Dee's Menagerie

Home to my short-form writing. Enjoy!

[deesmenagerie]

About Bloodroot

A pretty little flower with a grisly (yet accurate) name.

Bloodroot is another local cutie, native to Eastern North America from Nova Scotia down to Florida. You'll find her in the woods, forming little colonies that bloom together in the spring (March to May, depending on where you find her). Each flower has only one leaf, which fully unfurls after the plant has finished blooming.

A freshly-sprouting colony of bloodroots on the forest floor

Bloodroot leaves completely unfurled after blooming

I always thought the leaf looked like a dramatic little cape on a flamboyant little vampire, which is appropriate considering the name.

Recently, my friends bought a house with a GORGEOUS colony of bloodroot carpeting their backyard. I asked if I could dig one up to see the root, and BOY WAS IT COOL!

!!!

The red color comes from sanguinarine, an alkaloid compound that is produced by the plant and concentrated in the rhizome and root system. This alkaloid is highly toxic, killing skin cells on contact. For this reason, salves containing sanguinarine have been used as a home remedy for a wide variety of skin ailments, from benign skin tags to serious conditions like skin cancer.

Not only are these salves completely ineffective at curing skin ailments, but they make things WAY worse by causing the formation of an eschar, otherwise known as a big ol' gross patch of necrotic (dead) tissue (I don't recommend looking that up). This can lead to permanent disfigurement, infections, and cancer progression. Yikes!

Other fun facts about bloodroot:

Sanguinarine has been studied as a potential anti-cancer therapeutic, but as of right now the side effects outweigh any possible benefits

Flowers open in sunlight and close at night

Their seeds are spread by ants, a phenomenon called myrmecochory. Each seed has a fleshy, lipid, and protein-rich structure attached to it. It's called an elaiosome, and it's a food source for the ants.

Want to see a bloody babe this spring? She's an early bloomer, popping out of the recently thawed ground around mid-March and continuing through mid-April. You'll have the best luck if you find some deciduous woodlands on a floodplain- she likes shade and wet(ish) feet.

Source:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sanguinaria

https://www.fda.gov/consumers/consumer-updates/do-not-use-black-salve-dangerous-and-called-many-names

[deesmenagerie]

2. Autumn in Acadia

Hey there! Thanks so much for stopping by!

Before I dive into the fun stuff, I want to take a moment to set the intention of these posts.

First, a little bit of background-- I began my photography journey in December 2019, taking the leap of faith and buying a DSLR (I cannot recommend Black Friday camera deals enough!) and committing to learning the art I've always gravitated towards. Now, I'm going into my 5th year of taking photography seriously (!!!) and I've finally hit the point where I feel confident sharing my work for the world to see.

That's where these posts come in!

We all know that a photo is worth a thousand words (eye-roll). But I think it's a bit more nuanced than that. I think that the story behind the photo is what makes you actually care about the image you're looking at. Plus, I have so many fun memories tied to all of these photos, and documenting them is also important to me!

Okey dokey! With my intention set, allow me to introduce this month's drop, Autumn in Acadia, depicting the splendor of fall in Acadia National Park!

My husband and I love Acadia. It's the closest National Park to us (clocking in at a solid 5.5 hour drive) and it is worth every single second of that drive. So much so that we've gone every year since our first visit in 2020.

Out of our four trips to Acadia, two have been in October. Fall in Acadia is a magical experience, and there's a good reason for the nickname "Crown Jewel of the North Atlantic Coast". Even though these two visits weren't anywhere near the 'peak' of foliage season, they were still truly stunning in their own right.

Our first visit was in October of 2020.

Yep. I know. Fully in the thick of the pandemic, in that sweet spot where the initial panic had subsided, but was replaced with existential dread. We were no longer in an inter-state travel ban (remember that?), and we were desperate to get the f*** out of our tiny box of an apartment. At this point, we sure as sh*t weren't going to fly, so Acadia was it.

That trip remains one of the best ones of all time, despite being squarely in peak COVID times. If I were to describe Acadia in three words or less, I would say Acadia most embodies the 'traditional beauty' of the Northeast Coast. You know the kind- the rough seas and rugged coastlines, deep emeralds, and, for an all too brief part of the year, dazzling oranges, crimson, and yellow. It's damn near impossible not to get swept up in your surroundings here. Everything here feels so rich, powerful, and dynamic. There's a damn good reason why this is the 10th most visited national park in the country.

