Under the Blanket

Here in the Hegman household, we don’t subscribe to using the phrase “under the weather” when you’re feeling ill. However, certain illnesses will, if Desiree has her way, land you “under the blanket.” I found myself under the blanket two days ago.

The blanket is part of home treatment for respiratory ailments. In this instance, I sat on a step under the blanket while, on the step immediately below me, sat a large pot of freshly boiled water infused with Vicks VapoRub. In a more down-home version of this, peppermint or eucalyptus essential oil, cloves, or lemon may be added to the water. The idea here, plainly enough, is to reside in a cloud of steam and inhale the misty medicine while sweating out the bad stuff from inside you.

This does work. My nasal passages cleared rather quickly, and my throat felt much better following two ten-minute sessions under the blanket.

A word of caution: there is an element of danger in this. By necessity, you are placing yourself (think private parts here) immediately above an open pot of freshly boiled water, and you should be mostly or entirely naked. While this may not be risky for most folks, I have developed a rather sketchy track record over the years when it comes to this sort of thing.

Me Under the Blanket

I'm Okay

—Mitchell Hegman

The Litter Thing

Something caught my eye in the grass just off the road near a bend in our country road. Something suspiciously white. “Litter,” I muttered to myself in disgust.

I am especially sensitive to litter on our mostly quiet and remote country road. Upon reaching the place where I spotted the litter, I stopped the car and prepared to open the car door so I could trot out to retrieve the offending white whatever-it-was.

I didn’t even bother to open the door after taking a closer look alongside the road. Instead, I blinked a couple of times, rubbed my eyes, and then drove on down the road toward home.

I have become jaded and am likely spending too much time looking for signs of something wrong instead of simply enjoying the ride. At the end of this blog, I have posted an image featuring a specimen of the suspicious white flag I spotted just off the road. It’s an evening primrose. Some call these little beauties a gumbo lily. The flowers are nearly the size of my fist and a brilliant white when they first open. The petals fade to pink as they slowly clasp together again and then shed. The image I am sharing was captured several years ago not far from where I mistook this one for litter.

These are nice flowers, and I need to lighten up a bit.

Tufted Evening-Primrose

—Mitchell Hegman

Pneumonia Notes

I have, according to a good doctor at my chosen clinic, been suffering from what used to be called walking pneumonia for the last five days. Health professionals today call it "atypical" pneumonia.

Real pneumonia is a lung infection (viral, bacterial, or fungal) that kicks your ass, fiddles with you a little bit more, and then drags you off to the hospital in very serious condition. Atypical pneumonia kicks your ass and fiddles with you. If you don’t pay attention and seek help (antibiotics in my case), you might also end up in the hospital.

In personal terms, this stuff is zero fun. I have been achy—even my eyes hurt—and astoundingly tired. I am, at the same time, filled with gunk and sometimes lapse into debilitating fits of coughing. Most notably, my brain is not in a functional state. Yesterday, for example, it took me something like forty seconds to decide if I should look in the refrigerator or the microwave for a Coke. My dreams have also been exceptionally weird. And because I have been splitting my time between napping and wandering around the house (wondering why I am doing so), I sometimes enter a state of consciousness where I am living in a mix of dream and real time. The other day, everything in my living room alternated back and forth between being furniture and houseplants and being a bleak, war-torn landscape. I guess, if you pressed hard enough, you would need to call this stuff hallucinating.

To be sure, this is all interesting, but I would like to get back to feeling normal again. Maybe I could have a Coke... once I figure out how to find the refrigerator.

