles…
… and I displayed what is known as the triad for hydrocephalus…
…the assortment of doctors would poo-poo my complaints and label me just another hysterical woman.
Well poo-poo on them. I finally met a neurosurgeon at UMass Memorial Hospital, Dr. Mark Johnson, who conducted tests, revisited my scans, and agreed that the installation of a ventriculo-peritoneal shunt was called for.
So my seven-year journey is coming to and end. And even though shunt surgery has a low percentage of life loss, all surgery comes with risks.
Truly, I feel like I have whiplash by how quickly the winter season passed. I guess the old saying is true: Time flies when you spend most of your time on your couch.
March 19, 2024, marks the time to celebrate Ostara, the position on the wheel where winter leaves us and spring begins. The season of renewal and rebirth.
Imbolc, to those of you who don’t follow the craft–Groundhog Day, quickened Mother Earth’s soul. Ostara gives each life a big jolt of caffeine and gets the hearts beating.
Yes, even lifeforms without hearts. Trust me, I studied biology–I know these things.
I recently shuffled onto my back porch to allow the sunshine warm my haggard bones. It’s not safe to descend the stairs but I can use the deck to watch and listen to my river.
A mournful cry emanated from under the deck steps.
Oh dear, I thought, an injured or sick animal.
Worse than I imagined. A raccoon in the death grip of rabies.
I called the Animal Control officer and Ashely arrived quickly. She assessed the poor animal and determined that a quick put-down was called for.
One shot.
The birds held their collective breaths and except for the quiet tears forming in my eyes silence prevailed.
And you will hear the faint yawning of the seeds and tender plants yawning as they awaken from their winter slumber.
Welcome Imbolc.
Imbolc, (EM-bowlk) is a Gaelic term meaning ‘in the belly’. This is the time of year when Mother Earth celebrates life by nudging awake the seeds snuggling within her belly under the frozen ice and snow coating my yard. She whispers softly to them to wake and ready themselves for the coming spring.
Typically, this time of year I can see the green specks breaking through the ground but sadly at present, after multiple floods interspersed with snow, the new life yearning to burst forth lays hidden.
2016 Life emerging.
This year, no tender shoots. Just a blanket of white.
2024 Mourning Doves foraging in the frozen snow.
Ancient Celts, Druids, and other pagans, celebrated Imbolc as the beginning to the season of spring–a time when winter began to wane and life returned to the sparse lands.
I should mention the term pagan comes from the Latin word paganus, which means ‘rustic’ and ‘country dweller.’ It has nothing to do with demon worship. Just saying.
Imbolc is also referred to as Oimealg (IM-mol’g), meaning ‘ewe’s milk’, as this was the time of year when herd animals would give birth and their milk would flow.
Imbolc starts at sundown on February 1 and lasts into February 2. Brigid’s Day (pronounced Breed’s Day), named for the goddess Imbolc honors. Brigid would call forth snakes from the earth to test the weather. If the snakes could survive then it was warm enough for her to awaken the young plants. Snakes. Groundhogs. You say ‘toe-may-toe’, I say ‘toe-mah-toe’–it’s all the same.
According to Celtic lore, Brigid, a goddess of the sun, wells, and springs, was born at daybreak then rose into the sky as the sun’s fiery rays streamed from her head, thus portrayed by her long, flame-red hair. As an infant the goddess was fed the milk from a white sacred cow, giving her the power to bring life wherever she walked. It is believed small flowers and shamrocks sprouted after Brigid passed by.
Brigid’s other gifts include light, knowledge, inspiration, vitality, and healing. The pagan Brigid is one and the same as Saint Brigid but was a pagan goddess long before Christianity claimed her.
It’s believed that Brigid will reward any sincere offering made to her. Throughout Ireland and Scotland, coins are often tossed into wells in hopes that she’ll answer the person’s plea. (There might be a quiz later so remember this when I ask you how the custom of throwing a penny into a fountain originated.)