Over the course of our long weekend, we managed to hit SO MANY iconic spots in the park. We:

Hiked Jordan Pond and the Bubbles

Hiked Beech Mountain

Froze our butts off stargazing atop Cadillac Mountain

Hiked the Beehive and Gorham Mountain loop

Checked out Thunder Cove (no thunder, unfortunately. This phenomenon has continued to elude us)

Checked out Eagle Lake

Checked out Sand Beach

Hiked Jesup Path

Hot take: I will die on the hill that Jesup Path is THE best place to be in the fall. The colors are consistently incredible, even if the rest of the park isn't quite there yet (this happened during our second October trip-- the trees were taking their time turning everywhere else in the park, but by Jesup Path, they were stunning.) I swear there is a certain sort of magic in this part of the park. You can feel it. It's in a quieter area, so I think nature is a little bit more 'out there', so to speak. All of my wildlife sightings have been on Jesup Path. Although, paradoxically, if you go too far along Jesup Path, you do eventually reach a golf course, and that seems pretty bizarre... but remember, you are in Maine. I think it adds to the charm.

Check out the rest of this collection on deesmenagerie.com, and feel free to follow me on Instagram @deesmenagerie to stay in the loop!

[deesmenagerie]

About Ghost Pipes

Okay, ya'll already know that this is a ghost pipe stan account. But listen to me. If you read this post in its entirety, you'll also become a Monotropa uniflora simp, I promise you.

Ghost pipes are international babes, native to the temperate regions of North and South America, as well as Asia. You'll find them in little clusters of two or more deep in the woods, just barely bursting through the leaf litter on the forest floor.

Obviously, these little woodland wildflowers don't stand a chance at outcompeting the surrounding trees for sunlight. So, they don't even bother. No photosynthesis, no chlorophyll.... no food?

Not quite. That's because ghost pipes are parasitic! Specifically, they engage in mycoheterotrophy, a form of parasitism in which the plant harvests its energy from the fungal species that it leeches off of. In the case of ghost pipes, they tend to associate with Russula and Lactaria species of fungi, which in turn are mycorrhizal and have a symbiotic relationship with the roots of surrounding trees (typically, beeches).

So, to summarize: the trees produce the sugar from photosynthesis, which is shared with the mycorrhizal fungi, and thieved by the ghost pipe.

Iconic.

If that isn't enough, here are some more fun facts about this funky plant:

Bumblebees are their most common pollinator

According to Cherokee creation stories, these plants are found wherever family/loved ones have quarreled.

It was Emily Dickinson's favorite wildflower.

It has a history of being used as an herbal medicine for ailments such as epilepsy, fever, pain, and anxiety. It is known to contain salicylic acid, which would account for its painkilling abilities.

Coming across this plant in the wild is a magical experience, and I would pay good money to experience it for the first time again. Anyways. Want to find this cutie? From early summer to early fall, take a walk in the woods a couple of days after it rains. And if you're taking the time to search for this flower, also take some time to search for mushrooms. If you see ghost pipes, it means that the conditions are right for mushrooms to form, too!

Sources:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monotropa_uniflora

https://www.homeopathyschool.com/the-school/provings/indian-pipe/#:~:text=The%20plant%20has%20aspirin%2Dlike,inflammation%2C%20ulcers%2C%20and%20gonorrhoea.

#little discoveries#neature#ghost pipe

[deesmenagerie]

The 2023 'Year in Review' trends hit differently when you lived two distinct lives this year.

I usually avoid Instagram trends-- not because I have anything against them, but because I'm usually too lazy to pull together something worth putting online in a timely manner. But this year, I decided that it would be worth doing. So I took some time to go through all of my photos for 2023, and wow.

It started off innocent enough-- pictures of Lilly being ostensibly cute, and nature pictures that, at best, would give you a vague impression of what season it is in New England. But not too far into scrolling I came across photos of Chris and me at Frozen Fenway with Sam and Peter, and I was shook.

