This tree was nearby when I did some more work on my little storage-shed-slash-greenhouse thingy (“studio 3.0”).
Art was feeling a bit better today, and so I felt comfortable walking with the dog and then later working outside a bit. He’s completely past nausea as far as I can tell, but he’s struggling (and staggering) with the dizziness/vertigo, still.
[daily log: walking, 4km; dogwalking, 3km]
Of Mere Being The palm at the end of the mind, Beyond the last thought, rises In the bronze decor, A gold-feathered bird Sings in the palm, without human meaning, Without human feeling, a foreign song. You know then that it is not the reason That makes us happy or unhappy. The bird sings. Its feathers shine. The palm stands on the edge of space. The wind moves slowly in the branches. The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down. - Wallace Stevens (American poet, 1879-1955)
ㅁ Then I had a dream where I was in a prison off in Korea.
– a pseudo-haiku.
This tree is about 20 meters west of the treehouse.
[daily log: walking, 2.5km;]
ㅁ the day lacked structure there was no morning, no night it was just pure fog
– a pseudo-haiku.
This tree is suffering an infestation of fungus.
[daily log: walking, 3km;]
Tuesday night Art fell down as he prepared to take a shower in the late evening. I was already asleep, inconveniently out in my treehouse, where I’ve been sleeping all summer. Not that he even tried yelling for me – I speculate that I might not have heard him even if I’d been sleeping in the attic.
He was unable to get up, and he was suffering extreme dizziness and debilitating nausea and vomiting in the toilet, on the floor, on the walls.
I found him when I came in to get myself breakfast at 4:30 AM.
We got him a bit cleaned up, and escorted upstairs. Wrangling him directly to the car seemed uncalled for – we had been down this path before, and it was exactly the same in every respect. You can read about his last severe episode of “fall + dizziness + nausea” at these two blog posts: Caveat: POW, emergency and Caveat: Less Uncivilized Than You’d Think.
This experience was very much a replay of that one.
I let him sleep all day, and we controlled the nausea with some leftover medication, Ondansetron, that had worked that time before. When the dizziness was unabated at dinner time, I set up a semi-emergency appointment at the SEARHC clinic in Klawock for the next morning (Thursday).
We went in, they put him on IV for rehydration (he was severely dehydrated, which I knew but I can’t make him drink water, can I?) and did X-rays for broken bones and a CT scan to see if it was stroke-related (just like last time). And just like last time, it was not stroke related. Mostly dehydration combined with a minor concussion from one of his falls (he had several subsequent to the initial one, because I can’t tie him down, either, and he doesn’t really seem capable of mentally assimilating that he might be better off not trying to move around for a while).
We’re back home and he’s resting again. Still dizzy. Still with medicinally controlled nausea.
I have returned to sleeping in the attic, and Art is staying in the main bedroom rather than his cave down in the boathouse. So I’ll hear if anything more happens. But I suspect that just like last time, this will pass without any clear idea what had happened.
Meanwhile, I’m sticking close to home. I’m grateful to my coworkers Jan and Chad for understanding my need to miss a day on Wednesday.
ㅁ I sought out some words. They failed to appear as hoped. So instead: these words.
– a pseudo-haiku.
This tree was in a world of mist.
[daily log: walking, 4km; emergency-room-waiting, 4hr]
ㅁ In the end it wasn't the weather that ended my treehouse sojourn, rather, my uncle's issues with his declining health suggested prudence and I decamped. The attic, again, home.
– a nonnet.
This tree is guest tree from my past. It sticks up, with its peers, in front of the Kagoshima, Japan, city hall. I took the picture in March, 2010.
[daily log: walking, 4.5km;]
ㅁ Some said that they left no stone unturned, but that isn't how it happened. The search was desultory, and stones were left unturned. In fact the stones won: they kept secrets, bided time, waited, hid.
– a nonnet.
This tree was up when the sun turned the sky various morning colors.
[daily log: walking, 4km; retailing, 8.5hr]
ㅁ Yesterday it rained. Not that uncommon round here, in the rainforest.
– a pseudo-haiku.
This tree had only one green leaf left, right at the top.
[daily log: walking, 3km;]
ㅁ this morning i'm in mourning that dead fish so yummy squish decaying then you yelled "no!" so boring
– an englyn penfyr.
This tree had its view of the mountain blocked by a very low-lying cloud.
[daily log: walking, 3km; dogwalking, 3km]
ㅁ Communication works like this: I speak my thought out loud, then he decides what I have said within his mind's closed shroud.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
This tree was witness to an implausibly cloudless morning.
[daily log: walking, 4km; dogwalking, 3km]
ㅁ The two-by-fours fell, and they tried to bonk my head... bruised both hands badly.
– a pseudo-haiku.
This tree was observed by a temporarily calm dog.
[daily log: walking, 5.5km; dogwalking, 3km]
ㅁ Kiamon dwelt in the house by the shore, built by her grandmother's mother, before; lately she'd taken to sitting alone, there by the trees on an outjutting stone.
– a quatrain in dactylic tetrameter.
This tree is behind a small mushroom.
[daily log: walking, 5.5km; dogwalking, 3km]
ㅁ The windshield's long crack is mostly horizontal; it doesn't grow much.
– a pseudo-haiku.
This tree is a guest-tree from my past. It is a tree under the yellow smog-dust-fog thing the Koreans call hwangsa (황사) – a meteorological phenomenon in which dust from the Gobi desert in Mongolia gets swept up and blown over points eastward. It is an unpleasant thing. I took this picture in March, 2010.
[daily log: walking, 5km; retailing, 5hr]
ㅁ I've slept in my metal clad treehouse every night for three months now. But lately it's dark out there, and the nights grow colder. Uninsulated, with a screen door... I'll move out. Winter comes.
– a nonnet.
This tree was glad for the sun.
[daily log: walking, 4km; retailing, 8.5hr]
ㅁ i was baptized in barnacle blood as i scraped at the boat's bottom and used the pressure washer to blast off the black bits until at long last i decided that was enough so i stopped
– a nonnet.
This tree was near a red flower.
The boat has been uploaded into the barn. Art and I took the last step, running some anti-corrosion goop through the motors, put it the rest of the way in, and shut the door. The boat is trapped for the winter.
Also, too, happy Foundation Day – a type of Korean holiday.
[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]
TO SPEAK OF NOTHING
It is a serious thing, nothing.
The notion confounds the mind
As wind confounds the sea.
A woman fixes words to a miracle,
A man describes himself to God.
The syllables amount to something,
But they are nothing to speak of.
– M. Scott Momaday (American poet, b. 1934)
ㅁ The dog was wishing she could run all up and down the road, but I restrained her with the leash... she huffed and bore the load.
– a quatrain in ballad meter.
This tree was above its peers.
[daily log: walking, 5km; dogwalking, 3km]
ㅁ I went to get lumber in the rain. Fred's driveway was a vast mudhole. Wading ankle-deep in mud, I loaded the lumber sticking out the back of the Chevy and drove home... uphill, down.
– a nonnet.
