It was a brilliantly sunny, very windy day in the mid-60s, so we checked out Clifton Gorge in the early spring.  OK, it’s not technically spring, but it may as well be.  The water was gushing and falling far below in the deep gorge, and a few brave wildflowers (and masses of runaway grape hyacinths and daffodils) were showing.  There was a garter snake.

The big sky was full of amazing clouds, so I’ll devote a separate post to some early spring Ohio scenes.  If you visit Ohio in winter, you’d come away with a very drab, bleak picture; but come March, the vast fields, farms, and sky burst into life.  Lots of raptors, turkey vultures, mallard ducks, ravens, geese, etc.  And sheep and cattle farms.  Old round-roofed barns that are dwindling.  You can almost imagine the old, simpler Ohio, before the industrial/economic collapse.

See “Clouds”, following.

Today it was in the 70s (!), so after voting (!) we headed over to our Fen HQ.  Many species of frogs were out in force, all croaking, peeping, burping, and chainsawing, all at once!  It was  frog mayhem!  I got a couple of photos, not sure of the varieties.

We stopped and talked nature shop with a nice naturalist type who had his trusty Newcomb’s Wildflower Guide (one of the best, which just happens to be on my wishlist) and a bird guide in tow.  He mentioned seeing kingfishers!  We told him about “our” beavers, and he described how they impact the habitat for better and for worse.  Some of the huge old trees died and eventually fall, because of the rising wetland water level caused by beaver dams.  But that also provides more habitats for other species.

A few early spring natives were up, including the ubiquitous skunk cabbage, some herbaceous wetland wildflower plants that are getting ready to bloom, and pussy willows.  It’s that time of year I love, when everything is on the verge of exploding into life and color.

It’s not much, but sometimes just living another day is something, at this point in life.  The big question is what to do with it.  It’s not so easy as you might think.  You’ve already tried (and failed, as the case may be) to live a decent, purposeful life, and now the long dark teatime of the soul, STS, is ahead.  But that’s not the topic of this post.

What I really want to say is, I have a brilliant, inspiring son.  He has taken on a huge hurdle of a life and is whipping it good!  I can’t even begin to translate or understand all the code languages he speaks, not to mention all the other accomplishments and works-in-progress, but I do have a sense of the metaphorical mountains he has taken on, wrestled with, and scaled, on his way to achieving his self-imposed discipline.  The average person would be lying beaten in a chasm somewhere, but he never loses sight of his goals .  He just takes on each immediate foothill and valley, systematically, not without pain or disorientation, determined to keep moving forward.  If he loses sight of the trail, he whips out his trusty metaphorical compass, and gets back on track.  I’m going to stop with the ineffective metaphor now, but you get my drift.  He’s an inspiration to me every day.

My chance to be someone and do stuff right is probably over, but when I witness my son’s brilliant ideas and accomplishments against all odds, it inspires me to keep living and attempting to make my small, insignificant life count for something.  I know I won’t ever leave a legacy like his, but his life gives me something to emulate and admire.  Despite his difficult background, he has persevered and created something exceptional, and in so doing, improves the lives of others.  Not many people can say that.

I’ll stop now, lest I embarrass him.  Also, my esteemed daughter-in-law may have a somewhat different take on all the above!  After all, she’s been there through most of the downsides that I never get to see.  I know it hasn’t been easy, which is all the more reason for admiration.  Living intentionally and not settling for mediocrity is always an uphill battle.  But worth it in the end.

It was a beautiful cloudy 67 yesterday, so we took a long hike (~3 miles total) at Indian Mound Reserve near Cedarville, along Massie’s Creek.  First we climbed the mound, and then hiked the rock formations along the creek, which was high and rushing rapids at some points.  The waterfall was really gushing.  There were early spring wildflowers in bloom all over.  We were really feeling how out of shape we are!  But it was a relief to get outside and see spring moving right along.

As promised, more photos, this time more closeups of the snake family, who were all lined up sunning themselves against the warm back of the house.  They were probably still half dormant, so they just sat politely for their photos, while I talked to them.  I look forward to working with them in the garden.