I SWEAR we went to Frozen Fenway with Sam and Peter like, a couple of years ago. NOT within this calendar year!!! It has taken me some time to reconcile the fact that yes, January 2023 feels like it was eons ago, and no, my grasp on time is... tenuous at best. And that's because 2023 has to be divided into two distinct eras-- before injury and after injury.

Before my injury, I skiied twice, visited Amherst, visited Montreal, got my wisdom teeth removed, saw a superbloom at Joshua Tree, saw a comedy show and a live podcast show, planned and executed a bachelorette party and bridal shower, visited my brother down in Florida, attended two weddings (and was a MOH at one), and had one of my artworks displayed at a local gallery in Cambridge.

Whew!

From January to July, I had a busy, exciting year, and August through December promised more of the same, with another wedding, an October visit from Shane, and another two trips booked.

Then, on August 3rd, I tore my MCL and fractured my tibia, and the entire trajectory of my life shifted. I stopped working and went on long-term disability, got surgery, and spent the remainder of the year focused on one singular goal-- recovery.

My injury was devastating. I won't sugar coat it. I said goodbye to my mobility and independence, only to fight tooth and nail to get them back. I experienced more physical pain than I ever have, and I also knocked on death's door for the first time in my life. It was a dark time, and it took a lot out of me, and I'm still on the road to recovery.

But despite this disruption, life went on, and the second half of 2023 was filled with lots of rehab walks, local adventures, time with friends, and plenty of time focusing on my extensive personal projects. All things considered, handling this injury was not the most difficult thing I've ever done (looking at you, grad school).

Heading into 2024, I feel like a phoenix rising from the ashes. In all of the photos before my injury, I see myself, but I no longer recognize myself in her. I am someone new, someone different, someone who's evolved from the destruction of my old life.

2023 had hands, but I'm a tough bitch, and she didn't break me. This year was one of major change and major growth. I learned a lot of lessons, and I'm gonna share them here.

Do your best to stay present. Fixating on the future is sure to give you anxiety, make you frustrated about where you are now, and bring a sense of dissatisfaction to your life. Stagnating in the past is sure to depress you, and make you yearn for how things used to be. But in the present, there are no problems, only situations to handle, or experiences to have. Staying in the present got me through the early days of my injury, when my mobility was completely gone. Thanks, Eckhart Tolle :)

Live every moment to its fullest. You never know when life is going to throw you a curveball (or a broken leg). Soak deeply in the good experiences, be patient with the difficult ones, and enjoy the transit time between experiences. It's all life, and you only have one of them. Live it!

Motion is lotion. It takes an alarmingly short period of time to lose your strength and range of motion, and an exhaustingly long period of time and concerted effort to get it back. Find a way to incorporate movement in your life every day. It's worth it.

Your perspective makes your reality. One of the most important things you can do to make your life better is maintain a positive perspective. Your perspective makes your reality. If you're always looking for problems, there will be plenty to find. If you see the worst in people, they'll show you their claws. But if you stay positive, look on the bright side, and stay relentlessly optimistic, life WILL be easier.

Trust your gut. You've made your decisions for a reason. Don't let others convince you out of doing what's best for you. ESPECIALLY when it comes to your health.

Never underestimate the power of a good walkie. Not only is it so good for your body, but it's so good for your brain, too. I don't need to explain this one. Go for a walk!!!

Anyways. Thanks for the memories 2023, but I'm ready to move on. Let's see what 2024 has in store!

[deesmenagerie]

Everything is wonderful if you look at it with curiosity

Until this injury, I've never had surgery before. I'm not exactly happy that I had to have surgery-- I was proud of my streak, and I'm disappointed that it's over now.

But it happened. And I have to just fuckin' deal with it.

One of the first (and arguably most important) lessons I've learned over the past month is that perspective is EVERYTHING. The way you view your experience really does dictate how you experience it. And at the beginning, I decided I would approach every experience in this process with curiosity.

Instead of: Fuck, I have to get an MRI. I've heard they're scary. I'm dreading this.

I'm doing this: I've always wondered what it's really like getting an MRI. I've seen every episode of House, and I've always wanted to know if they portray it accurately.

Not even close! (At least in the MGH system.)

