Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

When the shelter-in-place order came, I wondered how long it was going to take for nature to respond to the lessened human activity outdoors. It definitely didn't take long. Earlier today, a friend texted about having deer in her backyard, something she's never seen in the five years of living in her house. Then, when Ado and I were crossing the hill on our afternoon walk, I saw what I thought was a coyote at the bottom of the hill. I hurried home with Ado, grabbed my camera, and went back out to see if I could get some photos. As I edged around the patch of taller prairie grass, I saw the coyote. This poor thing looked absolutely awful. So skinny. Much of its hair gone. It favored one of its back legs, too, keeping the paw from touching the ground. Somehow it had managed to find something to eat, most likely a rabbit it had come across in the prairie grasses. Those eyes! Though I didn't get to use my new lens to capture photos of the Sandhill Cranes, I had the oppo

So the bead project didn't work out so great, mostly because I just pushed the beads to the side to concentrate on something else. That something else was this, my new home. My closing was yesterday, and for the last ten days, I was really worried it wasn't going to happen. The last three days, especially, I was nervous to the point of trying to find anything and everything to do to keep me busy. Yesterday, I didn't eat all day. When I was in my car heading back home after the closing, I realized just how hungry I was. I fixed myself a grilled cheese and bacon sandwich (yeah, eating two things I rarely eat -- bread and bacon), and I settled into my chair in front of the fireplace. That grilled cheese and bacon tasted wonderful. And it began to sink in that this is MY house. With the upheaval happening, I feel extremely blessed that everything stayed on course. While I was sitting in the conference room with my lender, I learned others who are in the process of gettin

Okay, so this isn't a continuation of my paper bead project. What I can say about that is the beads are drying but still not quite ready for the next step. This . . . this is me thinking through the situation with my husband. Three years have now passed since I made the decision to move out. Two and a half years have now passed since I told him I don't wish to reconcile. And twelve hours have passed since I watched a movie that totally creeped me out. The man in the movie was my husband. He wouldn't accept that the young woman he wanted so badly didn't want him. He kept sending texts, emails, showing up. She blocked his texts. She blocked his emails. She moved to a new city and he followed. She was constantly looking over her shoulder. I've blocked my husband's texts. And emails. I lock the door now when I'm home because he would just barge in as if he lives here. I am constantly looking over my shoulder. And I'm tired of it. My best friend says

So the whole masquerade mask project was fun and kept me from constantly reading what continues to be bad news on top of bad news, so I decided to try another artsy project. I just couldn't decide on what kind of project, though, so for a while, I sat and watched this: I am so thankful to the Rowe Sanctuary for having the live feed. The best times to watch are at dawn and then again at dusk. I was actually in tears yesterday as I watched the cranes, as if by some silent cue, all lift up at once, taking flight to go spend the day in the nearby fields. It was incredible. While streaming the feed to the TV (I decided to bring the TV down from upstairs; I figure if I'm going to have to be home, I might as well enjoy some movies), I looked over at the growing stack of newspaper by the fireplace. I almost got up to get a fire going, but then it hit me what to do for my next art project: paper beads. Instead of burning all that beautiful, colorful, useless paper, I might a

I have imposed limits on my news consumption. I simply cannot read anymore without becoming emotional. I know we'll get through this, but the thoughts that so many people could be/most likely will be ill and there are those who are so vulnerable make me incredibly sad.  So, to distract myself (since I am now working from home until further notice, and the only way I can really do any work from home is to amuse myself with "fun" breaks in between grading papers), I made a mask. No, not the kind of mask that helps prevent the spreading of germs. Seriously, what would be the fun in that? That would just add to my sadness. I'm trying to alleviate said sadness, so a fun mask seemed the way to go. After much thought, I imposed a couple of rules. Rule 1: The mask had to be made mostly from trash. Rule 2. One rule was enough. So I found an egg carton I'd put into the recycling bin. I cut off the lid and trimmed the sides. Having no idea how to go about ma

This morning we awoke to snow. Beautiful, heavy, wet snow covering everything in a thick layer. So after taking Ado for his walk, I went back out and captured some of the beauty. And as I sit here, the snow is still coming down, not finished with creating its work of art.

After agonizing deliberation and talking with close friends, I decided to cancel my Nebraska trip. My gut is telling me to stay put, so I'm going to listen and hang out here at home. The cranes will be there next year, and hopefully I will be, too. I have a dear, dear friend in Spain, and she just learned her semester is over. She has been ordered to return home pronto. My college has asked that she self-quarantine once home. Her husband and four-year-old twins are with her. I cannot imagine the worry, fear, and frustration she must be experiencing right now, trying to get everything packed up, to the airport, then home before tomorrow. Another friend just returned from France. She, too, has been asked to self-quarantine. One university here has extended spring break another week, and all students are not to return to campus until further notice. All classes will be online until at least April 12. Another university here has called back all students studying abroad. My tr

Just three days until my Nebraska adventure! Three! And . . . and, I sold the Cherokee a couple of days ago, so I had the money to buy the telephoto lens I've been drooling over the last four years. Yeah, four years. That's how slow I tend to go when considering buying something. I constantly scrutinize if the money serves a better purpose elsewhere. Like my savings account. With the trip, though, I gave myself the gift of the lens since it will definitely allow me to get better shots of the cranes. Recently, a friend asked me why I chose to make the crane migration a must-do. Honestly, it happened as a result of a book I read: The Echo Maker by Richard Powers. It and Powers' book The Overstory  have been the best two books I've read in a very long time. Both are just absolutely beautiful. Seriously beautiful. The Echo Maker weaves together the connection between memory (rather the loss thereof) and the cranes flying the same route every year. Powers creates a ric