Hog Island Wildlife Management Area

We heard about Hog Island Wildlife Management Area last week and decided yesterday to visit the area today. We could not have had more perfect weather for bird watching and hiking. Michael and I packed a lunch and plenty of ice water, then hit the road.

Since the area (not a park) is east of the Surry Power Plant, you cannot get there without being stopped at the power plant to have your car inspected and your license run for any prior offenses. We grabbed a snack while the nice officer checked us out and inspected the car. Large raptors were flying overhead and I could not wait to get to the bird watching part of the trip.

Beyond the power plant is a long gravel road that leads to the James River. Along the road there are small designated parking areas and lots of inland waterways where many species of birds hang out. We stopped at one parking area and walked a few steps up to an observation deck. An osprey nest and ospreys were in full view.

I recommend a powerful lens and tripod to anyone who is planning a trip to photograph birds. There are lots of opportunities to photograph the birds but they are mostly at a distance. The birds that were close up were moving at a clip. I was able to enjoy looking at them with my binoculars.

We drove to the end of the road, parked and walked south on the road parallel to the river. We walked for an hour and saw the following:

• Bald Eagles, both sub-adults and adults. The ones we saw on the hike were all in flight.
  
• Lots of ospreys in flight and perched, some on the nest.
  
• Many Great Blue Herons, in flight and wading. Some were perched in high trees.
• Many Great Egrets, all at a distance, either wading or in flight.
• An adult deer with a fawn. Michael spotted them in an open swamp area and the adult was lying so still we thought she was dead! It wasn't until she bounded off that we saw the fawn.
• Cormorants
• Eastern Kingbirds
• A red-headed woodpecker (loved this sighting)
• Kildeer
• Eastern Bluebirds
• A variety of swallows
• The usual assortment of blackbirds
• Cardinals
• Canada Geese
• Mallard ducks
• Vultures every time you look up!
• Mockingbirds
• Goldfinches
• Orchard Orioles
  

Heard but not seen:

• Belted Kingfisher
• Bob White
• American Flicker
  

As we started our return trek, I found feather after feather on the ground. They were all eagle feathers and they are illegal to have in your possession. I had to admire them and return them to the ground. I had Michael photograph one to illustrate the enormous size of the flight feathers. The one I am holding in the above photo is a full 15" long. When we got home, I was able to identify four of the feathers as the following: sub-adult upper tail covert, adult primary wing feather, sub-adult tail feather and adult secondary wing feather. Now I regret not photographing them all. They were quite remarkable. http://www.lab.fws.gov/featheratlas/result.php

After our two hour hike, we retrieved our cooler from the car and sat under a shade tree to enjoy our lunch. A Bald Eagle was nice enough to do a fly-by while we were eating.

As we drove out of the wildlife area, I spotted an enormous eagle's nest in a tall pine. It really was the size of a Volkswagen Beetle! We also made another stop at a platform near the water's edge of a lake. Three eagles and many Great Blue Herons were standing on a sandbar in the water on the far edge of the lake. We then saw a heron in flight with a large stick in its beak.

I am really happy that the guide on the website for Hog Island recommended the use of insect repellant all times of the year. We would have been miserable without it. As it was, I was bit three times by deer flies. Also, there are no bathroom or indoor facilities so plan accordingly.

Overall we had a great time. Once we left the park, an indigo bunting flew right in front of the car! That was breathtaking! On the way home, we drove back roads and Michael spotted a sharp-shinned hawk in flight in Newport News.

Our total drive was 224.3 miles. Hog Island is not that far away but we took a lot of intentional side roads and did some exploring. What a wonderful way to spend the day with my beloved.

Cross One More Off the List

I have a few passing regrets. I say “passing” because regrets initially appear as attack thoughts and then I quickly invite them to leave. I am not running a flophouse. If regret comes in the front door, I escort it out the back. Thank you for sharing. I recognize that every decision I have ever made creates who I am today. I am satisfied with myself these days, save a few extra pounds. Okay, 15.

The regrets take these assorted shapes: I wish I had finished college and earned a decent living. I wish I had saved more money for retirement. Hell, ANY money. I wish I had invested in voice lessons. I wish I were at a job that truly made my heart sing. I wish I had made a bigger difference in the world. I wish I had realized my dream of being a fabric designer. You can see how crowded this house would be if they all moved in. Standing Room Only.

