In the Northeast, we are heading at warp speed toward late fall and winter. The time of year when it may be painfully cold to be outside. The time of year when we all tend to want to be inside by a fire, surrounded by friends and family.

But how do we do this when COVID still lurks around us? Especially if you have someone especially vulnerable in your household, how do you keep a sense of community or connections with the isolation?

Think about other ways to keep connections. Phone calls. Text messages. Emails. Zooming. Facetime. Shorter visits outside while bundled up. Postcards. Letters. Cards. Packages left on the front steps or porch. Messages written in the frost on the windshield. Get creative, people!

Our ancestors often went months, if not years, without seeing their loved ones close up. But they kept a sense of connection through other ways. Think of ways you can do the same, and share them with your friends and family — start new traditions that are safe and healthy, and use them to form new family folklore and rituals.

Let’s get creative, and make sure everyone feels connected to someone — let’s all do our part!

(And if you have great ideas — share them, please!)

In August, I had a strange dream. In that dream, I was told that it was time for us to get a cat again.

Again? Why now? It seemed like an odd thing to hear in a dream.

Our last cat, Sbeckles (yes, spelled correctly), died almost seven years ago. While she was the family’s cat, truly she was Sam and Ben’s cat. And even though she was smelly, not-very-smart, often dirty, and couldn’t purr to save her life, we were heartbroken when it was her time to transition onward because she was a living link to Sam. We had no intention of ever getting another cat after Sbeckles…

Then I had this dream. And we got a kitten. A teeny, tiny, light gray striped female kitten. We named her Hattie in a nod to one of our favorite Twiddle songs.

This was Hattie on her second day with us, when she fell asleep after figuring out how to climb stairs. That was our first teaching from Hattie — when you are tired, rest!

Time has passed, and Hattie has grown and grown. Each day we marvel at her learning and her personality. She brings us joy and laughter, and more love than we can express.

What else has Hattie taught us?

Exploring is good! This is Hattie exploring her own litter box…

She has also taught us to be in the moment. For example, when I am writing and she thinks it is time to take a moment to be with her, she will do anything to press that point, such as coming up under the laptop.

She has also taught us about play. Each morning, we have to play fetch with her, and she will bring us her mouse over and over, dropping it at our feet so we can throw it one more time.

She has taught us about companionship, and the benefit of being a quiet and attentive presence with us. This is Hattie keeping me company while I work.

That dream, telling us to get a kitten, was truly a gift, as was finding Hattie McCat.

Vermont has experienced one of the warmest summers in our history this year. Frankly, Vermonters don’t do heat well. We are more a population that likes the cold. After all, we choose to live in a state that has a long, cold, snowy winter almost every year.

In the last few days, the weather has started to change. The mornings are cool. The late evenings call for a sweatshirt or a small fire in the fire pit outside. The squirrels are beginning to hurry hiding their food for the winter.

And the leaves are beginning to change. Not many of them, but a few. Tiny spots of red are appearing, and soon we will be in the midst of our glorious fall foliage. For the first time in my lifetime, I expect that foliage season will be a bit quieter than normal as Vermont is discouraging visitors due to the pandemic.

What does fall mean to us? It means spending time on stacking firewood, canning, freezing produce, buttoning up the house, making sure the gardens are cleaned, and so many more tasks. While I always welcome the coming of spring, I have to admit that fall brings with it the gradual slowing of the pace of life as we spend less time farming and that slow-down is welcomed.

What about you? Are you looking forward to fall and winter or dreading it?

Over the last months, I have heard so many people mention that they are feeling stressed. Why wouldn’t you be stressed right now? In the midst of a pandemic, we are seeing civil unrest, economic concerns, and so much more.

What can you do about it that doesn’t cost additional money or put you in greater health risk? Go outside, even if just opening your door and breathing deeply. Give thanks for what is good and brings joy or peace in your life. Send a note of love or support to someone, a text will do.

Life is uncertain, no matter whether or not we are in a pandemic. Change and uncertainty are hard, period. Finding those moments of peace that open your heart and soul will help keep you whole, and will let your light shine for yourself and others.

