Carie Juettner

It’s October… Do You Know Who’s Haunting Your Backyard?

I love the nightlife in my neighborhood, by which I mean the wildlife that comes out at night. When I share photos and videos from my trail camera, people are often surprised at the number of cute creatures that visit my yard. They think these sightings are unusual. I always tell them, “The animals are at your house, too! Put a camera out, and you’ll see them. “

But some people would rather not know what haunts their property after dark, and I can understand that. After all, it’s October, the season when spirits and other spooky specimens like to stop by, so you may see more than frisky foxes and rambunctious raccoons lurking in the night. In fact, I’ve already spotted one creepy critter hanging out in my backyard. Luckily, I was able to capture some photos of him with our more adorable nighttime visitors.

This gray fox was happy to welcome a new neighbor to the yard…

…but then things escalated a bit.

Video:

“How about if I try to fit your whole head in my mouth? Is that okay?”

This raccoon was concerned about the new visitor.

Don’t you hate it when you try to help, but end up making things worse, and then worry there might have been witnesses?

Video:

“Uh oh. Did anybody see that?”

This little skunk was very curious about the new guy…

…and also maybe a wee bit scared of him.

Eventually, all the animals decided Mr. Bones was harmless and went about their business wandering the night…

“Don’t mind me, just checking for snacks.”

“Wow, and I thought I was good at playing dead…”

…although the fox continued to try to eat him once in a while.

*******

The wildlife in our yard are just that– wild! We have a large property with lots of trees, open space, and old sheds that provide convenient burrows for animals. We keep bowls of fresh water available for them and do not use any poisons or pesticides on our property, so they have a good variety of natural food sources such as plants, insects, and rodents, but we do not put out food for them. I did nothing to Mr. Bones to make him appetizing to the fox or anyone else. I just set him outside and aimed my camera at him. Nature took care of the rest. Happy October!

Two beautiful gray foxes hunting for breakfast near Mr. Bones.

More Important Than Ever

You may have noticed that my blog has been pretty quiet this summer. I think I’ve had trouble writing through the noise.

Beginning in January, our home has been adjacent to a major construction project. By “adjacent” I mean that my office window is forty feet from heavy machinery that rumbles, buzzes, crunches, beeps, bangs, scrapes, and rattles the nerves from seven in the morning until six in the evening five days a week. The noise and inconvenience has really taken a toll on me, and it is far from over, but I can’t just stick my head in the ground and wait for it to end because, A) I’d probably still be able to hear it, and B) Life must go on!

The things that help quiet the rattling inside me and bring a smile to my face are still here. My trail camera is full of adorable photos and funny videos of the wildlife that comes out at night, and I can turn my back on the construction eyesore and gaze at my garden instead. I can curl up in a corner at the back of our house to read a book or take my computer to a coffee shop or library to write.

These quiet moments are still around. I just have to remind myself to seek them out.

Gray fox lounging on a stone bench in the backyard

This summer, the Poetry Society of Texas published its latest Book of the Year, and I’m proud to have three poems in the anthology. I want to share two of them with you today. Both of these poems embody the feeling I’m looking for when the world gets too noisy.

I wrote “Between the Branches,” which won the Poetry Society of Texas Purple Martin Award, back in 2018. I like how it reminds me to be still and notice nature, and I’m hoping if enough people read it, the last stanza will conjure up some rain for us.

“Immersed,” which won the Poetry Society of Texas Annual Awards Banquet Award, is a new poem. I wrote it last year when I was reading my way through Devotions by Mary Oliver. This poem is about nature, but also about the unexpected power of words and that magical feeling of discovering a poem as you write it.

When your mind is noisy and the world feels itchy, it’s more important than ever to escape into the things that bring you peace and joy. Poetry and art and books and trees and foxes and gardens– these are the antidotes.

I hope a line in one of these poems is the cure you need.

