A Plant, A Planet, and A Plan

A Plant

In my childhood days, I belonged to a Girl Scout troop. I stayed in scouting from the time I was a Brownie until I was a Cadet. (We moved within the city, and my new neighborhood did not have an active troop, so I did not finish beyond Cadet, unfortunately.) We always had summer day camp during the third week of June. The summer camp occurring on my 9th birthday, I remember three distinctive events--camp leaders killed a Copperhead snake, my Mom became seriously ill with the flu, and we learned about Poison Ivy. Mom recovered but still feels guilty to this day because we didn't celebrate my birthday until she was better. I have seen many other snakes and killed a couple, myself. We learned about Poison Ivy because a girl in our group unknowingly played in and with it. We had to use plants to create a project. This girl rubbed the poison ivy all over her face, arms, and of course her hands were inundated with it, too. I never saw the girl again, but my Mom remembered her and had seen her Mom, and she told me the girl had been violently ill. I still remember the saying they taught us so we could identify the horrible plant, "If it's three, let it be; if it's five, keep it alive." Well, the learning didn't stick, but it didn't need to do so, at least during my childhood years. I was not allergic to Poison Ivy, Poison Oak, or Poison Sumac. I am now, though, and I have a small amount of Poison Ivy in my front flower bed, which I weed barehanded as I walk to get the mail or after watering my flowers or whenever I see a weed. I did not realize there was Poison Ivy there when I weeded two weeks ago, but it sent me a reminder, Saturday. I have seen two doctors, had two creams, pills, and a shot prescribed to treat the ills of this despised plant!

A Planet

Being the third rock from the sun is the perfect location in our solar system. Being in Texas is the perfect place to enjoy our closest star’s heat, light, sunrises and sunsets, and all the life that vitamin D brings. I love summer. I love a Texas summer, notwithstanding the summer of 1980. I don’t get hot until temps are 110 or higher. While others walk in the shade, I walk on the sunny side of the street. I hold dear that time of the year when I can wear my strapless tops, feeling the warmth of the sun on my shoulders and back. I open the shades and enjoy the sun’s light instead of Edison’s.

I do have a weakness, or maybe it’s that the sun has baked my brain, I don’t always wear sunscreen or put on enough sunscreen. As a result, I sometimes get sunburned, not badly, but sunburned nonetheless. I have been lightly sunburned three times this year and within days, I have this strange red rash. After seeing the dermatologist for the Poison Ivy, I learned that the "red rash" was a chemical burn, and I am allergic to the sun. Having had high doses of radiation for treating breast cancer in 1994-1995 combined with an over exposure to the sun and age created the allergy. So, what do I do with an allergy to the sun when I refuse to become a recluse or a night owl?

A Plan

In 1951, Dylan Thomas wrote to his dying father Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night, and I have chosen to follow his advice to rage, rage against the dying of the light. While it may cost a little more to enjoy being outside—100spf sunscreens, UPF Omni-Shade clothing, my adorable hat (even though I am the only person who likes my hat, besides, all Southern ladies have an outdoor hat: see Ouiser Boudreaux, Steel Magnolias), and my ever-present sunglasses—I will continue to go outside. I will continue to enjoy the Texas sun. I will see you on the water.