“To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul; in You I trust, O my God. Do not let me be put to shame, nor let my enemies triumph over me.” (Psalm 25:1-2)
With Easter come and gone for another year, the self-imposed dietary restrictions given for Lent have also come and gone. I lamented in a recent post that I failed to keep my vows 100% by partaking of a fortune cookie when Mom and I went out for Chinese food one night. I wasn’t even thinking of it as a “sweet”; it’s just part of the meal in my mind. But, otherwise, I did fairly well with avoiding traditional “junk” food.
I still haven’t mastered the other half of my vows: to read a chapter of Scripture each day. It’s been spotty at best. However, He’s still working in my life, still working through me and in me.
I just polished off a small bowl of Maple Kettle Korn from Bureau’s Sugarhouse in Connecticut. On Good Friday, Mom, Robert and I drove up to The Book Barn in Niantic, CT. I called ahead of time to confirm that they would be open on the holiday but, I neglected to check the time that they open. We got there about an hour beforehand. After a brief discussion, we decided to do an early lunch…and found the restaurant also wasn’t opening for another hour. We drove down the road some more and came to a place called Smith’s Acres, LLC.
What an amazing place!
It’s relatively small but they carry all manner of landscaping plants, succulents in their greenhouse, and floral arrangements. There’s a farmers’ market inside featuring fresh produce, jams, jellies, honey and maple syrup, all manner of sauces, and a refrigerator full of ice cream. If we added some herbs for growing, and homemade yarns, it could almost be the store of my dreams.
Mom found the Kettle Korn up by the register. We’ve been enjoying it since Easter and remarking how incredibly delicious it is. I didn’t realize until I went to toss away the empty bag that it was Bureau’s product.
Bureau’s Sugarhouse used to have a booth at the Woodstock Fair every year (they may still…). I worked at the Fair for several seasons (2012-2016) and, for one of my co-workers, purchasing a bag of their Maple Kettle Korn was an annual treat. After hearing her rave about it, I bought a small bag one year and fell in love with it. I haven’t had it since I left the fair.
That’s probably a good thing for my teeth and my waistline!
Where He’s working on me, is the return to “desserts” now that Lent has ended. While I’ve enjoyed the Kettle Korn, the bag of black licorice jelly beans (is there any other kind??), and a few other “sweets”, I’ve really been paying attention to my body since the return to them.
I felt better without them. I slept better, too. It’s also renewed my commitment to take better care of myself. Who knew?
I wrote about my dream homestead in my “About” section. And I’ve certainly talked about it on the blog many times. I want to be here to enjoy it. Once I’m back on my feet financially–and we’re getting there slow but sure since taking the director’s seat at the library–I believe I can accomplish that end.
I’m also learning to leave it in His hands. His plans are greater than my own. I want to be here to see that, too.
For anyone else who celebrated Lent by sacrificing in some way, what are some of the ways He’s blessed you? I’d be delighted if you’d share in the Comments’ section below.
“Then He opened their minds so they could understand the Scriptures. He told them, ‘This is what is written: The Christ will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance and forgiveness of sins will be preached in His name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem’.” (Luke 24: 45-47)
I’m a day late with Easter greetings but, I decided a long time ago that I would avoid making any posts on Sunday, the Lord’s day. I may have broken it once or twice but, overall, I tend to rest on the seventh day. If it was good enough for God to rest after 6 days of creation, it’s good enough for me.
Anyway, I hope your Easter holiday was special and filled you and yours with joy this year. Mom and I spent the day at a friend’s house, enjoying good food and good conversation. Today I “O.D.ed” on black jelly beans (is there really any other kind???), having given up sweets for the Lenten season. However, after satisfying my deprived sweet tooth today, I hope to continue the good habit of avoiding sweets except on rare occasions.
And though I failed to read a chapter of the Bible each day as vowed, still, I spent more days with it than not, cognizant of those failures, and He allows for another recalibration.
He makes all things new. After Easter, I always feel a sense of new beginnings. Maybe it’s Mother Earth waking up to the warmer temperatures. Maybe it’s the anticipation of this year’s garden. Whatever it is, I am filled with hope and expectancy, looking forward to the growing season.