Breathe. Give thanks. Love. Go outside. Do all of them over and over again as many times as you need!

Everyone seems to be stressed right now. Everyone. Children seem stressed by both the limitations in a COVID-19 world, as well as internalizing the stress of the adults in their lives. Adults are stressed trying to keep everyone safe, fed and housed. Masks are tiring and can cause stress as well.

With all of that, many (or all) of us have our emotions closer to the surface than normal. You can hear people snapping at others, whether at the grocery store or over parking spaces. And mask requirements? Everyone has as strong feeling one way or another. Toilet paper? Somehow, still, there seem to be shortages, leading to nasty encounters as people try to grab packages in stores.

So, we are stressed. Much is still uncertain. But one thing is for sure. In this time of stress, we all need to reach deep inside for our patience, gratitude, and for decency in how we treat self and others. Kindness is the key to all of this.

How can we help others? It doesn’t have to be big things or gifts. Text messages saying you care can go a long way to lift spirits. Thanking people when you call a company asking for information. Returning emails promptly and with gentle wording. Saying hello to others when you are masked as they can’t see your smile. Small actions can make a huge difference.

Kindness and relentless love, they are the keys to all of us getting through this stressful time with a sense of community instead in a fractured, angry manner.

Sending love to you all!

In the last week, I have been moved to tears by both a theatrical performance (televised) and a television series (Netflix). That is the power of the written word brought to life in presentation art.

First, the television series. Season 3 of Ozark, specifically the story line about Ben Davis. Now, if you haven’t watched the series, you are probably wondering why it touched me. The answer is simple, it is the most realistic and painfully honest depiction of bi-polar disorder I have ever seen on the screen. As many of you know, my father suffers from bi-polar disorder, as did Sam. When it is well-treated and controlled, the person (and those who love them) have a relatively normal life. And when it isn’t, life is chaotic, funny, painful, sad, frustrating — and all of those feelings can happen in a ten minute space of time. It is a roller coaster you can’t truly understand unless you have lived it, but the actor’s depiction of it is the best I’ve ever seen. And the response of his sister? So painfully honest and realistic… The hope. The anger. The sadness. The guilt. The willingness to try one more thing. It is a brilliant depiction, and it is a gift to the world because it gives a brief glimpse through that window of experience.

The second was watching Hamilton. Thankfully, as I hadn’t seen it prior to last night, nor did I know much about the story line, a member of the group Compassionate Friends posted online prior to the television event that the depiction of the grief of losing a child was so well done that it could be triggering. I am so thankful to that person for sharing that information, as it meant that I had a pocket full of tissues with me. The lyrics about losing a child and life after was spot on, and painful to watch. Yes, I cried. But as I looked around the people watching it outside with us, most of whom hadn’t buried a child, I saw many tears snaking down their cheeks. No, if you haven’t experienced this loss, you can never really understand it, but that theatrical representation is just plain brilliant, and again, gives a glimpse through that window.

How fortunate we are to be able to see such incredible performances, based on such strong writing, so that we can see into the lives and emotions of others.

When I was teaching, I had a colleague who often referred to whiners as growing a garden of grievances.  Lately, I admit it, I have been sowing, weeding, watering, and fertilizing a garden of gorgeous grievances. Gorgeous. Luscious. Aggressive and pervasive grievances. Why? Because, well, no other way to say it, the last couple weeks have tried my patience, and it has made me cranky.

That is not the way I want to look at life. But it has been difficult to not look at things that way. Yes, I’ve followed my practice of daily gratitude, but frankly, sometimes it has been through gritted teeth.

Today I took a deep breath. Did I really want to continue to cultivate my garden of grievances or one of gratitude? Ultimately, yes, after some tears, I came to gratitude. And then I took this picture.

This is one of the garden boxes the men in my life made for me this spring, and it is gorgeous. I choose to grow a garden this way — appreciating love, laughter, support, kindness, and empathy.

Which kind of garden are you growing? Which kind do you want to grow?

