I walked through Chetzemoka Park today and along the beach this morning, when the tide was still going out.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
I walked through Chetzemoka Park today and along the beach this morning, when the tide was still going out.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
I wandered downtown in the sun a few days ago and thought Galatea does not look cold at all. The sun did give some warmth. This is the Haller Fountain in Port Townsend.
Our Anna’s hummingbirds can overwinter. Tough little creatures and certainly they are not afraid of bigger birds. Meanwhile any sun makes it clear that I should do some spring window washing! This bush is outside my writing window, with the feeder stuck to the window. The hummers will guard it.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: apricity.
My first camillia is just starting to open up.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
The older we get, the more we learn
which bridges to cross, which bridges to burn.
What shall I keep?
And shall I burn that bridge before I cross it
or after?
I did not know that was a bridge
I would burn
And I grieve as a I learn
But the sledgehammers and bombs
loosed by the family
have left a bridge
that is all but falling
Into an abyss.
It is stone and old.
It won’t burn, but it barely holds together.
One heavy rock, thrown in the middle
and it will fall
down down down.
What shall I keep?
What shall I let go?
I wonder what my parents think
and grandparents
and sister.
Do they think at all
or do they let go with death
and let joy overcome them
in reunion with the Beloved.
I hope where they are is joy.
It is ok, loves.
It did not turn out well
but people make their choices.
I can’t rebuild the bridge alone
and on the other side they prepare
new IEDs to blow me up
if I attempt to rebuild
or cross.
I keep my children away
from the web of triangulation
and so they are not attached to the land
nor do they play the family games.
I am so glad.
I am still attached to the land
and my dead.
Not the living but the dead.
My sister, my mother, my father
grandparents, uncles, aunt.
All the dead.
Forgive me, but I can’t keep the bridge
going
and I will let the land go.
My children and I will be dead
to those living.
We have family and friends
who are loving and not hating
and not cruel.
I still love my dead
and even though the place reminds me of them,
they are not there.
They are in my heart.
I keep them safe
and let the bridge
and the land
go.
____________________
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: keep.
My sister is paddling the canoe. I took the photograph, in about 1980.
And here is music:
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
Intransitive verb
Intransitive? But you know
sometimes it will snow snow
sometimes it will snow sleet
while I’m awake or when I sleep
it may be snowing sleet or snow
but really I’m not sure I know
if it can also sleet snow
_____________________
Intransitive
He’s intransitive, just so annoying
Intensitive bastard, good old boying!
Sentensitively prosing about bird wings!
Insentivizingly verbing almost all things!
So intransitive, just boycloying
Intensitive batshard, boyhowannoying!
_____________________
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: intransitive.

There is a red headed woodpecker in this picture, though it is not a very good shot. No, it’s not a red headed, they are east of the Rockies. A red breasted sapsucker? https://wildyards.com/woodpeckers-in-washington/
More spring downtown, taken two days ago.
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
A sign of spring, downtown, yesterday!
For Cee’s Flower of the Day.
I am looking through photographs looking for a Satyr. Or Satyrs. I know that I have Fauns on a frieze in a very peculiar old repurposed Elks Club in Portland, but Fauns are not quite Satyrs. And satirical is from a different origin than Satyr.
Really, though, I am surprised that no one was dressed as a Satyr at the Great Port Townsend Kinetic Sculpture Race.

The costumes are always amazing.
Here is a sculpture with the rider. A Satyr or not?

This is the day before the race, with the parade and the brake test and the water test. The water is in the 40s or low 50s.
What do we call a female Satyr?

No, surely she is not one. Will the Judges permit Satyrs?

It does not appear that they will.
The cover picture is most satirical to me: the joyful silliness of the human powered race, on land, on sea and through mud, with a sailboat race in the background and Indian Island, with a crane and a military presence. Let’s have more more more joyful silliness.
___________________________________
The Great Port Townsend Bay Kinetic Sculpture Race: https://www.ptkineticrace.org/
This is the 2018 Race.
For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: Satyr.
“amongst those who treat addicts of any kind generally agree that anger and shame help no one and is actively counter-productive.”*
Wait.
I have to think about that statement.
I do not agree at all.
Ok, for the physician/ARNP/PAC, anger at the patient and shaming the patient are not good practice, don’t work, and could make them worse. BUT anger and shame come up.
In many patients.
Sometimes it goes like this with opioid overuse: the person shows up, gets on buprenorphine, and is clean.
It may be a long time since they have been “clean”.
One young man wants to know WHY I am treating him as an opioid overuse patient. “Why are you treating me like an addict?”
I try to be patient. I recommended that he go inpatient, because I don’t think we will cut through the denial outpatient. Very high risk of relapse. “You have been buying oxycodone on the street for more than ten years.”
“I’ve been buying it for back pain, not to party.”
“Did you ever see a doctor about the back pain?”
“Well, no.”
“Buying it illegally is one of the criteria of opiate overuse.”
“But I’m not an addict! I’ve never tried heroin! I have never used needles!”
“We can go through the criteria again.”
He shakes his head.
He is in denial. He is fine. He doesn’t need inpatient. He is super confident, gets work again, is super proud.
And then angry. “My family still won’t talk to me!”
“Um, yes.”
“I’m clean. I’m going to the stupid AA/NA groups! Though I don’t need to. I’m fine!”
“What have you noticed at the groups?”
“What a bunch of liars!” he says, angry. “There are people court ordered there and they are still using! I can tell. They are lying through their teeth!”
“Obvious, huh?”
“Yeah!”
“Did you ever lie while you were taking the oxycodone?”
Now he ducks his head and looks down. “Well, maybe. A little.”
“Do you think your family and friends could tell?”
He glances up at me and away. “Maybe.”
“Your family may be angry and may have trouble trusting you for a while.”
“But I’ve been clean for four months!”
“How many years did you tell untruths?”
“Well.”
Shame and anger. Anger from the family and old friends, who have heard the story before, who are not inclined to trust, who are hurt and sad. The first hurdle is getting clean, but that is only the first one. Repairing relationships takes time and some people may refuse and they have that right! Sometimes patients are shocked that now that they are clean, a relationship can’t be repaired. Or that it may take years to repair. My overuse folks are not exactly used to being patient. And sometimes as they realize how upset the family and friends are, they are very ashamed. And some are very sad, at years lost, and friendships, and loved ones. I have had at least one person disappear, to relapse, after describing introducing someone else to heroin. He died about two years later, in his forties.
Shame and anger definitely come up in overuse illness.
The above is not a single patient, but cobbled together from more than one.
______________________
*from an essay titled “F—ing yes, I’m a fatphobe” on everything2.com. Today there are two with that title. The quotation is from the second essay.
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