WHITE TAIL TRAIL~Julia Butler Hansen Wildlife Refuge

I was up at 5 A.M. this morning.

By 6 A.M., I was cataloguing the Daytrips I’d made Solo Lobo; by the time I got to the last Julia Butler Hansen Wildlife Refuge walk of 2021, around 9 A.M., I was in the mood to drive there and stretch my legs a bit 😉

So, I did 😊

There was a lull in the rainfall – and because I have a cold sore on my lip, I didn’t want to be around people: the Wildlife Refuge Trail was perfect for a house escape.

I’ve always had cold sores on my lip – same place, all my life. They usually appear sporadically in the winter time and disappear completely in the Spring: sometimes a stressful situation will cause them to show up; but I haven’t had one in years. Until now. These past 9 days, there’s been a lot going on, and though none of it personally applies to me – it does apply to the lives of five of my friends, thereby applying to my life, indirectly. Hence the lip blister.

Cold sores are reported to be contagious, but Bob never got one … and we kissed. A lot; we were married for 44 years, and Bob never suffered a lip blister – or any other type of blister (me neither; only on my lip, right side). Stacey never got one either – if she ever gets one now, it’s not my fault. I was extra careful when I could feel a blister building up to a full-fledged appearance: I carefully hugged Bob and Stacey, but never kissed them until it disappeared. And I applied a liquid Campho-Phenique to the blister, which burned like hell, until the gelled stuff came along: it smells the same, but doesn’t make my lips sting, or my eyes water. I am thankful.

But people are weird about lip blisters, and I didn’t want to feel like a leper today – so, to Skamokawa, I went 😊

I topped the gas tank off before I got out of Dodge, and noticed that there had been a 51-cent price hike since I topped the tank off on May 4^th: The Highlander has barely left the carport this month due to all the rainfall.

Julia Butler Hansen Wildlife Refuge from Heron Pointe; 25 mins.

A 51-cent price hike; right on schedule: the political games never end – they just take a 6 month hiatus >:-P

Steamboat Slough White Tail Trail Hike: https://www.alltrails.com/trail/us/washington/steamboat-slough-and-white-tail-trail-loop

Driving to the Trailhead, I was happy to note that the dangerously leaning tree hovering over Steamboat Slough Road, has been removed; thank God. That thing scared me every time I drove under it to get to the trailhead; I kept expecting it to fall all the way over and crush the Highlander, and me. I’m glad it has been removed.

Leaning tree; August 14^th, 2021. Gone, today.

When I stepped out of the Highlander, the first thing I noticed was a striking red clover patch just to the side of the trail entrance – I learned today that the Name of this trail I’ve been walking solo lobo for at least 2 years on a fairly regular basis, is called White Tail Trail. I’ve been calling it The Center Trail; but that’s misleading because a Center Trail Road already exists with that name.

I stand corrected, and I will used the correct Name from now on 😊

A patch of brilliant red clover.

Tommy James & The Shondells – ‘Crimson and Clover’ song

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2GGz_O0eZ4)

The pink clover is the red clover at maturity.

It made me smile, remembering my niece telling me during a phone conversation, “You and Uncle Bob always liked that Crimson and Clover Song, didn’t you, Aunt Val?”

Yes, we did 😊

The song fit our young life, our lifelong passion, and our marital bliss.

Bob and me; 1976 – married 20 months & rolling in clover.

I was the only person on the trail today – I usually am, but sometimes an occasional bicyclist will breeze past me, and motorists will drive the main road that is still intact to fish off Hornstra’s Beach (Hornstra was a farmer that owned this piece of land before the State forced him to sell to make way for the Refuge; he was paid a pittance for his property – including the beachfront that carries his Name).

I thought long and hard about that when I saw the scattered feathers on the trail. There was a large red fox colony on Hornstra’s property – when the school bus would drive past, they would come out of their dens and watch it lumber down the roadway. They were so cute. I hope some escape the hunt to eradicate them. And if they are still around, I hope they stay hidden 😉

Purple wild vetch.

Natural dried Teasel heads - very hard & prickly Teasel:

(https://davesgarden.com/guides/articles/identifying-weeds-teasel-dipsacus-fullonum)

Online pic of teasel head.

Teasel; flowering.

Health Benefits of Teasel:

(https://www.healthbenefitstimes.com/teasel/)

Red-headed-pearl type grassy lower along the trail ...

Lilac& White lupine.

Bicolor blue Lupine in forefront, yellow Scotch Bloom, & purple lupine in background.

Lupine with lilac and pink blossoms.

Trail kill ...

Out-going geese; flew right over my head; they fly FAST!

In-coming geese - again, flew right over my head; I must have been standing on the goose runway. LOL

Geese in forefront - Mallard in the background.

The greedy Columbia River is still eroding the riverfront acreage.

