Sierra

Twenty-five years ago, I became an aunty for the first time,

when my niece Sierra Rae De Paul was born.

A rare pensive moment.

She was a happy baby and toddler,

and was loved and cuddled and cherished, 

as all children should be.

The trusting look of a well-loved child.

However, Sierra began to have seizures,

which meant medicine and doctor visits and worries.

With her uncle Gregg.

But Sierra was still a smiling, happy girl,

and although her verbal language didn't progress,

she seemed to have little trouble understanding those around her.

With her mother, my sister Vicki.

She could be mischievous, but never mean.

She liked to tease her parents by shaking her head "No" when they asked,

"Do you love Mommy?  Daddy? Mat?"

but they always knew her true feelings.

With her cousins and sister.

The seizures and more health problems continued,

but you wouldn't know it by her attitude.

This picture couldn't be more accurate.

Although her parents divorced when she was young,

her father was always involved,

and she was blessed to gain a stepfather who could not have loved her more.

At my sister's wedding to her second husband.

Looking at the photos now,

it's easy to see how Sierra became more and more frail as she got older.

Her cheerful nature remained a constant, though,

and it was a rare photo that didn't capture her smile.

With her sister and cousins, again.

In time, her bones became so fragile that she was given a wheelchair to get around in,

a development that she embraced, 

as it meant it was easier for her to get to where she needed.

Her twenty-first birthday. She loved having her whole family around.

When she was young, she loved Barney, balloons, and puzzles,

and she never outgrew that love.

It was gratifying to give Sierra a gift,

since she greeted a new balloon or puzzle with a squealing delight

that made everyone around her laugh and smile.

Her Halloween costume.

 But... late this summer, she didn't feel well.

Just as her parents had done countless times before,

she was taken to the doctor.

However, this time, as the doctor sent them on to the emergency room,

she stopped breathing.

The medical team got her breathing again,

but it was too late.  The damage had been done.

We spent a week in the ICU waiting room,

and the nurses told us they rarely saw the room so full.

"Sierra always brought us together," said her heartbroken stepfather.

When the doctor told us there was no chance of recovery,

my sister stood by Sierra's bed and told her,

"No more boots, Sierra.  Just Barney and balloons."

Barney was happy Sierra would never have to
 wear an uncomfortable "boot" cast again.

We said our goodbyes, and she slipped away,

surrounded by her closest family.

When it came time to plan her service, my sister was adamant that it would be a 

"Celebration of Life," not some sad, dark affair.

We dressed in purple or green, in honor of the singing dinosaur she loved,

and the room was filled with balloons and pictures of Sierra.

Just some of the family that was there.

I nervously read a one-page remembrance, and hurried back to my chair,

but my sister tenderly, steadily shared memory after memory of Sierra

and how she had changed those around her for the better.

At the end of the time, we took the balloons outside, and set them free.

We watched them float away, purple and green and buoyant,

and thought of how much Sierra would have loved to watch them fly.

 A person's life is like a stone dropped into water,

the ripples moving out farther and farther,

touching shores and the ripples from other stones.

Like others who knew Sierra, I feel changed by knowing her.

My sister and I, for example, had a ritual when we said goodbye:

instead of hugging,

we would stiffly put out a single arm and tap each other on the shoulder.

It was a little joke about how we weren't a huggy pair growing up,

but when I saw Vicki in the hospital after Sierra entered it

we put our arms around each other for the first time since we were small.

And without saying anything,

we knew that going forward that is how we would say goodbye.

Because life is too short to keep those we love at arm's distance.

***   ***  ***   ***   ***

 Goodbye, Sierra.

You will be missed by all who knew you.

I Will Save Youuuuu!

I am fortunate to live a few miles away from a very cool couple

who has made their house a Monarch butterfly way station.

I have bought several milkweed plants from them in the past, 

and used them to raise Monarch butterflies from egg to beautiful butterfly.

I had my new bushes just sitting out by the front porch...

... when I realized caterpillars were disappearing!

I blame these guys.

(Doesn't he look shifty?)

