Unbroken

Bumblebee on native thistle down by the pond, Wren poking around for something to put in her mouth.
I’m grateful for arugula, or rocket as it’s sometimes called because it germinates and grows so fast. A second harvest from the single short row I planted turned into this Peppery, Creamy Greens with Eggs recipe yesterday, including perennial onions and a few leaves of orach from the garden, heavy cream, and Bad Dog Ranch eggs.
Then I enjoyed it watching a video of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” that Dan Rather had linked to in his newsletter the other day.
I’m grateful again today for PEAS, harvesting all the 2″-3″ snow peas on the vines this evening, and popping them in the freezer. More are on the way, and I am happy to see how long they’ll continue to flower and fruit.

Wren and Rocky rode with me to get the mail last week before Rocky went home, and I stopped to snap this cute picture of them poking their noses out the windows. Wren is snapped into her car seat with the strap just long enough that she can enjoy the fresh air. I wondered a couple of times when she’s ridden this way with the window all the way down whether she could (or would) try to jump out, and it’s one reason I keep her snapped in. It did occur to me that it was possible for her to jump out even snapped in, but I didn’t think it was likely. And then today, it happened. In just the same place I took this picture a week ago, she leapt out the window and hung there by her collar scrabbling at the door. It was a horrifying moment, and like a cartoon at the same time. Her little face looking in terrified, her body hanging by the collar and thrashing.

I pulled over and jumped out as fast as I could, the whole few seconds wondering if she’d break her neck or slip out of the collar, and made it around to the window in time to prevent either and plop her back into her car seat, still attached by the strap. An orange jeep slowed as I returned to my door and I waved them on in thanks–they must have seen the whole thing unfold. Back inside I rolled up the window, but she was so upset she jumped to the back seat and tried to strangle herself again so I unclipped her and rolled up all windows but mine. Crossed the road to the mailbox, picked up the mail, drove down to the middle of the stretch to make a safe U-turn as always, and back to the driveway, back to the house. All the while in some altered state of shock and gratitude. “You could have died,” I kept telling her, “I can’t believe you’re still alive.” So I come to the end of this day grateful that both her neck and my heart remain unbroken.

If you look real hard you can make out the faint outline of the West Elk Mountains through the smoke haze that deepened throughout this windy day. Celebrating our own aliveness after her brush with death we took a sunset walk, grateful in a melancholy way that the fires aren’t in our woods today, and feeling deep compassion for the people, trees, and other wild creatures whose lives have been upended by yet another climate-chaos fueled wildfire this summer.
For current wildfire information check out Inciweb from the National Wildfire Coordinating Group. Today’s smoke here is attributed to the Pipeline fire just north of Flagstaff, AZ, which started yesterday morning and grew to 5000 acres by noon today… Earth’s climate is broken.

One thought on “Unbroken

  1. Oh my goodness! I was on the edge of my seat during that narration about Wren’s attempted escape. You write so beautifully, and with such mindfulness and compassion. On a lighter and more delicious note – those peppery eggs and greens!! Amazing. If I made them I don’t think I could help but gild the lily by putting a base of grits on the bottom of the bowl 😋

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