I did not find out until recently that Earth Day, 1970, was considered a mass demonstration. I learned that because it was larger than the three recent No Kings Rallies. On that one day, April 22, 1970, about 20 million Americans (ten percent of the population at that time) took to the streets, parks, and campuses. Senator Gaylord Nelson created Earth Day as a way to force environmental issues into the national agenda. It worked! The protest led to three environmental laws in the U.S. These laws include the Clean Air Act, Clean Water Act, and the Endangered Species Act. It also established the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA).

I fear, however, that in honoring our planet, and in other ways, our country is moving in the wrong direction than the one so many of us have fought for over the last six decades.

In 1962, when Rick and I were nine years old, we portaged the Boundary Waters Canoe Area at the border of the United States of Canada, northeast of Ely, Minnesota. There were three portages each way. Our youngest brother would not be born until 1965. Lancing two canoes together with one adult at the end of each canoe helped prevent tipping. We all wore life preservers—even our beagle, Flaps! It was a magical experience that I’ve never forgotten. The Senate recently voted to allow (potentially) for bringing in foreign nations to mine poisonous metals in this pristine wilderness that belongs to the people. The land and ecosystem might never recover from the damage. This pollution will pollute the air, poison the water, and destroy endangered species, negating the positive consequences of our progress after the first Earth Day. Currently, the EPA is being weakened by significantly removing staff members and downplaying scientific justifications to protect our resources. The new trend is to see how we can rape more land and receive money to destroy our sacred lands. Please write to your senators and congressmen to preserve our boundary waters for future generations and biodiversity. Check out the full article by Bryan Hansel on Substack. His Stack is named “More or Less About the Photo.”

More or Less About the Photo

They Put the Boundary Waters in Harms Way

During a recent vote in Congress, Republicans removed protections from the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, the most used wilderness area in the country with over 1,175 lakes and interconnected waterways spread across 1.1 million acres in northern Minnesota. It’s a top North American destination for adventure and outdoor photography…

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7 days ago · 103 likes · 18 comments · Bryan Hansel

Today is a beautiful day on Earth here in Georgia, in the Piedmont, near the Oconee River, in Athens-Clarke County, in Cedar Creek Subdivision, in Cedar Springs Garden.

Enjoy a few pictures from our property.

While you’re at it, check out these lovely nature books from Timber Press. I see that Douglas Tallamy has a new book out! I collect each one, so I must check it out.

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My current orders include home therapy twice a day, icing, and walking with full weight on the healing knee. Yesterday, Jon and I went to the Athens Farmers’ Market, Earthfare, and Aldi to get nutritious, delicious organic food. I was pretty tired after that.

I’m home today and thinking about springtime. I’ve been aching to see my spring ephemerals, so Jon walked with me to the garden. I took a cane for support if needed. I’ve started using the stairs one step at a time, but only from the kitchen to the garage.

I’m so glad I did! Yesterday, I was out on the deck and enjoyed my first butterfly of the year, a vivid yellow tiger swallowtail. It seemed to be taunting or beckoning to me as it flew over my head and back again. As we walked today, we saw a small fly, a centipede, and a tiny moth. Signs of spring are everywhere!

My ephemeral native plants were purchased from my dear friends Virginia and Ray Lassiter. They have led a very interesting life, and I like to keep in touch with them as time moves along. They were so patient with me five years ago when I went to their nursery and asked many questions. I filled up my Prius with so many lovely plants!

One of the early March ephemerals is Bloodroot, or Sanuinaria candensis. Jon took several of these photographs so I wouldn’t need to squat or bend over. I had a cane in one hand.

It is one of the earliest bloomers in woodlands, emerging for a short period before most trees produce leaves. I planted mine underneath a hedge of Agarista populifolia, also known as Florida-hobblebush or or Florida leucothoe. This area is just west of our rain garden, so it receives the moisture moving slightly downhill as rain falls. It is native to Florida, Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina.

I opened the gate to our rain garden, and greeted my friend, Red Buckeye. This one is pretty well-established. Virginia was very particular about who she would allow to purchase one of her red Buckeyes. I was honored to get this one. Over late Autumn and winter, this friend lost all of it’s leaves, leaving only a few stems.

Red Buckeye, Aesculus pavia, opens flowers that look like tiny crimson bugles. This makes them a special target of the red-throated hummingbirds’ male scouts. The tiny blossoms open in mid-March, just as the scouts arrive here in Athens, Georgia. I currently have three Red Buckeyes, so the early scouts have plent of fuel, and we know when they have arrived. The plant is happy in my rain garden and does well there with benign neglect.

Thalictrum thalictroides is known as Rue-Anemone and Windflower. The Windflower name is apt. This delicate plant is native in thirty-seven of the United States. It has long, slender stems that gently bend in the slightest of breezes. I planted this windflower beneath my Chionanthus virginicus tree, also known as Grancy Graybeard, along with many other aliases. You can read more about this unique tree here.

Photo on the left (or top, if on a phone), was taken today, March 8. The one on the right (or bottom) was taken toward the end of March in 2025. March and April are magical times for our ephemerals. If I don’t check daily, I’ll miss something. The immature blossoms are pink. Once the blossoms open, they turn blue, a color bees will respond to. Aren’t these lovely? My friend Virginia is also partial to these. Their Latin name is Mertensia virginica, and they are fairly widely distributed. They do great in my rain garden, because their preferred habitat is moist woods and clearings, and other rich, moist soils. By choosing the right locations for my native plants, I minimize any care needed to keep them happy and healthy. the best part of perennial plants is that they are completely dormant for months but suddenly spring to life when the right conditions are in place.

These are three of my Sweet Betsy or Wood Trilliums, Trillium cuneatum. The one in the middle will be opening soon. The blooms are a deep burgundy, and the leaves are mottled. The species is found in the Southeastern U.S. in moist areas of mostly upland woods. I planted mine at the outer edge of the rain garden and edge of the woods where water drains. I have three other kinds of trilliums, but Sweet Betsy is the first to greet me with emergence and blooms in early March.

Stylophorum dyphylum is best known as Celendine Poppy. It is certainly easier to pronounce! Two of my three poppies have emerged with their greenery and fruit as of today, but I “cheated” by showing you photos from March 18 last year. These verdant, lemon-colored beauties produce tiny, ovoid seed sacs with tiny hairs on them. They often hang facing with heads toward the ground. Ants are attracted to the juicy parts of this seed sac. The seeds possess a fatty, nutrient-rich, oily appendage called an elaiosome, which attracts ants. Ants carry the seeds to their nests, consume the appendage, and discard the viable seed in their nutrient-rich refuse piles, effectively planting them. Nature is so cool!

Thank you again, dear Virginia, for growing these amazing plants for wildflower lovers like me to plant and enjoy. I’m forever grateful.

One last picture! Homo sapiens, also known as hubby or Jon Payne, is quite talented around the house. We only had one handrail going up and down stairs, so he spent the afternoon going to Lowe’s and getting a fine, sturdy, twelve-foot handrail to reduce the chance that either of us trips going up or down the stairs. After my injury, we’re both more cognizant of how quickly injuries can occur, and how long recovery takes.

Thanks, Jon, I appreciate this more than you can know.

My parents were teenagers during the bombing of Pearl Harbor. They lived in modest homes in Jacksonville, Illinois. My father lived near the Presbyterian Church built by a diaspora of Portuguese immigrants from Madeira Island. They fled the island due to religious persecution by a Catholic majority. My grandfather was an immigrant, and my grandma was the daughter of immigrants. My father enlisted in the Army before he turned 18. My mother was heartbroken and visited him at least once, with her mother as a chaperone, before he deployed.

After the war, my parents, ages 21 and 19, married. My dad lost his father at age nine, and his mother could not work due to a stroke, so he was head of the household and supported his mother as much as he could. She lived with a half-sister. My parents’ first home as a married couple after the war was a tiny mobile home. A pull-behind camping trailer, to tell the truth. Mom told me that in the winter, the Visine in her tiny bathroom would freeze!

Dad was able to attend college because of the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944, more commonly known as the G.I. Bill. This provided tuition, fees, and books for education, a monthly living allowance while in school, and low-interest, no-down-payment housing loans. It also allotted $20 a week for one year while veterans looked for work. It sounds like we need programs like this for the current young generation. Without these perks from the Federal government, their life would have been very different. While black veterans were extended the same benefits on paper, they were rebuffed by red-lining, Jim Crow policies, discrimination, and more to keep them from utilizing those benefits.

Mom worked as a secretary and helped type Dad’s school papers. However, once he was employed as a City Planner, the babies started coming. Dave was born in Tennessee, and my twin brother and I were born in Richmond Heights, Missouri. We lived in an upstairs apartment. Mom hung diapers out of the window until they could afford a dryer. About two years later, they moved to Springfield, Illinois. Dan was born, and now we were a family of six, with only one breadwinner.

The Springfield house was a one-level rented stone house at the edge of an alfalfa field. I loved to play in that field. My twin and I each had a cat—Fuzzy and Wuzzy, and Dave had a Beagle named Flaps. I had an imaginary friend named Mr. Peabody. I attended kindergarten and first grade in Springfield.

As far as I can tell, when we moved to Bloomington, Minnesota, a suburb of Minneapolis, it was the first home my parents purchased. However, they would only live there for two years. My father was moving up and had more bills to pay. The Bloomington house was a brand-new split-level. It was also near the Minnesota River. From this time forward, each house my parents owned was beside a river, in a flood plain by a river, or beside a creek feeding a lake. He loved the water.

Split Level Bloomington Home circa 1958

In Bloomington, I had friends nearby. We could safely walk in the suburban neighborhood, ride bikes, and steal away in the woods and fields behind the homes. I was there for second, third, and fourth grade. Then we moved again. It had been three years, after all. During these years, we also had “duck and cover” drills in school, and sometimes walked home in the middle of the day to hide in our basement bunkers where we squirreled away things to get us through a nuclear war.

