The Pluff Mud Incident

Though the wind had a bite to it, DiOnna and I repeated our walk to the "Sands" again today. DiOnna is so great at staying close to me if I make that command. She loves to get out and poke her nose in everything. She also loves to chase seagulls and crows.

Today I took a bag of pecans in the shell and chose a squared piece of sea wall to sit down on. As soon as DiOnna heard the first crack of one shell against the other one in my hand, she was as close as her little lips could get to the pecan. She did not move for fear of missing a tidbit and I must have cracked more than a dozen before we had each had our fill.

As we sat, we watched the visitors to the beach bent obsessively over the clusters of oyster shells in their bed, some down on their knees with knee pads and onto their elbows, going for a better range to eyeball any potential finds, in particular, shark's teeth. I was told that in the thick of the oyster beds, with the tide at low, it is more likely a serious seeker can find a larger sized shark tooth than the baby ones found along the tide line. Indeed, a perservering little blond-headed girl, skinny as a rail, showed me her band-aid box of a good 10 or so baby shark's teeth. I concluded the best talent for finding shark's teeth is patience, next to the obvious gift of keen eyesight.

I sat on the cold concrete and wrapped my cherished blue Pashmina wool headscarf around my head and ears, tucking the remaining lengths beneath my chin. At just after 2 p.m. the wind was whipping not only my face and ears, but was creating a froth in the waves, leaving them whitecapped as they wrestled each other to get away from the shore as the tide struggled to find it's way out.

The sky was overcast and the grey day was enough to make me shiver, without the added wind from the northeast. I wondered at the growth of oyster shells in the exposed bed, how they they curled in the same pattern as most all things on earth seem to grow, as seen in the pattern of the pinecone. I couldn't help but compare the growth pattern to the same pattern I'd seen recently in a cluster of fungus or mushrooms, I'd seen on the courthouse lawn just down in the town. I took a picture of the fungus. Did I take a picture of the oysters growing?

I only found out the day before, that oysters need the hard shells of empty oysters to attach to in order to grow. For that reason, oysters already mined by hungry humans for their delicious content, are recycled by most communities like this one, back into the beds to facilitate further growth.

Before I was ready to trek back to the house, the sun came out and provided some much needed warmth and it added a bit of rosiness to my cheeks. Day 2 of this new outdoor adventuring and already I felt the benefits of the fresh air and exercise; but, not before the "pluff mud" incident. I always wondered exactly what pluff mud was. I had heard about it a few times since moving to the "Low Country." Until you experience it for yourself, though, it just sounds rather romantic. While it is pretty in paintings, if you step into it, you sink; and so, I did. The beautiful taupe colored mud ate up about six inches of the black suede of my boots, and a few inches of the hem of my CLEAN black jeans. Now, if anyone should want to know exactly what pluff mud is, I can tell them it is a lot like quicksand. The harder you try to get out of it, the more you sink.

I don't want to jinx this experience of outdoor adventuring by making it a resolution. I will just remember the exuberance that comes with with interacting with nature. That is motivation in itself to embrace the great outdoors with all its surprises.

DiOnna is exhausted. So am I.

Meeting myself face to face

I headed down London Street to the "Sands" :: a small beach created by a dredging project years and years ago. My only goal was to get outside and give my dog a much deserved walk in the fresh air, new, marsh air. She jumed at the anticipated outing, seeing her pink rhinestone collar and leash being dangled in front of her. I could swear she was smiling!

As for me, I was a little bit dreading it, but I had opened my heart and mind to it after trying to get moved into my 2-room waterfront cottage over a six-weeks period of time. I had been newly diagnosed with heart disease, and was feeling it. It took me some time in bed, reading novel after novel, and ducking in and out of email to finally feel free enough to untangle myself from my bedcovers and face a bright but chilly day. It is December 29, 2009.

We headed down the moss-draped street, Sentry oaks guarding our way. DiOnna, my nimble yorkie did the usual yorkie things, nose to ground, squat, and so forth. She was pulling so hard on the leash she was choking herself, but I found her very responsive to the heel command at which time she would ease up, turn around, and walk beside me at my pace. Eager and excited, however, she would forget, and take off again. Soon, however, we found ourselves walking onto the longest boardwalk I could reme

mber seeing, and spotting our first dolphin, a sleek cylinder with fin upright diving down and coming up over and over as it worked its way through the fairly still water at high tide.