This evening’s menu will be an international sampler (since I have so many leftovers to choose from).  We have: Mexican-style chicken, North African-style sweet potatoes/rutabagas/carrots, Mediterranean-style tomatoey rice, Thai-style stir-fry noodles, and American-style cherry pie (store-bought, ‘cuz I’m lazy.)  And of course E’s famous home-baked bread, because she’s not lazy.

Here are Skully and Snakey to wish y’all a cheery erev.  More photos are sure to follow.

Here are the aforementioned photos of my dastardly plan.  Shakshuka, and excellent whole wheat nut and seed bread, by E.  Meanwhile, I sowed more indoor veggie and flower seeds for the sills.

It doesn’t get more domestic than this.  E is industriously making bread and a version of Israeli shakshuka in the kitchen, while I am sitting here at my computer (it’s been raining all night and day, or I’d be outside).  It’s part of my clever conspiracy to get E to cook more—I send recipes her way and see what happens!  My evil plan to be even lazier is working.  Hence, the partnership.

All my seedlings are coming up on all the windowsills.  It’s hard to be patient.  They (and we) want out!  Meanwhile, their future raised beds are turning into a giant litter pan.  Grr.  Does anyone have advice on how to keep stray cats and dogs out of raised beds?  I’m thinking some rolls of mesh or netting for when the seeds and seedlings are just getting started.

Well, bread’s a-risin’, and I’m getting fatter and lazier by the minute, so my work here is done.

Photos to follow…

F@#$ the backache etc.  It was 73, gorgeous, and I did gardening, so there!  I planted some hardened off flower bulbs and perennial herbs outside, making more windowsill room.  The windows are wide open, with a nice breeze  and Steely Dan on the stereo.  Yes, we’re old farts like that.

While digging, a whole beautiful family of garter snakes came out from under some pots out back, where they had a nice warm home.  As soon as they realized I was their friend, we had a nice time looking at each other, and they politely posed for some photos.  I think they appreciated the new herb garden I planted for them.  After a while, they slithered off to check out the rest of the garden, then came back to hang out.  So exciting to be surrounded by any wildlife, after all the hibernation.

Here are my new snakey friends, being photogenic.

So this is what it’s like to be a writer wannabe.  My mind’s a total blank.  It doesn’t help that I’m still sick, plus now my back is killing me, so I can’t escape this blank screen, even if I try.

I almost did another Ohio rant, but what’s the point.  It’s Ohio, ’nuff said.  Nothing new about petty brawls, corruption, and illiteracy.  Just another day in Ohio.  Oh wait, I lied, I feel another rant coming on…

I admit it, despite decades among the Common People, I’m still a snob from a privileged background.  All the poverty in the world can’t seem to take that from me.  I know people can’t help being disadvantaged and ignorant.  It’s built into the system, and perpetuated.   Still, stupidness and illiteracy make me crazy.

It’s like the proverbial healthy white male trying to grasp racism and inequality, when he’s never had to really grapple with it his whole life, as others do.  He’s always going to have that blindness to real, legitimate issues that can’t be dreamed away.

Here I am, experiencing what the other half gets to live with—poverty, crumbling infrastructure, contamination, discrimination, various -isms— pretty humbling stuff.  I should be compassionate, but I’m still looking down from my great heights of—the level flatlands.  It’s like going back a century, only without the charm, just the depression.

It’s almost Dickensian sometimes.  Sewage is constantly backing up into our basement, and no one, the city, the landlord, wants to take responsibility for the non-functional ancient infrastructure, because who cares, it’s just some poor dumb women tenants.  Occasionally some fat guys park a truck out front, roll their eyes at the sewer, drink beer, and leave.

It’s Ohio.  Or Flint, Michigan, you name it, any place in the USA where uneducated poor people don’t count, and stupid greedy politicians make money, but not to fund infrastructure, education, or anything considered progressive.

The curse of privilege is that I’ve been there, done that, and now I’m here at the other end, trying to believe what I’m seeing.  Whereas people who are used to this deplorable status quo never aspire or vote for anything better.  They have nothing to compare to.  They’ve been indoctrinated to submit and resign themselves to being treated this way.  They are convinced they deserve it.  And the ignorance self-perpetuates.

So much for my mind being a blank. There’s always ranting. It seems to be my default setting.  Somebody’s got to do it.  It’s like a curse.  Is it genetic or environmental, or both?  Probably Yes.  Resistance Is Futile.