The Christmas Miracle

Hairy-stemmed poison ivy grew all over the garage's northern wall and wasn't visible until the foliage was gone. Ivy overgrowing a structure not only crawls all over it, but pulls with incredible strength. It can pull whole trees down or part the stones in a stone wall. It was gathering under the garage roof in a conspiracy. The ivy had to go. And nobody else was gonna cut it down, so it was on me.

Trouble was, I could barely move or think, being so burnt out from work it was too much effort to raise my arms overhead, much less pick up a cutting tool. Was limping around. Couldn't stay standing for long. Couldn't think of words, either. I had healing to do, but how? Stupid woo-woo advice from the Internet said sleep, meditation, yoga, little or no Internet (the net generates decision fatigue), and replace the Internet with books.

Okay, then: waking shockingly late, exhausted on waking, feeling corny every minute of the yoga DVD and meditation app, working as much as able (about 1/4 the normal), drinking coffee (it didn't help), and the rest of the time reading, starting with McCullough's hefty Harry Truman biography. Sprinkle in a few meetings or meals with friends and four days of cat-sitting. Three weeks and this morning I get out of bed saying, "This is the day I tape down that one carpet" and even before morning coffee it was done, and I still had energy. With temperatures in the high 50s I dressed in long sleeves and long pants and gloves, and bushwhacked behind the garage (all overgrown) to the ivy-covered garage wall and started severing the vines.

Took about an hour. It was a miracle: I still had energy. Severed some honeysuckle vines along the lane. Still had some energy. Shampooed and showered in case any poison ivy touched me. While on the bedroom floor putting on sneakers I saw some spaces all dusty and cobwebby. Dragged out the vacuum and vacuumed them up. Then -- then! -- I still had enough energy to cook a baked potato and an egg in butter. And eat them! And then write this post!

It's a miracle! Merry Christmas, happy holidays, blessed solstice.

Janitor of Eden

After two weeks away, the first thing to do is empty the mousetraps. Very fortunately there was only one mouse cadaver, fresh thank God, because had it been two weeks old it'd be stuck to the floor. I'd left May 20, just when there's so much to do to ensure a good summer here. Like:

• repair the porch screen. My sworn enemies, the squirrels, chewed through it and gnawed the plastic gasket from the metal step-can I store those delicious sunflower seeds in -- but failed to get to the seeds. Nyah, nyah.
• buy basil and dill plants and soil for repotting into the pots they'll occupy all summer, pots carried into full sun every morning and sheltered next to the house at nightfall, because otherwise the squirrels overturn and uproot them out of pure spite.
• clean and refill hummingbird feeders. I almost didn't want to leave for two weeks because the empty feeders would disappoint the hummingbirds, but I'm hoping my extra-sweet nectar recipe will persuade them to return and trust me; I don't intend to leave them again.
• retrieve the seed feeder from the underbrush where raccoons had dragged and left it; soap and rinse it, dry it in the sun. Acquire a poison-ivy hickey on my left leg.
• greet new young turtles and rabbits who have no idea I live here too.
• witness a high-speed chase: Miss Turkey in hot pursuit of a hefty blacksnake sidewinding itself across the grass at top speed and beneath the propane tank, thus winning that round.
• pull and dry the spring onions before they form heads.
• refill those clever little outdoor mouse-poison dispensers with green-turquoise blocks of mouse poison. They work; they've cut the indoor mouse war by 75 percent.
• approach the bluebird box to clean it. Yes, one must clean one's bluebird box. I didn't want to. Last time I looked, the nest held three baby chickadees and a baby bluebird. This is unusual. I feared finding the nest holding one or more dead. With gloved hands I unhooked the box and pulled out the nest. It was empty. Everyone had fledged! I was overjoyed.
• inspect the forest floor where the summer mushrooms grow. Despite an inch of rain, found nothing. It's still quite early in the season. On the way, saw butterflies enjoying the blossoming milkweed.
• check blackberry brambles for incipient blackberries, due in about three weeks. There are indeed little blackberry bullets. Last year's drought meant we had no crop. This year I hope for better.
• buy at the fruit and vegetable stand every sort of fresh tasty thing: beets, apples, tomatoes, sweet potatoes, kale, berries, mushrooms, red onion, bananas, peppers, grapefruit, romaine -- to refill the fridge and to purify myself after two weeks away. And oh, yes, buy a bottle of wine, a rose, but I won't admit to that.
• clean the picnic table; apply a tablecloth.

All this activity was joyful. Give me a new computer stand and I'm in Eden! I'm so glad to be home, among the plants and creatures.

Treating Poison Ivy with Coconut Oil

I tramped in the woods wearing low-cut shoes although I know better, and at home rinsed and toweled off my legs to dislodge chiggers and ticks, but didn't scrub with soap and water, and the next day enormous red blistered patches were blotching both ankles and one spot on my calf. Last time I had poison ivy I saw a dermatologist (15 years ago, back when you could get in to see a dermatologist), which reminds me:

Friend developed rashes shaped like a map of South America up and down her legs, and they were enlarging. Worried and feverish, she called the dermatologist, then another, then another. No appointments were available for a whole year. She went to a dermatologist's office anyway and told the receptionist she'd sit in the waiting room to see a doctor, even if it took all day or all week. Finally one saw her. Friend had Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, a tick-borne, potentially fatal illness. They got her the medicine and then, really oddly, thanked her for coming in.

But poison ivy must run its course of 3 itchy, miserable weeks, doctor or not, so I used the standard treatment, cortisone ointment, but still itched. Finally I anointed the bright-red rashes on my ankles--they blistered and itched the most--with coconut oil. The next day the ankle patches (bottom of photo) had lost their redness, while the untreated calf patch (at the top) was still bright red. Used coconut oil on all patches for another night. Redness and itching faded. What a relief. Photograph taken three days after getting poison-ivied. I hope this information helps someone.

Find the Greensnake

Suddenly I saw it in the poison ivy, which is still pale green and a bit sparse. It was hanging festooned in there, so well camouflaged it took my country-sharpened eye to see it. I got my camera. So eager was I to get theses photo for us that I poison-ivied my right forearm, the first poison ivy of the year. Worth it. And to watch it slink away suspended in poison ivy branches--priceless. In the vertical picture the snake twines up from the bottom of the photo, around a branch.

Town Meets Country

My friend Carmel, a city girl, in fact a ballerina, just bought a modular and 2 acres of woods on a little lake in Franklin County about 15 minutes from my place. Has 3 bedrooms, 2 baths and a nice deck, but she hadn't been in the woodsy part yet, so we explored. "Is that poison ivy?" she asked. I said, "If it's Missouri, it's poison ivy." "Eeeew," said Carmel. Her new neighbor's pit bull was running loose and while Carmel is great with dogs and this one (named "Loco;" mine are named "Osama" and "Sluggo") seemed friendly, she saw it had mange and warned me not to encourage or pet it, because "Eeew." And the same neighbor has adopted some Canada geese and you know what kind of "Eeew" they leave behind. I wanted a photo of her standing on her new property, the shady, snaggy end of the lake opposite the dam. I said she needed a johnboat because we could fish and gig frogs there. And maybe there were water snakes. "Water snakes! Eeew!" she said.

I said, "Carmel, if you're going to live in the country, the very first thing to know is that you have to give up saying 'Eeeew'."