 

As many of you know, either because you know us personally, you’ve read this website since the beginning, or you read my memoir, I have a bad, nasty, horrible history of phone calls in the night. Okay, let’s get real, how many bits of good news are delivered via phone in the wee hours of the night, right?

On October 9, 2013, while we were still sleeping, the phone rang at 5:34 in the morning, with the news that our beloved Sam “might” be dead. You know how that story goes, there was no “might” about it.

Now, long before that call, I had trouble sleeping. I’ve had insomnia most of my life. Sam’s death moved it to biblical proportions.

Fast forward to last night. I was in a rare deep sleep cycle, and at 3:34 a.m. this morning, the phone rang. I was so asleep, I thought it was the alarm (which I turned off, meaning that I overslept this morning), but finally realized it was the phone. In the dark, I struggled to find the receiver and croaked. “Hello?”

The woman on the other end barked. “Oh. Wrong number,” and slammed down the receiver. No apology. Nothing.

Here’s the thing. That simple wrong number isn’t just a wrong number when you have experienced a trauma that originally arrived from a phone call in the wee hours of the morning. It isn’t that simple. That phone call last night threw me into hours of a racing heart, fear, grief, sadness, a little bit of anger for the woman’s cold response, then contemplating what is coming with the ALS, and how I can help with that. From 3:34 until 5:48 (the last time I looked at the clock), I had hours of grief, fear, and anxiety. I can’t tell you how many times I talked myself through mindfulness breathing routines. I did the full-body tense-and-relax activities. I envisioned a white wall and focused on it. I visualized the places on earth where I am happiest, and the people I am happiest to be with there. None of that helped because I was too triggered.

Why am I telling you all this? Because if you have experienced trauma in your life, no matter how you try to protect yourself, you may come into situations where it is triggered, and it will knock the stuffing right out of you. Even now, my hands are still shaking and I am tired and fighting a headache from that adrenaline rush from when the phone rang. But the person calling didn’t set out to do this to me. While I would question why anyone is calling someone (it was a local Vermont number) at that time of the night, still, she didn’t plan to trigger me. But it did.

If you have a history of trauma, take care of yourself. Be gentle. Don’t expect perfection from yourself. And if you trigger someone else, own it, learn from it, and give as much love as you can to the person you have harmed.

 

 

I have often written about why we choose to grow as much of our own food as possible. Health reasons. Financial reasons. Environmental reasons. Being-painfully-independent reasons. But the most important reason is for our own mental health…

Right now, between the racial tensions in the country, COVID-19, and the partisan divide, we all are stressed. Even if you don’t have to worry financially right now, it still is a time that provokes anxiety. That is why I grow vegetables. The time I spend in the dirt, digging, planting, weeding, mulching, harvesting and processing are moments when I connect with the larger universe, forget about my own petty issues, and find peace in my soul.

Yesterday, I spent the majority of my day on my  knees in the garden. I planted, mulched and weeded. And I thought about my obligation to other humans, and what kind of a world I want for my grandchildren. At the end of the day, I was dirty and tired, but my heart was far less heavy than when I started.

Here are some pictures from our farm. Hopefully, they will make you smile.

 

The little chicks, in a clean house. Their names are Stella, Ethel, Scout, Papi and Kinko.

 

 

The big, woolly girls, hoping to convince me to bring them more grain. They were unsuccessful.

 

 

Our new raised beds, with perennial herbs and some vegetables. The picture on the right has Sam’s hot peppers in it.

 

 

And finally, a picture of Sam’s garlic, growing tall and proud.

 

Last Saturday, we had inches of snow. Tomorrow, we will start planting our big vegetable garden. We have already planted several rows of early greens, peas, beets and radishes, but tomorrow, the real fun begins.

Tomorrow, we will plant (finally!) our perennial herb garden. Then a flower garden. Then, hopefully start our biggest vegetable garden. If I get organized, I will share photos.

Why do we do this? Because it brings us joy and peace. Because we produce our own food, knowing where it came from.  It is one of the things that means the most to us as a family, and I can’t wait for it to really start tomorrow.