History – Repeat, Repeat

November 18, 2025

Responding to a comment from a 48 year old person that “my generation is at fault” for a failure to bring African countries further ahead in their economic development, I found myself responding that too few people, worldwide, seem to have integrity and an ethic of community well-being. Instead the dominant motivator seems to be “I will get mine by whatever means necessary” and to hell with my neighbors, let alone those living in other countries.

Yes there are exceptions everywhere, but they are sadly few and far between.

Why has it taken us here in the USA so long to begin to push back against the epitome of greed, corruption and narcissism that is the cabal currently running our government? Yes, the latest demonstrations and elections show there is a new sense of unity (except perhaps in the Senate) intent on reversing the degradation of our democracy.

 Why has it taken so long, and conditions devolved so badly, for that push back to be necessary? Why are dictatorial leaders taking control in more and more countries, while long time ones continue to blatantly steal elections to retain their power?

What is it in human nature that so easily cedes independence of thought to enable a dictator, or cult leader, or other “strongman” to take control without any limits on their ability to then ignore the interests of their followers? Have we learned nothing, over time, from those individuals who wrest their freedom from cult leaders, or overturn a repressive government?

Whom can we hold responsible for our collective willingness to forget history, and therefore be condemned to repeat it, over and over, country after country, worldwide?

I honor the voices, like heather Cox Richardson’s, that daily remind us of how the present debacle in the U.S. mimics earlier periods in our history (the ugly history that MAGA is attempting to erase in order to reinstall its updated ugly version). Paul Krugman does something similar in the economics domain, as does Joyce Vance with the history of law. There are others in different specialties, as well as voices (like Aaron Parnass) that provide factual, truthful updates, often several times daily, of both the brutal and the positive actions occurring which affect us all.

My question is why has it come to this, yet again? What is it in our human makeup that forces a seemingly perpetual swing from compassion, cooperation, and democratic progress back to greed, selfishness, corruption and authoritarian or fascist rule?

One simplistic answer I have read is that the downfall began when we banned religious worship from our public schools. The big problem with that response is that the religion the answer-providers refer to is strictly and only Christianity. They do not espouse respecting and including Judaism, Islam Hinduism, Buddhism, Shintoism, or any of the literally hundreds of other religions, nor the non-sectarian pursuit of pure Spirit, all of which are present both here in the U.S. and all around the world. Indeed, now, classes that might reintroduce a religion-based ethics into classrooms are themselves being banned as “woke”, meaning they deviate from a Christian nationalist world view.

And, by the way, Christian nationalism deviates sharply from Christian values, as firmly pointed out in, among other voices, the recent statement by Catholic bishops regarding Jesus’ teaching on welcoming immigrants. Elsewhere it has been commented that all religions and ethical systems seem to incorporate a version of the Golden Rule. Why is it so hard for so much of humanity to “Do unto others as you would have the do unto you” when the precept is so easily understood?

So many questions, so few answers.

     

Listen Within

November 4, 2025

In the season of Halloween with its strong theme of haunting – haunted houses, will o’the wisps, scary dreams, things that go bump in the night, I’ve become aware recently of a different sort of haunting – the way in which the emotional imprint of very old experiences can haunt one’s present, distorting and sometimes destroying present peace, satisfaction, well being. It may even instill a negative tone into current relationships.

I’m not referring to the sort of emotional turmoil that needs professional help from a qualified mental health counselor. Rather, I’m noticing a subtle tugging on emotional strings that results from misperceived identity, or misplaced attention. A current example for me is too easily feeling overlooked in the days surrounding my birthday because of a haunting recall of how my birthday was regularly ruined, year after year, in my childhood. Whatever had been promised as a treat would not materialize, no parties were ever allowed, and instead of pampered, I often became the scapegoat for something/someone else that angered my mother.

In the more than half century since, there have been any number of special events to mark various birthdays – either things I treated myself with, or that friends shared with me. Living on my own for many of those years, I learned to celebrate privately. It has come as a surprise, therefore, to find that now – in a relationship – I can be haunted by those childhood memories, and want assurance from my partner that this year, this birthday, will not be overlooked.

This particular haunting rose into awareness as I participated in a group reflection recently. I have met regularly, for over two years, with a small group of people on Zoom, most of them drawn to Quaker silent worship from a variety of backgrounds. We share our reflections on a query related to a reading. Most recently, we had all read an essay about the different ways that people center themselves, still the mind, enter prayer, or otherwise engage in the activity they consider as the way to connect with the spiritual self. The query was worded:

How do you recognize an inner prompting as coming from your spiritual center, however you identify or name that place of wisdom?

