Our Vagarious Lives

Our Vagarious Lives

Ah, the weather is still out to lunch. We are at least a month behind in the garden. The wisteria is not showing any signs of blooming. Just sticks up there. Last year at this time it was in full bloom with a small complement of leaves coming forth. Some plants, notably some ferns and, thankfully, the garlic seem to be quite happy. 

Garlic Bed

So is the Japanese Butterbur. Within a month it went from three or four buttons at the bottom of the garden to what looks like giant rhubarb. The leaves are so heavy they fall back on themselves.

Spring time has always been considered a time of joy, growth, and possibility. And so it is. Like a baby born with all the potential of a lifetime ahead, the garden is looking to the future of the rest of the spring and the full delight and warmth of summer. Fall and Winter come inevitably. They tease us with beautiful garden colours and the bare branches of winter which then carries on for what some of us think is way too long. Spring does finally come around again and soothes us with hope. We commonly call what I’m talking about here as the cycle of the seasons. Of course, it’s not a cycle. It appears to be, but last spring is not this spring. It might be more accurate to talk about the spiral of seasons.

Like one year in the vast scheme of things, a human life is that time between our birth and our death. It’s finite. This is not a fact we find comfortable because, gee, we live through many springs, summers, falls, and winters. We are not just one-year wonders. That’s true, but the illusion of the cycle of seasons should not fool us into believing that this thing goes on forever.

To carry on with the analogy of the garden and human life, for me, winter is not coming, it’s here, even during the month of May. My leaves are falling, my bark is dry and cracking. There is no moving forward to a new spring for me. If that were to happen, it would defy all evolutionary logic. No, I have to be satisfied with my life as it is, and I am, even if I am in my ‘sunset’ years. I have an intelligent, talented, and beautiful wife and my daughters have taken after their mother. I have a loving family, and I live on a gorgeous garden thanks to Carolyn’s magical touch and hard work.

There’s one thing I agree with Sadhguru* about and that’s the idea that we had better enjoy life while we can, because we’ll be dead for a long time. Of course, many people are unhappy with the coming of winter, period, and they deny it by vacationing in Mexico or somewhere else near the equator or on the other side of the planet where summer coincides with our winter.

For a time as I read Sadhguru I had the sense that he really understood Evolution and Life, Science even. For example, when he argued that we don’t die, I thought maybe he referred to the (scientific) notion that every atom that makes up our body has always existed and always will. In that sense, ‘we’ are immortal. From my perspective, our consciousness is toast, but the little things that together constitute our bodies carry on. There is some disagreement about this, but the cells that make up our bodies get replaced at various rates for a very rough average of every seven years or so in total. Another strange factoid: we very likely breathe the same air molecules that Caesar exhaled during his last breath. Cool. But Sadhguru didn’t go there. He still insists on the survival of consciousness.

So, we exist at many ‘levels’: atomic, molecular, cellular, and organic. All of these together make it possible for us to have consciousness. Once our physical platform is gone our consciousness follows. I’d be glad to change my mind about this given scientific evidence to the contrary, but that is very unlikely.

So, what’s vagarious about our lives? Well, the dictionary defines vagarious as: “erratic and unpredictable in behaviour or direction.” Boy, is it ever. One day I’m able to walk long distances with Carolyn. The next day I can barely walk at all. I would not have predicted that. Cancer and old age gang up on me and don’t back off, ever. That’s life. There’s a slew of things I used to do effortlessly. Now, every once in a while I still think I can do things but after trying for a bit, I realize that I can’t go back in time. The trick for me is accepting my new age-appropriate capabilities. I’m living the life of a seventy-five year old, not a fifty-five year old. I must accept that and not sweat it. I’m getting it. It’s a process. It’s a good thing I have Carolyn and my family to remind me from time to time of my limitations. I need reminding.

I’m quite fond of metaphor and analogy as you are probably aware by now. Well, let’s pull out another one. Cancer is like cats as they play with us mice. There are many flavours of cat, some hunt mice and kill them quickly. Some play with their mice prey for some time before losing interest and finally killing them.

I have multiple myeloma. My cat analogue is one that likes to play with its prey. Little shit. It bats me around and chases me under the dresser where I get a bit of a respite knowing full well, Mr. Cat Myeloma is just out there, waiting for me to lose patience and make a run for it. I have absolutely no chance of escape. So be it. That damn cat will get me, no doubt, but not yet.

I love the garden. Carolyn has done an amazing job cultivating it, encouraging it, and never losing faith in it.

You never know, though. I may get it into my head that I can do things again that I used to do effortlessly. I may try. I can still handle a chainsaw. I got mine started a few days ago. I need to sharpen the blade. I think I can do that. Time to find out, but I do need to be cautious, now don’t I?

