Frost heaves

The Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
--William Wordsworth

Welcome, Spring. Winter's parting tantrum left us a good 10 inches of snow last Monday and Tuesday, after a week of dreamy sunshine, and a cloudy, unsettled chill has lingered. I know, it'll pass. It always does.

Last week was hard. Damn hard. I had to do things I didn't want to do, didn't know how to do, didn't think I'd have the strength to do, and it wasn't just one thing but a slew of things, all tremendously draining. Tell my husband our marriage is over, and explain why, what happened, what's going to happen next (I hardly know that myself, but since I'm the one who opened this door, I'm supposed to take the lead). Nurse Maggie through a scary two days of illness. Wonder yet again what's the sense of living so remote from civilization, so isolated and vulnerable. Try to cobble together enough work to support us, then actually find uninterrupted time to work, which lately has meant staying up very late knowing the kids would be up by 6:30 or so. Try to figure out what's wrong with my computer, and why the DSL I'd breathlessly anticipated still isn't working after a week of troubleshooting. Thinking about any of it, I start feeling panicky. It's too close, and unresolved, and overwhelming.

Now I have to get back to daily life. Reestablish our routine, focus on work. I have so little energy to do anything. And another upheaval is coming this week as Antonio returns from Denver and tries to start a new life here. I can't do it for him, but I feel compelled to help, but I have to make and keep boundaries. It would be so easy to slip back, to shrink away from what I know will be difficult and perhaps even devastating, and part of me doesn't want to do this even though I know it'll be spiritual death, for both of us, if I don't. "Do what you know in your heart you need to do." Damn easier said than done, that's all I can say right now.

Senate Clears Way for Arctic Drilling

Drilling the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge won't make a dent in gas prices at the pump or break our dependence on Middle East oil. This was really a vote for Big Oil, not for the solid majority of Americans who oppose turning America's last great wilderness into a vast, polluted oil field. President Bush and his Senate allies resorted to a sneaky budget maneuver to get their way.

Now, Congress is one step closer to trading away an irreplaceable national treasure for a few drops of oil that we wouldn't see for a decade or more. If the oil industry can drill in the Arctic Refuge, then no place, no matter how pristine, will be safe. But there is still have a lot of political tundra to cross before this fight is over. We'll keep battling them every step of the way.
--Karen Wayland, Legislative Director, Natural Resources Defense Council (links mine)

Dammit.

March = Big Snow

I had a lovely, manic weekend of gardening in the warm sun -- and I must have known subconsciously that this was coming:



We've got about eight inches, and it's still falling -- I guess we're getting these wraparound waves because it's blowing from the east rather than the west and that always means trouble. But Las Vegas, NM has two feet and counting, so I won't complain. I'm glad I stacked the wood, cleaned up the front yard, and refilled the birdfeeders, though. Not much else to do but watch movies and gaze out the window.

Robins

I had my front and back doors open this evening, to air out the house after the woodstove went haywire and started belching sooty smoke from all its orifices. The dogs came in and wandered around, warily at first, then happily, cleaning the food off the dining room floor and chairs and delighting in the messes around Laz's and Maggie's spots. Lazarus ran outside and twirled around in a momentary drizzle, looking straight up and exclaiming, "RAIN, Mama! It's RAIN!" Maggie crawled right up to the threshold and kept reaching her hands out into the cool air, laughing and clapping as she watched her big brother sway and dance. And then, for just a moment, everyone paused, and we heard a robin singing its evening song. I always forget that song over the long winter -- it catches me by surprise every year, one late winter day, and a part of my soul that has been sleeping stirs and stretches and takes a deep breath, and I know spring is coming.

Happy Birthday, my sweet Maggie Roo

It's been one year already.

Aw, shucks, is that for me??


We had a small party here at home -- just Maggie, Lazarus, and me. Lazarus figured out that if said "happy birthday, Maggie!" he'd get props from Mama, and, eventually, some cake. But Maggie got the first bite, and I think she enjoyed it:



Want eat cake, NOW. ...Please.


Okay, enough pictures already! Pesky paparazzi!


Tonight as I laid her down to sleep, I said a prayer: May each year bring you bountiful blessings, and every year may more people who love you come to celebrate your birthday with you -- someday more people than can fit in a whole house.