Signs of Fall

Although the weather remains hot during the day, without a hint of a nip, the nights are now cool, and it suddenly is dark earlier and earlier. There's a path that Jenny Lind, XieXie and I have made, by taking one step at a time twice a day for two years. XieXie's catlike tread doesn't leave much of a mark and besides he wanders off trail more than Jenny Lind and I do, creatures of habit that we both are. This morning, I was surprised to see the path completely buried in oak leaves. Surprised, because the oaks are still very green, and because it happened so fast. 

Is this not only a weather change, but a sign that we are embarking on a new path?

More at the Beach

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The first picture is the group at Ocean Beach, Maryland, in 1958. The second picture is the same group minus one, in 2008, at our 50th high school reunion. We're all in the same order.

Speaking of beaches, as we were, it's Crane Beach in Ipswich, MA, not Crane's. And my sister informs me that CNN reported that it was one of five beaches closed on this hot day. Here's the news from the Andover Tribune:

"All Ipswich beaches were ordered closed yesterday because of concerns about bacterial contamination.

"The town's wastewater treatment plant was discharging higher-than-normal levels of coliform bacteria earlier this week, and the health department closed town beaches and clam beds yesterday afternoon as a precaution."

"Monday's mechanical failure at the wastewater treatment plant, which caused the increased levels of bacteria, has been fixed, said Tim Henry, director of Ipswich's Utilities Department."

My sunburn continues to feel like sunburn 48 hours from the burn!

Depression redux

I am not at all where I was yesterday - I knew that would happen. I can begin to really rely on it now. Writing about it, shameful as that now feels, was a help in leaving it behind. Therapeutic suggestions are not, thank goodness, pharmacology, but exercise, mentally challenging my old victim ideation, subtle as it can be, and a cup of coffee in the morning! 

Depression

My dear blog mentor has advised me to not talk about depression; that I should go for a walk, whistle. She's right, and my therapist agrees with her.


But the big black fog of depression has settled in, and I need to describe it - for myself. You can skip this one, if you'd rather.


I sleep too much. 12 to 14 hours a day. I am sad all the time. I am uncomfortable in company, except a very few close friends. Any job, no matter how small, seems overwhelming, and when I'm finished, I don't have that feeling of accomplishment, I just feel exhausted and glad only that it's over. I am eating badly, taking care of myself and the house minimally. I am skipping activities, meetings, events. The cheerful face I've put on the last few days or weeks has become too much of an effort. 


There's really nothing to attach this depression to, except the trauma of the past three years has both heightened and deadened my emotions. That's really where it came from, and I've been forging ahead, trying to cope. I think this current dip in the road is just that, a dip, and I will get better. That's not really hope, it's belief that this phase will change, as have all the other phases I've been through. 


It might be a medication issue, as well, and I will start to deal with that tomorrow with those that I trust in that arena.


These pages might become a journal of this depression. I understand if any readers do not want to follow me here. I am writing this to save my life.

Television

I have not watched television for about six weeks. The last time I was watching it, in the middle of a program, the picture went. I confess I don't remember what I was watching; nothing that I watch is particularly memorable. Electrical Thorazine. Tune in; drop out. DirecTV said, six weeks ago, that the signal was coming into my house, so there was nothing they could do. I mulled it over for the six weeks, and decided that I was just fine without TV, so I called to cancel. This disturbed them so much that they reduced my fees by two-thirds, and sent someone out. Problem found, and worked around, me left with a lot of worthless equipment, but working television.


That was Tuesday, and it's now Friday, and I made a decision this evening to take the plunge back into oblivion, and watch (or erase) the shows I've TiVo'd over the past month and a half. With embarrassing effort, I unglued myself from the screen, and picked up my laptop to write, and to confess how easily I am addicted to anything that will take me out of myself. But at least I get to watch the end of House.

Beetles

Here are my beetles. They are very small, and without a real micro lens, it's hard to get a good picture, and the bright blue is just hinted at here. The thing is, they have all died. I don't know whether it was a pesticide or the natural lifetime of this beetle, but I found them dead, scattered around the base of the tree where I first observed them. 

Beetles

I just finished up a story of some beetles, and then, poof, it was gone while I tried putting in a picture. It's with some gnashing of teeth that I now write again.


Every morning and evening, the dog and my cat and I take a walk to the empty lot next door. I often wait in the shade of a tree, while the animals search the ground and grasses and bushes for news. The other day, I noticed that there was a line of iridescent beetles, each smaller than a baby's pinky fingernail, moving fluidly up and down the trunk of the tree, like ants often do. I guess that ants are going for food and taking it back to their underground nest, but I don't know what the beetles were up to.


The next day there were many fewer beetles, and I said to myself, "Huh" and thought about where they had come from and gone to. On the third day, I found them all clustered on the base of the trunk, in an oval less than a foot long, with just a few still making the trunk march. I stared and wondered.


 In lieu of an actual photograph of what I saw, here is a sheet of coleoptera, or beetles, photographed from my laptop screen. See the one at the upper right hand corner? That's mine, I think.