—Mitchell Hegman

Mississippi

 I have always been bothered by the spelling of the word "Mississippi" and have contended that it is downright gluttonous in its use of letters from our alphabet. Seriously, does it need four "i"s? Would it have hurt anyone to toss in a "y" at the end, as in "Mississippy"? And then you have two double sets of "s" and a double "p." My online research into how the name came to be yielded the following:

The word "Mississippi" is derived from the Ojibwe (Chippewa) words "misi-ziibi," which means "great river" or "big river." The name was used by French explorers to refer to the river that is now known as the Mississippi River. The use of double letters in "Mississippi" is a result of the way the word was transcribed into English from the original Native American language. In the English language, double letters often occur in words to indicate specific pronunciation patterns, but in this case, it is largely coincidental and influenced by the original spelling and pronunciation in the Native American language. The French adaptation "Messipi" also played a role in shaping the spelling we use today.

My takeaway here: the French got involved and complicated everything.

—Mitchell Hegman

A Considerable Hindrance

It’s not easy to love prickly pear cactus. They are spiny, and if you do get poked by one, it stings for a long time.

Montana's prickly pear cactus (Opuntia polyacantha) is a hardy and self-protective plant native to the state's arid and semi-arid regions. Known for its distinctive paddle-shaped pads adorned with sharp spines, this cactus thrives in the harsh conditions of the Montana landscape, enduring extreme temperatures and minimal water availability. Its hardiness is remarkable, as it can survive both the scorching heat of summer and the frigid cold of winter.

In documenting their trek through the eastern region of the state, the Lewis and Clark Corps of Discovery recorded their encounters with the prickly pear cactus in their journals. Here are two notable quotes:

Meriwether Lewis (July 10, 1806):

"The prickly pear is so abundant that we could scarcely walk without having our feet pierced with the thorns. They are extremely troublesome, particularly to our barefooted Indians."

Meriwether Lewis (June 25, 1806):

"The prickly pear is also a considerable hindrance in our march through this prairie. They are so numerous that it requires one-half the time to pull out their thorns as it does to make the march."

As it so happens, the prairie around my house is loaded with prickly pear. I have even allowed a few to grow in my “yard,” which is pretty much the same prairie with a few exotics thrown in. This time of year, the prickly pear blooms, and it is much easier to love them, given their vivid salmon to yellow colors and flowers which are often the size of a baby’s fist.

Prickly Pear Cactus in Bloom

Prickly Pear Cactus in Bloom

—Mitchell Hegman

My Bad Sunday

On Sunday afternoon at about 3:00, I fell ill rather suddenly and lapsed into a severe coughing fit. My respiratory system quickly filled with fluids as a fever overtook me. I had been fighting a low-grade respiratory condition for a couple of weeks prior, and now, apparently, some new level of this disorder had engaged with me

I spent the entirety of Sunday night running a fever and coughing incessantly. I finally managed a few hours of sleep in the early morning hours of Monday. By the time the sun came up, my coughing had eased greatly, but I still ended up spending the entirety of Monday sleeping and tossing about. As of this writing, I feel pretty good. I am posting a picture to illustrate what I felt and looked like on Sunday.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Twilight of a New Day

This, the twilight of a new day, is my favorite time. All the burrows and nests are full, and a decided calm has come over everything. During these quiet minutes, I can chart my path and reflect on all that remains to be mine.

In the blushing light around me, the world is reinventing itself in shades of blue. As the first real light appears, all that surrounds me will be given over to the songbirds, and the day will righteously begin. But for now, this is mine.

—Mitchell Hegman

My Father’s Strange Death

Nearly thirty years ago, my father died strangely. He fell instantly dead while walking through an airport concourse in Honolulu, Hawaii, on his way to a gate where a jet bound for the mainland waited.

His heart had ruptured, and he quietly collapsed, melting to the floor like hot wax. A crowd gathered around him as a distant jet rumbled into the air. I always imagine another jet landing, thrusting into reverse shrouds as more people collected around him.

Dad detested crowds. He hated probing questions and commitments. But death is the ultimate commitment, and you cannot question a crowd gathering around it.

