It was a bright, sunny March day, and it seemed spring had arrived early. I knew it wouldn’t be long until my bluebirds arrived for the season. Their normal arrival date is around March 11th , only 1 week away. I suspect due to the mostly mild winter and apparent early spring, they will arrive early. I knew I had to get out to clean their boxes before they arrive. I didn’t really relish the task, but I also knew from past experience it wouldn’t take long and it isn’t at all difficult.
I felt the warmth of the sun, without even a slight breeze and everything was so still, as I walked out the back door. It was actually a perfect day to have a small job outside. But as I started my task, I became a bit discouraged by the condition of the boxes. They are old and it is probably time, to replace all of them. I realized they were no longer as safe for my birds as they should be.
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| A walk through the Raspberries. |
The first boxes that I worked on went easily. But the last box that I cleaned, took longer than the other 4 all put together. It was in rough shape and the nest that was left over seemed to be stuck to the floor of the box. I had been negligent in getting to this box last year. Too, the box was a bit higher than the rest of them and I was foolish enough not to bring a step stool or ladder and too stubborn after already getting started, to go get one.
For no reason, I started to cry in frustration. It didn’t really have anything to do with the task at hand, or my difficulties in finishing it. It was due to the moment I walked out the back door, and I had felt the stillness, I felt only the emptiness. “It feels like death”, I told myself. It was all due to the fact that my little Arabian mare, was not there to greet me. And she never would be again.
I know it is past time to be over the sorrow of losing her. But I also knew all winter long that I would feel like this come spring. I didn’t, however, expect it to be this bad. I simply cannot get over the sorrow and regret. Not only have I lost a loving, little friend who was my favorite creature to run away from life with, I have lost my life style. This is the first time in 21 years this property has been without a horse. Even as I write this, the tears come and the despair is great. As I went about my first outside chore of the spring season, I actually began to feel like I no longer even wanted to be here. Too many changes, nothing is the same. Too much work, which I am left alone to do. And all the hopes, dreams and desires from the past, now only linger in memory...much of it unaccomplished. It is now too late for a future.
There will be no more horses, because we cannot out live one, and it would be wrong to do that to an animal. I am too old to get an older animal in hopes that I might outlive it. An older horse requires far more care and I would simply be putting myself in the state of worry I have lived the last few years, all over again.
I sometimes know it was right to put Juliee down, last fall. She was 30 years old, with suspected Cushings disease. She was missing 8 teeth and restricted to only a diet of soaked grass pellets and grain. I couldn’t throw down extra hay at night that she would have to eat to help keep her warm through a cold winter night. She was so fragile the harsh winter before, that I did not want to put her through that again. And yet, she had come through the winter remarkably. The prior two winters had been difficult with her suffering from a colic in March both of those years. It wasn’t due to indulging in too much rich green grass that often happens to horses in the spring. It was due to her not being able to chew her hay well enough for it to digest properly – thus the colic. She was doing well on the soaked pellets but for 2 prior winters I had readied myself for putting her down in the fall. This was the 3rd year of feeling that way. When she came down with a leg injury, I felt we could no longer justify the expense. We tried wrapping it for ten days with a round of antibiotics and bute, but at the end of those days, it wasn’t any better. In fact, it actually looked worse. I couldn’t justify putting any more money into her. But I will always regret that decision. I should have given it just a little more time so that I would know I had given her every opportunity and not just given up on her.
I have carried on too long with the regret, I know. But it wasn’t just myself that I was letting down. It was my grandsons, and my little neighbor kids, my nieces and nephew. My son… We all wanted her to stay. I still haven’t been able to tell my little grandsons, letting them believe she was in the barn the last few times they were here. We can’t tell them. They had just lost their own two horses (not to death, fortunately) and a kitty. I simply cannot stand to see them sad, especially the older one who has fuller understanding.
Anyway, these were all the thoughts that ran through my mind as I cleaned my boxes for the birds that give me so much joy. But I only became more sad, and then frustrated as I tried to walk through my raspberry bushes, in order to get to the last box that I needed to clean.
After I was finished with that box, I decided to go get the clippers and clip the bushes all away. I thought I would get them ready to have my husband come till them all away later this spring. In that moment I just wanted them gone. I wondered if I could get hubby out there to do it. That made me sad too. These were my mom’s raspberry bushes, but they too have been let go too long and they have spread until they are really unmanageable.
As I went to get the clippers, I had walked past the bleeding heart bush that when we first moved here, my mom had given me from my childhood home. It had thrived for over 20 years, But last year, it started doing poorly. I believe it was from when we stained our house, I hadn’t protected it properly. It was struggling and then I made a grave mistake of planting a flower next to it that I shouldn’t have. By the end of summer, it became apparent it was no longer going to make it in the spot it had always done so well. So I transplanted it that fall. What I saw now as I passed by where I had transplanted it, was that my beautiful bleeding heart no longer lived. I am heartbroken.
So again back at the raspberries, I clipped and clipped and clipped with a powerful vengeance and still I didn’t get them all. (That may be a good thing. I guess I would like to keep a remnant.) Attacking the raspberries with every spark of anger in me, only helped a little.
And then realizing the futility of it all, I stopped. Letting out a sigh of surrender, I relinquished my mad attack on the raspberries, remembering instead how Juliee had loved to lean over the fence line and nibble at these raspberry bushes. And the silent tears I had been softly releasing all along turned to torrents….anger, sorrow and regret all wrapped up in a tsunami of destruction intent on washing everything that lived here all away.
I couldn’t do any more. I told myself I don’t want to live here anymore. Nothing is the same, nor ever will be. In exasperation, I threw down my tools and stomped off to the house. I had to pass by the magnolia trees I had planted a few years ago. Now still bushes, I had been watching them patiently every year, excited for them to become flowering trees.
I had asked a friend when I planted them, “Will I ever live long enough to see them become a tree like yours?” I had asked her.
“Oh yes”, she assured me, “you will see it in your life time.”
In spite of my anger and tears, something caught my eye and I stopped for a moment, to take a closer look. “They are turning green already”, I whispered in surprise. The snow is barely off the ground and they even have what looks like buds! I was absolutely amazed. In that little speck of green life, I found hope. Just enough hope to help me correct my perspective. Thank you, Jesus.
And then I heard the meadowlark sing. Pause. Breathe.
It was a God Wink in an otherwise ultra sorrowful day. I was glad I had cleaned the boxes. The raspberries can be for another day. I guess we will be around for that.
To be continued...
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