I also start a new class next week: Short Story Writing. I’m looking forward to this one. I’m hoping it will help improve my writing habit since I will have new stories to turn in each week…another area of life that needs recalibrating.
What are some areas of your life that need recalibrating? I’d be delighted if you’d share below.
“O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens.” (Psalm 8:1)
Sunday was Palm Sunday. I went to Mass and served as Lector, reading through Judas’ betrayal of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It’s one of those rare moments when Mass becomes almost a play, with Father Ben reading the words of Jesus; Lectors, like myself, reading the parts of the narrator and “voice”, and the rest of the congregation reading the parts labeled “crowd”.
I sometimes kick myself for not pursuing a career in acting. I studied acting in high school and, again, in community college. I’m quite good at it. And, after several years of serving as Lector, my knees no longer knock together in front of a crowd.
But I wasn’t really thinking about acting as I stood in front of the congregation on Sunday and read for the “voice”. My mind was reflecting over the last 5 weeks of Lent. I gave up junk food, at least the more popular definition of it (candy, sweets, chips, etc.). Living with the definitive junk food junkie (Mom), it’s tough to resist. However, as a measure of Mom’s sweetness and solidarity, she also gave up junk food for Lent so it wouldn’t be so hard for me. She didn’t want to eat chips and cookies in front of me.
Less mindful after Mass, I took Mom out for Chinese food and broke that Lenten vow by eating a fortune cookie (sigh!)
I also vowed to get back to reading a chapter of the Bible each morning and focusing more on my prayer life.
I’ve failed miserably on that score.
It’s amazing how hard it is to rekindle a habit once it’s been broken. It’s also amazing these epiphany moments.
Earlier blog posts have often sung the praises of working for a living history museum. It was the dream job come true. And, in many ways, that statement was true. I learned all sorts of things that will aid me on my homesteading journey, things that have been a major blessing already. Perhaps the sin of pride, but there was recognition as a herbalist…because that was my title: Herb Garden Lead. And, in many ways, I got to act. There were “scripts” to memorize (i.e. historical facts) when interpreting for visitors to the museum. There were skills to learn so we could demonstrate life in the 19th century.
It was also a very demanding position.
Prior to getting this job, I had a habit of rising everyday at 3:30 a.m. I blogged, prayed the rosary, and hit the yoga mat. Then I headed downstairs and outside to the barn to take care of the animals. I didn’t have to be to work until 3:30 in the afternoon at the dealership so I spent late-morning, early-afternoon writing. If the dealership had been a full-time position, it would’ve been ideal for this writer. I got home at 7:30 in the evening, spent some time caring for my animals again, and then went to bed.
Living history, however, demanded swing shifts. Evening programs on a Saturday didn’t see me driving over an hour home until after midnight…only to have to get up again a few hours’ later to work Sunday morning. 3:30 a.m. and writing became an impossible dream. The rides into work each morning found me playing “beat the school bus” because every route into work seemed to be a school bus route…no matter what time I left for work. I spent my mornings literally running through the barnyard, 19th century skirts hiked up over my knees as I threw hay and feed at the animals and yelled at them to get out of my way (we had to be fully dressed in period attire walking into the museum). Even changing the animals’ feeding time didn’t help because of how late I often got home at night.
And then I got my wrists slapped a few times for what few blog posts I still managed to create. I wrote about something unethical I witnessed in regard to the animals kept at the museum. I lamented being unable to attend Mass on a Sunday morning because of a conflict of hours. I own my bad on the first but, the lamentation over Mass was simply that: a lamentation. Not a dig against the museum.
I remember coming home from one of those evening programs, collapsing in the easy chair in the living room, still fully dressed in period garb, getting up 4 hours’ later and going back in, rumpled plaid still hanging from weary shoulders. I drove home the following evening praying, telling Him how I simply couldn’t do this anymore. As much as I loved interpreting, as much as I loved wearing the period clothing and learning all of these antiquated skills, I simply couldn’t devote every ounce of my being to it, as it seemed to be required.
I slipped while shoveling snow the following Tuesday so I could go into work on Wednesday and fractured my shoulder. The rest is history.