My father had traveled to Hawaii for alternative lung cancer treatments. Hydrogen peroxide was the cure for his terminal cancer, something on the fringe just enough to both attract and please my father. I don’t know the details of that. But bravo, he did beat the cancer to the quick by having a heart attack first. Nearly a day later, his suitcase found its way to Spokane, where it circled too long at baggage claim.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Sky is My Garden (Verse Three)

Each night, the sky is planted with stars from end to end. Standing below the stars, I perceive them as roving. But of course, it is I in motion. I: a thing ever ephemeral and soft, a mere wisp of elements set dancing in an inexact and uncertain way. And the moon continues to pull me in the wrong direction.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Ravenous Moon

The moon is ravenous tonight. It will not stop prodding me. I wake late in the night to find it pressed hard against the window beside me. Mark Twain once referred to the moon as a "whore," but I think he only half-meant that. I would prefer that Hemingway had said it, and he would have called the moon an “insatiable whore.” Better, that. Hemingway always hit the mark dead center.

I don’t know what’s wrong with the moon. Why does it feel a need to pull at our ocean? What is to gain by sharing only one side with us? Why is it so hungry for me tonight?

I just want to fall back into dreams about swimming with fish or dreams in which all those I have lost are with me again. But this bitch moon will not leave me be.

—Mitchell Hegman

Lemon Tree Update, June 19, 2024

Prior to leaving for the Philippines some six weeks ago, I waged major battles with spider mites on my lemon tree. The tree was growing rapidly at that time, but only because I had been squelching the mite population by various means for several months. In the two weeks leading up to my departure, I stepped up my game and entered a regimen where I applied soap to the tree twice a day and then heavily misted it with water a couple of hours after each soap treatment.

I continued to see mites on the tree until just a few days before we boarded our first plane and left the islands. I was not convinced I had fully defeated the mites and feared I would return home to a tree decimated by the tiny pests. Furthermore, I did not leave any instructions regarding the mites with the person kind enough to water our houseplants in our absence. I figured we would "let things ride," as they say.

I am happy to announce that I returned home to a healthy, mite-free lemon tree. The tree grew considerably in my absence and has even put forth a new cluster of branches at the base. It is as healthy as can be, and I am beginning to think I will see lemons before long.

I am posting a picture of me, the tree, and my standard reference for size—a Cold Smoke beer. Cheers, with a twist of lemon!

The Lemon Tree

—Mitchell Hegman

Leaving with Chocolate, Returning with Everything Else

There are unwritten rules regarding travel to the Philippines. Some of these rules concern what must be carried in your luggage. If you are traveling to the Philippines to see family and friends, you need to pack a lot of chocolate to distribute to those you visit. You also need to leave room for a few clothing items or a random electronic device (difficult to find on the islands) needed by someone in your circle.

Desiree and I took loads of chocolate, a few clothing items (for gifts), a blood pressure monitor (for her father), and a few other random items when we trekked to the islands.

Returning to the States is another thing entirely. Any sensible Filipino is going to load up on favored food items. This list will generally include a few obligatory items, such as dried fish and spices or ingredients that are difficult to find on the mainland. We carried back cans of Philippine-style corned beef, various seasonings, dried fish, dried noodles, special rice, a few weird cooking utensils, various packets of dried foods and seasoning mixes, souvenirs, and much more.

As a final note, the weird make-up of our carry-on packing earned us a supplemental check at security before we boarded to return home from San Francisco. Also, we managed to maintain a luggage weight of just under the 50-pound per bag limit. I am sharing three photographs to show you the final haul.

Our Bags Upon Returning Home

The Loot We Gathered from the Islands (From Above)

The Loot We Gathered from the Islands (End View)

—Mitchell Hegman

Final El Nido Sunset

Today, having spent a day and overnight in San Francisco with Helen, Desiree and I will fly back to Montana. To mark the end of our month-long adventure, I am choosing to close with images of our final sunset at El Nido on the island of Palawan.

