The Morel of the story...

A light rain is falling. The air is cool and makes being inside where we are warm and dry, all the better. We have had a dry spring and need the rain. The trees and grasses are blushing with a new green; fresh and vibrant with an energy that is matched by scent of rain-washed air.

I have been stuck in a dry spell lately: never quite mustering enough energy or motivation to pursue much beyond going to work, coming home from work, making supper and getting ready to do it all over again the next day. Letters and emails remain unwritten and small chores remain undone. Exercise is a hit-or-miss proposition. On days when I am tired my mind takes me hostage and tells me "what's the use?" When that happens I work at staying present, work at not believing what my mind is telling me and most days I can call it a draw; sometimes I win.

I am not sure why I am this way now. I don't have the immediate focus of having to deal with cancer anymore and that is a very good thing. I think I must be a little bit lost. Occasionally I wonder when, or if, I will find myself again.  Not to sound like a lost hippie but I have been trying to be aware of what life is offering these days and what I want from it. I imagine more than a few of you might be wondering if chemo robbed my senses but I really feel I should pick what I want; not just go with whatever comes along. I have done enough of that in my life. But O, what a terrible habit to break.

I like to think I am entering a new spring in my life, with all kinds of possibilities for new growth. I am the tree tasting the rain on my new leaves.

Karen and I are making slow progress on some things around the place.  We did a bit of clean-up in the garden . Karen discovered a nest holding seven baby cottontail bunnies in one of the raised beds. They were darn cute, even when they all decided to jump out at the same time and explore the big wide world. We had bunnies hopping all over for a little while. Karen has been working on flower beds around the house and I have been picking away at getting the garage in some kind of order.

After one of our friends mentioned eating fresh morels, Karen wanted to go look for some. We went to a spot and looked. And looked. And looked. Finally, I found one small specimen and then we really looked but that one was our take for the evening. After this rain lets up I would expect conditions for finding these 'shrooms will improve. The thing I found most interesting about the time we spent in the woods, searching for morels, was that for that hour or so, my mind was focused. My mental attention did not wander away from the present. There were plenty of distraction; blackflies, bloodroot and anemones in bloom, along with honeysuckle and many other plants whose names I have forgotten. I noticed these other things but I stayed focused. Maybe it isn't a big deal to you but for me, it is. I hope I can do that more often. The focusing, that is. 

So, what is the morel (moral) to all this? I am not really sure. I couldn't resist the pun in the title but maybe there is something after all. Let the spring rains wash you clean and help start your own new growth. And keep looking. Even if you only have small success in the beginning, there is always a chance for more success later on. Remember-stay wet and keep looking.

Peace and love to you all.
And a huge thanks to all of you that have helped Karen and I on this portage called cancer. The journey continues...
Mike

We WON!

Mike's PET scan was negative...well he still has dogs and bunnies but they weren't looking for that! There was, however, NO evidence of cancer anywhere in his body. So it is over and the celebration is on for June 19th! So, save the date!

Peace, Health and Happiness to you all.
Karen

Waiting...

Maybe it is just me but this spring seems to have been windier than most. At least, windier than I can remember in recent memory. The wind chimes hang in silence for the first time in what seems like weeks. The silence speaks volumes. 

Syrup season ended about two weeks ago and I finally got most of the equipment put away.  The cooking site is still set up in the yard but all the buckets and pails and taps are put away in the garage till next spring. I spent a great deal of time in these past two weeks waiting for a calm day to clean the sap storage cans. I was afraid to tackle the job on a windy day because I thought the cans would sail away while I was waiting for them to dry. Finally, on Saturday, with a warm sun and a mild breeze, I cleaned the cans and now they are put away.

The waiting for the right day turned out to be pointless. I suppose most waiting turns out to be that way. But still we do it. I say 'we' because I think I am probably not the only person who has spent too much time in this life, waiting.