* * *


Between the Branches

Life listens
to our bustle
sleeps in shadows
watches
waiting for us 
to notice it
Hindsight hides
in secret spaces
where nature knows
no harm
Creatures take comfort
in being left alone
Immobile means invisible
and privacy protects

But I have learned to look
between the branches
to stand still
and let the
spectators stir
to breathe deep
and sink into the soil

Do you know what happens
when you stand in the rain?
You get wet
and learn 
to keep your eyes open

	- Carie Juettner

* * *


Immersed

I open Devotions
ready to sink into 
Mary Oliver’s poetry
and rise again with my own.
I dive, eyes closed,
into the refreshing pool
of her words
sense my body
slip beneath the surface.
I dip my fingers in the soft mud
grasp a pebble
turning it in my palm
learning its texture and tells
blindly searching for my inspiration
not noticing how long it’s been
since I took a breath
or how deep my quest has taken me.
A tap on my shoulder—
I whirl, glimpse a mermaid
swimming away
realize my eyes are open
and I’ve been breathing all along.
I look down 
at the stone in my hand
and find the poem
I’ve been looking for.

	- Carie Juettner

Making Peace With Summer

This Facebook memory popped up today from June 20, 2018, when I was still teaching seventh grade:

“Hubby refers to the person he’s living with right now as ‘Summer Carie.’ Summer Carie is a little crazy. She stays up late but also, somehow, gets up early. She reads for hours on end, only stopping to skip over to her husband, kiss him on the cheek, and tell him her latest idea for a creepy short story. Summer Carie decides on a whim to turn an old skull candle into a bird feeder or clean out the medicine cabinet or reorganize all of the books in her house. She takes walks and naps and texts her husband far too much while he’s at work. Summer Carie can be a bit exhausting, but she’s happy and relaxed and carefree and creative.

I love her.

I love being a teacher, but I also love my summers. I NEED my summers. Without them, I would not love my job… Please don’t hate on teachers because we get the summers off. It’s not why we do the job. It’s why we CAN do the job.

Ok, I’m off to hide something of Hubby’s and leave him a trail of sticky note clues to find it. Summer Carie strikes again!”

Sometime in the past eight years, I fell out of love with summer. It mostly has to do with the rising heat and my body’s diminishing ability to tolerate it as I get older. It’s hard to imagine that I used to play 6pm softball games in July when I was a kid or practice all afternoon with the high school marching band in August. These days when the heat index is over a hundred—or worse, when the actual temperature is over a hundred and the heat index is some ungodly number above that—I can barely water my garden without dissolving into a sweaty, red-faced mess.

It’s not just the heat that drives me indoors and into a foul mood. It’s also the addition of things that make me itchy, both physically and psychologically—mosquitos and chiggers and ants—and the lack of things that bring me comfort and energy—campfires and crisp breezes and well-worn jeans and comfy boots. Now, when the calendar flips to June, I brace myself for the next four months, anticipating the anxiety of waiting and wishing for fall.

But this Facebook posts reminds me how I used to feel about summer, when it meant freedom and creativity and rejuvenation. I’m no longer teaching, but maybe I can make peace with summer and find the joy in it again. This year, I’m determined to try.

Tomorrow is the Summer Solstice (or Litha, as the pagans call it), the longest day of the year and the official start of summer. To celebrate, I’m going to focus on the things I look forward to during this season and search for new delights to embrace.

10 Things I Love About Summer:

Cicada shells (and their clickety clickety buzz buzz buzzzzz sound)
Stone fruits (ripe plums and peaches and apricots, yum)
Watermelon (not refrigerated, preferably with a few seeds to spit)
Tarantulas (you may disagree on this one, but I love seeing the big furry creatures)
Sundresses (the lighter weight the better)
Cool showers (brr! refreshing!)
Lightning bugs (I’m fortunate to have a few in my yard.)
Taking an occasional swim (Who wants to share your pool with me?)
Excuses to travel to less hot locations (I’m heading to Rhode Island this August!)
Seeing my garden experience a new season (It was just a baby last June…)

New Summer Delights:

This evening, I’m making gazpacho. I’ll chill it overnight, so it’s ready to enjoy on the first day of summer. I’ve never made gazpacho. I’ve never even eaten gazpacho. But the idea of a crisp, refreshing vegetable soup pleases both my tastebuds and current temperament.

Tomorrow, I will wake up in time to watch the sunrise, enjoy a mug of cool tomatoey soup for lunch, and later sit outside to journal while the sun sets (mosquitos, be damned!) with several interludes indoors appreciating the AC.

Then, I will attempt to keep that coolness in my core as the days begin to shorten, and I wait (patiently, peacefully) for fall.