April 17, 2004 ~ Absence

Saturday.

Days stretch out in long expanses, and nights are cold.

Morgan is down visiting Jake and Brad in the Piedmont, and to say "I miss him" doesn't do this feeling justice.

An essential part of my life is altered. An aching emptiness personified in the moment when I turn to tell him what made me laugh and find that he is not there.

Instead, I steep some licorice mint tea, pick up one of his favorite books, curl up under the wolf rug that he didn't bring with him, and try to find some semblance of self when half is missing. It's like re-learning how to breathe.

I dented Ryoga's hood on Thursday. There's a new gate on the entrance to Jones Mountain, and I both miscalculated the distance and also slid in some six-inch deep mud. Hit the gate. Felt really stupid.

Ryoga got me back on Friday, though. Morgan and I went out to do some errands before he left, and Ryoga stalled. In a no parking zone downtown. And wouldn't start again. I guessed the alternator and/or the battery. Five hours and three hundred and fifty bucks later, turned out I was right. Alternator died and took the battery with it.

Well, at least it happened downtown, less than a mile from a mechanic. And not on the trip Morgan that was about to take. And, though it was very inconvenient and expensive and irritating, it did give us a few more hours together before he left, which was time well spent.

The internet is a marvelous thing. I post pictures of a phenomenon that I'm curious about, and instantly I have answers and information about it pouring in. I love it. Like I've said before, when all else fails, ask your readers.

So, it turns out that the mystery pods pictured in the last entry are "galls," or, more specifically, "oak apple galls," formed when a species of wasp lays eggs in the leaf, which stimulates the tree to produce extra growth hormones around the egg, bulging out as it does, and providing a safe home and nourishment for the larva developing inside. Galls on leaves are generally harmless to the tree (though galls in branches and trunks can sometimes cause problems). There are all sorts of different galls that form on numerous different sorts of plants and are inflicted by several different species of insects. There's all sorts of fascinating information available if you run a search on "gals" or "oak apples."

Many thanks to various readers for all of the concern and information and pictures and links you sent my way; I really appreciate it. (Alicia, Bob, Elisa, Grouse, Kathy, Kristin, and Li.)

One last thing. I came across my very favorite film short again last night, and I highly recommend it. Please go watch it. It is only six minutes long, but so beautifully done.





Footnotes:

weather: 80 degrees, sunny.
bookmarked: Stephen King's The Gunslinger, book one of the Dark Tower series. One of Morgan's favorite series. Would you believe that I've never read any Stephen King; this is the first?
writing focus: Trying to catch up on correspondence.
observation: Dogwoods in bloom, everywhere.
hours hiked this year: 60.75
hours volunteered this year: 84.5
cooking: I'm embarrassed to admit, just leftovers and heated up freezer food. I just... Cooking for just me feels kinda pointless.
historical journal: "I thought of the beautiful cool evening, how I long to be walking in it outside of this cell. ... The thoughts on freedom were only momentary but so powerful that they seem to tear my soul apart. There is something about being alone in a cell, about the inability to rise from a chair, open the door and speak to someone. I would like to get up this minute and discuss this subject with someone. I would like to put these feelings into a piece of sculpture and although sitting typing out the feelings is important there is a tremendous amount of strain and frustration attached to it." ~ Jimmy Boyle in his diary, April 17, 1976.

online journals:

"I have helped raise eight children. One of them turns fourteen next month, which, when I think about, always makes me pause. He took some of his first steps in this house, in fuzzy, green, footed pajamas. I can picture him standing by the dining room table, holding on to the chair a moment before he teetered away, sticky fingers coming free. Toward me." ~ Elise, about being a nanny, in this entry of Herworship.

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