Flo the barn cat appears and re-appears in the house now at will. We rarely see her slip in, it must be when we open the door and are not looking down. Today was cold and windy, and when we came into the house after an afternoon walk, she was curled up in Fate’s bed – cats are nothing if not entitled – finding the one bit of sun coming in through the window. It was a lovely and still image, a reverie.
On nice days, Flo prefers to be outside the house, sunning herself, in the night she loves to hunt in the meadow. Sometimes, she just wants to be still.
We walked a lot in the woods last weekend, it was warm and beautiful there. But the ticks were out as well, and I was bitten at least three times, two of them serious and embedded bites. I had Lyme Disease a couple of years ago, and it was impressive, and when you have open heart surgery the health care people get very nervous about tick bites and infections, and a recurrence of Lyme Disease.
Ticks are a complex issue for me, (no need to flood me with warnings and alarms, I have heard them.) I know ticks well, inside and out, they and I have become close in recent years.
When I had Lyme Disease, which was like the flu on steroids, I was given careful instructions by my wonderful Nurse Practitioner Karen Bruce to call her immediately if I was bitten and go on anti-biotics. And soon, she said, within 48 hours of the bit. I didn’t do it, of course, even though one of the ticks was dug in and the other was burrowing in as well when I discovered them.
I’m just not the vigilant type, and like many men, I just always find reasons not to go to the doctor. It almost killed me when it came to my heart, I listened to a bunch of men tell me I was just getting old. (If you have trouble breathing, tell a woman).
Still, to be fair, and in my own defense, tick bites are a part of life up here, as are ticks, and if you want in the deep woods as often as I do, you will encounter ticks and you will be bitten – count on it. They are amazingly agile little creatures, they seem to drop down out of the sky and crawl around the most unexpected places.
I don’t want to rush to urgent care or the health center every time a tick bites me. And I can’t afford to.
But the aftermath of these bites was impressive, they were deep and embedded as they say, and I’ve been up for much of the last two nights, unable to sleep as a result of the itching and discomfort and headaches. So off to the health center this morning. Karen didn’t even yell at me, which was sweet, but I took a dose of anti-biotics as a preventative against Lyme Disease. Can’t say if the bite is infected or not, it might be, another story. And as of now, I don’t have Lyme Disease.
I think it’s okay, I think I’m out of the woods, so to speak, and I only have to take the anti-biotics for one day as of now. If the Lyme recurs, I’ll be back (none of the tell-tale bulls eyes).
Ticks were not something I had to live with for much of my life, and they are really not avoidable in my current life, not unless you live in a sealed and air-condition room without dogs or other animals. People tell me to check my clothes and legs after I walk, and I do, usually, unless something comes into my head and I write and I forget about it. Or just don’t see it. It is amazing how such microscopic things can do so much damage.
Climate change has dramatically altered the life of the tick, they don’t die off the way I did when I first moved to upstate New York. The winters were cold enough and long enough to kill them off for five or six months, they don’t quite ever die off now, they are almost always around. The odds of getting bit are mushrooming, so is the alarm and hysteria.
We are getting some guinea hens in May, that will help, they are great tick-eaters, but they won’t be in the woods, and I won’t give up my walks in the woods. Neither will I wish to or be able to afford rushing to the doctor every time a tick bites me. Part of the dance, I think. I’ll find a balance, take it one bite at a time, and try not to get too ticked off. And I think I’ll have a good sleep tonight.
In the morning, new rituals. A farm is marked by rituals, chores and traditions. Waiting for us at the gate every morning is Chloe, Maria’s Haflinger-Welsh pony mare. Ponies are different from horses (and donkeys) and mares are different from other ponies. Chloe is affection, alert and always ready to eat. She reminds of a raptor, she watches the gate and has figured out that if the chain isn’t latched, the gate can be opened. I had a donkey – Carol – who did this.
This would never occur to sheep, or to most dogs. These two are happy to see one another, there is always the touching of a nose or two, Maria cleans the mud off of Chloe’s face, Chloe sits patiently while she is greeted. Then we go get hay and Chloe prances and dances with joy on the way to the feeder. A new ritual, a nice ritual.
A few years ago, I took August Wilson’s powerful admonition to heart, I confronted the dark parts of myself, worked to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Our willingness to wrestle with our demons will cause our angels to sing, he wrote.
I think of this beautiful quote every month when I steel myself to remember what it is I am worth, to request being paid for my work, and to banish my demons of doubt and shame with illumination and forgiveness.
Until recently, I could not bear to ask to be paid for my work, I have come to see my ability to do this as a measure of my own worth and self-esteem. That has been a valuable step for me. Getting paid for one’s work is, after all, a dignity issue, a measure not only of survival but of how the world views us. A measure of the worth of my words and images. My photos are free, I do not watermark or copyright them, you are free to use them and my words as you need or wish.
Many sites link or reprint my posts, those are free also. My posts are free spirits, I mean to send them out into the world to spread my word, to tell others that I have survived, I am alive.
A couple of months ago, I launched a voluntary payment program on the blog. It is so that people who find the blog valuable, informative, useful or uplifting in any way can pay me for my words and pictures. These payments support the blog and make it possible.
Publishing has changed. Before the great recession, I did not ask for payments for the blog, I didn’t need to. Now I do. The payments matter.
And the blog is and will always remain free to those who can’t pay for it. But times have changed for you, as for me, and I am engaged in the very experimental effort to pioneer the life of the new writer, my readers are here online, and I have come with them. For this to work, I have to be paid. Life is expensive, the blog is expensive to maintain, it is updated just about every day of the year. I mean to remain a writer, I mean to remain relevant.
Many of you have decided to support my work, and I thank you. Most of the readers of my blog have not yet made that decision, and so today’s reminder is for you, if you are so inclined. I am offering payments in several ways. People who prefer can write me at my wonderful Post Office Box, P.O. Box 205, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.
Or you can set up your own account here. I have no access to it, only you do, and you can change or cancel at any time. No financial information of any kind is stored on my site or server. A one year suggested payment is $75, I understand tight budgets, so two other options are offered – $5 a month or $10 a month.
The payment is for my words and photos (also expensive) and they support the maintenance of the farm – Fate, Red, the animals. I am committed to my blog, I see it as my great work, my living memoir. I am proud of it and work hard at it and am deeply touched by all of your messages thanking me for it.
So this is part of my illumination, my angels are singing right here. Please support my work if you can, and if you can’t or choose not to you, you are very welcome here. No one is keeping track. So many of you have supported me from the beginning, and I will not forget you. In recent times, the blog is deepening, exploring a number of new things – spirituality, culture. In the last year, the blog has helped raise more than $120,000 for good people and worthy causes.
I am excited to be exploring the new life of the writer. Please come along the ride. If you care to pay me for my work, you can do so here. I guess this is about what I am worth. Ultimately, not for me to decide.
(A reminder, you can manage your own account, I have no access, for your protection and my sanity). You can use Paypal or major credit cards. I appreciate your support.
I stood in the pasture yesterday and watched Maria brush her pony Chloe, who was filthy from walking in mud and rolling in dirt. Chloe stands easily and quietly when she is being brushed, as she does. I saw this circle of love in my head. Red was lying in the background watching the sheep intently, as he does. Fate was watching Maria and the pony, occasionally glancing over at the sheep and running in circles around them, as she does.
Maria had a look of fierce concentration as she brushed the dirt off of her horse, who she loves. We need to pay attention to nature and animals if we wish to know them and care for them well. It seemed a beautiful tableau to me, of connection and harmony, everyone in their place, at ease doing what they do. Such moments are special to me healing and powerful in their own quiet way.