On January 1, 2010, the Universe ensured that the BIG regret shall nevermore prevail: that I have never truly loved another person or experienced being loved at depth. Enter Michael. I can say with all certainty that I no longer need to do anything greater than love Michael all-conditionally. Everything else is a distant second to this achievement. And he is easy to love.

I have shared with others that being married to Michael is like living with myself, only with different parts. Being in relationship with him is effortless. He has never criticized me or questioned my behavior. He has supported me through one of the craziest years of my life: Dad’s dementia on the rise, a fractured vertebrae, now a fractured wrist, an extremely stressful job, loss of friends. He sings on arising in the morning and laughs throughout the day. His musical intuition is acute and I love his guitar playing. He is poetic, romantic, playful, flexible, sensitive, smart, and responsive. We laugh a lot.

Actually, Michael is more than I ever hoped possible in one person. I have settled for a lot less and turned myself into a pretzel trying to stay in a relationship that was not a good fit for me. I celebrate the success of our relationship.

We have been together many lifetimes. I have recalled two and he remembers one. All three were in times of war. Now we are in a time of peace, not in the worldview, but in our souls. And our peace prevails over all the worldly chaos. We have found ourselves in each other; one love, one life, one heart.

The Red Earrings

Christmas 2004. I traveled to Florida to be with Mum on what I assumed to be her last Christmas. I was right.

Dad was out running errands a few days before Christmas. At one of his stops, there was a vendor outside of a store selling jewelry. Dad spotted a pair of red, sparkly earrings and told the seller he wanted to buy them for Mum. He explained that she was nearing the end of her life and he wanted to get something to brighten her day. The vendor was so touched by his story that she gave him the earrings with her blessing.

Dad brought the earrings home and told me the story before he gave Mum the little jewels. I saw this as his way of expressing love for his wife of over 60 years. He teared up as he told me the story. Dad gave them to her in the bag; She loved their brilliance and put them on immediately.

On Christmas morning, I awoke, threw on a robe, padded to the kitchen and poured some coffee. I sat at the dining room table with Mum. We called it Command Central because she directed all the activity from her chair. “Sit here.” You had to sit where Mum told you to sit. I drank my coffee and we sat in the silence. I remember thinking about how odd it was for just the two of us to be celebrating Christmas alone. With six kids in the family and Dad, it was never quiet on Christmas. I felt honored to be with Mum on this peaceful morning. Dad was still asleep and I left well enough alone.

We opened a few gifts. That year I gave Mum a powder blue cashmere sweater with a hood. It may have been the only cashmere anything she ever had. She admired the color, the pockets, raglan sleeves and the hood. It all added up to comfort and warmth.

I opened a gift from Patty – a coffee maker that I still use to this day. It is top of the line and I felt so loved in receiving it. I opened another gift from Diana, a beautiful beaded bracelet. Most of my favorite jewelry is a gift from her.

I don’t remember any other gifts from that day. What really stands out is the time I spent with Mum in the quiet of the Christmas morning.

Later in the day, Dad was up and Lauri and Jennie joined in the low key festivities. I think I fixed a turkey dinner for us all, maybe not. That part is unclear. I just held on to the memory of Mum and I together on that Christmas morning.

When Mum made her transition less than four months later, I was executrix of her will. I ensured everyone received what Mum had assigned to each of us. There were hundreds of items still to be divided. I put her possessions on the dining room table by categories and we all selected what we wanted. Her jewelry was some of the most coveted items. We each had a connection to Mum through her jewelry.

I selected the red earrings first. More than any other gemstone, sterling or gold, I wanted those earrings. I loved the sweet gesture my dad made in selecting them for her and the vendor’s gift in recognition of the circumstances.

I have worn the earrings on and around Christmas for years now. I wore them again today. Every time I wear them, someone comments on the beauty of the red rhinestones. I tell the story and cry. Every time.

The red earrings were probably priced around $5.00 or less. When I let go of my possessions, they will be the last items to go because I cherish them more than any jewelry I have, aside from my engagement and wedding rings. The red earrings have immeasurable value - a love story of family and a generous stranger. Such is Christmas of the heart.

Aging is Not For Wimps

Have you had your turn yet? I didn't think I would ever have a turn, but now I know - you are never completely ready, it just becomes your turn. I am referring to taking care of an aging parent. One with dementia. One where the relationship was never a "10" to begin with at any age. Hoo boy. And I am 900 miles away. It’s my new part-time job.