Even though I walk the trail solo lobo now, I remember Bob walking it with me in 2017. Bob’s presence will always be with me. No matter what I do, or where I go: 44 years is a long time to share a life together. We did e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g. together. It is impossible to separate the past from the present – it dovetails: its dovetailing is carrying me into the future with confidence.

Bob in January 2017; we had no idea he'd be in Heaven by January 2019.

Birdsong was all around me.

It was soothing.

It’s been a week; soothing is necessary.

Yellow flag lilies peeking out through the marshy tangle of swamp grasses & driftwoods.

An Egret on the mud flats.

St. John's Wort; another patch of yellow ... it sure brightens up the gray day.

A bit of raindrops; between a misting and an actual raining.

Had to escape the coop; hopefully the stress blister will settle down and go away.

The death hit hard. There was no sign at all that the Grim Reaper was hanging around Linda, waiting to pounce.

Turning the car towards home, I decided to take the Brook’s Road - a jump road - that exits the Refuge land. I was hoping I could get all the way through without any handicapping snafu’s 😉

I was pleasantly surprised to see that the road has been tended to  – not perfectly, but enough that it was no longer a hazardous minefield. Joy and jubilation! Last time I drove it, it was a mine field of deep potholes, blacktop worn away to the gravel road foundation, and grass growing up through the road cracks that whisked along the car’s undercarriage: it was more a goat trail, than the road it used to be: but, it’s a passable road again, now 😊

Brooks Slough Road has been tended to. YAY!

(https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2020/07/convergence.html)

I crossed over Ocean Beach Highway onto Risk Road, intending to merge with the Elochoman Road which would take me over Beaver Creek Road – depositing me onto Ocean Beach Highway again further up the road towards home.

Plus, it’s a nice country drive 😉

But, Risk Road was closed! I hailed some locals and asked, “What gives with the road closure?” I was told there’s a project underway: no elaboration … I found the explanation later on at home – online.

This side road looped me right back to the Game Refuge Entrance.

Closures for the Ferry & for Risk Road: https://www.waheagle.com/story/2022/05/05/news/closures-ahead-for-ferry-risk-road/20778.html

When I got back home, I saw that the herb transplants I’d ordered finally arrived. I was glad … but I was also peeved; I have been home for weeks – and the one day I finally decide to break out of Dodge, Territorial Seeds decides to engage with UPS! Thank God they hadn’t been lifted by light fingers while I was gone. Because candy scott (the Park manager, here) does not do her job efficiently (like background checks, as she’s supposed to do for those wishing to live here), there has been an increase in thefts by bold thieves that troll carports where cars are missing, to lift and make away with anything and everything not nailed down (including cars – in broad daylight).

French Tarragon - VERY pungent and can cause my lungs to seize up; but I like the flavor in meals

My fuchsia bloomed! I hope it thrives & over-winters excellently. 

The Park, once a nice little neighborhood (That’s why we moved here in 2017: before candy became ‘manager’ and half the Park packed up and fled), is filling up with questionable characters – the main one being the current “Park Manager”. Murder and mayhem: that is candy’s MO.

I did not want to dwell on candy’s ineptitude. Dwelling on her rotten character and her slipshod way of doing business, would only lead to why I am now a widow ☹ I did not want to dwell on thoughts concerning candy scott.

Instead, I redirected my thoughts, and got busy busting my ass. Literally 😊

10-minute Core Workout for Seniors: Blast Away Belly Fat (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gBaZupuqwc)

GRIEF HURTS

Love Hurts

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=soDZBW-1P04)

Most days … 95% of the time … I do okay. Then there are days like yesterday & today where grief comes out of nowhere and slams my chest like a sucker  punch making my heart hurt and I suddenly burst into tears that makes me gasp for air.

Love hurts.

A lot.

And while all my time with my husband was good and he never gave me reason to be grief-stricken; ever: not even when he was dying while I held his hand … love sure hurts right now. In a different way than the lyrics this song portrays – but I like the music: always have. And I am feeling the music right now. Mournful. Blue. Agonized.

Yes, I am most definitely feeling this song right now.

