Seasons Out of Season

It’s been very windy the past few weeks, as well as rainy, but starting around seven this evening, the wind is supposed to die down. The rains are also supposed to be leaving us for a while.

What this has to do with anything in my life, I’m not really sure, except that I get to experience the flow of the seasons. Or more accurately, the flow of seasons when they’re out of season. Except for the relatively cool temperatures, it has seemed more like July monsoon season around here. Many recent days were pleasant in the morning, with the winds bringing rain (and more wind) in the afternoon and evening.

But then, the seasons have always been out of whack in Colorado. I remember Christmases when I was young that were so warm, we played outside in the sun without coats. I remember Easters that were so wintery, our Easter finery was buried beneath snowsuits or heavy coats and leggings. (Leggings today are merely footless tights. Leggings in my youth were heavy wool pants worn beneath skirts for the trek to school or church to keep our legs from freezing.)

I’m looking forward to the quiet (and the lack of headaches) that comes from still air. No creaking branches on neighborhood trees that sound as if they will be breaking any minute. No roaring gusts of wind. No windchimes. Just . . . quiet.

Even so, except for perhaps a few hours in the early morning or an occasional overheated day when one desperately hopes for a breeze, it’s never really still out here on the plains. There are no mountains to act as windbreaks, no hills or forests, though luckily, the winds aren’t as fierce in town. Also luckily, my circadian rhythm now tends to favor the dawn. (That’s not my preference. I prefer to sleep in, but my body senses the rising sun, and that’s the end of any possibility of shut-eye.) It’s probably smart, anyway, to do my outside summer chores in those cooler hours. I certainly don’t need to be pulling weeds when the temperatures climb into the nineties and hundreds

But that’s not something I need to think about now. Today, I just need to hold on for another few hours. Then the dangerous winds will die down, and I will have a semblance of peace . . . for a while, anyway.

***

What if God decided S/He didn’t like how the world turned out, and turned it over to a development company from the planet Xerxes for re-creation? Would you survive? Could you survive?

A fun book for not-so-fun times.

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Circadian Rhythm Change

Despite the isolation and continued stay-at-home orders for seniors, there doesn’t seem to be much change in my life because I often go long periods of time without seeing people and I often struggle with meals — juggling what I should eat with what I want to eat with what’s available to eat. I have, however, noticed one rather puzzling difference: a change in my circadian rhythms.

I’d read of tests where people who have to rely on their own rhythms to set a sleep/wake cycle often deal with a longer day — going to sleep later each night and waking up later every morning. That was always true for me. When I had long stretches where I don’t have to get up at certain time every day, I found that I’d go to bed later and later. The only thing that would reset my internal clock was if I set my external clock and got up at the same time every morning. It wasn’t comfortable, and I was tired all the time — sort of like being on a constant self-imposed daylight savings time change — but it would keep my circadian rhythms on more of an even keel. (I’ve always felt best going to bed around midnight and getting up at nine in the morning, which played havoc with my system all those years when I had to get up to go to work.)

Now, however, my rhythms are going haywire. I tend to fall asleep during the day, and even with the naps, I often fall asleep early — as early as 8:00pm instead of my usual midnight. And I wake up early, sometimes as early as 4:00am. I didn’t even know there was such a time! Yesterday, I managed to fall asleep again and slept in until 7:00am, but this morning I was up at 5:30.

I don’t know what to do with those early hours. I don’t want to read that early in the morning because . . . actually, I don’t know why. It just seems wrong. When I’d get up at my usual time, I often would check in with my online friends via Facebook, but now that FB has boycotted my blog, I am (mostly) boycotting the site. I could play solitaire, but 5:30 is too early to strain my eyes with a computer screen.

Luckily, my knee felt well enough today that I decided to attempt a short walk outside.

It actually felt good being out that early. Until I got back home. Oh, the knee was fine, that wasn’t the problem. I’d forgotten that people around here who don’t like taking their dogs for a walk let them out early in the morning to roam around. (The code enforcer isn’t working then and even when he is, he seems to ignore loose dogs.) There were two huge dogs on the sidewalk outside my house, and they seemed to have no inclination to let me get near my gate, so I turned around and took another walk. (I don’t know who they belonged to since I’d never seen them before, but that doesn’t say much. Considering all the new and frequent sounds of barking in the neighborhood, it seems as if some of my neighbors have acquired new dogs.)

When I returned, the animals were gone. I might have overdone it knee-wise with the extra walking, but I’m grateful I didn’t have to fight with those monsters. I did still have to water my transplanted bushes, though, as well as the few flowers that are struggling to come up. (It’s so dry here that it doesn’t take much to turn the yard into a desert). By the time I got back inside, I could feel my knee complaining.

At least I don’t have to worry about what to do today. Resting my knee seems a good plan. Maybe I’ll even take a nap.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.