It was a surreal experience. First of all, I was VERY late, and the front desk lady was VERY angry with me, and warned that I might have to wait a while.

When I'm called, I'm whisked away to the back room, which consists of a waiting room connected to a hallway with lines of stalls on one side and lockers on the other. I have to get undressed (underwear can stay) and don a pair of linen hospital pants, robe, and of course, grippy socks. All my belongings are put in a locker, and I grasp to my key-- now the single most important belonging of mine.

I sit in the waiting room for a while, scrunched down in the chair slightly because it felt better for my leg. People pass me by-- maintenance contractors (CBRE, the same people that manage my work building), bustling nurses, mysterious businessmen.

Finally, I'm escorted into yet another back room. Another hallway, with patient loading bays on one side, and the MRI machines on the other. What made this experience so bizarre was the lights-- the hallway was on a constant, hypnotizing rainbow loop. Red flowing into orange, to yellow, to green, and so on. Over and over. Not only that, but there wasn't a single bit of harsh white light in the entire place. If the light wasn't rainbow, it was a dim white.

I'm fitted into a table for the next MRI slot. They position my leg in a frame, stuff padding anywhere that my knee isn't, and then lock in the top portion of the frame.

They ask me to start thinking about what artist I want to listen to during the MRI. I'm surprised by this question, but almost immediately know who I'm picking.

While we're waiting for an MRI to open up, the nurses around me are joking around with each other-- it's clear that the vibes are immaculate in this workplace.

Finally, it's my turn, and I'm wheeled into the MRI room. They load me up, and I tell them sheepishly that I want to listen to Qveen Herby, yes that's Qveen spelled Q-V-E-E-N. They don't bat an eye, and a tinny version of 'F Myself' plays in my headphones.

My lower half is brought into the machine. I lay there, eyes closed, intently focused on not moving my knee. I'm then pulled out, before anything actually happens. I have to switch tables. They reload me, and this time things progress as normal. The machine warms up, and then the rhythmic clanging begins. With the headphones, it's not that bad, but I totally understand why it would freak people out, especially if your head was in there. My focus flits between listening to the different rhythms of each scan, and listening to the music in my headphones. Why is the music so tinny? Couldn't they afford nice headphones?

And then it's over. I'm wheeled out and released from the table. I catch a glimpse of the headphones as they remove them from my ears, and I see that where a cord should be, there's just a clear tube. I realize then that normal headphones probably aren't MRI friendly.

I retrieve my belongings and change back into my clothes. The person at the front desk is much kinder to me, and wishes me a good day. Outside, the valet gives me a pitying smile and tells me to have a good day, in an earnest and fully well-wishing way. He says this knowing full well that I parked in the garage instead of using the valet, and that the walk was long and horrifically exhausting.

***

Because I approached this experience with curiosity, I had a really good time. I had a brand new experience, and learned a lot of new things! Of course, I'll acknowledge that it's easier to stay curious when my indication is strictly mechanical-- torn MCLs are much easier to identify and fix than say a tumor.

I've found that when you approach everything with curiosity, with a desire to learn something new, the chance to experience a new sensory experience-- the experience becomes instantly more soft. How can you be judgmental with something you're curious about?

[deesmenagerie]

Slowdown Ahead

Well, my quest to the backcountry is temporarily stalled.

If you look closely, you can see the fracture in my tibia. Not pictured is a complete MCL tear as well.

*sigh*

I really never should have let my husband convince me to play soccer again, but what can you do? It happened, and now we have to deal with it.

The injury happened on August 3rd. 2 PT appointments, 1 sports medicine appointment, 2 ortho appointments, 2 X-rays, 1 CT, and 1 MRI later, I had a final diagnosis and a surgery scheduled for August 17th.

The surgery was successful, and on August 31st I was cleared to begin recovery.

Look at that bionic knee! My surgeon did a beautiful job restoring my tibial plateau, and I'm so grateful that I have access to such high-quality medical care.

Overall, I'm doing well. I'm keeping myself busy by fully embracing my creative side. I'm spending time with family and friends. I'm doing everything I can to keep myself out of the depression pit. Nonetheless, I'm a little in my feels today, because this weekend, I had planned on going on my first-ever backpacking trip.