It started yesterday when I had to go into town to get copies of his last Social Security payout and then over to the Financial Advisor we had until November, to get a copy of the last payout from the IRA we cashed out to pay off the car, Visa, and funeral expenses. Stopping by the Financial Advisor’s office wasn’t the tear jerker – it was the Social Security Office where I had to deal with the same bullying tarter I had to deal with in December before my husband died. She tries to shame me every time I go in there, like I am trying to look inside my husband’s wallet and steal his money. In 44 years I never once looked in his wallet until he was dead and I had to to get his social security number for something; even when he would ask me to get it and retrieve either papers or money for him – I always brought it to him and had him get whatever he wanted. That was MY personal preference. And he never looked in my purse or my wallet either. His choice. But I had to deal with her because I needed the printout to settle a medical bill. I told her that my husband had died since the last time I had talked to her in December. The woman doesn’t remember me and she literally looks into my eyes over her eyeglass lens down her nose, and asked me if I was his wife and she “needs to see” proof that I am who say I am; so I assure her that I am indeed his wife and show her my driver’s license and tell her that the Office copied off a copy of our Marriage License and Death Certificate, December 20^th, 2018 following his death when I notified them of his passing. She grunts and hunts for it in the system until she is satisfied then says, “I don’t know why you need a printout”, and I say, “Because that is what I was asked to get and mail to them.” So she gets up and stomps over to the printer, grabs the printed sheet and slaps it down in front of me, saying, “Your phone consultation won’t happen until February 5^th and you will not receive the amount shown on this paper. You will not receive anything until March.” I take the paper and tell her that I already know that; she told me that already when I was in there talking to her a week before my husband died. And the sudden pain of loss – of my husband, of our life together, of income, of dignity beneath her hard and cutting eyes – hit me like a fist slamming fast and hard into my chest and I had to leave before I burst into tears in front of everyone. The woman is a bullying tarter. I cried while driving all the way across town to the Financial Advisor’s Office where it was impossible to hide the swollen eyes and blotchy face.

At home, later on, I cried some more while filling out forms and gathering the necessary papers that needed to be mailed with the filled out forms. I cried because continually reliving the death of my husband hurts my heart. I love him and love hurts right now because disrespectful people are degrading that love and belittling my husband’s death to mean nothing more than a business transaction. I also had to scan & print off 3 Death Certificate copies and mail them off to various businesses: I have to keep reliving his death over and over.

It was a rough night.

This morning I had to deal with Candy a.g.a.i.n. Early. The coffee was not strong enough after I hung up the phone. But I washed my hair and was getting ready to go to Keenager’s, running a Q-tip around my ear hole to wick up some water that got into my ears … and THE TIP CAME OFF IN MY EAR! There was a brief moment of real concern before I was able to carefully extract it with fingertips. Thank God it hadn’t gone in deep or I would have had to go to ER to have it removed:

Already the day is not looking good and it is only 8:30 a.m.

Keenager’s was great; the hurt began after I got home. Everything was fine UNTIL I was walking from the kitchen to the livingroom and saw Ron walking past our side window. Again I felt that hard and fast slam of pain hit my chest with a sudden fury that I was powerless to stop, and the tears ran down my face in hot and steamy rivulets while I tried to choke them back. Gasping for air, all I could think was how unfair it was that Ron and Candy are still breathing and going on with their lives – destroying others’ lives –while my gentle giant who never went out of his way to hurt anyone, is not. My husband who was the most gentle man and the kindest person anyone ever had the pleasure of meeting, is not. The sharp and stabbing pain of loss buckled my knees. It came out of nowhere. Swift and paralyzing. I was filled with molten righteous fury at the unfairness of it all. I was close to hating those 2 killers. I knew then that I had reached that “falling apart” stage everyone had been waiting with baited breath for me to hit. And I knew I had to get past it or I would fly apart and never be whole again. I remembered that on the back of the Keenager’s bulletin itinerary there was a notation of an upcoming Grief Support Group … I ran and got the bulletin, tore off the notice, and called the number listed; the kind man who answered gently gave me the information I was asking about and calmly talked me down from my tearful anguish:

It is a night time meet and I don’t like to do night driving anymore; I will if I have to – like when my husband was in the local hospital and I stayed long hours with him – but generally, I will beg off on night driving. But I think I should go to these meets … at least a few; and I hope it is not going to be where everyone gets together for a 2 hour crying ordeal: I do not want/believe in that … so the organizer is going to try to arrange a pickup/drop-off drive for me for a while. These meets will go until May 2019 sometime, and as the days lighten up and stay lighter longer I will drive myself.

It is late and I can’t sleep because the pain of loss is still coming in continual and unrelenting waves. And scalding tears are still falling. I hate crying because I feel so weak and helpless when I am reduced to tears. I rarely cry. About anything. But the senselessness of the petty egomania that caused my husband’s death is overwhelming tonight. And I don’t want to hate: I am a Christian, and Christians are forbidden to hate. It would be so easy to go there. It would be justifiable. It hurts to stifle it: I feel like I have a steel band squeezing my chest. Elohim! Help me! I do not want to unleash this hate that presses so heavy on my heart. I miss my husband. So much. He was my passionate and gentle lover. Constant companion. Unconditional best friend. Trusted confidant. Staunch support. Steady guide. Enthusiastic encourager. Dependable cheerleader. Comedian when needed. Wise critiquer. Human calculator. My husband.

Now, more than ever before, I want to be the woman Elohei knows I can be. I want to be a good Christian testimony/witness. And I want to be a wife that honors her husband’s name.

There is no place for hate in my life. I will not give in to it.

It is hard to be a widow.

Love hurts.