I've Been Taking A Deep, Long Breath

Green anole in red plastic bucket. Oak leaf for scale.
Not really. The oak leaf was just in there but as you can see, that's a small, young anole. 

Today is the fourth day I've spent right here in my house and yard with the one exception of going to the dump and the post office, and of not speaking with another human in person or by phone except for Mr. Moon. 
And you know what worries me? 
It's that I have gotten neither bored nor lonely. I am been very much contented and at peace. I have not needed to go anywhere and so I haven't. 
I do not think this is normal. I'm pretty sure that eventually I would start craving some human company. I suppose. I remember I used to go out to Dog Island by myself, sometimes for a week at a time, and I was completely alone there, too and I always loved it. Except for the time I went there to try and deal with what I did not know at the time was constant panic-attack-anxiety and what I also did not know was that being alone on an island with virtually no one around me for a week was a very, very bad idea. I still cry when I think about that time. It was truly one of the most terrifying times of my life. I couldn't eat. I would take long, long walks to try and soothe myself. I could sleep, thank all the powers that be, especially if I dosed myself with Benadryl which I am not ashamed to admit I did. That was my only relief. 
But I have not felt that way in a very long time. I take hormones and anti-depressants and I do still occasionally get a visit from the black dog and a sliver of the sharp red terror of anxiety, but nothing, nothing like that time. 

I will go out tomorrow. I really don't desperately need to do a shopping but I probably desperately need to go be amongst the other humans, at least for a short while. 

Maurice is good company, despite her unpredictable slashings. She has been sleeping with me and it is good to have her warm solidness against me. She and I have our routines as to treats and bedtimes and getting-up times. I think they comfort us both. We can depend on that stability. I've worked in the yard the last three days and she always comes out to see what I'm doing, to check on me, I like to think. She is my cat-critter companion and I am her human-critter companion. 

Yesterday was gray and coolish and humid but I worked on clearing the perimeter area of the old oak again. The main plant I've been pulling is called Virginia dayflower unless it is the Asian dayflower. The only way to tell the difference is from the bloom and they are not blooming now. They are both invasive but the Asian one, not being a native, is far more so. But you know how things are in Lloyd- even the mildest of garden plants can become monstrously apt to try and take over the world. At least the world of my yard and they are determined, each and every one, to choke out and replace any and all other plants. 
I know I am not getting all of the rhizome roots by any means. They are thick, white things, stretching from plant to plant and beyond and they are peculiarly apt to break, which means that I can rarely get an entire one at a go. But I am doing my best. I have no idea where these things came from. I never saw one for fifteen years and then suddenly- SURPRISE! 

Today, which was a perfectly beautiful day, I did some more vine trimming along with weed pulling. There's an area to the east of the tree that has the detritus of many fallen vines, some twisty and dried, some thick and still juicy, some which have climbed the bamboo we've let get away from us there. And some of the vines are of the wicked, evil Smilax variety whose thorns will cut you like glass shards. 

Not a great picture but here we have a green, younger one and an older, dried one. Both are equally apt to rip my old, thin skin. I did pretty well with it today but there was cussing involved. 
It was appropriate. 

The azaleas are coming on. 

This is one of the most common colors of the azaleas we have growing here. Some people (Ellen? You?) are not fond of this color but it's what was planted here years ago by someone else and I would never rip those plants out and try to replace them. Besides, fuchsia is quite pleasing to me. It's not pink. It's not purple. It's a sort of an exploding color, I would say.

So what else have I done with this time by myself? 
Not a whole lot. Little things that need doing, I guess. I think a lot. Quite possibly too much but I feel as if I am becoming somewhat callused to realities I do not wish to dwell on. 
Sometimes you can't help it. And I try to stay informed by reading newsletters of people like Heather Cox Richardson and Robert Reich who are intelligent and knowledgable and not complete alarmists but even they can't help but be exactly that at times. I spend too much time on the Reels of FB. My algorithm gives me mostly birth videos and left-leaning political videos. Some cooking videos. Embroidery stitches videos. Oh! And Rolling Stones videos. 

I listen to my audio books and a few podcasts and at night, I read real books in bed. I think about all of these things. I think about my children and my grandchildren. I think about my husband and how impossible it seems that we have loved each other so long. I ponder my dreams and their possible meanings or their impossible meanings. I think about what we should plant in the garden and I think of memories. Good ones, and bad. Memories of the things that have made me who I am. 

I think about guilt and shame a lot because those two things are deeply embedded in my very bones. I think about how, as I get older, their taint is not what it was. 

Ah-la. The point is, I guess, that I am grateful to be fine with my own company in this place I love so much while at the same time, thinking that I should, I really should make more of an effort to be part of the world around me. That I really should not be so very comfortable and content in the peace and the quiet of my home with these hallways, these porches, these things I love. I remind myself there are other trees beyond the ones in this yard, there are other things to see and appreciate. There are people I love who I love to hug and talk to in real life. 

Normally, I would end this by saying, "What a selfish post." 
But I don't feel like that tonight. This is just the reality of what I am feeling and doing and thinking about right now in the seventy-first year of my life. 
I do not feel as if I am done with this life but if I arrived at doneness tomorrow, I think it would be okay. 
Well, it would have to be, right? 
Meanwhile, I believe I will go cook a small fish and cut up some tomatoes and onions and an avocado for my supper. And for right now, this second, I need absolutely nothing more. 

Love...Ms. Moon