It was enlightening to hear what different people connected with in the article, and to recognize that in a way we had each read a different essay. What spoke to one had not been noticed by another. One was comfortable with the author’s implication that God, the Divine, Spirit, Eternal Love – so many different terms – is external to the author and to be sought outside oneself. Another participant described her spiritual practice as connecting with the Spirit Within. Both stated that they “just knew” because of its “ring of Truth” that an insight arose from spirit, not the mind or emotions.

I also seek inwardly for the guiding spirit, the Sound, my Eternal Teacher to make me aware of whatever it is I need to know in the moment. Most recently the birthday-related haunting served as a nudge, a prompting from within, to finally, permanently stop looking outward for validation and acknowledgment.

Now I face a different challenge – to discern why it is that subtle habits one knows need to be broken remain so hard to shed? My Teacher refers to them as golden chains, as they often seem to be positives, like concern for hearing the opinions of others, listening, and being a “good friend”. It is critical to recognize that the actions themselves are not binding. The enchainment comes from needing to know that one is appreciated for doing them.

It helps that I remind myself daily of an instruction from my Grandpa, given more than 70 years ago, that the guide to follow is that I “do right because it is the right thing to do.” Not for recognition, not for honor, not for any external reason – simply because I know that I am doing what I should when I listen inwardly and follow the Inner Voice that has never failed to guide me well. The doing becomes its own reward.

Imbalance Lessons

October 5, 2025

We are frequently exhorted to find a balance in our lives – between work and leisure, frivolity and constructive engagement with community, outer focus on the world and inner focus on the state of our spirit/soul/divine essence, time with others and time alone, frugality and a splurge, etc etc etc as said my favorite Siamese king.

Without planning or choice on my part, I am faced with a weekly switch from solitude to encompassing family demands and back again, as my husband works in another community about 2 hours away, and his sons go to school there. Weekdays I am alone in our home, with various planned commitments that engage me with others, both casually as in grocery shopping for the family, and more intentionally as in participating in a book group, meetings with my spiritual community, and treatment appointments with providers whom I have worked with for so long that they have become friends. And of course phone calls and texting with my spouse and with other friends who live at a distance from my rural home.

Then comes the weekend and spouse and stepsons arrive to fill the house with chatter, chores, and much distracting energy. Some weeks it is a full weekend, Friday evening to Sunday evening, others it is scarcely 24 hours, from Saturday afternoon to Sunday afternoon, as the boys play in a soccer tournament that is held in yet another community than those of our split level weekday living arrangement. In either case, the weekends are always busy with necessary, but not necessarily planned, events. While there is an unwritten list of what needs to be done, much of it is tackled on impulse, prioritized by what we feel like taking on at any part of the day(s).

I can “go with the flow” of both quietly structured weekdays and seriously unquiet, impulse-driven weekends. The lesson I have yet to learn is how to be at ease with the transitions. I do often feel overwhelmed when “the guys” arrive and spill into the house, quickly taking much of the oxygen and filling the silence with chatter. By the time they leave I have adapted, and then with solitude restored, I feel almost bereft for at least a couple hours, unless or until someone calls, or I have a meeting to attend either in person or on line.

I have wondered if the transitions would feel less disruptive if my time alone and time in family were closer to equal? Or if I had a naturally more extroverted personality, allowing me to participate more fully and immediately in the family dynamic? Would it help for me to aim to become less of a planner and more of an impulse-driven person during my alone time? Or should I be working to impose more structure onto the weekends?

Unanswered (unanswerable?) questions that Mind busies itself trying to solve, until my Inner Self asserts its authority and turns to my spiritual guide who reminds me that Mind cannot solve Mind’s problems. And it is only Mind that considers the transitions to be disruptive and in need of a solution. True Self simply is. Present with whatever is happening, not attached to any way of being, appreciating each moment for what insights it offers. Mind tries to find balance, Inner Self is intrinsically balanced.

So the question is not how to negotiate the transitions, but who it is living them. Once the correct “who” is in charge, balance becomes automatic and the concept of transition vanishes.

How simple, when looked at rightly.

Restoration

October 1, 2025

To write a blog post means to take time for myself – ignoring the barking dog outside my windows who is either scaring off deer, or defending her territory from marauding neighbor dogs. Ignoring the addictive habit of turning on the news to learn what latest atrocity is emanating from the once lovely city where I was born. Ignoring the phone that invites me to check in with the wants, needs or disregard of others in my immediate circle of family and friends.