Family of Six in Springfield Greysolon Road Home in Duluth

I started fifth grade in Duluth, Minnesota, on the north shore of Lake Superior. That was a HUGE body of water! My parents purchased a house large enough to support our family. I had just completed 4th grade. I spent a lot of time playing Jacks, listening to rock and roll on my transistor radio, and playing card games. We were in the Congdon Park area, a short walking distance from Lake Superior.

I walked to Congdon Park Elementary School, and later to Ordean Junior High School. Yes, even in deep snow! Girls were still required to wear dresses to school. I wore snowpants under my dress and snowboots to keep my feet dry. I carried a pair of shoes in my backpack. When I arrived at school and walked upstairs to the fifth-grade area, I went to the cloakroom to hang up my backpack, remove my boots, and put on my shoes. Only then could I dry off and sit at my desk.

I was in that fifth-grade classroom when we got word that President Kennedy had been assassinated. That was a troubling time. November 22, 1963.

In 1965, brother Kenny was born. As a toddler, he grew up with three teenagers and a pre-teen. Grandma Aguar needed care. In Duluth, my father was a partner with several other planners. He worked in regional planning. Much of that was on the Wasabi Iron Range. His company must have been doing well, and the home was not built for elder care and a family of eight. We were staying in Duluth, but it was time to move again!

This time, we stayed in the Congdon Park neighborhood and did not change schools. Our “new” 1914 home bordered Congdon Park, and part of the property included Tischer Creek. It had been vacant for a few years and was in disarray. My parents purchased it for $27,000, and my mother set out to remodel and restore it to its past glory.

I watched Willy, who had a huge steamer, gently peel back an inch or more of wallpaper from the upstairs hallway. There were over a dozen layers of wallpaper! The bathroom pipes were rusty, and the clawfoot bathtubs had orange stains. There was something funky about the sinks, too.

The kitchen had a butler’s pantry. One wall was removed to make the kitchen larger. The pantry included an icebox—from a pre-refrigerator era. There was an area lined by zinc or something to hold a large block of ice to keep the butter and milk cool. Mom did save a marble block on the countertop. It came in handy for making fudge and taffy. We cooked and ate in the basement during our remodeling period. It must have been hard on Mom.

Once the wallpaper was down, Mom installed the new paper herself. She chose all the patterns and put them up. Wallpaper was really a thing then.

Duluth has many parks with streams that flow to Lake Superior. The Saint Louis River runs through it. Amid the natural areas are many small working-class homes and numerous large estates. According to the book and documentary “Lost Duluth,” by the end of the 19th century, when this house was built, Duluth had more millionaires per capita than any city in America and the busiest harbor in the United States. Carnegie and Rockefeller invested in timber, iron, and railroads in Duluth.

My mother cooked most meals, except for A&W burgers and local pizza, usually when Dad was out of town. Granny made most of my clothes and mailed them to me from Illinois. We had only one television and two wired telephones. But after restoration, we had a beautiful home for our family of eight and the teenagers who dropped in after school. We were only four blocks away from Duluth East High School, now the new Ordean Middle School.

There was no air conditioning in the home, and we didn’t really need it then. Heat came from steam radiators, powered by coal. It was my older brother’s job to shovel the coal into the furnace. I remember one night, a Friday, when I woke up at 2:00 a.m. and could see my frosty breath in the bedroom. It was minus 45 degrees that morning! The door to my brothers’ room, on the third floor, was across the hall from me. I made enough noise to get them up and add some fuel.

The front and center of this photograph shows our former home front and center. You can see it’s an easy walk to Lake Superior and only four blocks from the former high school. A playing field is on the right. At the time of this writing, our former home is on the market. I want to preserve these photographs to help me remember this time in my coming-of-age.

Tischer Creek was magical for me. It was a short walk from our yard, which bordered Congdon Park. I loved being this close to nature, sitting on a boulder, listening to the rush of water, and feeling the spray on my face. Our black and white cat, Pandy, often followed me to the creek and sat beside me. This was my happy place.

My bedroom above the Living Room

Living Room below my Bedroom

On the right was my bedroom, and the living room is beneath. Instead of the sidewalk, we had a paved driveway shaped like a rainbow. There were white birch trees beside the house. I don’t know what kind of fir trees these are. I think the birch trees have been removed.

SO close to the lake!!

The carriage house is at an angle. This door is the entrance to the servants’ quarters. That was Grandma’s space.

We called this lovely sunroom the library. There are built-in bookcases beside the fireplace. The library covers the width of the living room and the length of the dining room. There are doors on each side. You can see the lake from the windows.

The lower door is a basement or ballroom entrance.

Twin brother Rick in the back, and me in Front

Minnesota moving vans were on strike in the summer of 1969. My father received an offer to teach at the University of Georgia after the first Earth Day in March. Read more about that and about Duluth here. I was seventeen years old, leaving a house I loved that I had lived in for only three or four years.

I did not understand Athens. In 1970, most people were still local. They had pronounced Southern accents and were always asking if I was a Yankee. As soon as I graduated high school, I moved into an apartment and never looked back. I lived in an apartment on Lumpkin that was later replaced, a house on Barber Street for $65 a month with no AC and one gas heater in the center of the house, worked in Houston, Texas at a teenaged group home, an apartment near Bear Hollow in Athens, a country house in northern Hall County for $75, and then a nice, brick home on North Avenue in Gainesville, Georgia. Then, a move to Plantation, Florida, in a Townhouse for a few years, and back to Georgia, to another rented townhouse apartment. Then back to Athens, in a place across the street from where I live now. I had a couple of marriages between 1972 and 1993.

I met Jon in 1993, while living in a rented townhome in Gwinnett County. We married in 1995, purchased a home together, and made it ours for ten years. That was the first time I had a single-home house. My teenage son, Matthew, lived with us. We left in 2005, on my birthday, for a newer home in Alpharetta (now Johns Creek). It was closer to my spiritual center and a shorter commute for Jon to work in Norcross. I taught in the Gwinnett School System for seventeen years.

I spent enough time in Athens to earn three degrees—in 1977, 1984, and 2004. Eventually, I returned and bought my own home in Athens. I made it mine.

Before I came to Athens, though, Jon and I spent eight years on a farm in Elberton.

To be continued…

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Late January snow in our backyard in Athens, Georgia.

I looked for something under the bathroom sink. I squatted down to look, did not find what I was looking for on the right, and pivoted my right foot to the left. I heard a loud “pop” coming from my right knee. That did not sound good. It didn’t feel great, either. I called my husband, Jon, for help. I was having difficulty extending my leg and supporting my weight. It was 6:30 a.m. Jon found a brace I used a year ago when my left knee was sprained, and I had a walking cane with a four-pointed rubber base from that time. I made an online appointment at a local urgent care center for 8:20. There was no one in the waiting room when we arrived.

I think we were there for two hours, after completing paperwork, getting examined, getting x-rays, asking questions, etc. They sold me a stabilizing brace and crutches and filled an anti-inflammatory prescription. I also had a referral to our local orthopedics practice. The tentative diagnosis was a partial meniscus tear.

Jon went into overdrive to find something more than crutches to help me get around. His first search revealed that most medical supply stores do not keep chairs in stock. They must be ordered. He didn’t find any rentals. So he went out to Walmart and came home with a Sharper Image model. That was useful, but it didn’t help me stay off both legs.

Time was of the essence for Jon, because he was scheduled to teach a class in Texas and had to leave in one week. More than a dozen locksmiths had already paid for the class, and hotels had been booked.

Jon was laser-focused on finding me a wheelchair in order to function well during his absence. He found out that Horton Drug Store had two available in stock. He promptly went out, chose one, and brought it home. I’m sitting in it right now.

Sunday, I was exhausted and overwhelmed. I had not slept well the night before. While I lay down and napped, Jon removed furniture from the fireplace room and the kitchen and installed several small folding tables at the right height for working or eating. The wheelchair fits under them neatly. He set up my computer, printer, and rolling drawers in the fireplace room with a trash can. What a surprise I had when I saw all of his efforts! But wait, there’s more!

My engineering, tinkering, inventive, patent-writing man kept staring at the wheelchair. I knew that look. He was not going to rest until he figured out how to mount a table to it. It took at least two trips to different hardware stores for Jon to satisfy his itch and solve this problem. I find it easy to install while I’m sitting in it, and it lets me roll items from one area to another and drink hot tea without worrying about spilling on the floor. I’m always amazed at what Jon can do. He’s my own MacGyver!

I called the orthopedic group on Monday and made an appointment with a PA. We were scheduled for the following day. In the meantime, I learned how to navigate with my three new props while Jon prepared for his class, ran errands, and tweaked the table for the wheelchair. (Of course he did!)

Everyone was friendly and professional. Jon and I were both at ease and felt like we were in good hands. I got some higher-quality films made, including some from a standing position. As before, no visible fractures were found. My knee was tender over the medial collateral ligament during examination of the MCL area. In summary, the three main concerns were a meniscus injury, MCL injury, and a tibial plateau injury at the top surface of my shin bone. These are soft tissues areas that require an MRI. I made an expedited MRI appointment. I needed to know the injury's impact and its effects before Jon left town. Before going home, we went to the Department of Vehicles to get a temporary handicapped placard valid for 3 months.

No Fractures

We went to the imaging center on February 11. As in our other experiences, Piedmont employees at all levels were friendly, approachable, and competent. The MRI machine was outside in a trailer and accessed by a lift, but it was nice, and they played my choice of music (soft piano) to help me focus less on the machine’s violent noise. Paintings of blooming dogwood trees on the ceiling reminded me that spring is coming.

Jon’s last full day at home before his class began was Wednesday, February 12. Jon took me to Kroger to pick up a few things. I took my walker, but got pretty sore, so I parked it and stayed out of the way while Jon picked up what we needed. En route in the car, I got a call from the PA. He told me about two options. This was a lot to absorb auditorily and in the car. My auditory memory is weak, so I need things in writing. I asked him to text me a summary so I could process everything better.