I may not have kept my Lenten vows as well as I would have liked this year. However, this Lenten season has been a time of reflection. How did I stray so far away from all that I hold dear? Writing, herbs, animals and homesteading…the things that make me, well, me. More importantly, family, friends, and above all, faith. I feel like this has been a long lesson in the sin of idolatry.
Because I truly idolized what seemed an idyllic job. If I had lived closer, if I didn’t have farm animals and pets, if, if, if…it might’ve remained a dream job–despite the grueling work schedule. But, perhaps, it was also a lesson that I’m not Supergirl. Like every other human being, I am gifted with 24 hours each day. How am I spending them?
As I continue to reflect during this Lenten season, I’m starting to go deeper. I feel like Job, questioning the why and the how. Maybe it’s time to re-read that book from the Bible.
However, for the moment, I seem caught up with the Psalms, finding balm for my spirit in shorter verses that always seem to pack a punch. It’s a reflection on my life these days: slow and steady, short and sweet. Baby steps forward, learning to take those steps and not being too hard on myself for being unable to handle anything bigger these days; it’s too overwhelming because of how far I’ve fallen behind in, well, everything. The good habits will return, or morph into something better. The life I dream of living will become a reality…or He will mold and shape it into something beyond my wildest dreams.
Amazingly, He’s been using my work at the library to teach me this very valuable lesson in taking things one step at a time. Rome isn’t built in a day but, those baby steps make a difference. It’s time to apply them at home. I can’t twitch my nose and do it all in a blink. But, each baby step will take me that much closer to that dream life…and maybe I’ll finally have time to enjoy some of that journey doing what I love, sharing it with those I love, and above all, praising Him whom I love above all else. In short, getting back to my roots.
“Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. Then you will win favor and a good name in the sight of God and man.” (Proverbs 3:3-4)
I’ve been working on that third website and still questioning the wisdom of it. Yes, there’s been a desire to branch out a little, defend the innocent when it comes to abuse and neglect, defend Mother Earth, tackle those few social issues that capture my interest enough to comment. But I’ve been completely stymied by the purpose of the assignment.
We were asked to pick a subject, research it, and then use this subject to help build our brand. Not a single topic had anything to do with herbs, homesteading, prepping, animal husbandry or rescue, 19th century living, frugality, fiber arts, or faith.
That’s my brand.
I chose “social media research”. As a writer, I can recognize the importance of researching sources of information. I’m just not sure how creating multiple posts about how to fact-check and verify an article will prove interesting to anyone else on a live platform. Do I even want it to? And, while this post has nothing to do with herbs, homesteading, prepping, animal husbandry or rescue, 19th century living, frugality, fiber arts, or faith either; still, I reckon most of my readers here are used to my rambling detours by now.
As I write this, and as I continue to build the other page, I’m also struck by how He works.
I’m not exactly kicking and screaming against this other page. In fact, I can even see the merits of separation between this blog and the new one, especially if I decide to tackle some meatier subjects. But, despite the fact that I will probably take the other site down once class is over, the effort of building a new site (something I actually enjoy) has given me some ideas for this blog. As I seek to define this other site, what it will contain, what it’s about, my intention for this blog is becoming clearer. So He’s brought about a blessing even in the midst of something as mundane as “social media research”.
What are some of the unexpected blessings He’s brought to your life? I’d be delighted if you’d share.
“I come in the little things, saith the Lord” — Evelyn Underhill
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)
It’s been a long time since I’ve had some positive news: I am now the Director of the Brooklyn Town Library. Granted, the title is currently “Interim Director” as there is a three month probationary period. This is standard practice for the library. I had a three month probationary period when I was hired as a clerk; the previous director also had a three month probationary period. I’m not too worried. Sure, there’s a risk that I might not prove to be exactly what they’re looking for. But, playing it “safe” will keep me in a part-time position…and cost me my home. Now I have a fighting chance in keeping it.
Or the means to save for a potential move (even a local one?).
I’m leaving it in His hands. The willingness to accept either outcome, and praising Him every step of the way–regardless of outcome–has set me free.
Finally.