Taking time for myself seems solidly set in opposition to all that we are persuaded, daily, it is our obligation to engage with. Don’t be selfish. Put the needs of others before your own. Be a good neighbor, friend, wife, mother.

Where are the exhortations to be good to oneself, without which one cannot sustain constant care for others?

And in particular, what part of self is it that needs attention it is not getting?

Surely not the ego, that so easily takes pride in how well (or poorly?) it cares for all those others it is exhorted to attend to.

The reflective individual who does, indeed, do a good job of other care remains too often in a quandary of self doubt – feeling unsatisfied, empty, even bereft despite their long list of good works and behavior. I see it all around me, have felt it myself.

Why is that so?

Most certainly, because the self that needs care isn’t getting it. Ego is not the self that needs care.

Spirit, Soul, Inner Self, “that of God in everyone” is the self that needs care, but too rarely gets it.

I see it all around me, and am guilty of this neglect myself.

Hearing the exhortation to practice what you preach, I wish to relearn the habit of regular posting that I achieved some years ago, when I was also working full time and meeting other commitments. Somehow retirement, which should have given me more time, did the opposite. Partly due to a simultaneous health challenge to my energy. Partly due to living through Covid, two successive wildfires that did severe damage to my home, and a major change in my family situation. But mostly due to neglect of Self care. To post I must make time for inner reflection, which is one form of Self care. I must assure that I do my daily contemplation exercise, and keep my attention focused on the inner voice that guides me wisely. I have not totally lost those habits, but I have allowed myself to become distracted, overwhelmed.

No more.

Be-ing or Lazy?

March 17, 2025

How many times in the past several months have I said to myself that “today I will write another blog post” only to see the day pass with me occupied with all the other activities that can consume our daily lives, especially those of us who are older, and/or having to manage health issues and limited energy. Today is really no different, except that I seem to have finally come to the end of my laziness, and decided to start writing without having first selected a topic. Because choosing a topic was one of the many “excuses” I had to cover what I have resisted identifying by its proper title, laziness. I mean, how could I call myself lazy when I am as active as I have been with running a home, caring for animals, supporting friends who are dealing with illness, family member deaths, troublesome children, plus responding with resistance as best I can to the trashing of America’s institutions and its standing in the world, plus preparing for major changes in my daily life at home? All while my body is controlled by the random whims of an autoimmune disorder that reacts with increased pain and decreased energy whenever there are even minor shifts in weather.

I suspect the answer lies in some aspect of self image, or how I define my sense of self. I had no trouble keeping up regular posts throughout my last, time demanding period of employment when I was also running a household and doing all the activities listed above. When I retired, in 2020 at the age of 76, I thought I would be a more prolific writer with so much newly freed time. Instead, my posting declined until it virtually stopped. Yes, I became ill with the autoimmune disorder that took much of my energy and required almost two years to be diagnosed so that I could begin what has proven to be a moderately effective treatment regimen. Yes, the changes that Covid wrought throughout our society affected me as well. And yes, retirement brought about a greater change in my sense of self than I anticipated, given that I was fully aware of how this transition impacts people.

What I think I did not anticipate, despite the warnings from my acupuncturist, was the extent to which removing the stress and pressure I had lived with for most of my working life would collapse rather than free me. Running on adrenaline from stress, deadlines, meeting others’ expectations is what kept me going, Removing that pressure left me not just exhausted in body, but disoriented and adrift in mind and spirit. Adding in Covid-caused distancing and long days of isolation pushed me further into “the blahs” which in turn morphed into an ambiguity as to who I am without a persistent drive to do, and to be recognized as a do-er.

A dear friend whose own physical challenges forced him into an earlier retirement than he had planned described the challenge I faced as the do-be-do-be-do of the music he loved. He and I both noted that we needed to run counter to the end of that theme, as we were both striving to settle comfortably into self definition as be-ing rather than do-ing.

I suspect that my mind conflated “being” with laziness – if I wasn’t “doing,” I was lazy. Gardening, poultry care, house chores were readily available ways of doing that could convince me I was not lazy.

Writing, on the other hand, is part of my being-ness, part of my sense of self, of the spirit centered entity that I have known all my life but have only lately been given the opportunity and circumstances to fully develop.

