THE WARM, SUNNY FLANK OF A SLEEPING CAT

Good day, kind readers. This post has been written over the past three weeks. They have been BUSY, and I have missed you. It has been very hard to write lately because of my crazy schedule (as you will see below) and many people have unsubscribed. I am so sorry about this, but I am just a human. I do love writing this newsletter and will continue. (Hopefully with more consistent regularity)

It’s 8am on a lovely morning in Vermont. My cat Marcia is smashed up against my thigh, sleeping like she is on the United States Olympic sleeping team. Her belly rises and falls with her slow breathing. I want to BE that breathing it is so soothing to watch. Her mouth is in a resting smile. The natural oils in her Oreo cookie colored fur catch the light and there are almost imperceptible rainbow streaks if you pretend you are a microscope and look really close. The rainbow is made of tiny grains of light and silver. Suddenly all of her feet and tail curl inward in drowsy ecstasy. She takes on a Tootsie Roll shape. (Is my own cat making me snacky?)

May Day it is! Workers strikes! Daffodils! This year has really cruised by, for better or worse… but I choose “better,” because I’m a stubborn, coiled haunch of a draft horse who will kick anyone who tries to take my joy, through the barn wall and into next week. Try it on! You’ll like it! It’s working for me; powerful, don’t-fuck-with-me joy. I have a few days at home to prep for yet another work trip with friend visiting tacked on.

Since it’s May I don’t mow or clean up the garden yet, as lots of crucially important invertebrates are still in their winter sleep. Our insect species are in such peril, especially our native bees and wasps (not to be confused with European honeybees) we all need to think carefully about how we do things in the garden and in our yards. Here is a good guide by the Xerxes Society. Here is also a good link about our native North American bees.

Looking at my winter hangover of a garden, I am, to quote Peter Cook in Bedazzled, “filled with inertia.” Though it is one of the funniest things ever said, it doesn’t feel all that great when it’s you feeling it. (and to be correct about it, he actually says “You fill me with inertia.” You should watch the movie if you haven’t, it’s so goddamn funny.) I am overwhelmed by maintenance tasks I can’t even perform yet. I deflect the feeling by zooming in to avoid the “big picture.” I walk across the sand-colored cowlicks of spongy dead grass and black spiders rush out en masse away from my feet like water swelling up out of wet bog moss. It is beautiful, and the grass is such a thick, springy cushion I can’t squash them by accident. I am so thrilled by all the new plant life happening. I walk around slowly with Coco to all the places I like to look for emerging shoots, I linger like over them like one would stare into a tide pool to look at the gorgeous life under the cold water. I bend down to smell the perfume of daffodils. I look at the edges of the tulip buds to see if they are giving any hint of what color they will be. Some do, but some are keeping it secret until the big reveal. I am trying to keep every second of this morning as I am leaving again very soon.

I fly into Gainesville Florida on a lovely, not too hot spring day. I am visiting my former neighbor who is family to me. She moved away during the pandemic and I miss her terribly. I am so excited to see her. She picks me up outside and we are off to the farm. She introduces me to her newest rescue horses and three dogs. This takes a long time as they are all so affectionate, and I linger with them. The birds are singing and there is a light breeze. My shoulders slide down and relax just a little. The air is perfect and just the right amount of warm. The smell of the horses is intoxicating. I have my own horse, Boon, at home, and I love putting my face under his mane and basically just huffing in his odor. I will never be sick of the smell of horses. It’s as good as balsam fir, or sandalwood, or milkweed flowers, or desert petrichor. It is the most honest smell there is. I sit down with my friend and her dogs under a tree to catch up, and within minutes a see two new birds I have never seen before but am very familiar with from pouring over colorful bird guides as a kid; a tufted titmouse and a swallow tailed kite! How exciting! On one of the fences I see a bluebird couple perched, and I am taken aback by how much more brilliant the blue of the male’s feathers are than the males I see in Vermont. Do they have to be more brilliant here to get attention? I would love to know the science behind it. My friend and I eat an early dinner then go for a long walk through the piney woods. It smells fantastic and the bobwhites are calling to each other. Another thing I have never witnessed. Here are some bobwhite sounds if you are interested.

The next day we go to a spring to swim. The water is a cool, but easy to acclimate to 72 degrees and crystal clear. There are signs warning of alligators and snakes. My friend assures me alligators never come around because the water is too cold for them. I don’t even have a second to worry about snakes. I am unconvinced but get in the deep water for 35 minutes to basically “not be rude.” There are lots of other people there swimming, diving, snorkeling and paddle boarding so I try to convince myself that “it’s fine.” It was, but I somehow lost a little respect for myself. Haha! There were also incredible waterbirds and turtles to look at, and I let a curious gang of little fish nibble my toes. My two days in Florida flew by, and I was sad to say goodbye to my friend, but also happy I had been in her wonderful presence and witnessed how well she was doing and how happy she was.