I called for more information once I realized that physical therapy was not likely to salvage me this time, and that I would be actively utilizing all my new tools for a while. I had a chance to talk with the surgeon this time. I discovered that this is not necessarily a choice. If the meniscus is not salvageable, he will move to the other choice.

Jon left Friday morning, so I’ve been going solo for five days now. Jon returns Sunday, and I have surgery scheduled Monday, with the time to be determined. I’m also scheduled for physical therapy a week out from that. I’m so grateful to the Georgia Health Benefit Plan that offers Medicare Advantage for both Jon and me for our lifetimes. Teaching has benefits after retirement.

Just five more days to go. Our next-door neighbor picks up my mail daily and brings it to the door. A friend picked up a few things from EarthFare yesterday. I’ve had a couple of phone chats with friends and have a neighbor who texts to see how I am doing. I even managed to fix an issue with my new printer on my own. I use a grabber to move laundry from the washer to the dryer, and have managed to load and unload the dishwasher and prepare three meals a day. I’m sleeping close to the average number of hours. All is well.

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Copy the link above and paste it into your browser for a good laugh. In 2014, I bred a ewe that gave birth to a very dark lamb, Sage Smudge. I went to check on the pair when a black chicken ran by. The ewe was convinced that she had a disobedient lamb and ran after it while baa-ing at the top of her lungs. I was running behind her, holding the little dark lamb. Hilarious!

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Yet, I can’t complain. I’m grateful for the time I’ve spent with my grandchildren, my stepson and his wife, my twin brother, my nephews, my nieces, and my dear friends over the past year. Those occasions keep me grounded and joyful. I have wonderful friends aged 30 to 88—I love them all.

My aim for the next few posts is to share healing strategies that are crucial for getting through the day at my age—the kind that can help people stay healthy and reverse illness. In addition to a healing strategy, I’ll share a gadget, app, or device that I’ve found beneficial for my well-being. Finally, I’ll update you on what I’ve been up to recently. No promises, though—this draft has been getting dusty, and my writing is likely to be eclectic, based on my whims and the news surrounding us.

Part 1—Healing Strategy

Stimulating the Vagus Nerve to Stay Healthy and Calm

The vagus nerve is part of the autonomic nervous system. That system has two separate functions. The sympathetic function is one of “fight or flight.” This function is triggered frequently by loud sounds, angry voices, and upsetting news about tragedies. As cavemen, we once had to outrun sabertooth tigers, and those in the military must remain alert to danger for survival. In the present moment in America, we are feeling under attack in many ways, at the bank, in grocery stores, and often in our homes or on the streets. Literal attacks, threats, and more.

In the summer of 2024, I felt like I was falling apart. I was fighting so many issues, all at once. These included brain fog, anxiety, gut issues, memory loss, losing and breaking medical devices, falling, dizziness, confusion, and difficulty multitasking. I felt very anxious, cried readily, and undoubtedly scared my husband, who was trying to figure out what to do with me.

The parasympathetic function is one of “rest and digest.” When there is no danger, you’re safe to sleep and digest your food, ready to live another day. The vagus nerve is part of the parasympathetic system. It consists of two nerves that begin at the base of the brain and branch out to several organs, including the gut. This nerve begins in your brainstem and connects to your gut. You may have heard of the gut-brain connection, and the gut is often referred to as a “second brain.”

My nutritionist, Erin, first alerted me to the importance of stimulating my parasympathetic nervous system while eating. She wanted me to consciously apply strategies to tamp down fight-or-flight responses that come from the sympathetic nervous system. The sympathetic system releases adrenaline and can aggravate heartburn, bloating, chronic inflammation, and more.

Both of these systems must be in balance for a healthy brain and healthy body. Here is a brief overview, along with resources to learn more about stimulating parasympathetic function. These ideas are found in Activate Your Vagus Nerve: Unleash Your Body’s Natural Ability to Heal by Dr. Navaz Habib.

• Slow, deep, belly breathing—one technique is called square breathing. Inhale through the nose for a count of four, hold the breath to a count of four, exhale through the mouth to a count of four, rest without breathing for a count of four. Continue until you feel relaxed.

• Eliminate exposure to blue light from electronic devices a couple of hours before bedtime.

• Complete your last meal two hours before bedtime. I try to give myself three hours. I retire early and practice intermittent fasting, so I have a light dinner around 4:00 p.m.

• Intermittent fasting or time-restricted eating. If I finish eating my 4:00 dinner at 5:00 and eat breakfast at 7:00, I’ve been fasting for fourteen hours. That leaves ten hours for eating three meals a day.

• A published scientific study showed that sleeping on your right side helps vagal modulation.

  

• Humming and chanting are beneficial

• Yoga or Pilates

• Mindfulness and mindful eating

• Meditation

• Laughter and social connectedness

• Eat foods high in choline, such as egg yolks or organ meats (liver, kidney, or hearts) from 100% grass-fed ruminants or liver from free-ranging poultry not fed corn or soy.

• Daily movement or exercise

• Take high-quality omega-3 supplements, eat fish such as sardines and salmon, or eat hulled hemp seed.

I’ve found that using as many of these as possible in a given day, plus some time with a stimulator such as Pulsetto, has improved my ability to function. I’m still working on digestion.

Part 2—Healing Device

Pulsetto for Stimulating the Vagus Nerve

I use a product called Pulsetto Lite. It was boosted on an Indiegogo Fundraiser a few years back. I tried two other products before this one—Truvaga and Apollo, but I currently like and use Pulsetto.

Last year was quite stressful for me, and at times I felt hopeless and sad. This year has its own stresses and worries. However, when I think I cannot make it through the day, I become calm and collected after a ten-minute session with Pulsetto.

There are a lot of devices out there. I’m still curious about some of them, but I’ll stay with Pulsetto for the time being. They responded quickly a couple of years ago when my product needed a small repair, and the fixes they suggested didn’t work for me. They sent me a pre-paid label, fixed it, and sent it back. I recently upgraded to their Premium plan. It was less than ideal when I tried an early version, but I recently gave it a one-month trial and decided to get the annual subscription. Today, in fact, I had a stressful morning and forgot to use the device. When I found myself in tears, I realized what I had neglected. Within ten minutes, I was calm and able to function again.

Part 3— What I’ve been doing

We’ve been living in Athens, Georgia, for the last eight years since we left the farm in Elberton. This weekend, we had the largest snowfall in those eight years. It wasn’t a lot—just four inches, but for a community that is not prepared for this kind of weather, it is unusual and anxiety-inducing. Our woodsy subdivision has many old pines and other trees. There are multiple tree removal companies in the neighborhood year-round. It doesn’t take much cold, ice, or snow to bring down an old tree. We had an ice storm two days this week, followed closely by the snowfall.

However, being prepared helps me stay calm. We stocked up on food, cooked some in advance, and purchased battery backup. We already have battery-operated lanterns and backup for small items. We have not lost power yet. Jon bought a snow shovel that can double as a shovel for other work, such as applying mulch in the wildflower garden.

On Sunday, I attended Janisse Ray’s online class, Journaling Place. We did some sketching, some writing, and some cartooning. Today it rained, and the temperature was warmer. All the ice and snow has disappeared.

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The land of liberty, and the home of the brave.

My formative years were in the state of Minnesota from the ages of seven to sixteen, in Bloomington, a suburb of Minneapolis, and on the north shore of Lake Superior in Duluth.

These years were marked by music, illness, and reading. I was always reading. Books have always been my refuge. I learned about adult life, Europe, wildlife, and the past. I cried for Anne Frank and her family after reading her diary. The horror of staying inside, hiding behind a bookcase, and depending on the kindness of her neighbors. She was a smart girl like me, filled with joy, love, and exuberance.

In Bloomington, Minnesota, I played in my neighborhood, rode my bike, and sought out spotted salamanders each Autumn when the leaves fell. I scooped them up from windowwells, a northern feature that came with basements.

My friends and I walked to the shore of Lake Superior, picking up smooth stones, unpolished agates, and interestingly-shaped driftwood. My siblings and I raised orphan squirrels and a raccoon. Neither would be allowed today. I raised Monarch butterflies from chrysalises. My family portaged canoes and camped at Leech Lake, a place that lived up to its name.

The other night, I watched the images, videos, and chanting that followed the shooting of Alex Pretti in the streets of Minneapolis. The protesters were bundled up in the frigid sub-zero temperatures of January in Minnesota, chanting and demanding to get ICE out of their state. I was proud of the protesters and disgusted by ICE.

The horrors perpetrated on the refugees and immigrants in my former home state are unconscionable. Somali refugees and immigrant citizens from Mexico and many other countries are predominantly hard-working, peaceful and lawful citizens. They contribute much to the community. The only citizens in the state that are not immigrants are the Dakota Sioux and the Ojibwe/Chippewa tribes. They were here centuries before the first Europeans arrived to our shores.

Many of these First Nation citizens, have been picked up by ICE. That’s certainly ironic. Who was here first?

When I lived in Duluth, I saw racism. It was not “in your face,” necessarily, but I’m certain it has not disappeared. One time, my father, an American-born son of Portuguese immigrants, was called a “dirty injun” at a local bar.

Neighborhoods and schools were segregated by redlining, rather than by Jim Crow. I was called a “nigger lover” because I had black friends. I had friends who were Jewish, Catholic, Lutheran, Methodist, and Presbyterian. My classmates’ surnames reflected Swedish, Finnish, and Polish backgrounds.

It was much worse when I moved to Georgia as a senior, the first year schools in my town were integrated. I was considered suspicious, because I “talked like a Yankee,” made friends with the newly integrated black students, and enrolled in Black History where I was the only caucasian girl.

I was appalled in 2014 when I first saw Trump on the campaign trail, spouting lies about Mexican immigrants. I immediately realized that Trump wanted to be a fascist like Hitler. Things have gone from bad to worse. The lies have gone from shocking to outrageous. Many people in this country that I love have given ICE and politicians permission to lie, discriminate against, and persecute lawful citizens.

This post may seem a bit “off-brand.” I needed to express myself. Thank you for reading this stream of consciousness post.