I thought I'd put them in my nice bug enclosure...

... but the enclosure was too short.

How was I going to save this last little guy?

(I named him Nemo, of course.)

Then I remembered a million years ago, I made my own photography light box

from an online tutorial

with nothing more than a box and some tissue paper.

Hmmm...

I got it!

I started with an enormous Amazon box...

... some cheap screening...

... and some duct tape.

(In the great "duct" vs "duck" tape wars,

I go into battle for DUCT tape.)

I CAREFULLY cut two inches in from each side

(except the bottom)

with a box cutter and a heavy-duty ruler.

It looked like this when I was done.

(I reinforced any floppy bits with duct tape.)

 Then I cut the screening bigger than the hole,

but smaller than the edges,

and duct-taped it down.

For the top, I taped down one side of the screening,

but not the other three.

I reinforced the three other edges of the screen so I would have a handy flap.

I placed two milkweed plants inside...

... closed the flap,

and taaaa daaaa!

If little Nemo had hands,

I think he would give me a thumbs-up.

Bonus!

Here's an awesome timelapse video I found on the excellent website

The Kid Should See This:

I Have Questions

I found this little dude in my garden:

Is this cute or creepy?

It feels kinda "Game of Thrones"-ish.

As in,

"I shall eviscerate you

and use your hollowed-out corpse as shelter!" 

I'm just sayin'...

did that little snail just find the empty snail shell,

or did it have a hand big slimy foot in the bigger snail's demise?

Inquiring minds want to know.

We're Goin' To The Zoo, The Zoo, The Zoo!

After all the renovation work I've been doing lately,

it was time for a break.

Since my younger nephew was in town,

we headed to the sweet li'l Santa Barbara Zoo.

Unlike the San Diego Zoo,

 its more well-known zoo neighbor to the south,

the Santa Barbara Zoo can be comfortably seen in one afternoon.

In a craaazy turn of events, it rained!

Water came from the sky!

Here, in SoCal, in JULY!!

Although the rain was welcome,

it was also confusing to some of our younger natives.

"What was THAT?!?"

The Girl heard one confused kid holler at the sound of thunder.

Fortunately, since not a one of us brought a rain coat,

the rain held for the afternoon.

We saw animals so cute that The Boy

literally thought until recently that they were

 a Japanese-created, fictional character in a game:

A woman next to us, upon seeing the Fennec Fox,

turned off her punctuation and turned on her caps-lock to shout,

"OMIGOD IT'S SO ADORABLE."

We visited some relatives...

We are family...

I got all my [brothers] with me...

... and rode a wee train.

There are plaques everywhere commemorating donors,

and this one cracked me up so much:

HA!  Ed Birch, I don't know if you're still with us or not,

but I'll bet you were a hoot!

After some obligatory Dippin' Dots,

I snapped a selfie us-ie,

and we headed out.

Once home, I found some old photos taken

at the same zoo, of The Boy...

... and The Girl.

Twenty years later,

and The Boy has the same smile,

and The Girl is still snapping photos.

 (Albeit with a slightly more sophisticated camera.)

***   ***   ***

A few days later, 
spending time with my nephew meant I was able to
fulfill a months-long dream.

Every day when I headed home from school/student teaching,
I would drive by Underwood Family Farms and see the cow trailers.

Man, that looks like fun, I'd think,
but how was I going to get a chance to ride the wild cows?
It would be creepy for me to go solo.



Hello.  I'm not a weirdo.
I just want to ride in the cows.

It turns out, all I needed was
this guy!



Yeah, he's as tall as I am, and technically a teen,
but he was game.

'Sup? Oh, nothing, just chillin' in a cow.

We also saw baby peeeegs so brand-new they still had
their umbilical cords...

Moooom, you're squishing me!

... and we got to brush and pet some pygmy goats.

It was a sweaty, but fun day, and
TRUE FACT:
the best selfies of all selfies are goat selfies.

This goat liked me so much she licked my arm.
Maybe it was my salty sweat, but
Totes Ma Goats, I swear we made a connection.