Dedicated to the Ones I Love

As part of my writing on place

As part of the course, Journey into Place, I wrote a dedication to the plants and animals who have shared glimpses of their lives while co-existing on this semi-wild patch of an ecosystem I call home, teaching me lessons over the years.

To the bob-tailed cat who greeted me my first week here. I haven’t seen one since. Perhaps it was goodbye and not a greeting. I feel guilty about that glimpse. A lesson about impact and change.

To the black-tailed doe who walked into the front yard, fell over, and died. A glimpse that stunned me.

To the coyote who cautiously darted out of the nearby brush and promptly plucked one of the still-warm doe’s eyes. A gruesome glimpse for me but perhaps a delicacy for her.

To the black bear who showed up the next two nights to consume the doe’s body. Dinner for him/her, free disposal service for me. An episodic lesson of life and death.

To the Mountain Lady’s Slipper and Phantom orchids who live in symbiosis with soil fungi and tree sugars, returning the nutrients to their partners as they age. An unseen glimpse of a relationship full of lessons about aging and reciprocity.

To the tall conifers who grew tall and close to human-made structures, increasingly causing concern about crashing onto them. A glimpse of unfettered growth. A heart-wrenching lesson on removal and necessary change.

To the male skunk who smartly recognized human failure to block access properly and took up residence in my crawl space for two consecutive winters. Collecting straw and plant matter from the garden beds to create his large nest/bed he then discovered the benefits of insulation and tore apart my heating ductwork. A glimpse of a skunk’s wintering life and an expensive lesson on blocking ingress.

Also to the skunks: I am sorry my dogs chased you but was spraying necessary every time? A glimpse into one of the best defense systems ever. A lesson that dogs don’t remember so dog tenders must. 

To the adorable pocket gophers who discovered my vegetable garden in its third year and initiated my three stages of gopher denial and grief:

Year One: They will move on.

Year Two: Did they invite all their friends? Holes where carrots, garlic, onions, and seedlings were carefully planted and nurtured. But they bypass the weeds. Seriously? Every hole where a plant once lived invites a rash of cussing and emotions from me. I became obsessed with finding non-violent ways to eliminate them. I take on Elmer Fudd grumbling by mid-summer.

Year Three: Bastards! I will have to dig out each of my nine raised beds, line the bottoms with hardware cloth, and then fill the beds back up. Bastards!

To the Ponderosa pines who show me their annual cone development; maroon starfish-like appendages that eventually grow into cones. A glimpse into promiscuous plant sex and seed development. A lesson in fascination and wonder.

To the rabbits who chewed holes in my plastic mesh deer fence around my garden. A glimpse into the determination to eat my gourmet lettuce and greens. A lesson about building walls.

To the Trillium, Western Columbine, Oregon Grape, Yarrow, St.John’s Wort, Oceanspray, Elderberry, Chicory, Goldenrod, Milkweed, Lupine, and others that I can’t recall amid a whiteout winter storm. Thank you for a glimpse of your annual beauty. The lesson is to be humbled by your stories.

To the hummingbirds who fearlessly defend what they treasure. A glimpse of the most important lesson to be garnered - if only more of us would listen.

To the bugs, ants, praying mantis, butterflies, bees, caterpillars, moths, and even the %&*# yellow jackets. Glimpses of “the little things that run the earth.” More lessons about relationships, life, sex, and death.

To the flock of turkeys that Fish & Wildlife said I could feed under harsh winter conditions. Fish & Wildlife didn’t mention how quickly they learn, storming my porch, bleeping for breakfast the very next morning, and chasing me when I walk outside. Demanding little creatures. A glimpse into animal adaptation and a lesson on why we shouldn’t feed wildlife.

To the cold-blooded Lesser-eared lizards who rest in the garden, absorbing the sun’s heat and reminding me to do the same. A casual glimpse and a simple lesson.

To the snakes who seemingly go out of their way to startle me when I least expect it. A glimpse of our instinctual fear and a lesson to never become complacent or bored.

To the bats who dart in and out of my porch at dusk, spraying their urine on my windows. A glimpse that took me a while to figure out. Still pondering the lesson…