Often my day is punctuated with talking to social workers, doctors, the psychologist, the companion, the Guardian Ad Litem, staff of long term care facilities, Dad’s bank and of course D-A-D. Some days I just turn off the phone and self-preserve.

In short order, I have learned the difference between Medicare and Medicaid. And that my dad's insurance is a substitute for Medicare but bills still are paid by Medicare. I have retained real estate attorneys to learn about short sales and foreclosures. I have read and filled out stacks of documents relating to Guardianship and Conservatorship. I know what Adult Protective Services will and will not do. My learning curve is straight up.

Paperwork. I have two folders, each about an inch thick, summing up my dad's life and statistics. One folder is to manage the house in Florida he abandoned with more money owed than its sale price. Upside down. Yep. What bank loans an 80 year old man with no income $157,000.00?

Then there's the folder with all the Medicaid, Guardianship and Conservatorship papers. Geez. Just filling in the blanks is tiring and that's when I know the information. When I don't know how to answer a question, I learned where to go for information: just make a phone call and if that agency can't help you, they will usually direct you to who can. Don't stop asking until you get an answer. At least I have been blessed in that regard.

One time I was talking to someone in the probate court system in Michigan, late on a Friday. She was gracious enough to not mention that it was quitting time and she didn't have the energy for my stupid questions. What she did say instead made us both laugh: "Both our parents are already dead and we are so happy!" I knew what she meant. It’s either laugh or cry and I take the laughs where they turn up.

On another occasion I was speaking to a woman in the Medicaid office and I was so frustrated I started to cry. I tried to end the conversation abruptly and she encouraged me to stay on the phone. She was compassionate and shared that she had been through a similar situation with a family member; she understood how hard it is to wade through the system, even when you work for the agency and already know all the ins and outs. I sent her a thank you card the next day.

Intertwined with all the legalities is the personal relationship with my dad. I think a fair estimate is in the last four months, 85% of our conversations is Dad yelling at me and making threats to never speak to me again. Initially this was a shock to my system. He blames me for ruining his life. He asks what he has ever done to me to deserve the torture I am raining upon him. He does not understand that I am ensuring he will receive all the care he needs by my taking these steps. He cannot see the love behind it all and will not listen to reason or logic. I really get that this is mostly the dementia, and I do mean mostly, because he has blamed others for his misery his whole life.

Lately all he does is cry when he calls. No "hello", no words, just cry. This is heartbreaking, trying to console an inconsolable child. I ask him what is bothering him and he can't tell me. He turns the phone over to his companion and she takes a stab at what might be the problem. This happens almost daily now and nothing is ever resolved. I am working on getting him on new meds. Next problem solving: how to get him to an appointment when he and his companion are wholly resistant to showing up and often cancel.

I think it is in his best interest to stay where is now for as long as possible. At the same time, I have made preparations to move him to long-term care with all the financial ducks in a row. It's a double-edged sword because I think once he is moved he will just fade away. At least now he has some happiness, however fleeting.

In the interest of eliminating his car/insurance payment I decided to buy his car. It’s not a car I would normally buy/drive but this will ease his finances. Further, he cannot drive anymore. I secured a car loan and Michael scheduled a flight to Michigan to pick up the car, only to find out the very next day that as Guardian, I cannot buy the car because it looks like I am taking advantage of an incapacitated individual and I could go to jail. The simplest of solutions became another problem. We are still working on that one.

My sister is working on getting some financial benefits for my Dad from the VA. He served in the Navy in WWII. She is an angel for taking this on. I do not have the time or energy to explore this and it looks more promising than any other avenue I have tried. It just became her turn, too. It’s a game of "Find Out How Much You Don’t Know (Yet).”

Need I mention the personal expenditures brought on by these efforts? My sisters are generous in helping out for which I am grateful. What do people do when they don’t have the wherewithal to manage the care of the aging? I think about people my age who are managing both aging parents and their own children and I feel grateful that my plate is only half full, even when it feels like it is overflowing.

For fleeting moments, I wish I had not initiated managing my dad’s care. Other times I am tempted to just move him to a nursing home and get it over with. Then I think about how many years my dad worked to support six kids and I keep on keepin’ on. Or maybe I drink a beer and think about something else.