This was supposed to be the first big step in my journey to the backcountry. I had picked my route and found a way to rent equipment. But obviously, that can't happen now.

It sucks. But it's nothing more than a setback, a minor detour. Because I have every intention of coming back from this injury stronger than before. My knees have always had problems, and I've spent way too long ignoring those issues. I can't ignore them any longer!

Every journey is full of surprises, challenges, and detours. It's how you deal with the 'undesirable' situations that determine your outcome. Do you grow through what you go through? Or do you give up at the slightest bit of resistance and stay where you are?

I choose to grow.

[deesmenagerie]

Gotta start somewhere, and your best bet is a book

Since 2020, I've jumped headfirst into the world of hiking and exploring nature with intention and reverence (more on that in a different blog post). I've realized that I have a solid sense of direction, and can navigate trail maps with relative ease. It's taken practice, of course, and a fair number of (low-stakes) missteps, but I can say with confidence that I can navigate my way along a decently marked trail with the support of a map.

All of that confidence goes out the window when there are no trails to follow. And the Ah-shi-sle-pah wilderness is just that-- a wilderness, backcountry with no human-constructed guidance.

So, I did what any nerd would do and bought a book to teach me how to actually navigate.

Even though it might not seem like it to some, this is a big goal for me, and I've learned that it's best to break up a big goal into many little steps. This is my first little step. As long as I take these little steps consistently, I'll reach my goal.

And when society inevitably collapses during my lifetime, navigation is going to be a very important skill to know!

[deesmenagerie]

I found my carrot.

And it is the Ah-shi-sle-pah wilderness. Look at this.

My little surrealist brain NEEDS to see this with her own eyes. But not just see it-- experience it exactly as God intended. Over the course of two days and one night, with the sunrises and sunsets and shifting shadows over the badlands, dancing along the alien terrain. I want to experience a place that feels like the end of times, where entropy has won out.

And that means that I need to be confident in my camping, backpacking, and navigation skills. But at this moment, I am not confident in any of those things. Sure, I'm confident in my ability to hike for long distances, and I know I have a generally good sense of direction. But I recognize that this is much more advanced than I'm ready for.

I've been on the fence about backpacking for probably two years now-- the barrier to entry is much higher than hiking, and I didn't want to invest in something that I won't actually enjoy or do frequently to make it worth it.

I'm a goober. OF COURSE I'll love backpacking, and working up to this goal will only open up more opportunities for me. Think Havasupai, or that epic hike in Washington state that I'm blanking on.

I have enough self-confidence that I'll be able to do this, I just need to practice.

So I'm going to start! And take y'all along with me. And probably reflect on how I got here, because I wasn't always this much of an adventurous nature girlie.

[deesmenagerie]

View from a bird blind, May 2023

[deesmenagerie]

The hardest thing to do is start, right?

At this point in my life, I'd consider myself an aspiring artist. I practice my craft(s) consistently.

I go hike alone so I can take pictures of one single mushroom for twenty-five minutes, or try to snap a clear photo of a skittish, light-averse mole (and you HAVE to use flash) for another half hour.

Every Friday, I smoke a joint and sink myself into the world of my collages, thinking of fun combinations, challenging myself to new and creative ways of using up all of my supplies, and channeling the intoxicating feeling of sheer creativity.

While I'm at an incubation step during my experiments at work, I spend that time chipping away at my novel, or posting some new fun catfluencer content.

Or maybe the hardest thing to do is be vulnerable.

I spent eleven years completely repressing my creative soul, as I trudged through the world of academia. And now, I'm finding all the ways I can inject art back into my daily life.

All this to say, getting back into art is very important to me. But I'm also incredibly nervous to show anyone my work. I've been toying with the idea of opening up on Instagram, but I can't say that I'm ready. That's where this platform comes into play. A place where I can share my thoughts and my art in relative anonymity.

Why? Because I've realized that it's important for me to share my work. I want to be seen by other people. And I figured, let's start small.

So welcome to my weird corner of the internet, full of art and philosophy and science and psychology and memes and nature and anything else that brings me joy.

Cheers to starting something new and a bit scary. In honor of that, here's the first photo I added to my 'portfolio' folder in Google photos-- an average picture of a sunset I took in 2013.