Like so many of our friends around the world, we’ve had weekly climate shifts this spring that defy reason, as with our political and pandemic shifts. It is the Age of Unreason, in humans and seasons, perhaps.
Last week, the days and nights were chilly enough that we used the fireplace. Our solar panels were being hooked up and an electric panel needed updating to manage that, but the electrician missed replacing the circuit breaker we needed to restart our geo-thermal heat, so the fire was a great boon through an icy night with temperatures in the 30’s (-0°C).
We’d begun to wonder if spring would ever arrive. Buds were tightly closed on trees; tulips and daffodils were barely up; nothing bloomed.
Today, the heat index will be in the mid-90’s (35°C).
So, I guess this past weekend was spring, 2022. The air temperature was mild and the world smelled new; all our old friends returned: the orioles, grosbeaks, indigo buntings, and scarlet tanagers. The poor hummingbirds buzzed in, searching in vain for blossoms to restore their bodies and spirits. We rushed to get their feeders out and they quickly crowded around and regained a bit of energy.
Spring flowers were coaxed towards opening, tentatively. We took our new e-bikes bikes for a ride on the trail, to London and back. (A very small town 9 miles to the west; to the east is Rome. Sounds impressive when we’re talking about our bike rides, right?) Afterwards, we worked in the garden together; the plants are barely peeking through the earth, but the weeds, of course, have been thriving.
So, one perfect spring weekend. And today, we’re in t-shirts, overheated, and watching our spring flowers droop. The tulips opened and their tender cups were quickly steamed and curling into back-bends. The tree leaves are unfurling, like us, into sweltering summer days. Next week may be cooler, we’re told.
I hope so.
These are rugged times: Like many, I’m still wary of catching Covid, since our numbers locally are rising again. It still shocks me when I realize I haven’t traveled anywhere for over 2 years. The pandemic continues to change the patterns of our lives, our economy, and many of our choices about the future. Climate change is–obviously–causing dramatic shifts in our weather that aren’t always predictable. Putin’s war with a country innocent of any provocation has added to the world’s chaos and further damaged supply chains and fuel prices. Our democracy is teetering and civil discourse has become a lost art.
Humanity’s response to this collision of urgencies often seems agonizingly childish. We have faced pandemics, political turmoil, and war, and survived them all, but adding climate change and its unknown rolling and torn-web effects makes the future precarious and our present actions imbecilic at best. We’re scrambling, stumbling, and failing at coherence.
Rather than adapt to challenges, we pretend they don’t exist.
We pretend the pandemic is past. We pretend the Earth’s jet streams will return to a “normal” that’s vanished forever; we pretend the continued destruction of the rainforest and natural habitats isn’t happening, and that tons of plastic microbeads in the oceans don’t matter, really. We notice the bird migrations are changing, and bird flus are rising; we observe that the acres and acres of ash trees have all died, and that so many species of plants, animals, and insects are rapidly going extinct, but we pretend none of this is connected to our daily actions and inability to stop living how we like, at the pace and rate of consumption we prefer.
Possibly, we’re overwhelmed by the amount of changes taking place, but I believe we can adjust and adapt more creatively and peacefully if we see the great adventures before us and meet them with our gifts rather than our despair, anger, and sense of scarcity. Frankly, there’s a lot we accept about the way we live in the world that’s utterly boring, completely uncreative, and devastatingly cruel. We can do better.
Traveling with ill and terminal patients taught me that changes rarely allow us to go back to “the way things were.” It’s comforting to imagine so, but that’s a form of pretending, too, since life was never perfect and never will be, and adaptation isn’t without its own comfort and joy; really, we just don’t like change and are inclined to view it as a threat to our stability and the safe circumference of what is known and what we control, however well or ineptly.
