Chaos for a Cause!

Seemingly overnight, the mountains and valleys have turned from a muted grayish-muddy green to a deep green with almost the only variation being on the tops of the mountains which are still brilliant white snow-capped. I look forward to the fifteen minute drive into town to pick up the mail. The cattle are now grazing on fresh green grass. I rarely see the deer that all winter were desperately searching for something to graze along the side of the road; the upper mountains being buried in such deep snow. As I passed a meadow bordered by a white split-rail fence I saw a mare with her young foal trotting together through the grass. I swear I saw them smiling. Spring has been cold and rainy. On this rare moment of warm sun shining on the mother/child pair, and shining on my own face I was completely overcome with emotion. Tears sprang to my eyes (not unusual for me and actually serves me well with my dry eye situation). "Why am I crying over this?!"

We've had so much dead wild-life on the roads the last several months; I drive extra cautiously and slowly so as not to injure them or ourselves. It's a beautiful drive and I don't mind the slow pace. My mind drifts back to growing up in the mountains. Seeing any injured/dead animal, I'd beg my daddy to stop and turn around so we could help it. "No sweetie....we can't rescue every animal that gets hit on the road. It's just a part of nature."

This last week my daughter Natalie and her oldest daughter Taylie have been attending a church girl's camp not even five minutes from our cabin. In fact, part of the mountain view from our deck is part of the property belonging to the camp. It's been so cold I wondered how they would fare; but they have cabins they've slept in and had fully plumbed bathrooms. Tempted to pull from the "Back in MY day" arsenal, I didn't share too much with her about girl's camps I'd attended. Tents. "Toilets" that we dug out of the dirt with shovels, hung tarps from near-by branches for privacy and a bag of lime placed nearby to "flush" with. Each meal being prepared over coals in a fire pit. Running water from a crank outdoor pump was to re-fill canteens and to cook with. There was no such thing as a shower or hair-washing. We girls French-braiding each other's hair on the drive up to the mountains, knowing it would get less dirty and smoky that way. "Taps" being bugled from a trumpet just as the sun was beginning to rise. Not saying back in my day...but seriously. I'm not so sure many girls would attend a camp like that anymore. We didn't know any differently. We really did have so much fun in spite of our perceived hard-ships.

Not yo Mama's girl's camp!

My dad would always sign up to be one of the dads to come up and help with the heavy duty tasks of setting up camp and helping with fire-building and cooking. Being a retired National Park Ranger, I think he loved being back in his outdoor element. I was proud of him and loved knowing that he was nearby. I remember one night when we were all gathered around the campfire singing and bearing testimony of Jesus Christ, I went and sat myself against Daddy's bent knees. I was cold, and he put his jacket around my shoulders. I leaned my head way back and looked up at the billions of stars above us. "I just want to feel this way forever."

Sometimes we purposefully take ourselves out and away from our creature comforts. A self-imposed way of breaking down in order to build, and we appreciated things like running water, flushing toilets, and shampooed hair.

I returned home from getting the mail. Freya greeted me, peeking around the edge of the stairs, inviting me to a game of hide-and-seek; which in a 1,200 sq. ft. cabin is a pretty short game. Although now that we've taken off the lean-to and brought all the laundry and storage items into the main living area, its actually pretty easy to lose small things. Currently it's a self-imposed hard-ship. We'll be adding on soon. Dave has suggested many times getting a storage unit in town; but I can't bear the thought of it. I've pared down so much that I'm really only left with the things I truly care about. Dave is a minimalist that cares about his maximalist wife, so he acquiesces to me. Everywhere we turn looks a bit like a scene from a hoarder's reality show. Albeit a clean hoarder's show. We have a bit of PTSD from the fiasco of 2020 and not being able to purchase simple things like toilet paper and pinto beans. We shouldn't run out of either for a while. I know because I have a lot of it right here by the couch. I tell myself for the cost of one month's rent on a storage unit think of all the T.P. I could buy!

"Anthropomorphism" - defined as giving human traits or attributes to animals, inanimate objects or other non-human things. After I play a few rounds of hide-and-seek I realize I have a serious case. "She's bored. She's lonely. She's sad. She wants a sibling. She can't go outside and she's tortured knowing that all the other creatures out there are free and living their best bird, cat, deer, fox, moose lives!"

"Dave, I found a kitten sister for Freya at the Humane Society!" I texted him a picture a screen-shot from the web-site. Irresistible. A little black cat with a white stripe down the middle of her face. They'd named her "Chicken". Darling cat. The name....not so sure. I called to see if she was still available. She was but they couldn't hold her for us. Being over an hour drive away we'd have to wait until the morning to pick her up. Next morning after picking up some kitten food, a small litter box, and a extra-small collar with a little jingle-bell on it, we zipped down Parley's Canyon to the Humane Society. But alas, she'd been adopted just before closing the night before. They suggested we stroll through the hallway that held rooms of all the still available cats/kittens. This was my most dreaded fear. If I make eye contact with any of them I instantly fall in love and think they should come home with me. Trying to stay focused on the fact sheets posted on the outside of each cage we came to one that had two kittens. Both of them so very sweet, but only one reached out with her paw to me. Convincing myself that all the others will surely be adopted soon we told the worker that we'd like to adopt "Cool Ranch". I mean that is just such a not cute name. Really "Chicken" is even slightly better. We needed to adopt her just to save her from such a silly name. In reality I'm sure the Humane Society knows the animals will get re-named. It is an incredible organization that provided love and dignity to all animals, and makes great efforts to educate, support and assist new parents and their fur-babies.

Dave and I sat across the desk of the worker and signed the paper-work for adoption. I asked if she could tell us of the kitten's circumstances that brought her to the society. She scrolled down her computer screen, "It looks like she just came in a couple of days ago with several other cats from a hoarding situation. She'll need some extra time to get accustomed to her new surroundings and to bond to you and your other kitty." I could feel my heart slightly tightening. Images of the neglect and possible abusive circumstances passing through my mind. Quickly pushing them aside, we initialed the last paper and asked if we could purchase a cardboard box for the trip with our new tiny family member.

After attempting to introduce Freya to Lola (formerly known as "Cool Ranch"), we settled in for the evening. Freya upstairs to pout under our bed; Lola and I hanging out in the bathroom with all of her essentials. I just sat and stared at her. "She's just perfect." Dave peeked in on us, looked at all the random boxes being temporarily stored next to the bathtub grinned at us and quipped "I wonder if she is wondering why she got rescued from a hoarding situation, only to come into another." I sort of wondered the same thing. It's a chaotic mess in here right now. We've waited all winter for the roads to open back up for construction trucks. We finally have the all clear, so let the construction chaos begin! #chaosforacause!

I grew up with a cat called "Kitty Bunch". He was a member of the family before I was born, and I got married and left home before he passed away. The entirety of my childhood/adolescence includes him. On the drive home, Dave had said, "Well, we've made another twenty-year commitment." Hopefully he's right. I like the idea of growing old with a couple of furry friends who might, in cat years, age at the same rate we do.

Right now I feel young. I AM young! And I'm able to throw myself into a bit of self-imposed chaos and difficulty especially for a fun cause. I'm still able to grow and change and do hard things. I just don't really want to dig my own toilet ever again.