It is a gentle reminder of Who is ultimately in control. Praise Him, even in the storm. God really does give second chances…and third…and fourth…
To all who celebrate Ramadan, bright blessings to you!
To all who do not and are unfamiliar with Muslim traditions, today marks the start of Ramadan. According to Wikipedia, Ramadan is when the “beginnings of what would later become the Qur’an” were revealed to the prophet, Muhammad, by the angel, Jibril (or Gabriel in English).
Muslims everywhere arose today before dawn to eat suhur (predawn meal) and will fast from food or drink until after sunset when they will break their fast with iftar. They will also abstain from tobacco products, sinful behavior, and, again, according to Wikipedia (not always the most reliable source but usually a good starting point), remain celibate during this time. They will do this every day for the next month. In addition to fasting, Ramadan is commemorated with prayer, reflection, the reciting and reading of the Qur’an, and almsgiving. Ramadan begins with the sighting of the crescent moon and ends with the sighting of the next crescent moon.
I am always amazed at the level of devotion and commitment Muslims show in their celebration of Ramadan. As a Catholic, I celebrate Lent, which also requires prayer, fasting–albeit only on Fridays when we abstain from meat, and Ash Wednesday and Good Friday when we can only eat one full meal throughout the day–and reflection. However, I often fail miserably. Is it a lack of discipline in myself? Or is it a lack of community support? Maybe it’s a little of both. But, whatever it is, I can’t imagine the dedication needed to fast from sunrise until sunset.
That being said, I offer up my prayers to those celebrating Ramadan that Allah’s blessings be many this year.
And, for all of my brothers and sisters of every religion and walk of life, may God bless you & keep you!
“The Lord’s blessing is our greatest wealth. All our work adds nothing to it!” (Proverbs 10: 22)
First, a quick shout out to anyone reading this who celebrates the Chinese New Year, which is today. 2022 is the Year of the Tiger in the Chinese Zodiac. Anyone born in The Year of the Tiger is said to be passionate, brave, possess an unusual sense of adventure, be philanthropic and trustworthy but, also said to be stubborn, opinionated and often rebellious. In truth, I’ve found most zodiac descriptions to be quite general (i.e. many of us can claim traits like these even if we’re not born in The Year of the Tiger) but, it’s fun to read and learn, and wonder about. And greater minds than mine studied and learned and gave us the zodiac as a gift; there is also something to be said for the sometimes uncanny accuracy in these descriptions as well. Regardless, I want to wish everyone a Happy New Year today if you and yours celebrate the Chinese New Year! And, if you’d care to share, I would love to know more about how your family celebrates. Feast? Parade? Dancing? Please share in the comments section below…=)
Today is also Imbolc, Brigid’s Day, or St. Brigid’s Day. This one I know a little more about. Celebrated traditionally in Ireland, Scotland and the Isle of Man, and amongst Wiccans today, Imbolc is the first day of spring. And, if you’re paying close enough attention to nature, even here in New England where we have almost 2 feet of snow on the ground, you’ve probably noticed the days getting just slightly longer and a softness to the air that speaks of the warmer season just ahead.
Brigid, both the goddess and the saint, is said to protect homes and livestock. She is also associated with the lambing season, spring sowing, the blooming of the blackthorn, blacksmithing, healing, wisdom, poetry and, some sources, also associate her with seamstresses. Saint Brigid’s Day is a traditional Gaelic festival celebrating the midpoint between the winter solstice, or Yule, and the spring equinox, or Ostara. Brideogs–doll-like figures of Brigid–and special crosses are often fashioned out of rushes, or reeds, and displayed in the home. In earlier days, the brideogs would be paraded from house to house, and beds made, food and drink left, to welcome her blessings. Sometimes a wand made of birch may be left near the bed to represent the wand she is said to use to grow vegetation. In pagan lore, she is a fertility goddess. Along with St. Patrick, she is a Patron Saint of Ireland. In Christianity, she has the added virtue of having wet-nursed the Christ child.
Whether Brigid is goddess or saint to you, she is said to visit virtuous households and bless the inhabitants. And I pray that today, she will bless your family throughout the coming new year.
