Sunday, September 25, 2011

"We're Off to See the Wizard"

Our last vacation was almost 15 years ago. Since we moved to the Black Hills from the Twin Cities we have been occupied with building a house off the grid, losing that house and readjusting to life back on the grid. I have been writing and researching for my books and giving presentations about living off the grid, creating fire-wise homes in the urban interface, and healing and hope after loss. During all of this time we put off doing something just for the two of us to help renew body and spirit.

Some medical issues the past two years helped jolt us into planning a trip strictly for fun and relaxation. I said to my husband,  "We only have a few good years left to see the world, broaden our perspective and touch lightly on other cultures. Sometimes I feel as if I have increasing tunnel vision and I need a bit of Dorothy's Oz."

So we are off for parts of Europe we have never seen. I hope to be able to blog a few times a week from there. If not, you will hear from me when we come back with stories of our adventures. We leave our home in the hands of a capable house/cat sitter, and our garden and bees to a friend steeped in the ways of the land. And, when we return, I know, as always, I will sigh, "There is no place like home!"

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Losing Healing Waters

The news came with a thud. The Evan's Plunge is closing for six months! I was stunned, to say the least. I love the natural mineral waters of our health club. Whenever I swim or attend water aerobics I feel renewed and ready to face the day. We have a long winter ahead and the core of my exercises are those healing waters, the steam room and sauna. We have a peaceful river walk that runs through the heart of town, but it can't compare to the large pool constantly refilled with warm spring waters during the raw, icy days of winter. It was especially important to me this year in helping me recover from surgeries.

What about the other members of the Plunge who faithfully work out in the pool, and who cannot do any other exercise because of their physical ailments? They must be more troubled than I am. Hopefully they have a more positive outlook than I have at this time.

There is also the social aspect of regular attendance. Many issues of the day, large and small, are hashed over in the coziness of the hot tub or sauna. Those interactions may be as important as the restorative physical benefits.

I think about the larger issues of this world to help me put this in perspective. The economy is struggling, unemployment is high world wide and our poor little community has been hit hard.  It is not economically feasable to keep places open when attendance is low. Some of our businesses have closed permanently. It is sad to see so many "for sale" signs in this beautiful town filled with historic sandstone buildings. And now we will have more unemployed people for the next six months.

"People are starving", my mother used to say to me when I was feeling sorry for myself as a child. I know, I know. I knew it then and I know it now, but for this moment I am rolling around in my misery. I think I will watch the news or visit a nursing home to help me put this grievance in its proper place, but for now I am thinking, "It is going to be a long, cold winter."

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Wildfire Revisited

It is fire season once again in the Southern Black Hills. In 2007 we had major fires all over the Hills, the largest disaster being the Alabaugh Fire of 7-7-7. The stories of many firefighters and landowners were recorded for history in "Cascade of Flames", researched and written by this author.

Last month we experienced another tragedy in our small community. During a wildfire in the county five  young firefighters were suddenly surrounded by flames. One received severe burns, several escaped through 100 foot flames with lesser injuries and one firefighter from Hot Springs, who worked for the State of South Dakota, was killed in the flames.

Memories lingered from the out-of-control inferno of four years ago. For some of us it was as if a recently healed injury was re-opened, with memories of smoke, flames and fear seeping into places we thought had healed. In an earlier blog I wrote that it takes three years to heal, and, for the most part, that was true for me. But what I realized abruptly during this episode was that memories can remain forever, less painful, to be sure, but re-emerging for a brief time as a reminder that we may all share, in one way or another, in the sorrow of others.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

September Song

September is my favorite month. The days are cooling down, the nights are crisp, the garden is rich with tomatoes, lettuce and squash of every variety. The migrating birds are stopping with greater frequency at the bird bath and feeders to pack up for their flights southward. Many of the flowers are gone for this season but our double wave spreading petunia has certainly lived up to its name and completely filled the large wooden container on our deck.

Flitting in and out of my enjoyment of this season is a tinge of sadness, knowing that this time is short, the days are getting shorter and soon the longer and colder nights will be with us. I always loved the "September Song". It is still one of my favorites even though it, too, laments the shortness of this time of year and the days of our life. Yet, like the song, I want to be more fully aware that what really matters "as the days dwindle down to a precious few..." is to enjoy this day to the fullest and relish "these few precious days I'll spend with you. These precious days I'll spend with you."

Sunday, September 11, 2011

It Is Never the Same

September 11, 2001.  None of us who were around will forget it. "They" say that our country changed and it will never be the same. "They" are correct. We who were here before that day are very aware of the changes. The media brings that fact to our attention at every turn.

As I was reading and listening to this week's media I thought, "It has always been so."  Since the time of our early ancestors there have been changes; some subtle and some dramatic:  fire, animal domestication, agriculture, trade, the industrial revolution, the American Revolution, the Arab Spring, wars, and numerous inventions such as the wheel,  printing press,  automobile, radio, television, computers, cell phones, and on and on. Natural disasters and mass migrations have certainly brought striking modifications to the world as it was known before those events.