And change doesn’t come without grief; there’s always a farewell-forever entangled within the journey any change presents, along with anxiety, anticipation, and a variety of other feelings. Often, we can see that a transition’s joy outweighs its sadness, so we acclimate easily, but sometimes, as with the loss of a loved one, or a long-held right, or the extinction of species, habitats, and known weather patterns, the benefits of a given change aren’t apparent or seem nonexistent, so we resist, deny, turn away, become angry, and reject what is.
I was unhappy with my recent knee surgery and mourned what I perceived to be the loss of many activities and freedoms I enjoyed. But I located a physical therapy that worked surprisingly well, and we used the pandemic’s years of “vacation” funds to purchase e-bikes. I resisted at first, thinking they made us look old. Then I realized how silly that sounded and accepted the chance to get out on the bike trail again. I adapted to the change in my mobility and am happier than I’ve been in months. And knowing the motor can be used if I tire from pedaling gives me a great sense of security.
We’ve adapted to the presence of a highly infectious virus not by denying it’s real, but by staying home, waiting for vaccines, wearing masks in stores and crowds (still), and following experts’ advice to avoid illness.
We’re adapting to these climate shifts in our gardens by adding more and more plants and planting methods that feed birds, provide safe habitats, conform to swings in temperature and moisture, and still please our creative impulses. Because that’s one of the best things about adapting: the ways it challenges our creativity and the deep pleasure derived from meeting those challenges with answers that are new and co-created.
I think Ukraine has adapted creatively to the horrors Putin and his army have used in seeking to force submission and surrender. Ukraine has been strategically clever, strong, intelligent and unyielding in their resistance, and despite agonizing losses and Putin’s inhumane war crimes, Ukraine continues to amaze the world with their success. I believe they will not be defeated and Putin will be held accountable. He clearly cannot adapt to present reality, lost in past and imagined national glories as he is.
And in my country, I think we have to resist the urge to become enmeshed in violence, anger, and demonization of the other, and “do hope” instead, because hope is not a feeling; it’s an accrual of actions we choose and build upon, creating solutions where none were apparent before we applied and combined our gifts. Adaptation requires our willingness to do hope. And when we immerse ourselves in creating adaptive solutions, we have no time for hatred and fear. If we want balance, peace, joy, and community, we must be those qualities in the world. If we believe we come from Love and it travels with us, always, then adaptation is a method to co-create the ways we are always traveling from known to unimagined blessing.
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10 thoughts on “Adaptation”
Thank you for the perfect words and the bird pictures. I had my very first oriel today, the small thrills. I’m terribly worried about the abortion repeal and hat that may lead to. Came home from FL with Covid and couldn’t give my eulogy for DeeDee’s interment. Peace back at you.
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I’m so sorry you had Covid and couldn’t share your eulogy, Donna! I hope you’re feeling better now.
Doesn’t seeing the colorful spring birds just lift your spirit?!
Yes, we need to get out the vote once again!
Thank you for visiting, Donna. Be well!
Thank you Kitty,
Here is my hope for change:
Hope for November.
1. The Republicans only have their rabid base to count on.
2. Moderate Republicans who did not vote for Trump in 2020 but voted the rest of the party line, will now have second thoughts seeing the party still moving rapidly in the wrong direction.
3. Some disgusted Republicans will not bother to vote.
4. The Moderate Independents will do the same as above.
5. The Roe v Wade leak will energy Republican women who still want control over their own bodies. They will turn against the straight white authoritarian men. Ex: I remember when the Republican women in Illinois voted for Democrat Carol Mosely Braun for Senate.
6. The Democrats are fired up and have some great candidates.
a. Charlie Crist will beat DeSantis for Governor
b. Val Demmings over Rubio by a hair for Senate
7. I am an eternal optimist!
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From your keyboard to Love’s ear. Love your optimism and may it all be so; we have been so gerrymandered here that we cannot win the state government or House seats, but I think we can manage Johnson’s ouster. We’re in a very dangerous place and need to solve these issues now. And eliminate the Electoral College, Citizens United, and the filibuster, and balance the SC, when/if we can. My dream list. The majority vote has got to actually win elections. But the elections have to be fair and safe, and eligible voters have to show up, and that’s the next challenge before us. My goodness, some of these candidates are staggeringly unqualified.