Today on my way to physical therapy (let’s throw a fractured vertebrae into the mix) I saw a sign close to the ground. It was lovingly hand painted and carefully placed. I read it as I sped by, “NO MATTER WHAT, TRUST GOD”. Well, there it is. Back to spiritual guidance and wisdom. I have to trust that everything my dad needs is there at the exact right time, despite my inadequacies. And the next step in his care is divinely guided, regardless of appearances. No matter what. Just take the next step. And eat copious amounts of chocolate.

OrnaMental Memories

Today I danced through more than forty years of memories while trimming our Christmas tree. In all fairness, it is really my tree, in that Michael has yet to see it decorated, and the ornaments are symbols of my eccentric past, not his. Some of these collected decorations evoke joy and sweetness, while others are bittersweet and bring understanding of what was and what will never be.

The tree is artificial and I leave it strung with lights when it is stored; adding the glitz is easy. I began by clipping on four dragonfly ornaments I love so dearly that they remain in the living room year round clinging to a lampshade. These bejeweled fliers coupled with a wreathed bluebird remind me of my sister Dee Ann and our shared love of nature.

Adding the glass balls and baubles stirred up more sentiment. The resplendent, tiny cardinals on the wintry spheres reminded me of Christmas in Michigan and Mum’s love of the striking scarlet birds in the snow. The woodchip cardinal Patty sent me stood out against the evergreen, a reminder of a lovely Christmas centerpiece she sent me years ago.

I carefully hung the six glittery pinecones I bought at Frank’s Nursery on sale after Christmas, at a time when purchasing any ornament was a total luxury because I was living below the poverty level. I always return them to the original packaging when I take the tree down to protect that small yet significant investment.

I placed the two starfish-painted-to-look-like-Santa ornaments in prominent areas on the tree. I visualized with clarity when Dad and I attended a craft show in Florida. Yet I can’t imagine why we were there together as this was so uncharacteristic of him. He insisted that I select two of these questionable trinkets as a gift from him. Sadness washed over me as I perched the starfish Santas in the branches; Dad is recently enveloped by dementia and he would never recall this moment we had together, let alone our most recent conversation.

Seventeen years ago I had major surgery; my sister Lauri stayed with me to aid in my recovery. We were able to attend a craft show during this time and Lauri purchased some whimsical homemade reindeer for my tree. The artist twisted thick red and white chenille stems in the shape of a candy cane then added tiny wiggle eyes and antlers to create the silly critter. I poked the deer into the branches with a sweet remembrance of healing, laughter and celebration.

Friends have gifted me ornaments, including extraordinary Pat (pewter hummingbird), childhood friend Sue (tiny painted gourd), best friend Diana (silvered glass clip-on peacock). As I added them to the tree, I embraced thoughts of these relationships and gave heartfelt thanks.

I delighted in the handmade ornaments: A teeny-tiny cross-stitched wreath stitched by Patty while in living Germany, the beeswax Santa I created, a precious felt kitty with a stocking in its mouth and the highly detailed felt Santa (who can sew and turn seams on something that small?). These are among my favorites.

The glass frog… to hang or give away? My wasband David and I bought him during a time I was in denial about the lack of true intimacy in our marriage. I lived on hope and illusion for years and finally initiated our separation. But I still adored the playful frog so it rests happily in the security of the tree.

Post-David and Pre-Michael, I purchased a number of very colorful, flashy ornaments, contrasting with the more traditional ones used year after year. I viewed these as a statement of my independence from people pleasing (only certain ornaments are acceptable) and a newfound sense and appreciation of the real me. I relished these bright spots on the tree and in my life.

My sense of self grew evident in the personal touches: Grover, my favorite little blue guy. The honeybee sitting in an overstuffed chair while sewing, the many sheep ornaments from the time I was spinning and weaving as a part of my identity, the sewing accessories, a thimble, an iron, knitting needles pushed through a tiny ball of yarn. All speak to years of creativity, fun and exploration.

I admit some ornaments never made it out of the storage box this year. Either they are too heavy (literally and figuratively) or I just ran out of space and energy. Other adornments have already been passed on to thrift stores or landfill. Whatever was no longer needed moved on with my blessing.

As I reflected and wrote this piece, I noticed Valentino - with outstretched arms - next to me at the computer. He’s an over-the-top, enthusiastic monkey puppet Michael gave me for Valentine’s Day. No second-guessing myself here: the little primate is moving to the Christmas tree! He is the first ornament of our shared history, making the tree Michael’s, too. Our very own monkey angel will rule from the very top representing the total joy we have in each other. This is a memory I want to keep alive with every breath and each time I trim the tree while dancing with the past.