Two quite different gifts from friends have now, I hope, pushed me out of the need to self-define by doing, into the actual freedom I expected retirement to give me. The first was a request from a college classmate to write a blurb for the cover of a book she translated that will soon be published. I read the manuscript, offered a few editorial comments, and quite enjoyed the challenge of condensing my appreciation into a short paragraph for the blurb. That activity resurrected my awareness of the pleasure I take in language fluency and writing. The second was the gift of All In For Love, the first of a trilogy of books by Leslie S. King, given to me after I had posted an online appreciation of her third volume, I Am Love. Leslie’s poems and short essays detail her spiritual journey and express the essence of Be-ing that she, like I, have been working our way towards. Her courage and lucidity in putting that challenge into words and sending them out into the world have been a great inspiration for me.

So what do I conclude? Probably that I was not being lazy, but rather that I was not yet ready to accept a total change in my sense of identity, just as I had not felt ready to take on a rather radical change in my outer living circumstances that will now most probably manifest by mid-May. It is neither positive nor negative – just majorly different. If nothing else, it will give me plenty to write about. I hope you will care to follow along as this familiar but also new me expresses itself.

About Not Writing

November 26, 2024

Can I write a blog post about not writing blog posts, despite having thoughts worth putting down for others to read? 

Should I go back through the myriad emails exchanged with friends that seem to have taken the place of posts, to find the ideas shared and reflections on events (personal or national) that are contained in those exchanges?

Is the absence of posts, and the plethora of emails, a positive indicator of me coming out of social isolation and into a rewarding interaction with peers?

When I worked full time, I posted.

Once I retired, and presumably had more time to write, I stopped.

I retired in the heart of Covid isolation, so one would think I would have posted more. Maybe the sudden, rapid decline in health that accompanied retirement (not Covid, other chronic issues) distracted me? Or refocused me?

What will it take for me to resume posting?

Do I want to do so?

Other pastimes (notably jewelry making) have lost their appeal. Is the same proving true with blogging?

I guess, as my readers (however many remain) will find out, it is now for me and them a question of wait and see.

Is it Part of Getting Older?

July 28, 2024

Is it part of getting older (old? Golden Ager?) that I am increasingly impatient with so many things? Bad – i.e. nonexistent – customer service. Unexplained, endless delays in receiving what has been promised, bought, and paid for. Packaging that is not only child proof but impervious even to sharp scissors. “New and improved” whatever that is perhaps new, but is the exact opposite of improved. Artificially created obsolescence forcing purchase of new equipment when the perfectly good items can’t be updated any longer because the tech company wants yet more excessive profit. I could go on, but it is undoubtedly a waste of time to do so.

And that most likely is the underlying reason for my impatience – a sense of time running out, that I don’t want wasted on stupidly aggravating nonsense. 

My group of friends who get together weekly for what we call Stitching (to encompass sewing, knitting, crochet and whatever else anyone chooses, including idle hands) are all “mature” women. We all express frustration with time wasters though none of us have, so far, identified what I am considering now, that the very fact of being older and aware that the time remaining in our lives is far less than that already spent, causes much of the impatience. If I have only a limited amount of time left in life I don’t want to waste it on trash.

Perhaps I have also identified the source of the stereotype of old people as grumpy?

Yes, it’s true none of us knows, at any age, how long we have yet to live. But short of a terminal diagnosis, or existence in a war zone that makes one’s end of life salient, not many of us abandon the unconscious conviction of near immortality that is the framework of daily life. Reaching retirement, at whatever age above midlife that turning point occurs, tends to trigger an assessment of achievements and a setting of new goals, but does not automatically shift us (or at least it did not do so for me) into a more conscious sense of time as a precious commodity not to be squandered. It was not until, just recently, I noticed the extent to which I had become impatient that, seeking reasons, I came to understand this as a common quality of older folks arising from an underlying awareness that one’s days (hours, minutes?) are indeed numbered. 

I think a somewhat similar shift in perspective occurs in what has been termed midlife crisis, the not uncommon mental turmoil that accompanies the first indications of flagging energy and rising uncertainty as to where one is on life’s path. Changing careers, altering goals, returning to school, finding new interests to fill an “emptied nest” are activities frequently accompanied by an awareness of time’s passage, bringing also an increased sense of vulnerability. 

What differentiates this midlife reassessment from the late-in-life one seems to me to be a changed sense of time. In midlife, we focus on how much we still want to achieve in the (perceived as still long) amount of time we believe is left to us. By later age, we instead are aware that we have outlived many of our peers. The unknown amount of time left to us becomes precious, not to be squandered. People, circumstances, attitudes that waste time become highly expendable, and highly aggravating when they cannot be circumvented.