Change can be for the better and it can also cause pain. It is difficult for me  to adapt to most changes. I resist the internet world and instant communication and the loss of a quieter life....unhooked, uncharged, unconnected. Yet I use the latest gadgets when necessary and they can make my life easier and bring me more information about the world around me. I find that I do not digest it all, however. At times I have information overload and it passes over, soon forgotten or muddled in my head. The books I read in the quiet of the night do stay with me, in some cases for my whole life. The moments I spend with myself, my thoughts, and nature bring me a calm that soon shatters if I become too involved in the world of distractions.

My husband and I manage to resist some change. We are back on the grid for now but we have limited television, no cell phone, no call waiting. I find that I can lose focus so quickly when inundated with the noise of the world. We make choices every day, for better or worse, and my hope is that I may keep from either extreme of too much connectedness or too little, whatever that might mean.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Another Farewell

Last night we buried our sweet black and white tuxedo cat. Bob dug a hole in our flower bed, covered it with catnip, laid her inside and covered her with black dirt and flower bulbs that come up every Spring.  Her body was still warm even though it was about three hours since the vet had put her down.

I had spent a sleepless night before that stressful drive, crying in the dark living room, lit only by the television that I vainly attempted to use as a distraction and sleeping aid. I cried yesterday on the way to the vet and while waiting there, holding the frightened ball of fur in my arms. The veterinarian was sympathetic. She handed me Kleenex while I told her how we had rescued our cat from a shelter eight years before where she had been living in a cage for six months, waiting for someone to adopt her. I told the vet how we had given her a good home, spoiled her, as we do with all of our pets. Now it was time, and the best for her, to put her down.

On the drive back home I told my husband that maybe I should not get anymore pets. Letting go was so difficult. I was glad that we still had our sixteen year old cat. He has kidney failure and I had thought he would be the first to go. He is still frisky, with a great appetite. I wonder if he will miss his buddy? Both cats had come through the fire with us, and all of changes that followed. I wonder how much loss he will feel?

Tonight, another sleepless one, I thought about the many pets I had over the years. Most of them were abandoned and needing a permanent home. Each time I had to part with them it brought pain. They really can become an important part of a family. Why, I thought, didn't it become easier each time to say goodbye?

It seems that this time I shed more tears for a small, gentle black and white cat than any before her. Perhaps it is because I am in a vulnerable state now after a difficult summer with health issues. Or maybe it is because each time I say another goodbye It brings back memories of the most difficult goodbyes... a mother, a sister, a father, and, earlier this year, a brother.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

It Takes Three Years

Many people told us after the fire that it would take a year to fully recover emotionally from such a disaster.

These are the things that I noticed. It took about six months until both of us could read again. We had no TV but we spent our evenings watching movies. I have never seen so many movies before or after the fire as I did during that time span. In January after the fire I began to read the newspapers and some articles in magazines. It was then that I continued my interviews for "Cascade of Flames" and began to write again. After that I know that the healing continued because my nightmares lessened and my thoughts were less focused on smoke and fire.

The year passed and we were busy moving on with our lives. The next revelation came to me three years after the fire. I began to take a greater interest in travel, and the world outside, and resumed conducting my presentations. My husband, Bob, began once again (on a much smaller scale) to renew his interest in two of his former hobbies. He purchased a motorcycle (used and in need of his mechanical expertise) and he began to collect black powder guns. Healing does take its own time.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Life Off the Grid for Bob and Me

After living on the grid in Minnesota for 65 years, we said goodbye to all electric appliances, Minnesota,  friends and relatives and said hello to life off of the grid in South Dakota. My husband, Bob Lee, prefers to leave a "small footprint" and chose a few small solar panels to collect the sun's energy and large southern exposure windows for passive energy. Because he chose the simple, inexpensive way of life, we rid ourselves of electric appliances and opted for propane and wood for heat and refrigeration. Our only "utility" was our telephone. Later Bob added wind power to supplement our needs during lengthy, sunless days in the winter. That gave us sufficient power to watch a movie on occasion and for me to use a computer for my writing.


We collected rain water off of our roof which ran from the gutters into our 1000 gallon cistern. Bob purified the water with an ultraviolet light and also a filter. During seven years of drought we never ran out of water for cooking, washing and drinking for us, our two cats or our seven llamas.

One of the most difficult things for both of us after the fire was living back on the grid with electricity, water, sewer and garbage utilities to pay each month. Bob grumbles each time he writes those checks. We do recycle and compost in town but it is necessary to pay the total bill to the city. We experience an easier life in town with more conveniences but we often long for the simpler life we said goodbye to on July of 2007.

For more information on our life off of the grid, see the chapter "Sun Power" in A (not so) Simple Life: Our Return to Rustic Roots or "Surrounded by Flames: Our Story" in Cascade of Flames.
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