I do believe that ICE needs to go. The Department of Homeland Security can handle border issues. ICE is the Gestapo. If you have read your history, you know where this is going.

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I quit a job when a supervisor abused me—more than once. I often stood up for my students and my peers. I worked with students who had developmental delays, who were on the autism spectrum, who struggled with reading, and who were sometimes labeled as “disabled” because they were raised in a home where English was not spoken. Others were labeled as disabled because they had an inadequate first-grade teacher. I helped them bridge the gap, and was chastised by my principal, who told me that my job was to teach coping mechanisms, not reading skills. I left that school after passing the state reading teacher certification test. I continued to help students with dark skin, some of them Muslim, some of them Buddhist. I eventually transferred to a school with parents who spoke 32 different languages that were not English at home.

I decided to go back to school and earn a doctorate. After earning my doctorate, I served as a Student Support Teacher for a decade. In that role, I pulled together a team each week that included, as needed, a classroom teacher, a speech therapist, a counselor, a school psychologist, a school nurse, an administrator, and parents. At times, I needed to assert myself with one or more of these people to best serve the children who were potentially labeled and provided with an Individual Education Plan. Teachers might object to the modifications that their students need to be successful.

My dissertation included interviews and case studies on how a group of elementary teachers made discoveries by learning more about a student in their class who came from a different cultural background. My thirty-five-year teaching career was based on the concept of inclusion.

More recently, I find that I still need to stand up for myself and others. I’ve taken charge of my health, my decisions, and my immediate environment. I set boundaries regarding my time. I rest when I need to rest. I’ve learned to say, “No!”

Like many of my closest friends, I am an empath, or a Highly Sensitive Person. I find myself attuned to the emotions and energies of other people, absorbing their feelings. When I see someone bleeding, hurting, lonely, or shouting, I feel it deeply. Even when watching television, watching violence sends a lightning bolt through my nervous system. It can be overwhelming at times.

I have friends from many different religions, as well as those who aspire to none. Friends with origins from many countries. Friends with many shades of skin color. Those who speak many languages. I am close to my LGBTQ friends. Several of them live in my neighborhood. It’s a lovely community.

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I believe in being kind, open, and transparent. I judge people by their behavior—not how they look, speak, where they were born, or who they love. I believe in the U.S. Constitution, in the Rule of Law, and in three separate branches of government.

For the last ten months, the direction our country has taken has not sat well with me. I am appalled that our military is murdering people in Venezuela and possibly starting a war to effect regime change there. This is not the America I have known and loved for seventy-two years! I fear that the values and traditions of the last 250 years are being slowly erased.

I weep for the people less advantaged than I, with my “white” skin color. My father, son of two Portuegese immigrants from Madeira Island in Portugal, was short with swarthy skin and thick black hair. He was once mistaken for a local Ojibwe at a bar in Minnesota . Somehow, he avoided a fight. My dad admired, interviewed, and assisted Ojibwe tribes in his work as a regional planner. My grandfather was of Swedish descent, giving me pale skin, dark hair, and blue eyes.

Immigrants who look like my dad are now being hunted down like prey. Not for committing violent crimes, but for showing up at their jobs, showing up for a mandatory immigration appointment in court, and showing up to pick up their children from school.

My heart breaks for the families who are facing massive increases in their “affordable” health care if Congress does not make changes. By tomorrow, thousands of families, predominantly in rural areas, will be without SNAP benefits that help families survive. The government's $6 a day in support makes the difference between going to bed hungry and keeping their bellies full.

My heart goes out to the women who have suffered for years because of human trafficking and abuse at the hands of Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell. They are begging for a chance for closure and to disclose the names of the men who violently abused them for years.

I am standing my ground. I’ve been calling my congressmen regularly, voting in county, state, and federal elections, attending protest rallies, and working in a local Indivisible chapter.

Yesterday, I discovered a new organization. They call it a club—Defiance. I believe it was just launched. I’m getting in on the ground floor because I like their invitation and their purpose. It is a “Club for Courageous Americans.” So many of my friends, like me, wonder what they can do in this moment. This is one answer.

Defiance will offer options to fight back each month that are peaceful, lawful, and defiant. This month’s options inspire me, and I will carefully review them. Will you join me? **Update: I decided that this particular club, Defiance, is not a good fit for me. However, I will continue to seek out organizations such as Indivisible and Contrarian that I find more compatible. I rushed in a bit on this one. They are still finding their footing, I believe.

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Since I last published in mid-June, the world has been moving at a rapid and abrupt pace. I was getting a lot of trustworthy news from Substack podcasters and guests. I thought that this was a good thing, as it kept me informed. However, I was getting notices by way of a hard-to-ignore “ping” on my iPhone each time another podcast began. It was overwhelming and exacerbated my anxiety. I went to my acupuncturist and found myself in tears when she asked how I was doing. I explained the situation. She put me on a two-week fast from the news. What a wise woman! Before I left the parking lot after my session, I deleted at least 30 journalists that I had been following. Whew!

I made it for most of the first week, and now I’m into day twelve. Yesterday evening, I was exhausted. I binge-watched random things on Facebook reels for about fifteen minutes. There was nothing productive during that time.

Nature is my medicine. Being in the fresh air, listening to the sounds of birds and insects, observing the wildlife, and tending my plants brings me peace, comfort, inspiration, and joy. I’ve felt this deep connection throughout my life, but it has been in my early and later years that I’ve felt it most deeply. Those middle years were hectic, busy, and confusing. It was all I could do to get through a long day of work.

We’ve experienced a prolonged period of drought and heat, followed by a prolonged period of frequent rains since I last posted. I couldn’t keep up with garden maintenance, and mud is not conducive to pulling all the weeds that came with the heat and the rain.

Now I’m taking it easy so as not to overtax my system. Two hours a day is a good spell for me, alternating with a day off. Tending to my gardens and witnessing changes in the plants is a pleasant thing, indeed.

Jon captured the wonderful drama of an invasive female Joro spider capturing a large verdant leafcutter as its diminuative mate looked on. A lone Joe Pye Weed towers majestically over the roof of our backyard shed. The yellow and black swallowtail butterflies have been sipping its nectar. It never grew that tall before the microburst that took out several trees near the shed. The missing trees and their shade added more direct sun to that part of our garden, and that changed everything. The deer have been plentiful this year, with spotted twins and triplets abounding. That has put a lot of pressure on the plants. They’ve been quite aggressive in their plant-eating.

The purple coneflowers have ceased blooming, but are still useful to the birds. The brilliantly colored male goldfinches visit the stems frequently to eat the ripe seeds from the center. The thistles are a favorite staple of their diet.

I’ll get back with more robust information in days forthcoming. While the garden work nourishes my soul, it also taxes my body in a way that leaves me fatigued in the afternoon, with more brain fog than brain power to tend to other things. I’m hosting a tour of my garden in about three weeks and am busy getting things ready for the dormancy of autumn and winter, as well as displaying my garden for a few guests. All is well. I hope to hear from you soon!

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Part 1—Healing Strategy

Gratitude—Always in Fashion

Today, I’m reflecting on gratitude. It’s at the top of my strategy list for this series. I consider gratitude to be a superpower, a spiritual tool, and one that is very human. Gratitude is not to be given only after something good happens, although it often is. Gratitude is a state of being—expressing gratitude brings joy. It’s a message to the Universe that you want more of what you’re grateful for.

In an article for the Anxiety and Depression Association of America (ADAA), Ashley J. Smith proposed using gratitude to replace negative habits such as worry, complaining, or negativity. I practice writing down what I’m grateful for and then reading it back, closing my eyes to reflect on it. I feel the calmness and peace that gratitude brings. It’s self-reinforcing.

Decades ago, in the mid-seventies, I discovered Viktor Frankl’s autobiography, Man’s Search for Meaning, based on experiences of his captivity in Nazi concentration camps. Before his deportation, he developed a method of psychoanalysis that he termed logotherapy. This method helped patients find meaning and purpose in their lives. He also counseled teenagers and women to reduce suicide rates.

He applied these practices after he was sent to the concentration camps. That helped him and fellow prisoners survive that horrendous experience. He emphasized gratitude as a crucial tool for finding meaning and purpose, even during dire circumstances.

Gratitude is a choice, he wrote. One can choose to be grateful for what is rather than mourning what is lost. Gratitude can help you unlock the meaning you give your life. Gratitude motivates you to maintain a positive outlook and push through complex challenges. Gratitude is linked to resilience. Those who have a dedicated practice of gratitude increase their ability to recover from adversity. It’s also found to reduce aspects of well-being. Gratitude leads to a lower risk of suicide, greater happiness, and improved health.

Even in times of suffering from persecution, loss, or illness, gratitude can lead you to find meaning in your life. Examples are people who declare that a cancer or a heart attack was the best thing to happen to them. Parents who lost a child to drunk driving, gun violence, or a rare disease became advocates or experts and spoke far and wide to improve the lives of others. A chef dedicates his life to feeding the hungry around the world.

My practice is to write in a gratitude journal daily. I enjoy one with a simple design that takes only five minutes a day. I write about what I’m grateful for each morning, then reflect on the day's events at the end of the day, using the daily prompt. It’s called Start with Gratitude Journal. I think it’s designed to last a year, and I’ve filled at least a dozen of them.

In these difficult times, gratitude can shine as a beacon of light in your life.

If you have a gratitude practice, I would love to hear about it. How do you find purpose and meaning in your life? Are you still seeking? I believe that my purpose is lifelong learning linked with lifelong teaching. I love learning, sharing knowledge with others, and connecting people. This gives me purpose, and the responses I receive lend meaning and relevance to my life.

Part 2—Brain-saving Device

Ketoscan—Testing without Punctures

To help my brain health and help me lose weight without hunger, I eat a low-carbohydrate, ketogenic diet and fast for a minimum of twelve hours a day. My last meal is at least three hours before bedtime. That leaves me a ten-hour window for my three meals. I don’t get hungry between meals on this plan, so I don’t snack.