In order not to throw away my remaining time being angry or feeling helpless, I have sought a viewpoint to free me from this constraint, and found it in the concept of eliminating my remaining karmic debt, thus becoming able to exit this life (however soon that exit occurs) without ties that force me to return for another incarnation. One need not accept the concept of reincarnation to benefit from this form of detachment. The act of unhooking from frustration, putting down the impenetrable package, temporarily setting aside the uncooperative software – the fact of distancing oneself in order to come back to the task in a calmer state seems to allow it to flow more smoothly.

Perhaps I am merely recognizing an application of the refrain “to every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven?” 

If so, is it time – finally – for me to be able to get the icing out of its impervious package so I can finish the cake I want to take to Stitching?

O.A.S.?

May 1, 2024

I am woefully ignorant of the texting/social media abbreviations that increasingly occur in the crossword puzzles I used to enjoy as brain stimulation, but now too often toss aside in frustration as unsolvable unless I first take a course in Gen Z culture and textisms. On the other hand I immediately translated my first encounter with OAS – old age syndrome – in an email from a neighbor and friend of my generation even though she used it with minimal context, just saying she was “doing okay other than OAS”.

At about the same time, I interacted with the young woman whose debut website triggered my most recent post. Following from that recently posted reflection has been an extended meditation on the possible benefits of – and my strong inner resistance to – what is now often referred to as Swedish death cleaning.

    (Inserted peeve: the thinks- it- knows- better- than- I- what- I -want- to -say built in grammar monitor is trying to tell me to write “following that reflection” when I do indeed mean following from as in triggered by and derived from, not just coming after in time. I hate the unavoidable, embedded, programmed critics which do not know nuance, nor formal grammar, but try to dictate how I express myself! )

Having undergone the challenge of sorting, selling, discarding or keeping my family belongings after my father’s death many years ago, I fully appreciate the kindness done to survivors by paring down beforehand. Facing the prospect of undertaking such a project myself I equally appreciate how reluctant I am to do so. At first I merely excused myself with the assessment that my energy levels weren’t up to the task (an aspect of OAS). With restricted energy and a goodly number of daily have-to’s, I want what extra energy I have used for more pleasurable activities than sorting and selling or discarding or keeping a lifetime’s accumulations. Having already lost much of what I valued as my personal history to last year’s wildfire, the items remaining seem almost vital to my sense of self.

Yet they are not. Viewed objectively, many of them simply occupy spaces that my eyes are accustomed to seeing them in. Especially the books I have read and will not reread, but keep like old friends, their covers and titles reminding me of the pleasurable time I spent with them in the past.

As I have lived with these conflicting motivations – to simplify and to keep – over the past several days an underlying perspective has emerged. I don’t think the issue is really a tension about things, but rather an inner argument about accepting or refusing to transition from one stage of life to the next. Since retiring something over three years ago, I have not enjoyed the anticipated opportunity to pursue interests that my demanding work life prevented. Covid did not help – nor did the emergence of unrelated health challenges most probably released by my reduction in stress-driven energy. (I relate to the recovering alcoholics who bemoan not being ill until they sober up.)

Looking back over these recent years of retirement, I see a person who achieved (survived) a great deal, coping not just with a health decline but two successive years of wildfire evacuations with extensive losses from the second one, while adding a stepson to my household, overseeing reconstruction of our home, and continuing my role as support to a husband focused on career advancement. Recently several people have described me as courageous. I have not thought that adjective to be descriptive of me – but perhaps they are correct? Is it courageous to push through the demands of each day while trying to be helpful to others whose needs are often urgently disruptive of my planned allocation of time and energy? Or am I just stubbornly refusing to let OAS define me?

I am aware of the often advised benefits to older people that they interact with younger ones to stay engaged and vital. For those with children and grandchildren this sort of interaction often comes naturally, especially when retirement is accompanied by relocation to be nearer to one another (the move usually also producing a paring down of things to the basic essentials). Having no children and hence no grandchildren, my recent acquisition of young step-children feels simultaneously appropriate to following this advice, but also intrusive and an interference with achieving the flexible and free “me” time I had anticipated as a retirement reward. 

“Man proposes, God disposes.”

Now I wait, trying to do so patiently, for inner guidance on how to balance my desire to still be the younger version of myself, physically active and energetic throughout the day, meeting the needs of family – with also taking time for myself and my long postponed travel and new learning interests that were the promise of retirement. Often, so far, it seems that I am that courageous “doing” person from my 6AM rising until about 2 in the afternoon, when I become an exemplar of OAS,  using the description to excuse resting on the couch, reading and extending my Wordle and FreeCell streaks. Not the image of myself I would choose – but apparently the one I need to accept. 