Off to Nashville for an event to fundraise for Porch TN, a literary group that puts out a great periodical called “Swing,”and holds writing workshops for people all over the place. My friends Roseanne Cash and Ann Powers would be there, as well as my manager/sister/bandmate, Rachel. We had a blast. I had a turkey french dip that blew my doors off and did a couple songs with Roseanne off the cuff, which is something I never do. There is a generosity about Roseanne that makes me feel brave, and I am trying to be braver. She is such a great artist; she is so smart and so giving. She has really keen observation skills and I am always for grateful for her warmth and insight. Her greatness invites you to rise to the challenge of being brave. Thanks, Roseanne. It felt like as soon as I’d gotten to Nashville I was leaving again. Off to Vancouver BC.

I got into YVR at 10:30 am. I like a crack of dawn flight because I hate feeling like I wasted a whole day involved in air travel. It was a gorgeous spring day and quite cool, so different from Vermont or the South. It was such a familiar reset. I was raised in this climate, and my body reacted like the tulips, I opened up a little. I got in a cab and headed to the hotel. It was Mother’s Day. ManFriendJeff would be showing up too, but not for a few hours so I got my keys at the front dest and headed to our room to drop my bags. I accidentally ate Mother’s Day brunch all alone in the fancy hotel restaurant. I was starving. It was kind of hilarious. Later ManFriend arrived and we headed back to the restaurant. There had been a staff change. The hosts were very snotty and would not make us a reservation for later (they were closed at that moment) or really give us any information. Oh well, we wrote it off as a fluke and we got an Uber to my favorite place in Vancouver, a Buddhist vegetarian Chinese place called Po Kong on Kingsway. I have NEVER had a bad meal there in 25 years. My favorite server, Man, has worked there the whole time. It’s a home away from home. When we got back to the hotel after 5pm, we noticed that the restaurant was fairly empty despite the fact that the hosts had said they could not book us at five because it was “full.” I was perturbed. I felt a little gaslit. Later that night ManFriend decided we should go for Mother’s Day dessert in the hotel restaurant. I was a little hesitant because of earlier, but I figured it was an anomaly, and I was tired. We headed downstairs and the hosts were awful. They acted very put out by our presence. They looked at us like we were garbage. They made me feel like a scruffy pigeon. Again, the dining room was wide open with lots of tables and they sat us outside where it was cold. There were several tables open next to fire places. I was angry. I was a guest of the hotel and was staying for eight nights. There weren’t other food choices for me as we were on an island and all the other fare was seafood, which I can’t eat. ManFriend ate his tiramisu and we left. When you travel as much as I do, you know what you can’t live without. A restaurant is at the top of the list. I am working and have no car, so I rely heavily on the hotel/restaurant for what I need. I’m essentially captive to it, so it’s not ok to wonder if the whim of some snotty gatekeeper is gonna keep you from eating. I’m not one of those laissez faire people who can “just eat later,” I’m like a toddler or a hummingbird, if I don’t get food my systems go down. I went straight upstairs and booked a different hotel. Fuck that noise. We were a million times happier.

In the am I reunited with Paul Rigby and we went straight to work figuring out two new songs for the Thelma and Louise musical. It was hard. Some songs just don’t come easy and we worked most of our time together on just one. It was exhausting. I was also there for a graduation event at my college, Emily Carr University. Despite it being a very special event I didn’t really get to celebrate as all my energy was siphoned into the songs. At least I was with Paul. It was one of those reminders that I have no time for myself, and it made me rather sad, despite having a very nice time at the event with ManFriend and the great staff at ECU. I saw none of my Vancouver friends and I felt so tired. At least we got things mostly done.

Finally back home, I am sitting in my favorite chair and Coco is lying at my feet in the sun. My bare foot is on her warm, black shoulder. It is pure love and bliss. We are both connected to a battery that soothes and recharges us. She breathes loud and slow, content in sleep. I would stay in this moment for days if I could. The sun slants in across the floor like a bright runway. My cat, Marcia, is trapped in it too. This is a cycle that keeps me alive and hopeful. Speaking of joy, here are some joyful things I have seen since I got home:

-When I got back from Vancouver I noticed that the hummingbirds had returned and was filled with joy. One sat on a tomato cage right next to my ear. I turned a little and he regarded me without fear. He flexed his neck feathers which undulated from scarlet to a deep copper. I was spellbound. We sat like that for what seemed a long time and then he zipped up to the feeder above my head. Magic.

-On my way home the other night, in the dark, I drove up to the entrance of my driveway carefully, as you never know when a beaver will pop up in front of you with a stick in its mouth. I saw two glowing eyes. They looked to be too small in scale to be a beaver though, and then something strange happened. They eyes began to bounce up and down and all around like crazy! What was going on!? Then it came into the track of my high-beams; it was a weasel chasing a mouse! They were both hopping and running and flipping in a crazy eight pattern. I know creatures in the weasel family are CRAZY athletic, but I was most impressed by the white footed mouse holding its own against a top tier predator with Ninja gymnastic skills. I’ll never take the athleticism of mice for granted again. What a thing to see!

As I finish this episode of Entering the Lung out here on the porch, I am crossed over by the shadow of a really large bird. I look up to see a hawk with a long snake dangling from its talons. “I’m sorry little snake,” I say softly. But I know this is the way of the world sometimes. I hope you are all the hawk today, and not the snake. Thank you so much for tuning in. XO