I have just finished reading "The Power of Now" by Eckhart Tolle. The book falls into the 'New Age/Spiritual' category but Tolle, among other thing, makes a good case for being "conscious", i.e., present in the moment; not stuck in the past or worried about the future. A lot of things he touched on, rang true for me.  I have been stuck,waiting, for as long as I remember. During all this time my unconscious mind has been working hard to keep from being in the present, in the Now. I have been waiting for the 'right time to take up writing' or 'the right time' to do this or that; or go here or there. In short, my mind, not me, has been running my life while I have been waiting and waiting. I realized that many of the fears I have come from this habitual mindset, this state of unconsciousness.

So now I am trying, little by little, to become more focused in the Now, to be more present and it is very hard work. When I am physically and/or mentally tired, I have a very difficult time being focused on the present. I find myself drifting into an overwhelming future, or locked up in the past. Then my mind runs me down. But I am hopeful that I can make some positive changes in my life, that after all these years I can quit waiting and do the things I have avoided out of fear; things I thought I could not or should not, do. I am not saying I am going out to be a 'new' me. I am just going to try to 'be' me. The idea is exciting, even though I have lots of hard work ahead of me.

This place I am at right now is a great place to start. I have a new life ahead of me after this last bout with cancer, providing me with a natural jumping off place into the great unknown of my Now. I have been waiting long enough.

Peace and love to you all,
Mike

The Wind, The River and Trout

"A trout is a moment of beauty known only to those who seek it."

~by Arnold Gingrich~

Shhh....listen. Can you hear that? Silence. Silence broken only by the heart-breakingly sweet song of the bluebird. The wind chimes hang at attention, not so much as a breath of wind to sway them into a gentle song. And now a vesper sparrow sings, a crow caws far away, a pair of geese fly over, so low you can hear their wings paddling against the sky, and then silence once again. The wind that has batterd and roared at us for days and days has settled or moved on and all is quiet in it's wake.

Trout season opens today. The fly rods hanging on the wall will be dusted and made ready for a trip to the river late this afternoon. We had been invited to a poetry soiree to hob-knob with local literati but it's opening day of trout season and the poetry of running river, gracefully arching fly line and the dance of a dry fly on the water calls to us in a stronger voice. 

We will be with the river this evening, standing thigh deep or better in cold running water, adjusting our stance as the current pulls gravel from under our feet and pushes against our calves. Our lines will draw large ovals in the air above our heads or roll out in great circles to lay gently upon the water. Our flies will skitter across the riffles or, as in Mike's case, mine the water below the surface hoping to tease a trout up from the depths. Mostly we are there to fish. Mostly we are there to be with the river. Mostly we are there to be healed by the waters.

Tonight, it is predicted to be calm. We won't have to worry about the wind sending great tangles of line hurtling towards our ears. We will stand below tall pine lined ridges in the warm golden sunlight of the evening watching for a hatch and trying to "match the hatch" with something from our fly boxes. Warblers will distract as they swing out like a pendulum to grab a gnat, midge or with luck a moth. The pungent scent of balm of gilead will drift across and mingle with the cool, sweet smell of running water. Maybe there will be a beaver or, like last year, maybe a deer will walk up the river towards one of us. We may even be fortunate enough to see an otter! And maybe, just maybe, if the planets align and the stars are with us...there will be trout.

"In my family, there was no clear division between religion and fly fishing."

~by Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It, 1976

Peace and see you at church.

Karen 

Waves on the Water

We are in a time of transition now. Lakes have opened up and we have waves on the water. Yesterday sunlight shimmered on the surface and made me squint against the brightness. A few weeks ago I squinted because of the sunlight on snow. The yard is a-flutter with migrating juncos and homesteading bluebirds. Mallards and hooded mergansers are staking out nesting sites along the shoreline at work. Grass is beginning to blush with the first real green of the year. Seems like everything is moving along a predetermined plan.

After many months of no problems at all I have been to the chiropractor three times in the past week. I spent an hour at urgent care the other day and came away with antibiotics for my sore throat/ cold/sinus problem that appeared this week along with the sore lower back. I am not fond of the way this transition is going for me. I am not sure if a predetermined plan exists for me, and if it does, I am not sure where I am going.