As a way of welcoming the return of the sun, at sundown, a celebration of Imbolc includes the lighting of white candles in each room of the house. Next an offering of food is made in the name of Brigid. My offering this year is the traditional corn for the ducks and chopped peanuts for the birds.
As I spend most of my time sitting on my couch I’m given the opportunity to compare Imbolc of last year to now. I am given the perspective of time as I survey what has passed and embrace the beautiful memories I retain. And I offer gratitude for the blessings to I now have.
In closing, may Brigid bless the threshold of your home; May she keep your hearth warm and your belly full; May she grant you wisdom and peace; May she guide your way; And may she light your world with the beauty of flowers, birds, and love.
Another year is drawing to a close and as I ponder the flow of the days I wonder if carrying memories of 2023 is worth a damn. You see, this has been a tough year. There’s still the pain of losing my sister that resides deep within my soul but I also have the physical difficulties I’ve been battling since March of this year.
Enough, I say. Move on.
Let’s look at a different type of flow.
That of the Concord River.
My yard, December, 2023
It’s not because we received a ton of rain that caused the flooding. It was the fact that we got back-to-back storms. Water follows the path of least resistance, as the laws of physics declare. And that path was into my yard, basement, and onto Elsie Ave.
Elsie Ave, December 22, 2023
Even though the National Weather Channel compared the Concord River’s height to 2010, the situation paled in comparison to back then.
My house back in 2010.
The flood of 2010 freaked out the new owner and she put the house back on the market.
Her loss was my blessing. Even with the flooded basements over the years, I love my little corner of the Concord River. I’ve been here 10 years. Goddess willing, I’ll get a few more and maybe, just maybe I’ll be able to work in my gardens again. Fingers and toes crossed.
Okay, that’s it for 2023. I invite you to check out the 2023 posts of months past and get ready for many more amazing posts in 2024.
May the solstice bring you love, peace, and good fortune in the coming year. Bless the light and welcome the Sun’s return with open hearts, arms, and joy.
I have tried pushing against it
To stall its forward march
I have tried grabbing hold of its coattails
And pulling against its momentum
But still it marched onward
I have tried reasoning with it
Yelling at it
Throwing things at it
But still it marched on
I have tried sleeping
Thinking it would pause silently
And wait for me to wake
I laid traps baited with goodies
Bourbon, ice cream, cookies, cake
Pills
It eluded my ploys and continued to creep forward
Only one thing can stall its march
When it will stop for one brief moment
If only to catch its breath
The anniversary of your death
And then the passage of time will begin again.
Dyan Grace Gonnella. June 2, 1951-November 23, 2019
Yup, it’s that time again when people from all over North America (sorry Australia) count the birds that visit their feeders.
Common Grackle
Hang onto your feeders however, because it’s not just feeders, even though the name implies it’s just feeders.
Nope, you can count birds on flowers, bushes, grass, in water, and trees too! Even on the ground.
Leucistic Mourning Dove
From the Project FeederWatch website: FeederWatch is a November-April survey of birds that visit backyards, nature centers, community areas, and other locales in North America. You don’t even need a feeder! All you need is an area with plantings, habitat, water, or food that attracts birds and count the birds you see for two consecutive days. You can find detailed instructions here.
Why is Project FeederWatch important, you ask with eager anticipation. Well, it all comes down to Global Warming and bird distribution. Bottom line, bird numbers are declining as the environment is changing. The FeederWatch program gives scientists data to help understand what’s really going on. Read about the data here: ABOUT THE DATA
White-tailed Deer
New for 2023/2024 is the ability to enter information on mammals that visit your count area. Mammals
Seriously, visit this link to get all the details on how to count, when to count, what to count, what to not count, what to wear or eat while you’re counting, what music to play, and stuff like that. (Two of the items are not necessary but still very fun. LOL)
concordriverlady.com 