Honey's Days Under a Canopy of Sunflowers

I finally heard back from the Vet about Honey our Golden Retriever. She will be fifteen tomorrow, she has been healthy, loving, fast, funny and wonderful until this past July. Her ear infections won’t cure, the pads of her feet seem to bother her so much that she stopped taking her swim in the pool and won’t go in the ocean excepting for the very soft foamy waves. This is a dog that swam with the surfers and rode waves with us until we called her to stop. The last two days she doesn’t want to eat or move around.

Carson had a Lacrosse camp at Whittier College all day in the heat, and I couldn’t take her into 102 degree temperature so I had a couple different people check on her at home. She sun bathed in the morning and enjoyed her routine of watching the hummingbirds and dragonflies hover over the pool but come afternoon she didn’t go into her favorite spot among the Colossal sunflowers. Honey didn’t move all day from the kitchen floor where my laptop is and where she keeps me company to write.

I felt this boulder in my chest calling to check on her, I redialed the Vet’s exchange in hopes he would call in some prescription. Last visit he spoke of quality of life. I’m bringing her in tomorrow, going to ask for pain medicine, something to perk her appetite and a miracle. Are you connected with your pets? I am closer with my children, but our dogs offer unconditional love and joy. If you ever knew or have a Golden Retriever, you know what a funny breed they are. They talk and make noises but are terrible watch dogs. They are afraid of lightening and all they want is to be a nanny to your children and make certain everyone is comforted.

Honey knew when I was sick with chemotherapy, she saw us survive the fire, and she is still diligent in watching for bunnies who steal my flowers and produce. She no longer chases them but they are afraid of the big amber colored dog who once guarded her garden.

I’m home now after a fun day at Carson’s Lacrosse Camp, gave her a piece of cheese with her pills. Then an extra pieces of Trader Joe’s sliced turkey because I know it is yummy. She shook her head and smiled that big dog one but her eyes are cloudy.

My son Carson said tonight, “Mom, you say that when you are ready to die, you will swim out in the ocean to some far away buoy to avoid being a burden--”

I stop him mid-sentence, “No, as much as Honey loves the ocean, Green River or the lake she would panic and be afraid. I don’t ever want any of you to be afraid.”

He nods, I feel a tear in my eye, and blot it off with my shirt. He’s sixteen and life and death are fast as the wings of a dragonfly. I put my hand on Honey’s head so she won’t have to get up to be with us for a group hug. Then we get down on the floor and thank her for being a beautiful girl. Her tail still has some thump in it.

Sunflowers the size of a basketball player

I think this is what Honey sees when she sleeps under the sunflowers, a big happy face full of seeds of promise for next year.

Corn Lily Cure

 

Surprised by saffron stems,

showing on my stoop with a smile.

In hands of a handsome devil,

really they're lilies,

Do you know where this story begins or ends?

I’ll backtrack for you.

I wrote a text message haiku:

Wild lilies breathe ~ in Yosemite for you ~ open your hands wide.

Flowers John Muir carefully documented,
the full measure of the mountain runs your lungs;
but I didn’t that send that one,
the stamens felt sappy,
with staining crumbs.

Delete delete.

Silent, death destructiion disaster of a heart.

No-one wants to hear about chemotherapy.

Delete delete.

I sent something else:

Crane Flat corn lilies ~ burn upon my memory ~ enjoy your sweet XXXX.

(Keep secrets locked in a jewelry box made by some child in China)

Back track more:

A girl walked through those sequoias in Crane Flat. A funny teen with a sketch book alone drawing flowers and scribbling journal notes in the woods. A watercolor of those corn lilies from this trip is  in my Mother’s downstairs bath. I read that the Cyclopamine in corn lilies once thought to be so poisonous to humans and livestock, actually has life-saving properties. Think of the ranchers who had this scourge pulled and burned at the stake. The corn lily native plant is now being used in advanced cancer trials. The healing aspect of miracles are around us in everyday dandelions you fail to see in the cracks of concrete.

Go fast forward and dance with your shoulders in a figure eight:

If you remove the stamens the lilies last longer, the gold dust won’t mark you like some penance on Ash Wednesday.

"For dust you are, and to dust you shall return."

Delete delete.

Perhaps it is better not explaining my haiku or saving the plate of saffron pollen as some science experiment.

Allow me to dye your gown the color of the sun.

Send.

Love Life

Photo from abandoned house on the way hiking to Holy Jim Falls Trabuco Canyon.

Please do not re post my photographs without my permission. Copyright 2012 Caroline Gerardo

Love Life.
Life is not a joke.

I punched Dan after he said, "I would be satisfied with going to sleep and not waking up."
Angry, he feigns slumber making me fly the Beechcraft. I act unafraid.

What is on your dream board?

Plans and expectations for love, family, money, spiritual connections?
Do you have it written down?
Do you have images to touch?

There are no boundaries,
only reaching for new ideas.

Make your goals permeate your DNA.
Waking hours long to train and grow
Growth accelerates progress
muscle memory walks you there
right action creates better ends

There are no secrets to success or happiness.

But damn, I'll punch you if you give up
Snap out of it and follow through.

Haiku and Love for One Fallen Angel

One Fallen Angel ~be ready for new love now ~ the figure appears from dark.

Heart hears a call sound~ hoo do you sadly measure ~ calling home true love.

A past lover gave me Fragments d’un Discours Amoureaux . I think he stole the book back. If I could find it I would quote to you why love is always out of balance. The lover’s figures are merely gestures waiting for response.

It is like compost.

I met this man who makes Bio-fuel from trash. He’s franchising German plants to islands, to Shanghai, perhaps to Haiti, but that is another story.

The burning dung becomes something treasured; Rumi says to kiss the snake who guards the buried treasure. Open our hearts and kiss him to find new love.

Lover's bouquet needs the gesture of water.

notes: Roland Barthes, A Lover's Discourse really was stolen from my house but not likely from the person who gifted the book.  My translation of Rumi Harsh Evidence is not the same as Coleman Barks

Keep Working

Peddling along a plan

stop, notice patterns

waves work in sets

bees organize hexagons

sleep deep on your left

be it

use the electrons

in trajectory direction

keep working

the next wave

is on the way.