I  am a bit lost lately; sometimes lost in a fairly big way. I have this new lease on life and I have not come up with anything like a firm direction for the rest of my life. Or at least, for the next few months. So far this is not an area of concern; it is just something I am aware of. Looking back I would say I have never been very good at deliberately choosing a direction in my life and taking the steps necessary to achieve that goal. I have been one who tends to go along and try to make whatever happened, work for me somehow. That has not always been good, even though it has worked, sort of. I think the net result has been suppressed passive/aggressive tendencies, anger and depression. Been there, done that. Don't want to do that anymore. I am in need of positive transitions.

So in my own, slow, overly cautious way, I am trying to make some changes in my life. I have to regain some physical strength and fitness after months of treatment and meds. And as I gain physically I hope to make gains mentally and spiritually; to find those things that energize me, that make me want to take a direction with my life. Kind of a daunting task at my age but one is never too old to learn. At least that is what I keep telling myself.  I think patience is called for at this time.

Peace and love to all of you. Get out and enjoy spring.
Mike 

Pretend

Winter is creaking out of my bones. It's been in the 50's and 60's. There are tiny leaves on my rose bush, the tips on the swollen buds of the lilac show their inner green, tulip, iris, and yes, pansies are out basking in the warmth. Maple season is over. We heard a single frog sing out in the sugar bush a week ago. A migration of Tundra Swans gave us a fly by this morning. The Sandhill cranes are nearby - their ethereal sheet metal song drifts on the wind. And today, Easter, my beloved Bluebirds returned with their heartbreakingly tender call.

It seems like spring. 

I raked my flower beds. We put up two more Bluebird houses. Yesterday we went for a bike ride at Lake Bemidji State Park. It was the maiden run on my new ride. We made a short loop out of the park, over to the bike trail and back into the park. I stopped suddenly to look at some bird poop on the pavement and then to look up in the big white pine to see who had made the deposit. Mike stopped too, though, not as gracefully. His toe caught in the basket on his pedal. There was a thud, an "Oooffff" and then there he was in a pile on the asphalt with his bike. No worse for the wear we laughed it off and continued on. He claims I pushed him over.

We loaded the bikes into the van and headed toward the lake. Great piles of ice rimmed the shoreline. Sheets of candle ice veined with open water stretched out onto the lake. Pools of water on the ice turned salmon with the setting sun. Mike played with chunks of ice, dropping them one onto another and listened to their musical ring. We walked the beach, feet sinking into the soft sand reminding us of summer when the beach would be full of local kids and tourists but now, in this ice time, it was ours.

Mike spotted the playground and then the swings and made a bee line for them. We each grabbed a seat and set to pumping our legs for all they were worth. Soon we  were giggling and making graceful arcs. Our bellies tingled when we went high enough and felt that split second of slack in the chains before gravity caught and sent us hurtling back the other way. I leaned back and swung. Mike followed my lead and soon had the woozies.

We were slowly swinging to a halt and I was lamenting on how "the problem with today's playgrounds is that there is a severe lack of things that spin and make kids puke," when something on the ginormous jungle gym caught my eye. Oval shaped with bars and tilted at a 60 degree angle was a contraption that looked like it could spin. I baled off the swings and headed straight for it. Just big enough for me to stand in was the PUKEATRON. I let Mike spin me until I couldn't tell if I was stopped or still spinning. My belly fluttered and did flip-flops. I asked Mike,  "Do you get motion sick? Get on you gotta try it!" And he did. For about a minute and that was enough for him. He's apparently not the carnival ride kinda guy. I took one turn at the slide before we left. Mike took a pass.

Tonight my body aches, winter leaving my bones, and while it looks like spring, it acts like spring and it smells like spring...I'm suspicious. I'm going on public record here as saying we are gonna get one last blast of winter on or around April 10. I  can't say why...I'm just saying. Until then, like the rest of you here in the Great Frozen North, I'm gonna pretend it's spring. Just like yesterday at the park I pretended I was a kid again.

Peace and Delusions

Karen