“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast.” (Ephesians, 2:8-9)
I want to be a writer, but I have to have some other career to support it, I have to do something else besides write…well, not all of us can be the next Toni Morrison or Stephen King so maybe there’s some truth to this one…but there must be something defectively wrong with me to not have found another career option that I feel just as passionate about…
Like some of my favorite authors who write 8 hours a day, I have to carve out 8 hours of my own to dedicate to my novel, my blog, etc; I can’t be a writer if I don’t write every day for 8 hours a day…even with a “day” job and a small hobby farm and the need to eat, sleep and, well, you know…
Like a favorite singer/songwriter, I do my best writing at 3:30 a.m. so, if I don’t get up at 3:30 a.m. every day to write, I’m not doing my best writing?
I can’t run a used bookstore; I won’t make enough money from it to support myself; I need another career to supplement it (it’s like the writer thing…)
I want to rescue animals, to offer them sanctuary–and often do–but, I’m a single female and I’m in danger of becoming a hoarder–or so the media tells me. If I was married, or a man, and still took in the occasional stray cat, and the free-to-good-home rabbits and goats, etc., found forever homes for some and offered a forever home to others, because their original humans were being evicted and no longer had a home to offer them, would I NOT be in danger of becoming a hoarder?
I want to homestead, to grow my own food and produce my own clothing, to live as sustainably as possible and lower my carbon footprint, but I don’t have enough land, enough money, enough knowledge, and I have to start right here…well, I have, sort of, but I’m also facing foreclosure myself so there’s a bit of apathy getting in the way. Why keep investing here when here may soon be gone?
In my youth, I wanted to be a rock star but, I didn’t keep my guitar strapped to me day in and day out. I only spent an hour or two each day practicing after work, so I guess I must not have wanted it so badly…
When I worked in living history, I told myself I didn’t know enough about either herbs or gardening to manage an heirloom herb garden. I felt like a fraud and everyone would find out eventually that I didn’t have what it takes. It’s called Imposter Syndrome; I just learned about it in my first class as I work towards my MFA in Creative Writing…
I made a mistake 10 years’ ago and rushed headlong into an abusive relationship with someone. I knew better, saw trouble coming a mile away, heard the voice of Reason in my ear saying, “Walk the other way” and ignored it; gave him a chance. I no longer deserve God’s grace…or His love…or the love of another man should I ever meet him…
These are the lies I tell myself, among others. Having just turned 55, “I’m too old” is another…even with the evidence before me that age has nothing to do with success or love or, well, anything…except maybe wisdom and experience, and the appreciation that usually comes with them.
“I’m not worthy” is the overall underlying message in each of these. I have to *earn* it. And, yes, if I want to write, I have to write. If I want to grow food, I have to plant a garden. If I want to be taken seriously at any endeavor and meet with success, I have to do the work. So, these things I tell myself each day have an undercurrent of truth and practicality ringing through.
The Serpent is cunning, to say the least…
There are conditions to everything, especially when you grow up in a house with addictions and abuse. A loving Father is an alien concept. And, no matter how much love, support, etc. you receive from others, that nuclear family unit that consists of parents, siblings and yourself, has the power to shape your way of thinking for life. So, it’s no wonder I’ve tied myself in knots and can’t seem to get out of my own way. Writing books, selling used books, caring for unwanted animals (or those on the receiving end of someone’s hard luck), homesteading and prepping, even learning an instrument by themselves may not be *enough* income to survive, let alone thrive, but together? Or, even if I still work a “day” job, I’m not allowed the joy that each may bring to me?
They’re idols.
That’s another lie echoing through my mind. The Lord has brought me to this place because I’ve made “idols” of animals and books, and I’m trying to live self-sufficiently, which means I’m not relying on Him…or so I’ve heard said. To punish me for this “idolatry”, He’s going to whisk it all away. Hence, the impending doom of foreclosure and zoning challenges…
Who would follow such a God?
Or am I wrong? Will I be stripped down to nothing? Am I being taught another lesson in not judging others for decisions they’ve made during hard luck circumstances? Again, I don’t deserve His grace because I haven’t always given grace to others…
Praise God we don’t get what we *deserve* for our mistakes. Ultimately, I know there’s nothing we can do to *earn* his grace; it is already freely given but, my faith needs a good bolstering today.