For now, so be it.

Habits

April 19, 2024

I know, professionally, of the benefits to older folks of inter-generational interactions, how wisdom is passed down and enthusiasm for life and continued engagement with what new days may bring gets passed up. Knowing and experiencing are decidedly different. Since my retirement coinciding with the isolation of Covid restrictions, my focus has been on replacing the constantly people-engaged experience of my working environment with a local social network, in order not to become unduly introverted. A simultaneous dip in health, two successive wildfires disrupting my living situation, and an excess of demands for daily survival have challenged me to feel enough energy for any more than what is immediately “in my face” to be done. 

One of my intentions for retirement was to resume being regular about posting to this blog. I clearly have not succeeded in reestablishing a habit of regular writing. I have been aware of this lack, and even aware of missed opportunities, times of quiet where, instead of writing, I have played Free Cell (10,651 games to date with only 12 that I did not successfully complete), done hundreds of crosswords, run good long streaks of Wordle, and otherwise distracted myself. The pastimes are generally ones that can be thought “worthy” and beneficial for maintaining mental alertness – but nonetheless disruptions to the more meaningful goal of writing regularly.

Enter a young person, a quasi-grandniece studying at university in Manitoba who has begun a website to encourage and connect young people, especially African youth like herself. She sent me the link (www.DearDirii.com) and the first post I read was an energizing, thoughtful and educational essay on habits. Oriented as I am to recognizing when spirit, Inner Light, the Master, the cosmos, the ancestors, or whatever other language one uses to refer to that which is not physical or mental but is a real part of our experience is speaking directly to me, I “heard” the nudge to reestablish a pattern of regular posts. And I thank the young lady who is the source of that nudge for also reminding me of the benefit to me of interacting with younger people.

Now I probably will also have to catch up on the language, and slang, of internet and social media writers that I have avoided. A side benefit will be more types of crossword puzzles I can successfully complete. 

Have a good inter-generational day.

Wishing for Spring

March 16, 2024

After just a few intermittent days of sun and warmth, we are back to unremitting gray, depressing darkened skies and snow – spring snow, that melts into muddy blackness in hours, before the next snow dump briefly hides the muck. Around my home that muck is worse than usual, much of it the blackened ashy residue of last spring’s wildfire that somehow clings far more readily and tenaciously than ordinary spring mud. 

I find it a challenge not to become depressed as the exceptionally endless gray periods of this past winter have extended far longer than usual, through all of February and now much of March. One of the normal blessings of living in New Mexico is how much sun we receive. I remember only one other time in the past 50 plus years when, in my corner of the state at least, we had such week upon week of gray weather. One of those was the first summer I moved up here, near Mora, from my previous home just south of Santa Fe. I never needed my light summer clothing that year – it didn’t get either bright or warm enough to shed long-sleeved blouses.  That was the summer of 1990. I questioned what I had done to myself by moving… thankful to realize by the end of that year that it had been an aberration, not repeated until this past autumn/winter/now spring when it has been gray for weeks on end. 

I have a close friend who lives on the Oregon coast – and have teasingly accused her of sending her natural climate down here to torment me, while she responds that I’ve caused her to have to cope with too much hard-to-tolerate heat. The exchange of “normal”, apparently part of the shifts in pattern reflective of climate change, between here and there displeases us both.

I am mindful of the scientists warning that our concepts of normal must also change. Well aware that I should be grateful for the snow bringing much needed moisture to this still drought-stricken state, I ask for the virtually unobtainable  – winter weeks of sunshowers, those ephemeral hours we sometimes enjoy in summer, when one can be sitting in sunshine and watch it rain hard just a quarter mile away. In past years something akin would occur from late February throughout March and sometimes into April – a heavy dump of snow over a 12 hour period followed by bright sunshine melting the piles, filling the creeks that run into the lake that supplies water to Las Vegas (the original one) NM. It is the unfamiliar gray day after gray day for a week or more at a time, all through this past winter and now into spring, that I find hard to endure.

It is probable that the gloomy weather contributed to my decision last week to get baby chicks. My flock of hens (and a few roosters) is sizable, their egg production more than I can readily dispose of since a few long-time customers have moved elsewhere. I do not need to enlarge, nor really to renew the egg factory. I just want something that, when I look at it, says “spring” and gives me reason to smile. See if you don’t agree.


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