Shifting Landscapes by Sara Wright

(Written on Oct. 27)

 Adjusting to earth changes is as much of a personal challenge as is my aging process… The earth and I are both struggling to survive the age of the Anthropocene. Hard times.

It’s late October and the next turning of the wheel will soon be upon us. The Days of the Dead. Honoring the Ancestors, those who came before… I think of the Sandhill cranes flying south in loose family aggregations and believe some of my ancestors must be these birds… I missed seeing them this year due to an accident, but say earth prayers for their safety on the wing… I remember my Grandmother.

 Coming home to faded insect ridden leaves, many withered and brown covering the ground, I discovered that this year I expected what I witnessed, so genuine acceptance is creeping into my psyche as I sadly acknowledge an earth that is demonstrating her struggle on a visceral level. With so few brilliant fall leaves, I still take pleasure out of every single one regardless of color, the curling ochre ferns, and the brilliant yellow witch hazel bush by the brook. After dropping her oval leaves witch hazel will produce gorgeous yellow fingers- sparkling bursts of light – flowers at this time of year are scarce and each is a treasure.

The birds are absent for the most part, feasting in the newly cut field. Acorns are plentiful keeping turkeys, squirrels, and jays in the forest. The chickadees are seeking the last of the insects on my fruit trees. Protein rich, these foods will help these little birds as well as the titmice, nuthatches, woodpeckers, juncos, and others survive the coming winter.

My beloved little girls (dogs) are still living elsewhere lovingly cared for by my heroic Vet – the one person who came to see me during my incarceration. Because of him they finally let me go…

Now I am doing my best to accept being a housebound person for the foreseeable future. I love the early mornings when I can step carefully out onto the porch perched on a walker to catch glimpses of the early morning light while listening to the chickadees animated conversation.

I am grateful to be alive.

I have one neighbor across the road that I asked to buy food for me, but her curt response to my query was “find someone else”. While in the house of horrors this woman said she would water my plants. For the first time in my life, thanks to her negligence mold is killing my indoor friends. Once I cared for this woman’s dog for 14 months. Now, when I so needed help the hidden ‘woman hater’ suddenly appeared. Why am I  stunned? Cruelty and indifference are everywhere I remind myself. Just let go.

Others, genuine caring people stepped in. Two women I barely know have been bringing me food though they live in neighboring towns, and yesterday they took me to a doctor’s appointment. Such a blessing to have found this level of kindness operating in some women I barely know. I do have friends out of state who have come to visit and help when they can. People I care for deeply; each visit is a gift.

After too many deluges to count all summer, my little wooden cabin is saturated with moisture. The skies are changing. We rarely have a sunny day – almost always clouds of one kind or another, but at least the air quality improved for a while this month. I love listening to the brook at night through my open window… The occasional gray tree frogs are still singing here in the hollow.

It continues to rain. High humidity is still the norm.  I tell myself daily to expect anything in terms of weather as well as the loss of species. Geoengineering is no ‘conspiracy’ theory but the reality of the skies. If you pay close attention to the cloud ridden dome over our heads you will note the changes.

Fog has been relentless. When this polluted blanket settles over the valleys and mountain hills it brings in what I call ‘dead air’ – the sweet scent of moisture is absent – completely. I noted this trend all summer long with cloud cover and heavy moisture coming from both the flooded and saturated ground and the lower atmosphere above.

I am not a meteorologist, but it is obvious that there is a relationship between the strange low cloud cover and air pollution – every night I sleep with my windows open now that we are well into fall but last night the dead air woke me up. Checking the air quality monitor, I realized that we were almost up to a hundred, supposedly “not dangerous to most humans”. The air quality index does not measure the most threatening particles of all. Micro-plastics are entering our lungs, clogging our arteries with every breath we take; our bodies are riddled with plastic. Air pollution has become one of the worst threats all living beings face…the usual ruse is to remind people it’s worse elsewhere.

Two nights ago a murderer who is still at large despite a frantic state-wide search killed 18 people and seriously wounded 13 others in a nearby city. Schools are closed, banks, restaurants etc. are still shut down two days later and people are afraid. The news tells us that this kind of mass murder just doesn’t seem possible here in Maine… and yet hear we are. Banning semi – automatic rifles is something the State of Maine WILL NOT DO.

I do my best to stay as much in the present as possible. We are not only living the unknown but through breakdown, and yet there are fierce little firefly lights like the women who have come to my aid. As winter sets in I expect to have more challenges, but today I am waiting for my little dogs to visit, and soon they may come home.

I owe my beloved Vet a debt of gratitude that is beyond my capacity to articulate. Without this man’s willingness to care for my dogs and his most compassionate intervention on my behalf I might well be dead.

 The concept of feeling “hope” has become something of a  delusion for me at this point. However, a willingness to engage with the future by staying with ‘what is’ is author Richard Power’s idea of what hope means for people today and this makes good sense to me.

Patriarchy may be in its death throes, but my sense is that the suffering has just begun.