Why do I eat this way? It was developed by neurologist Dr. Dale Bredesen for his program to prevent or reverse cognitive decline. Eating a low-carbohydrate diet will result in the production of ketones, allowing the body to burn stored fat for fuel rather than carbohydrates. The brain prefers fat to carbs. I learned about this years ago from the fat-burning angle, but learned about the brain benefits more recently. The problem, years ago, that remains is how to determine when I am in ketosis. Options are more plentiful these days.

The first monitor I used was Keto-Mojo. It was helpful and measured what it was meant to measure, but quite expensive to start and maintain. A basic starter kit costs $55, but then the expenses become more complicated and ongoing. Lancets to draw blood are required, and a way to dispose of them, along with alcohol wipes, etc. It requires measurement of both glucose and ketones, and a mathematical calculation is involved. Then the data must be recorded. Items have an expiration date. If you want to test before or after each meal, the sets of 60 strips for $65 will last less than three weeks. It used to take about 15 minutes to complete the testing, and I couldn’t test in a room with my husband, who does not like the thought of punctures or the sight of blood.

Dr. Bredesen’s recommendation was for Biosense. I stopped using this method because the initial cost was around $299, and it required recalibration every six months. The cost of that was over $100, I recall, and I had nothing to use during the time it was sent to the company, recalibrated, and returned. This item was like a breathalyzer, measuring acetone. I just looked this item up and discovered that the company went out of business several months ago, in late 2024.

When my Biosense failed, I looked for something better. I discovered Ketoscan, and I like it. It is available on Amazon for $150, is made in Korea, is lightweight, and easy to use. The battery is rechargeable and lasts at least a month between charges. Customer service is excellent. After 300 uses, the company replaces the sensor and returns it. Memory is not my strong point, but I think they only charge $30 for that, and it was returned in about a week. They emailed me a shipping label. The company has been manufacturing breathalyzers for decades. I’m sure there is a lot of transfer of knowledge for this product. I blow into it, and the unit records the results.

Part 3—Activities

What I’ve been Doing in June

This article is getting long! I may need to alternate future editions between the strategies, gadgets, and activities. That will force me to write more frequently, but I will not feel as overwhelmed. Feel free to give your opinion in the comments.

This month, I’ve visited family, attended the celebration of life of my son’s grandmother-in-law who was one-hundred years old when she passed, spent many hours pulling weeds in the garden, and alternating between good-energy days and exhausting ones. It’s all good. I have wonderful friends. This spring has been cooler than normal and very wet. I’m taking online classes to stay sharp that help me with writing, drawing, and exercising. I’m quite content with my life.

I have almost 300 subscribers as of this writing. I’m thrilled with that. I’d like to see the numbers grow. You can help by getting the app, restacking, and sharing the post. Paid subscriptions are always exciting, but everyone gets the same content.

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Bonus content! I saw this on a friend’s Facebook and really enjoyed it. Perhaps you will, too!

Despite the effort involved, I find weeding to be very rewarding and relaxing. The repetition and fast, visually evident results are evidence of a job well done. Weeding as a practice forces you to stop, breathe, watch, listen, and get close to the earth. Breathe in, breathe out. Pierce the soil, remove weeds by the roots, observe the plants you are cultivating, cover the ground, and repeat. It has rhythm and patterns. It is mindfulness. It is blissful.

Between rainy days, I’m working on the part of my garden that gets the most intense early sunlight. Yesterday I started at nine o’clock. The temperature was moderate, but it was already quite warm in that area, with rays that could burn my pale skin. Today, I aimed for eight o’clock but couldn’t get outside until eight thirty. Tomorrow, I’ll try harder. I have many other places to work on, but it works best to follow the sun. This area is most visible to our many walkers-by and serves as a first impression regarding our yard. My energy reserves are limited, so I must prioritize. My main target in this space is Bermuda grass. A lot of things can hide under Bermuda grass! Here, it was hiding Chrysogonum virginianum (Green and Gold), Coreopsis lanceolota (Lanceleaf Coreopsis), and Ruellia nudiflora (Common Wild Petunia, not easily seen in the photos).

Listening to birdsongs is one of the best parts of an early morning presence. I’ve noticed many people posting birdsongs on Facebook and Substack. I read recently that there is a reason that people are more relaxed when they listen to birdsongs. It’s because the songs indicate that there is nothing to fear. When a dangerous creature is in the woods, the birds go silent. I had not previously thought about that, but it’s true. This morning, I heard an American Robin, a Northern Cardinal, and a Carolina Wren. I listened to the fast, loud drumming of an unidentified woodpecker.

Even earlier, I woke up at two a.m. to what seemed to be a family of Barred Owls outside my window. I opened two windows to let in the cool air, and the comforting sound of the owls let me know that all was well. Their lullaby sent me back to slumber.

One of the reasons I was late to the garden yesterday was that Jon and I observed our first fawn of the season, visible from our kitchen window. The doe with her fawn walked past our rain garden and up the mulched path toward the front yard. They are under a Magnolia grandiflora, between some Chinese Rhododendron (Azaleas). The trunk on the right is a Liriodendron tulipifera, or Tulip Poplar, flanked by Hydrangea quercifolia, or Oak-leafed Hydrangea. You might notice trilliums near the orange markers. They are Trillium erectum, or Red Wakerobin.

Thank you for spending time with me in my garden. I hope you have a very Zen day!

I first became aware of heritage livestock breeds in 2008. For several years, my husband, Jon, and I had been eating locally and purchasing food directly from farmers. At Thanksgiving, I saw an article about choosing a heritage turkey, quoting The Livestock Conservancy . Heritage animals tracked by The Livestock Conservancy are endangered livestock breeds established in North America as long ago as the 1500s. Other breeds have been reestablished as recently as 1998. I was fascinated with the heritage breeds and wanted to be a steward myself.

Heritage Turkeys in Danielsville, Georgia

When I retired from teaching in 2010, I was determined to work with heritage breeds. Jon and I purchased eleven acres of pastured land and began to make it happen. We raised three kinds of meat rabbits—American Blue and American White, Silver Fox, and Blue-eyed Beveren, Gulf Coast Native Sheep, American Guinea Hogs, Khaki Campbell ducks, and a variety of heritage laying hens.

On average, one livestock breed somewhere on Earth becomes extinct each month. This is according to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO). Since 2010, the FAO has documented the extinction of six hundred breeds of six thousand breeds around the world. Another 1,350 breeds remain in danger of extinction due to critical numbers.

The mission of The Livestock Conservancy is To protect America’s endangered livestock and poultry breeds from extinction. They have done such a powerful job of their mission that in the forty-seven years of their existence, not a single breed on the Conservation Priority List has become extinct, and each year they report breeds that have graduated from the list. There are eleven species of animals tracked. Every year in May, I do something special to promote and educate others about the heritage species and breeds.

In this age of climate extremes and viral illnesses that pass from animals to people and from people to animals, biodiversity is crucial. A single breed may have an adaptive characteristic that will save the species.

International Heritage Breeds week in 2019 was a special one because it was only weeks after I published my book Saving the Guinea Hogs: The Recovery of an American Homestead Breed. I gave a reading and talk at a local book store that was recorded.

On a podcast episode recorded on International Heritage Breeds Week in 2020, I chat with the host about the uniqueness of heritage breeds, how The Livestock Conservancy supports breeders, and the importance of biodiversity. The interview begins at the twelve minute mark—12:00.

The Livestock Conservancy staff has always supported me as a member, answered my questions, and opened archives for me as I learned the ins and outs of heritage breeding. Staff members are well-trained, friendly, and knowledgeable. Annual meetings are held online and always well-organized. I’ve had the privilege of doing contract work with them as a writer and conducting intensive year-long census projects. I’ve been a member since 2010.

How can you help support the crucial work of The Livestock Conservancy? It’s easy to get involved. Why not start today?

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I was mostly oblivious to Dad’s work. All I knew was that he was out of town more days than he was at home, and that none of us were allowed to disturb him when he was in his study. One of my closest friends was surprised once to hear that I had a father, because she had never seen or met him. My mother was always home.

I was not an athletic girl. I always had my head buried in a book. Besides reading, I loved observing wildlife, walking to and on Lake Superior's north shore, playing the cello, and writing stories and letters. I had already written one or two letters to the editor of the Duluth News Tribune and a couple to Senator Fritz (Walter) Mondale, urging him to run for President. When I was feeling teenage angst, I sat on a large gray boulder alongside Tischer Creek, listening to the music of the rapidly moving water and inhaling the smell of negative ozone ions. Typically, our tuxedo cat, Pandy, followed and joined me, making everything right in my world. That was truly my happy place.

Tischer Creek was pristine back then, supporting large runs of glistening Brook Trout and small, colorful Rainbow Smelt. Smelting parties in Lake Superior waters in Duluth, Minnesota, rival the energy of Bulldog football home games in Athens, Georgia. The smelt run in April after the lake thaws and spawning begins. Smelt are light sensitive and move to shallow waters, so harvesting occurs at night. This generally follows the imbibing of large quantities of beer, with fishermen (typically not women) in hip-waders walking backward into the water while carrying large nets that will hold several gallons of smelt. What could go wrong? Injuries from slipping on large rocks and even drowning were not unknown. Smelt runs peaked in the 60s and 70s but are less bountiful now.

Even in High School, I liked to organize things and invite others into my world. I have just the vaguest memories of initiating a club in tenth grade with my twin brother, Rick, to promote taking care of the planet in small ways. The club was called Students to Oppose Pollution, and the acronym was STOP. We talked about pesticides, picked up litter, and recycled. Recycling was considered controversial. St. Louis County didn’t implement curbside pickup of recyclables until the 1980s.

My brother Rick reminded me that the club also focused on the negative impact of taconite mines, part of the steel-making process. Taconite tailings were dumped into Lake Superior, altering the ecosystem in several ways. The fine particles cause turbidity, or cloudiness, in the water, making it less transparent. Taconite particles can clog fish gills and stunt their growth. Turbid water absorbs more heat than clear water. That, in turn, reduces dissolved oxygen levels. The fibers also have asbestos-like qualities that degrade the environment.

