November 2020 – pseudoisaac

Visiting Mirror Lake in the Mount Hood National Forest

I visited Mirror Lake for Thanksgiving. It was a way to make the most of a somewhat isolated, restricted holiday. A hike like this is the perfect way to spend the day during lockdown, as long as nothing goes wrong. (Fortunately, nothing went wrong.)

It’s the pride of the accessible mountain lakes. I’ve seen it and the landscape change a lot. I saw it when it was liquid – a friend took me along it and along Tom/Dick/Harry mountains.

I also saw the lake when the first snows arrived. Another friend had a puppy who felt snow between her toes for the first time (and went berserk in the powder). On that day the sun joined us with its friendly powers and we marveled when we suddenly saw Mount Hood rise to our right over the lake. In fact it caught us off guard with its hugeness on hugeness.

Finally I saw the lake with another friend who I, in turn, introduced the place to. He had never been out there and he was blown away. It was wet that day and snowy plumes were falling from the trees constantly. The fog was thick and close and we only saw the peak of Mount Hood unexpectedly, against the odds, as we were leaving. He fell on the trail and struggled in the snow but trudged on faithfully with me, a trait I admire.

Having grown up in Minnesota, I wish I could say I was hardened by winter and inured to the cold. But I am not – I just overprepare to avoid discomfort and emergencies. I might be more sensitive to the cold than ever. And this time I channeled those endless anxieties about the cold toward helping my friend stay happy and comfortable. Next time I visit it will require snowshoes and even more layers against the cold and wet.

When we returned to town we grabbed Thanksgiving takeout at the only place that was open: Panda Express. The workers were prohibited from accepting a tip, even while working late on a covid holiday.

My mom has covid-19

My mom tested positive for infection with the coronavirus. She has a mild case though and is expected to recover.

This is the best-case scenario because of her age, dementia, and the fact she resides in a care home.

As usual, it’s my dad who suffers deep hurt and loss alongside the sick and dying in the family. When the virus began to spread and kill in the care homes of Minnesota, he thought of his wife, his mother-in-law (my grandma) and his longtime friend, who also has dementia (the senile form).

His nightmare was for all three of these close figures in his life to get the disease. This is exactly what happened. It killed my grandma but fortunately has spared the other two. He abides by them but in drawn-out isolation because of his knee surgery and social distancing.

Ironically if my mom was to get a bad case, she might enter hospice and this would unlock resources and options to make her content and comfortable. The friend has been in hospice for months and is living without invasive procedures and futile medical regimens.

When my grandma died it pained me to see my dad in sorrow. It was clear even over the video call. In his sorrow the tears streamed all down his face in waves.

Recently on All Saints’ Day he hallowed with a note, flowers and candle a small corner of the living room where the family keeps her ashes in an urn. He shared the image with me and my siblings.

A visit to Trillium Lake in the Mount Hood National Forest

I visited Trillium Lake and enjoyed the awesome beauty of Mount Hood.

The drive to the lake is partially closed so you have to walk a couple miles to get there. We appreciated this because it thinned out the stroller crowd.

We walked with a three-month old puppy and habituated her to her cargo harness. We fed the clever, curious gray jays that ate right out of our hands. A Steller’s jay accompanied the group of gray jays but kept its distance from us.

I watched a lone raven croak from the tip-top of a fir tree. I watched two bald eagles hunt fish in graceful low flight over the water. We chilled in our hammocks and let the tired puppy rest in her warm doggy sleeping bag.

We also checked out a small creek on the way. The forest is already very cold and damp, as it should be in early November. It’s as if the cold rises up from the earth itself. It’s as if winter comes up from below the deep forest.

Mount Hood’s snow had receded and the rock face seemed to burn with an enduring glory. It was a sunny day and we watched its reflection on the water grow more true as the lake became calmer with the setting sun. We looked on the play of light and the long shadows of the winter evening before we headed home.