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*I wrote about Sadhguru on my May 4th post: https://rogerjgalbert.com/2022/05/04/aw-come-on-lets-talk-about-death-some-more/

Fall is upon us. I’m liking it.

It’s late September and Fall starts by the calendar in the next couple of days. It actually started about three weeks ago reckoned by dropping temperatures and increasing humidity. I quIte like this time of year. Cool temperatures and refreshing rain. I managed to get out yesterday. We went to the official opening of our new firehall and to the Foggy Mountain Fall Fair where we bought some T-shirts at the Cumberland Community Forest Society booth and some goodies (including Palestinian organic olive oil) at the World Community booth before getting some lunch from a food truck the name of which escapes me (Farmers something or other- the food was excellent). I was quite tired from a poor night’s sleep the night before, but everything turned out okay. I had a nap when we came home while Carolyn went out for coffee with a friend. Chemotherapy is keeping me alive but there is a price to pay. I get tired easily and the pain is still a big part of my life. The fact that I’m seventy-four years old may also have something to do with my lack of spark! Of course it does! I’m walking some, and I’m going to try riding my bike later this week when there is less rain in the forecast. I’m willing to pay the price. I always seem to benefit from exercise even though there is short term pain involved. I’d sure like to get off hydromorphone and gabapentin, but the withdrawal symptoms are hard to take. Tomorrow I hope to get some work done on the canoe. I may just do a blog post on that project alone. I’ve done a bit of drawing lately too but my neck pain really puts a damper on any sustained drawing practice. Sometimes I wear a neck brace and that helps.

Plant life here in the garden is both rejoicing at the rainfall, and at the same time preparing for the dormancy of Fall or the end of life. The vegetable garden is almost done. The raspberry plants are still throwing out a few stragglers but are pretty much done as are the blueberries. We picked the pears a couple of days ago and the plums a couple of days before that. We now have several jars of delicious plum jam thanks to Carolyn’s hard work. The pears aren’t quite ripe yet so we’ll wait until the end of the week to process them. That’s always a bit of a chore, but the results are worth it.

The ferns and grasses are still standing firm against the oncoming seasonal changes, but most of the flowers are giving up and bowing to the need to get some sleep. A few, like the begonias, sedums, and Black-eyed Susans

Begonia
Black-eyed Susans
Sedums

still buck the trend and proudly flaunt their colours against the overwhelming greens and browns of the fall and winter. Of course, speaking of colour, winter could also bring the white of snow, but that won’t be for some time yet. The long term forecast is for snow early in the season this year, but we’ll wait to see what happens. It’s always a crap shoot as to when the snow will come on the mountains, but the ski hill on Mount Washington generally aims to open in early December. It doesn’t always work out that way because the freezing levels are fickle in this area and it’s possible that skiing won’t happen until January. We should see the first snow on the Beaufort Range soon. Logging is about to start again close to the Village too. I’m of two (maybe three) minds about that. As a woodworker I can hardly condemn the practice of cutting timber and I know that my pension plan is invested in forestry companies, but I’m not keen on seeing logs go offshore to be processed either and I’m interested in learning more about how clearcutting and road building affect carbon sequestration and the production of atmospheric oxygen. We don’t have to worry about running out of atmospheric oxygen just yet (Google it). The processes of atmospheric change fascinate me at a scientific level. I’m particularly interested in long-term modelling of atmospheric change.

Pond Pano shot

The pond is full after the recent torrential rain. The sticklebacks will probably survive the winter as they have over the past few years (except for the year of the turtle!), but it would be good to keep Tilly out of it so as not to disturb their nests. That won’t be an issue as we enter Fall. Next summer she will be over two years old and we’re hoping she will leave the pond alone. That’s probably an empty hope. For now, Tilly loves the pond and she wades in it often then comes into the house to shake, spraying water everywhere. Yes, she is a bit of a brat.

Sculpture

I’m not sure why I’m making note of this here, but this sculpture lives up by the pond area under a big cedar tree and surrounded by ferns. I finished it with spar varnish the year I carved it (maybe three or four years ago?) and I thought about refinishing it because it’s showing signs of deterioration. However, I decided to leave it and let entropy take its course. I’m not concerned about how long it will last in the elements but it will be around long enough for me to enjoy it.

I guess that I’m attracted to the changes of seasons rather than to the seasons in their full bloom. That may be because the times that mark seasonal change are the best reminders of entropy and its importance in our lives and in life generally on this planet. I quite enjoy this time of year even though it marks the end of the warmth of summer and the beginning of the cold of fall nights and winter days. I’m not a big fan of the heat of summer or the cold of winter. I’m more a middling kind of guy.

Ta ta for now.