One year after that first Earth Day, a lawsuit was filed, The United States vs. Reserve Mining—a case that changed modern environmentalism. However, environmental hazards continue in the formerly pristine lakes of Minnesota. Just last year, in the summer of 2024, there was a tragic fish kill in my beloved Tischer Creek. The cause was an intentional dump of chlorinated water into the creek by the city of Duluth. That investigation is ongoing.

Back to April 22, 1970, and the first Earth Day. I remember or imagine that I approached the administration of East High School with a request to hold a school-wide assembly for the first Earth Day. It was a long time ago. I am clear that permission was given only if the assembly was optional, and each teacher consented that their students attend. I don’t remember if any adult leadership organized the event, or if it was entirely student-led. I do recall that my drama teacher gave a firm no to my request. He commented, “hippy nonsense.” This embarrassed me, given the preparations I was making. I decided to ignore him and accept the consequences later. Fortunately, he accepted my manufactured excuse.

My memories of the first Earth Day are limited to a presentation involving my dad and siblings, Dave and Rick. It included a presentation combining lights, slides, and a spoken presentation, culminating with slides and the soundtrack of Simon and Garfunkel’s Bridge over Troubled Water released that year. It sent chills down my spine. The slides depicted images of our beautiful American environment contrasted with spoiled areas, junk yards, and polluted spaces. Later in the day, Charlie gave a presentation at a local college.

I’m linking to a history of Earth Day, conceived of by Senator Gaylord Nelson of Wisconsin. In addition, you can hear an audio interview of Senator Gaylord at UGA in Athens, Georgia here. Eugene Odum, the father of modern Ecology, is now recognized as the father of the Eugene P. Odum School of Ecology at the University of Georgia. It began in 1967 as the Institute of Ecology. In 1969, the School of Environmental Design was opened by Hubert Bond Owens. The first Earth Day occurred during the 1969-70 school year.

Dr. Odum was a friend of Senator Gaylord, and they communicated about the need to add professional practice to the curriculum at the School of Environmental Design. Odum contacted my dad to find out if he was interested in teaching. He was excited to see the students' response to Earth Day and curious about how he could apply his skill set. He met with Owens and Odum and accepted a professorial teaching position.

Within five months, on August 19th, my brother Rick and I arrived in Athens and enrolled at Clarke Central High School. It was the first year of mandated racial integration in Clarke County. Dave married his high school sweetheart, Diane, before we left. They moved into the lower apartment at the Taylor-Grady House as caretakers. Danny enrolled in Clarke Junior High School, and Kenny started kindergarten.

Charlie got his students involved with various projects and practical presentations, juried by their peers and other professors. In 1972, Dad and other visionaries set in motion a plan to save swamp land from being drained, populated with apartments and shopping centers, and converted to a Nature Center instead. It became a reality in 1977.

Dad also set out in the early 70s to promote a Greenway System for the North Oconee River. He is called the “Father of the Greenway” in Clarke County. Unfortunately, it took about thirty years to become a reality, and Dad passed away just four months after ground was broken and before any part of the Greenway was built. In 2004, the Aguar Plaza was opened in honor of Charlie Aguar’s impact on the project. At its inception, it had clear walking paths with granite monuments carved with quotes from my father’s writing and speaking, and places to sit and reflect. Invasive weeds have since moved in, along with homeless encampments.

L-R 2004 Reveal of Aguar Plaza: Nate Aguar, Dave Aguar (deceased), Kiley Aguar,

Dan Aguar, Berdeana Aguar (deceased), Tessa Aguar, Cathy Payne, Rick Aguar

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April 22, 2025, marked the fifty-fifth anniversary of Earth Day. These days, Earth Day is well-established, and in many communities, April is celebrated as Earth Month. For the Athens-Clarke County workers, it is a holiday. This Tuesday, one of our local Rotary Clubs and the Athens-Clarke County Trails and Open Spaces department held an Earth Day event to clean up the Aguar Plaza. I was excited to see friends, Clarke County employees, and young volunteers there. Rotary Club of Athens West members came, including Dick Field, who helped plan and finance the plaza. My brother Rick, nephew Forrest, and I pitched in. It looked much better when we left than when we arrived. I am grateful. I hope this can be more than an annual event. It has been twenty-one years since the plaza opened.

Here is a Vimeo video about the opening of the Greenway, the opening of and the decline of Aguar Plaza. Several Aguar family members were involved in the video. It includes clips of my dad, mom, siblings, nephews, aunt, Professor Al Ike, Dick Field, two Athens Mayors, Walter Cook, and more. It ends with my brother Dan’s sense of humor, on Ken’s birthday, which falls on Valentine’s Day.

Earth Day brought the Aguar family to Athens, Georgia, and Charlie became a gift to the community. Each family member has done their part to continue a legacy that includes caring for the environment.

Thank you for reading this very long post.

“CHARLES E. AGUAR, 1926—2000 VISIONARY EDUCATOR NATURALIST HISTORIAN PHOTOGRAPHER VETERAN REGIONAL PLANNER ENVIRONMENTAL STEWARD COMMUNITY ADVOCATE AND VOLUNTEER

Charlie championed the idea of a Greenway System in Clarke County through his vision, teaching, and volunteer service. [He was] one of the original founders of the Greenway Commission in 1989. He was present for the November 1, 1999 groundbreaking at [the] site.

Our thanks to Rotary Club of Athens West, Oconee Rivers Greenway Commission, and the friends, volunteers, and supporters whose generosity made this possible.”

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This magnificent medium-sized tree in my rain garden is spectacular for a short period in April here in Clarke County, Georgia. It is Chionanthus virginicus, also known as Fringetree or Grancy Graybeard, among other nicknames. It is a native southern species. The blooms start small and greenish but quickly grow longer and whiter until they hang down six to eight inches.

Take a minute to wonder at it; a few moments to inhale and exhale. You deserve a short break.

I tried to upload a one-minute video of the tree blowing in the breeze as the birds sang overhead. Alas, I am unable to download it. Perhaps I can figure it out later.

What is your favorite tree in the spring?

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We found a mold problem hiding in our attic area that seemed likely to have contributed to my serious health issues of brain fog, gut problems, forgetfulness, dizziness, difficulty with subtraction, loss of smell, and anxiety. Early in the year, I spent time exploring these issues and looking for solutions. In the second quarter, I looked into evidence of the problem after positive mold testing. I applied for the funding needed to remediate, reconstruct, and remodel. This came in the shape of a home equity loan.

We looked into various local contractors to do the work. The one we ultimately chose was the most responsive and had the best demeanor. All of his references mentioned good communication right off the cuff. He understood that the goal of this project was more than upgrading our home. Our goal was to continue the “age in place” project we started in 2018 and to have the cleanest air and best airflow we could have in our 1990 home built with builder-grade materials. We wanted to use the greenest, healthiest materials and products that we could afford. This was a significant project.

Our contractor, Myles, of Fielding Customs Renovation was ready to start in October whenever the moldy spaces—the upstairs and crawlspace—were remediated. First, we needed to prepare the upstairs for remediation. Then the remediators could remove the mold and more. Two rooms would be “down to the studs.”

To reset the space and remove toxic materials contaminated with mold and/or volatile organic compounds (VOC), we removed the oriented strand board (OSB) from the walls, floor, and walls of two large “bonus rooms.” The eastern room with the furnace had never been conditioned. It would reach over one hundred twenty degrees in the humid summer and thirty degrees in the cold of the winter in that room. The furnace was rusty due to condensation.

The two bedrooms had carpeting that needed removing. The blinds and ceiling fans were original vintage 1990. We updated the Jack and Jill bathroom partially in 2018 by replacing the old vinyl with tile and updating the hardware. We needed to replace the toilet and the exhaust fan. During this project, we discovered that all three of our bathroom exhaust fans vented into the attic rather than to the outdoors. This helped explain moisture levels and mold in the insulation.

HomeCleanse performed the remediation. They drove in from New Jersey and Florida, boarded at an Airbnb, and went straight to work. Their supplies were delivered on pallets while others were picked up at Home Depot. We did not want our future construction crew or ourselves exposed to toxins or have any toxins remaining for the building-back crew. The HomeCleanse team worked hard to protect downstairs areas from exposure and carefully removed items such as the furnace, the toilet, OSB, and old insulation. They used personal protection for themselves. They rented and filled two twenty-foot dumpsters and still called on “Junk to the Dump” for the last bit.

The procedure included sealing off the area, using negative air pressure, opening windows, lowering items out a window to the dumpster, using HEPA vacuums, scrubbing with peroxide with stiff brushes, revaccuming, and coating with a zero VOC mold resistant coating. It was intense. The toilet, furnace, and HVAC ducts were removed and discarded. All OSB flooring, walls, and sealing were removed. All carpeting and blinds were removed and discarded.

After the home was remediated, we tested it for mold again. It passed. In the first week of October, our contractor began work on rebuilding the space. First, he applied subfloors. Then, he installed non-toxic wool insulation from Havelock Wool. We used both batting and blow-in. Check out all the surprising benefits of wool!

This was followed by a different focus each day, including green-certified wallboard, access panels, energy-efficient windows, a new toilet, a new energy-efficient heat pump, zero VOC paint, LED lights, two DC-motor LED ceiling fans, and engineered Norwegian oak wood floors throughout. We added Allen & Roth blinds and new furniture. The air is breathable again! All is functioning well.

I’m now breathing better, sleeping well, and rarely feeling brain fog or confusion. I have less anxiety, good balance, and I’m back to my Thursday morning walks at the Botanical Gardens. I’m very grateful for the positive changes.

I plan to test for mycotoxins again next month and monitor them as needed in the future. I found a test that Medicare covers. Feel free to ask questions about this project and to leave comments. I’ll do my best to answer or respond to you.