“The whole world spoke the same language, using the same words. While men were migrating in the east, they came upon a valley in the land of Shinar and settled there. They said to one another, ‘Come, let us mold bricks and harden them with fire.’ They used bricks for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, ‘Come, let us build ourselves a city and a tower with its top in the sky, and so make a name for ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered all over the earth.’ The Lord came down to see the city and the tower that the men had built. Then the Lord said: ‘If now, while they are one people, all speaking the same language, they have started to do this, nothing will later stop them from doing whatever they presume to do. Let us then go down and there confuse their language, so that one will not understand what another says.’ Thus the Lord scattered them from there all over the earth and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the speech of all the world. It was from that place that He scattered them all over the earth.” (Genesis 11: 1-9)
I have been remiss the last couple of weeks. When I printed out a copy of the Interfaith Calendar for 2022 from Diversity Resources, there was a reason behind it: to commemorate the holidays celebrated by all faiths and walks of life. And here it has sat collecting dust for the last several days. (heavy sigh)
First off is the Feast of Epiphany on January 6th. As a practicing Catholic, I know that this is the day commemorating the “first manifestation of Jesus to the Gentiles for Christians”. It marks the day the three kings arrived in Bethlehem, 12 days after the birth of Christ. As we celebrated it recently at church, and I was the lector doing the Bible readings to commemorate it, you’d think that I would have remembered. (again, heavy sigh)
Of course, if you follow the Orthodox calendar, Christmas isn’t until January 7th. (Do Orthodox Christians celebrate a Feast of Epiphany on January 13th? There is no mention on the calendar but…) Anyway, this one I should know as I dated a man who was Ukrainian and his family had a celebration every year on January 7th. A belated Merry Christmas to you all!
January 10th is celebrated by Mahayana Buddhists as the day of Buddha’s enlightenment. This is Bodhi Day. I hope that it is acceptable and appropriate to wish you a Happy Bodhi Day; good thoughts and intentions are meant in the wishing. As I realized my lax this morning, I did not research further than the brief descriptions offered by this calendar. Going forward, I will do better with research, learn and share any traditions, or customs associated with each day.
Lastly, I missed the birthday of Guru Gobind Singh. He was the tenth Sikh Guru and spiritual master according to Diversity Resources. A shout out to everyone who loves and follows the teachings of this man. Again, I will do better to research the many holidays throughout the year so that future commemorations do not sound so stilted or pat.
Why am I doing this? Because the best way to lesson any division between us is to learn about each other. While we may be of different faiths and cultures, when we scratch below the surface, we usually find we have way more in common than not. And, for anyone reading who celebrates the holidays that I gave so little information on, feel free to share more details in the comments below. While I outlined my hopes and dreams for an animal sanctuary yesterday, I hope that this blog will become another sort of sanctuary for the readers who visit here. All are welcome!
“For you have a new life. It was not passed on to you from your parents, for the life they gave you will fade away. This new one will last forever, for it comes from Christ, God’s ever-living Message to men.” (1 Peter 1:23)
I find myself unable to think of a word, or biblical phrase, to define this year. I’ve thought of “Intention”. “Trust”. “Discipline”. I need to work on all of these…and a phrase/verse from the Bible to help remind me.
Wow.
I guess I really am mired in depression. See? I need to work on that trust issue for sure!
But, as always, on New Years’, I like to take a moment to reflect on the year past and remember those loved ones who will never again grace The Herbal Hare in life.
Praise the Lord, my human family has been hale and hearty this year. =) However, we did lose the boss of the barnyard this past spring. Sgt. Feathers, my Polish crested rooster, is protecting his ladies in heaven these days. And while his sons, Radar and MIG, and grandson, Jeep, are doing their best to carry on with protecting our living flock, it seems strange not to hear his trumpeting anymore…followed closely by a little, squeaky half-pint of a crowing. Tank, the little Silkie, who, having followed so closely at Sgt. Feathers’ heels in life, followed his commander closely in death, too. I lost them within a few days of each other. With Sgt. Feathers, it had been expected; every day was a gift. He was quite old for a roo (10) and had started walking almost hunched over like the old man he was. Tank, however, is a mystery. No sign of illness or injury. But, because they like to peck the ground, parasites are always an issue…no matter how clean and careful you are with their environment.