The view was impressive. The fresh air took my breath away. The sunshine was a blessing. I was so happy, my heart felt delight. All it took, I thought, was getting out of my comfort zone and moving into this beckoning world to feel the hand of my God upon my shoulder, and the healing had already begun.

I was so happy to walk the shoreline. I talked to a visitor from Alaska who was a specialist in fossils. He had a bag of shark teeth he had found already, and some bones. He showed me a little about fossils and soon, I found my own, a jawbone of a stingray. It was black and shiny, with many fine striations. A pattern only God could create.

We spent a couple of hours on the waterfront, DiOnna and I. I was surprised at my stamina and that I had no feeling that I was tired or needing to get inside. I was so awed at my enjoyment of this simple pleasure, of walking and breathing God's marsh air.

And as if the shark tooth and fossil I was carrying home in my pocket weren't enough; I was blown away by the full moon ascending in the sky as I made my way home. As this pale luminescent body made its way higher and higher as I walked, I saw it's shy reflection in the marshy waters. The rising moon would bring the tide higher. Simultaneously, I realized the sun had not yet gone down and that the two were almost facing each other on opposite sides of the sky. The sun was a runny egg, spreading its yellows and pale oranges across the western horizon.

I thought to myself. I need to come back in my car, and take the photos of the moon in the water. But, now I'm in bed again, getting warm after a hot shower. My cup of coffee is re-warmed from the morning, and my DiOnna is worn out and lying by my side, also getting warm.

Now I know. If I want to meet the me I want to be, again, she can be found down on the waterfront, on the shoreline picking through seashells, looking for shark's teeth, fossils, and shells that look like angel's wings.

Broken heart blues

No, I haven't been jilted by a lover. My heart isn't aching of a nostalgic sentiment. For the first time in 54 years, I literally face death's beckoning finger and mocking grin. Of course, I know fear of an earthly end to life is what it is...an earthly thing. Once it's done, like the reversal of birth, a sucking back up into the vacuum from which we came, it's over...pain done...aches unmentionable and vanished...family ties lost without anguish.

No, my heart has literally betrayed me. Or, I've betrayed my heart. Whichever part of the circle you want to step onto and follow.

There is the left chamber. They say it is the most important, though the entire heart is important. My left chamber is infected with a virus that has, somehow, caused a Left Bundle Branch Block that has reduced my "ejection fraction" rate to half that of normal. This means the oxygenized blood I should be receiving throughout my body, is not coming in the proper amounts and in a reliably continuous fashion, and the result is Congestive Heart Failure.

What I wonder is whether they are telling me everything. Is it possible I could die at any time? My GP, Dr. Gaston Perez says I will be ok. That they rebuild some of the tissue and strengthen my heart with the right meds. So far, things HAVE improved. The EF has come up from 35 percent to mid forties according to the echo tech yesterday. My BP has dropped from 130 something over 80 or so, to 102 over 60 or so. That is good news, I know.

I have changed my life. I have moved out into the countryside (marshside to be more exact) in a small small town (seems like a village) and have simplified to the point of almost no belongings. Why bother my children with excess baggage? I have my Yorkie and my Bengal cat for company. They are just right. They love me to pieces and stay by my side as if they know I won't be around forever. They are Dionna and Diego in that order.

I like my life. I loved my job until Thursday and Friday when external (and I believe evil) forces attacked and I was cruelly treated and wrongfully accused and I am not happy about that. It stressed me, but I was prepared for the meetings that I knew weren't going to go my way despite that I was correct on every count. I was calm, non-angry, unruffled. That pissed the evil parties off, even more.

Why do evil people exist to make our lives difficult? They are sent to attack us every day. Rattle us. Make us fall. But I do not believe I fell. I believe I stood victorious and my angels were there to prove it and Allah is my witness and my strength.

So, today I look at the gray sky, the yard puddle the size of a small lagoon, and the dripping draping Spanish moss from the Sentry Oak rooted deeply into the lot next door, and say to myself, tomorrow is another day. Calmate' mi Corazon.