Thank you for your patience as I recovered from this project. My readers are the best, and I appreciate my loyal subscribers and paid supporters. I am committing to more posts going forward in 2025. Use the buttons below freely to assist me in continuing this work.

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I’ve been busy the last year, healing myself and my home. I’ve written about memory loss, brain fog, anxiety, and depression. By the beginning of 2024, I realized I needed to get serious about healing. I couldn’t do it all by myself. Something was missing. Because testing showed that the prime suspects for my brain issues were under the umbrella of toxicity and my diet was clean, I ruled out pesticides. I didn’t test positive for heavy metals. I knew my gut was a mess, and my life was a struggle. The links in this post will give you additional information if you want a deep dive into these topics.

I started having issues as early as 2014 and living on our farm. By 2018, my symptoms were troubling enough that, in addition to our climate extremes, I felt the need to discard my very physically demanding lifestyle for a simpler life with neighbors, hospitals, and medical complexes nearby. My functional doctor informed me about Dr. Dale Bredesen and his protocol for reversing cognitive decline. I read his book and filed it into the back of my mind. By 2022, I became aware of an online program, Apollo Health, that guided people remotely to follow his plan. I joined it in February 2023. My dietician, trained in the protocol, was extremely helpful. She works remotely, so let me know if you could use this support in your journey and I will give you her contact information. She works in conjunction with a functional M.D.

After spending a year in this program and continuing to struggle, I joined one of Apollo Health’s support groups—one on toxicity. Dr. Bredesen documents several types of risks for Alzheimer’s, and my greatest risk was toxicity. Over the next three months, I discovered that toxicity group members frequently discussed mold issues. While I knew that my functional doctor was monitoring mycotoxins, I did not realize that mycotoxins in the body are evidence of and caused by mold. Mold can be absorbed into the body by inhaling spores in the air, eating moldy food, and through skin absorption when touching dust.

I received some great tips in the toxicity support group, and the leader shared many helpful books. These included Prescriptions for a Healthy House, 4th Edition, Neil Nathan’s Toxic: Heal Your Body, and Dr. Jill Crista’s Break the Mold. Note that Neil Nathan has a Toxic: 2nd Edition being released on April 15th, 2025. It is currently in pre-order status on Amazon. The 2nd Edition is light blue. Dr.Nathan released The Sensitive Patient’s Healing Book nine months ago in 2024. It’s great to know that more and more information is being written on this topic. Podcasts and Facebook Groups are dedicated to mold and other toxic illnesses.

Mycotoxins can be eliminated through detoxification, but they are sometimes trapped by biofilms that hold onto them. Detoxification channels include perspiration and elimination. Biofilms can be treated with specific enzymes taken between meals. I had and remain to have much to learn! People in the toxicity group talked about ERMIs or Dust Tests. I ordered a home dust test. I sensed that there were some serious issues in the upper rooms of our home. While I waited for the dust test, I signed up for a Mold Mastery Class through Apollo Health.

Time for a diversion. The spring wildflowers in my native plant garden allowed my heart to soar, but the fog in my brain made most tasks seem incredibly difficult. I felt dizzy and disoriented. I tripped and fell frequently. I injured my knee and used a cane for a period. I curtailed activities. I missed the Nature Rambles at our local Botanical Garden while I delved into this new learning and working with contractors.

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After a month, I received my test results. They were not good. The dust I collected from two unfinished rooms and bedrooms in an “attic” space revealed a moisture problem in our home that contributed to mold growth. Our results were in the 51st to 90th percentile compared to other homes where mold was suspected. The report analysis stated, in part, “Your sample detected 30 of the 36 most prevalent molds found in homes according to the 2006 Housing and Urban Development’s American Healthy Homes Survey. It also detected 18 mold species that require either damp or wet conditions to grow. Please note that this does not indicate current active water sources.”

I looked at our unfinished spaces on the second floor in a new light. We had mainly used the pictured room for storage. Jon used the other room as a “laboratory” for tinkering, inventing, and exploring mechanical things. I could never imagine what to do with those rooms in the way of cleaning. They were a hot mess, covered in only OSB plywood, a toxic, moisture-holding wood (look-up oriented strand board). The aluminum windows condensed next to them because one of the rooms was completely unconditioned. We had ignored the “lungs” of our house, and now we were living with the results. The first owner of the home, after building it and living here for 30 years, passed away recently in an Alzheimer’s facility. I feared a similar fate if things did not change.

Having storage space came in handy. In 2022, when we remodeled four rooms on our first floor, we used it to store our downstairs furniture. This room and angle are close to the one I took this week at the top of the article. It’s easy to see the transformation.

Here are close-up photos of other areas of this room. It was unconditioned and unfinished from 1990 to 2024. The temperature in the eaves reached 130 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer and was always chilly in winter. The thirty-four-year-old furnace condensed, as did the aluminum windows. Dark areas on the wood and rust in the HVAC attested to a history of moisture in this room. There was nothing to control the Georgia humidity here. The window air conditioner was installed in March to allow us to clear storage items and remediate the problems. That unit ran up our power bill dramatically! Here you can see the eastern bonus room from both ends, orienting west-east and east-west. These rooms are quite roomy!

I also added some photos of my lovely wildflowers. I love our beautiful outdoor space and am so grateful for it. (I’ve developed a habit of returning to nature when I begin to feel anxious. Remembering to feel gratitude is quite helpful.)

We had a clone of this room on the other side of our home. It had ducts but was just as unfinished, with only OSB, exposed falling insulation, and an aluminum window.

By that time, I realized that the method people found successful was to 1) find a good inspector to determine the origins of the mold and develop a plan to remediate it, 2) locate a remediating company that will guarantee results and employ zero VOC botanically-based products that are non-toxic and will remove offending materials from the home safely, and 3) rebuild the house better. Some people DIY, but this can be dangerous because of exposure to mold and making serious mistakes.

Jon and I spent June discussing the situation. I did lots of heavy reading and research. I was not impressed by our local inspectors and remediators’ understanding of our situation. I was experiencing health issues due to problems involving poor airflow, construction, and faulty air conditioning. Most contractors focus on a specific flooding event, drying it out, and applying biocides, which are toxins of a different kind.

We hired a company that trained and deployed technicians with the right tools to find our problems. The method included inspecting every part of the home, using technology to register moisture, heat, and visual mold or evidence of moisture damage. In retrospect, this firm collected excessive information and expensive samples. We were required to wait weeks for a phone consultation. Then, during the call, we determined which samples to send for testing before waiting longer for the results and another consultation to review their plan. I’m becoming weary with the memory of this. It took a large portion of our final expense and was quite stressful.

I received a note that I am “near email length limit.” Therefore, I will cut this short and continue my tale in a future post. At least I gave you the happy ending visually, right up front!

I am immensely grateful to my recent subscribers, including a new paid annual subscriber. It means so much to me to hear from readers and supporters. Please like and comment on the Substack app when you can.

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January 1, 1995, Pigeon’s Forge, Tennessee

I met my husband, Jon, thirty-one years ago on a blind date. We immediately liked each other despite many obvious differences. It was a case of opposites attracting. The potential was there for either a tragic or joyous ending.

I was an elementary school teacher working with struggling students from kindergarten to fifth grade and a single mom with a teenaged son, struggling to make ends meet on a budget.

Jon was a locksmith by trade, now working a corporate job with a company that eventually reached Fortune 500 status. He hired, trained, and fired employees, developed and helped patent new projects, and, at times, was rewarded with shares of stock in the company. His two children lived with their mother in Maryland.

Our initial rendevous was on a Friday night—October 15, 1993. We met at a mall where I could safely exit if necessary. On the phone, we explained how we’d dress and where we’d meet. After locating each other, we had a snack at the food court. Jon’s beeper went off about fifteen minutes in. He glanced down, said it wasn’t important and regaled me with his history—born in England, immigrated to Canada, immigrated to Colorado, then moved to Maryland. He had been naturalized a few years earlier. Sometime later, Jon confessed that he had preset the beeper to go off after fifteen minutes in case the date was a disaster. Thank goodness for first impressions!

As the evening progressed, I trusted him to drive me around. We went to a bar for beer and dancing and ended the evening having cherry pie and coffee at a Waffle House. I told him about my Granny’s flaky pie crusts and cherry pie made from cherries picked from her orchard. Nothing could top that.

It may have been on that first date that I nicknamed Jon “Mr. Gadget.” I’d never known anyone as geeky as him or someone so enmeshed with devices. He drove a red Ford Thunderbird outfitted with a Motorola brick cellphone. It weighed about ten pounds and had a black antenna almost as long as the phone.

When we first got into the car and started driving, Jon reached out, touched my hand, and stroked it gently. Chills ran down my spine. I was a goner. We’ve been together ever since. Fourteen months after that first date, Jon and I eloped (that’s another story) and wed in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.

Jon is guarded and suspicious by nature, while I am gregarious, friendly, and engage with strangers. He looked around him and had situational awareness that often escaped me. As a Maryland locksmith and a board member of the national locksmith organization, he trained police officers to work with Neighborhood Watch groups. He also trained government entities with names often represented by three letters to do things general citizens are not allowed to do. He might grab my elbow in cities and quickly escort me across the street. He made me feel safe and protected.

Some things never change. He converted our current house into “Smart Home” status, populated by the Internet of Things, abbreviated IOT. In the seven years we’ve owned our current home, I’ve never needed a key to open an outside door. Instead, we use a four-digit code. People with access are allotted a different code, and Jon gets an email when it’s used. We have devices that tell our thermostat to turn on, start the fire in our fireplace, and more. I honestly can’t keep up with most of them.

Jon likes to read to escape, but it is always on an electrical device. I prefer to read a paper book, preferably with a yellow highlighter or sticky pads handy to find the important parts later. I taught elementary school for thirty-five years and enjoy helping children grow and develop. Jon has difficulty relating to children before they are at least age eighteen. I adore history, historical novels, and non-fiction books about places, people, plants, and animals. Jon enjoys James Bond movies and James Patterson novels. Choosing a VHS at Blockbuster was always painfully tricky. One of us was bound to be tuned out. It’s easier today with more extensive selections we can stream, trailers to preview, and recommendations in our feed.