Sgt. FeathersTank
We also lost two beloved felines this year.
Only a few days after I posted last New Year’s memorial, Mom’s cat, Rosco, left us. Rosco had an interesting life. He was found atop a house in Illinois during all the flooding in the Midwest over a decade ago. No clue who his owners were, he was brought to a local shelter. Mom and my stepfather were shopping at PetSmart one weekend. The store was hosting an adoption clinic this day. Mom saw Rosco and fell in love. But my stepfather said, “No, no more cats!”. She worked on him as they wandered the store and, as they reached the checkout, he relented.
But Rosco had already been adopted…
…by their upstairs neighbor in the apartment complex where they lived! Said neighbor did not take good care of him though. Mom watched in horror as this declawed kitty had his front paws intentionally raked over the rough bark of a tree, lost weight due to inadequate feeding, and lastly was kicked by the neighbor’s boyfriend. Mom saw them outside with him on a leash, marched over, picked Rosco up and walked away with him. When the couple protested and threatened to call the police, Mom challenged them to go right ahead so she and the other neighbors could all tell the police how cruel they had been to this little guy. Poor Rosco had to have his jaw wired from the kick. And had to be fed frequent, tiny meals for awhile until his shrunken stomach could handle more substantial amounts of food. He grew to expect the frequent feedings though. He was quite fat by the end of his days…except his tail, which stood up skinny and reminiscent of the wire used to guide the bumper cars at a fair. He rode shotgun on the dashboard of Mom’s minivan when she traveled across country from Missouri to Connecticut to move in with me back in 2014. His “hoot” will be missed (Rosco’s jaw remained misshapen due to the abuse he endured before Mom rescued him and he could not articulate a more traditional “Me-ow!”).
Rosco
Lastly, Kirby. We lost him in May 2021. Kirby came to “visit” for the first time in the spring of 2014. I heard some of the resident felines howling in protest in the kitchen, went to investigate, and saw a bright-eyed little face peeking in over the window ledge. He did this for several nights…all while I protested I did not *need* another cat. He probably belongs to a neighbor, he’s just passing through, etc. But he kept coming back. And, finally, I determined that, yes, God had planted another stray kitty in my path. I started feeding him, gaining his trust. It took a few months (!!??!) before I was able to trap him and get him indoors. And then another couple of weeks of him being isolated in a room by himself until I could get him to a vet.
He howled all the way to the vet office, ripped open his toes trying to claw his way out of the travel cage, and then shot out of the cage and placed bloody runnels down the exam room walls as soon as the doc opened the cage. He had to be sedated so she could examine him, patch up his mangled toes, neuter and give him his shots. I seriously thought this was one baby who was too feral for a forever indoor home.
He proved me wrong.
Mom had just arrived with Rosco and Max, her blue heeler we lost a couple of years’ ago, and Kirby and Rosco became bosom buddies, along with Paz, my geriatric tuxedo. Then, a few months’ later, when a pregnant Priscilla was dumped off on the farm, he minded her babies like the proud surrogate Papa he became to them. He, Ozzy, Emmylou, and Alice Cooper became inseparable, and he was a sort of ambassador to every poor feline this farm has taken in since.