I value your optimism! XO
Reading the top comment first – I don’t know who Kevin is, but I’m with him!! 🙂
As to what you’re saying Kitty, we do need to adapt. COVID is on the rise here in the Northeast as well, yet, albeit with caution, I am going out more and plan to go out more following safe guidelines. I am tired of not going out to galleries and museums, or walking nature trails or my own neighborhood. And while not bike riding, I am dancing every day (mostly in the kitchen) and it makes me happy. I am even starting to walk again. I’m not going to die in fresh air with no one around me but the occasionally friendly people who respect our distances. It’s been a long period of waiting, hoping things would get better. They get better when we change.
In some ways there is so much strife, as you mention above, but a wise woman I know once said to me that these things have to happen in order to bring them to light so they can be healed.I believe that, as painful as it sometimes is. And change is slow, or at least slower than we’d often like. Still, we’re here, adapting as best and as quickly as we can and finding happiness along the way. Enjoy your e-bike!
Kevin is a poet and dear friend from university days.
Since we’re retired and living beside a trail we’ve walked and bike for 25 years, Covid (and jobs) haven’t kept us as isolated or homebound as it did others, and we’ve been very grateful for that. I cannot imagine being inside all day…how great it is to hear you’re able to enjoy this more now, too!
Have fun with your adventures, and keep dancing.
Love all these photos, especially the birds and the adorable pups. Brilliant post, what a wise woman you are.
Your weather sounds horrendous, how I feel for the confused wildlife. I’m glad you can feed the hummingbirds, poor creatures. It’s the same here, the temperatures are up and down and we’ve had a drought for months. Today we have torrential rain, the wildlife will be grateful. Here in the UK covid is completely ignored with the majority back to normal. Hubs was back in the office today, the first time in over two years. He only plans on going in once a month or so and hated the commute and being stuck in traffic.
Delighted to hear your knee is a little better and I just love your ebike, we wants one precious, yesss we does! Love and hugs to all.xxxx
Good news this week: heavenly temperatures, which we, and all of the other local nature, shall enjoy every second. I hate to say the word drought after last year, but we once again have all the signs. I am sorry for yours. Those torrential rains are welcome, if they’re not too fierce.
Yes, I am a bit Gollum about sweet Bridie! She’s like a female Shadowfax! Let me know when you get your own. XO
So glad to hear that your temperatures dropped, Kitty – we have had similar wild temperature extremes but 5 days of constant rain tempered it and we’ve had some beautiful days this week. But this weekend it is back to the 90’s – I hate to think of this as the new normal.
Bridie the e-bike sounds wonderful and a gift of mobility and happiness for you. I struggle with mobility in a different way but am finding ways to continue to garden, which gives me such great joy. Yes, the world is a mess and I tend to cloister myself at home as I cannot change much of it. My response is to deepen my support for pollinators and birds and all the wild creatures that seek sanctuary here on my little acre and hope to inspire others to do the same.
I love your photo of Teagan and Gracie – so sweet. I wish you a very happy -and milder – spring and early summer and some happy time in your garden
Thank you for your kind wishes, Lynn, and the same to you!
I agree that caring for the bit of earth we’ve been blessed to tend, and all the guests who visit is our happiest and, this time of year, all-consuming task. And I think it’s important work. Last week was a drag, too hot and too dry; this week, it feels like we’re stepping out into a paradise. Either way we’re up and out early and long. It’s so different from our winter months and almost spiritually inebriating. We’re leaving big sections of the yard unmowed and all new plants, shrubs, and trees for the past few years have been chosen solely for birds, insects, etc. It’s never ending, of course, but for now, we get to be the caretakers. Your own garden is a huge inspiration, so thank you for that.
And Bridie continues to provide magical journeys. I just love her.
Thank you for visiting! XO
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