Over the years, we’ve seen sickness, recovered from surgeries, had COVID-19 twice each, had influenza multiple times, recovered from a broken foot, lost parents, lost other family members, and more. We’ve purchased four homes—each one required that Jon create or upgrade a workshop. Each was populated with at least one dog until our farm collie died in 2023. We’re putting pets behind us now.

In our sixth decade, we retired, left the metro Atlanta area, purchased land in northeast Georgia, and started farming. In a short while, Jon opened a locksmith shop that served seven rural counties. He remained chief carpenter on the farm while I worked with interns and tended up to one hundred or more heritage livestock.

We’re now on the trek to eighty years. Jon is on a fervent mission to pass on his vast knowledge through online classes, regional classes, and more. He does a lot of consulting work. I started writing in 2018 and completed one book. I consulted with The Livestock Conservancy for three years, published several articles in multiple magazines and newsletters, and started this Substack blog to pass my knowledge forward.

Maybe we’re not so different after all.

1995 to 2025

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I used this creative itch during my teaching career to inspire my students to integrate their interests to improve reading comprehension and math skills.

When I retired from teaching in May 2010, on my 57th birthday, my husband and I purchased eleven acres of rural land in Elberton, Georgia. Jon opened a locksmith shop, and I began a farm—Broad River Pastures, named for the land and its placement near the Broad River. I wanted to raise heritage breeds of animals for meat, eggs, fur, wool, and breeding stock. The fantastic thing is, we did just that! Each day was a new adventure. However, after eight years of constant work and increasingly challenging weather extremes, I was 65 years old. I was slowly losing my sense of smell, struggling with math, finding my words, and experiencing other changes that increased my anxiety. I sensed that I would not continue farming without breaking down my mind and body. I needed to be closer to medical care and to begin practicing self-care.

Of course, the creative projects didn’t stop. To start, we had improvements to make in a one-owner home built in 1990. We changed flooring in multiple rooms, painted walls, added kitchen countertops, rearranged cabinets, bought new appliances, encapsulated the crawlspace, and removed some menacing trees. We brought our farm refrigerators and freezers because they were filled with over 300 pounds of Guinea Hog pork and lard.

What is a Guinea Hog? That is a long story—my first autumn in town, the fall of 2018, I wrote down everything I had learned about the breed for five years and recorded many interviews. I self-published it in March, 2019 in paperback, hardcover, and e-Book formats. For the next year, I worked on my public speaking skills, did some book reading events, and was a frequent podcast guest. What a project that became, and led me to four years of part-time research and writing contracts with The Livestock Conservancy.

For all of December, I’m offering my last few paperback copies of Saving the Guinea Hogs: The Recovery of an American Homestead Breed, for only $18 with free shipping as long as supplies last. Email me at guineahogbooks.com with your address and tell me how you’d like it autographed. I’ll send you an invoice via PayPal. For more information about the book, check out my book trailer.

Thank you for reading Intentional Wisdom and for supporting my writing work. I appreciate it more than you could know.

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Offerings from the Athens Farmer’s Market in Georgia

Although I rarely snack, I do enjoy three meals a day. Breakfast is my largest meal, lunch is moderate, and dinner is light in the late afternoon. I try to finish eating by 5:00 PM and fast until 7:00 AM, which gives me a 14-hour fast. Please note that I am not offering medical advice or recommendations—I’m following medical guidance from my physicians and practitioners based on my needs and tailoring it to my preferences and lifestyle. See Eating for Brain Health—Part One.

The "Keto" in KetoFlex stands for ketosis, in which the body burns fat for fuel rather than carbohydrates. If carbs are consumed minimally, the body will burn stored fat instead. The brain prefers to burn fat for better performance. Burning stored fat has the pleasant side effect of slimming your body and promoting weight loss. It has taken me from obesity to a normal BMI and from size 14 jeans to size 10 (Large to Medium everything).

The "Flex" stands for flexibility, switching between burning fat and carbs. It also reflects the flexibility each person has in choosing foods they prefer, those in season, and those their dietician or physician may recommend. There is a fantastic article that includes all the basics here.

Lunch

Lunch is generally four hours after breakfast, and I have more energy before noon than after. Therefore, I eat a moderate lunch, saving my smallest meal for dinner. I’ll show you a few examples.

Here is a lamb stew using meat from Choate Farms in Greensboro, Georgia, locally grown peppers, summer squash, and bone broth rendered from lamb bones. I added some choice herbs.

This is a salad made from what I found in the frig—leftover roasted chicken breast, organic raw bok choy, raw okra from the farmers’ market, crunchy macadamia nuts, and pomegranate arils from nwwildfoods.com. I’m getting hungry now!

Dinner

I eat dinner around 4:00 most days, allowing me to begin fasting by 4:30. I like to retire as early as 7:30 for reflection, writing in my gratitude journal, avoiding screens, and doing some light reading. Whatever your bedtime, it’s healthiest to begin fasting three hours before that time to allow for digestion before sleep. Because I retire before 9:00, this works for me.

This meal was an excellent way to use part of a roasted chicken and satisfy my husband’s Chinese food cravings. I made some jasmine rice for him, using chicken bone broth instead of water. The organic broccoli and celery were from Aldi. Onions, garlic, and peppers were locally grown. I used an organic five-spice mix for flavor.

I call this either “duck three ways” soup or “eggdrop soup.” I bought a pound of duck wings from Smyley Farms for $5 on sale. I cooked them in my instant pot with extra liquid to make duck broth. I picked off the meat and strained the broth. I brought the broth to a simmer and added a scrambled duck egg from Caribe United Farm and the meat from the duck wings. Hence, duck three ways! This was served over a nest of shirataki angel hair from Thrive Market. I loved it! This was a rare meal without vegetables but still exceptionally nutrient-rich. I got those in during breakfast and lunch—my larger meals. When the leftover duck broth cooled, I skimmed off the fat layer to make my next batch of liver pate. I purchase goose fat to keep on hand, but I usually use chicken schmaltz and duck fat to save money. Very little goes to waste, and much is composted. Thrive Market sells many of my favorite staples.

More simple meals are in the gallery above.

Now that you’ve peeked into my three meals a day, there is still a lot to cover: beverages, monitoring devices or “gadgets,” logging meals and nutrients, mindfulness, mindful eating, and more I can’t think of off-the-cuff.

What questions do you have? Do you have suggestions for my next topic? Do you like to determine what you prepare to eat based on the food at hand? Do you eat seasonally? Shop locally? Use recipes, or throw things together on the spot?

I hope to hear from you. If you don’t have the Substack app, consider downloading it for free. Commenting on the app rather than by email will help people find me and make it easier to recommend and share this blog with others.

I appreciate all of my subscribers and want to thank my paid subscribers, especially for offering that extra support. If you’d like to receive a subscriber perk, such as an online meeting to discuss a topic further, please send suggestions my way. Thank you so much for reading today!

I’m a bit embarrassed about the two-month delay in posting this. I wrote the first draft two months ago and only needed ten minutes to publish it today. A lot has happened in my life since mid-September. I embarked on an ambitious project to improve my health. Once it is over in December, I’ll share more about it. It will probably be in 2025.

Thanks for reading Intentional Wisdom!

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We love to feed the birds. In no small part, this is so we can bring them into view for our entertainment and improved observation. I’m now realizing that this practice can promote the spread of disease from feeders to birds and from squirrels to birds, among other dangers.

Our former neighbor, who I’ll call “Dee,” now deceased, had no qualms about feeding wildlife. She religiously started her day at 9:00 a.m., before preparing her husband’s breakfast, by calling the neighborhood squirrels, chipmunks, and crows to an elaborate peanut dispenser. She filled it with several pounds of peanuts in the shell. I would find them everywhere in our yard, carried by the squirrels and crows, dropped from our roof, and buried in our gardens. If Dee had not appeared by 9:00, the crows would begin loudly registering their complaint.

A few years ago, Dee’s husband was in hospice, and Dee was agitated and confused. I went to visit with her and brought some homemade treats. This is where I learned about “Leaping Lucy,” a matriarch of the squirrel population, and took this photo.

Lucy got her name because of her agility on the deck and windowsills. Dee reserved a jar of shelled and roasted peanuts just for Lucy. Dee opened a window to toss a few peanuts to Lucy.

The day before I took this photo, Dee’s husband told me about the day he first saw her and how she was the love of his life. The day after the photo, he passed away. Dee had dementia and could not stay there by herself. She was cared for by a dear family friend who had promised to be her guardian.

The animals grieved their caretaker's absence. When I walked outside between our properties, the crows shrieked, and the squirrels screamed at me. It was quite unsettling.

Eventually, things settled down. Jon and I had never encouraged squirrels before and certainly never bought peanuts for them. That was about to change. Lucy began calling. I am a careful observer of creatures and picked out Lucy based on personality as much as anything. Lucy was unafraid, had prominent dark teats when she was pregnant or nursing, and had a reddish tinge around her nose. She had some age on her and was dominant when other squirrels tried to hone in on her goodies.

Eventually, we noted other things about Lucy. She seemed to have some hair loss on her back. It got worse when she was pregnant or lactating. One day, she had a tear in her left ear. She had a certain way of sitting and begging. She responded to her name. Dee’s guardian told us that Lucy must be twelve years old. It’s unusual for a wild squirrel to live past ten years, although they can live to twenty in captivity.

Recently, Lucy has been coming around less frequently and is having trouble defending her turf from a young male, possibly her offspring, who is trying to take her place of dominance. She hid out for a day or two after the eye of Hurricane Helene came through our neighborhood, and its wind uprooted many of the neighborhood trees. When I saw her again, she seemed subdued, thin and disoriented. I think the storm took a toll on her.

She seems more confident today. She’s been gathering acorns from our White Oak tree. It may be her last winter. Such is the circle of life. It’s been a good run for Leaping Lucy.

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