However, I proved him wrong, too. I told him he would love laps someday…and I was right. Once he was reassured that he was loved and there would always be someone to care for him, he was the ultimate cuddle kitty. =)
Kirby with his adopted “sons”, Alice Cooper and Ozzy Osbourne (l to r)
Both Rosco and Kirby, Priscilla late last December, and earlier in 2020, my Pearl, all developed kidney and heart disease rather suddenly after using Seresto collars. I don’t know if there is a correlation, though I did see an article in USA Today in regard, stating that these collars are being linked to possible kidney and heart disease; I have not found the link to that article today but, I did find a more recent news article about how certain lawmakers are asking that these collars be recalled. There have been reported incidents in the thousands as regards these collars so, please, proceed with caution if you are using them for your pets. I have included the link below so you may read it for yourselves. My then-vet suggested the kidney and heart failure was simply due to their age. Granted, Pearl was 16 when she passed; Kirby and Rosco both estimated at 12-13 years’ of age. Priscilla, however, was only 7, a bit too young, in my opinion and experience, to be struck with organ failure. No sign of illness in any of them prior to these sudden downturns…and I do mean sudden. Rosco had been playing with me like a young kitten just 3 days’ earlier when all of a sudden, he just stopped eating and started shutting down. We have since found a new vet as the “old” one refused to take my concerns seriously when I voiced them to him. I may be wrong about the collars but, it seems, I am not alone in my concerns with them.
Kirby; the best ones are the ones who choose you (sigh!)
In addition to these memorials, I think it is safe to say that 2021 was even more challenging than 2020. I’ve alienated a lot of friends due to my stance as regards mandating getting jabbed with something that neither protects one from contracting an illness, nor prevents one from spreading it. I’ve been a Democrat all of my life; I am seriously considering at least becoming “unaffiliated” as I cannot abide the hate and vitriol being spewed about by others of the party. The fear-mongering by mainstream media; the attempts to force us into a police, or authoritarian state; the lack of respect for others who do not share the same views have left a bitter taste in my mouth. I actually owe President Trump an apology for being so anti-Trump during his tenure. While he will never be a favorite of mine, yeah, it really was a witch hunt…one, I am ashamed to say, I contributed to widely on social media.
I don’t know what this new year will bring. The media continues to cry for the arrest, ostracism, and abuse of those who either cannot, or will not, take their (in my opinion) poison**. Gasoline is up to $3.60 per gallon here in New England for regular unleaded; I’m sure it will rise even higher as we approach summer. Empty shelves grace the local Walmart and grocery stores, and there’s sticker shock when you do find what you’re looking for. On a more personal note, while foreclosure is still eminent here at The Herbal Hare, I find myself even more committed to homesteading, and now prepping, than ever before. I cannot help but think a collapse of some sort is eminent. I pray I am wrong, but it doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing. Perhaps you’re all thinking, there goes another whacked out conspiracy theorist. But, maybe, just maybe, there’s something to those conspiracies. (No, I don’t think little green men are injecting tracking devices under our skin, but I do see changes in government, in our society, that make me think I may have to carry around special papers proclaiming myself “free” (passport anyone?), or don a special band marking me as some sort of enemy (face masks?))
However, I am committed to building a community of like-minded people, too. None of us are islands unto ourselves; we need community. Perhaps the word I’m looking for this year is “tribe”. Regardless of whether or not you agree with me on a social or political level, when all is said and done, this year I feel it is especially important to at least be kind to one another. We are all struggling during this turmoil. And our tribe, or family, is who we choose to care for.
But this is all just what I think. I invite you to share, whether you agree or not, in the comments below. I do ask that you be respectful of others, and of this blog, by refraining from profanity, name-calling, bullying or belittling; again, we are all one family, each a very special part of the body of Christ, none of us whole without the other. That being said, regardless of what you believe (or not!); how you look; who you love; socioeconomic status, or current “jab” status, all are welcome…to this blog, to this community, in my home and in my heart. We got through 2021 together, we can get through 2022 as well…and, hopefully, come out the backside of it in a much better place than we are going in.
Wishing everyone much love, much hope, peace, prosperity and, above all, a deep and abiding faith for the New Year! May God bless you & keep you!
**A note: though my opinion leans towards choice when it comes to matters of health, to everyone who has been *poked*, please know that I respect your choice to do so. It is your body and you have to do what is best for you and yours. I am not “anti” pokes; I am anti mandating personal autonomy. For everyone obsessed with forcing others to do as you do, stop for one moment, please, and think how you would feel if suddenly a mandate was issued that said you were no longer *allowed* to get poked, even though you feel in your heart it is the right thing to do for you and yours.
Again, may God bless you & keep you! Stay safe & stay free!
The Herbal Hare Tomestead and Animal Sanctuary 