Sunset at the Boats

The Pool at the El Nido Garden Resort

—Mitchell Hegman

Tropical LBJs

Reflecting on what was essentially a month spent on tropical islands in the Philippines, I think what surprised me the most was the birds. More specifically, the presence of LBJs (little brown jobs) everywhere. LBJs are what birding enthusiasts call standard-issue, small, brown, and somewhat drably colored birds that are often difficult to identify. They are just plain old little perching birds.

I was surprised by how many LBJs I saw. They were everywhere, in both the province and the cityscapes. Honestly, I expected to see trees filled with hordes of brightly colored wonders, but instead, I saw a lot of LBJs. This is not to say I am disappointed because I am not. I am happy with any kind of bird, and there were a lot of rather friendly LBJs.

I did not bother to capture an image of the LBJs, but I talked to my fair share of them.

—Mitchell Hegman

Back in Time

As I write this, we are about nine hours from boarding the first of two flights that will deliver us back to the U.S. Mainland. Here in Manila, it is nearly 4:40 pm on Saturday afternoon, but back home in Montana, it is presently 2:40 am on Saturday morning. This 14-hour difference between Manila and Montana not only underscores the vast distances we traverse but also sets the stage for a strange journey through time.

The 14-hour time difference means that while Saturday is winding down in Manila, it's still the early hours of the same day in Montana. This difference becomes even more intriguing when you consider the effect of crossing the International Date Line during westward travel. The Date Line, an imaginary boundary running from the North Pole to the South Pole, essentially marks where one day ends and the next begins. Crossing it can create the illusion of time travel, allowing travelers to experience the same calendar day twice. Put simply, you can leave Manila at 7:00 in the morning on Sunday and arrive in the U.S. on the same Sunday morning at nearly the exact same time you left Manila.

The experience of seemingly traveling back in time can be disorienting, to say the least. I have essentially been 14 hours upside-down in time for the last month. It will take me a few days to get right with my Mountain Standard Time zone again. And I am hearing warnings of snow in my goofy Montana mountains!

—Mitchell Hegman

Heartworks

The last beach we visited while exploring Palawan Island was Papaya Beach—the private, pay-for-use beach. All the girls and I found it to be the best beach we spent time on. The sand was fine and felt both precious and soft under our feet. The waters were calm and shallow, protected on both sides by enormous rock cliffs. Best of all, there were very few people on the beach. For a time, we virtually had it all to ourselves. While there, Desiree and her daughter, Heart, excavated (appropriately enough) a heart-shaped pit in the sand. Later, Desiree made a heart-shaped cake from the sand, and then she and I gathered a few bits of coral from where the waves rolled up against the beach so we could spell “LOVE” atop the cake.

Today, I am sharing a few photographs of the “Heartworks.”

Desiree and Heart Digging

The Finished Heart Excavation

Looking Down into the Sand

The Heart Cake

Love

Papaya Beach

—Mitchell Hegman

Balut

I am usually willing to try a few odd “delicacies” when I travel to faraway places. When in Vietnam, for example, I ate a couple of coconut worms. They are about the size of your pinky and were cooked to a degree. There are two notable delicacies here in the Philippines. One is balut, which are fertilized duck eggs in which the embryos are allowed to develop for a time before the eggs are hard-cooked. The other is the Philippine version of bird’s nest soup.

Desiree’s daughters took it upon themselves to buy me a balut egg one evening in Palawan. I tried it, but I must forewarn you, such a thing is not for the squeamish. Inside the egg, you will find part yolk and part tiny bird. I ate the yolk part, which was just fine, but I could not manage the little bird on principle.

I did not try bird’s nest soup, which is called Nido soup in the Philippines because it is found particularly at El Nido. Not to put too fine a point on this, bird’s nest soup is pretty much bird spit. This delicacy originates from China and is made from the nests of swiftlets, which are composed of the bird's saliva. These nests are harvested, cleaned, and then typically simmered in a broth, often with other ingredients like chicken or seafood. The soup is valued for its purported health benefits and unique gelatinous texture.

Maybe next time on Nido soup.

Maybe not.

Balut

—Mitchell Hegman

Leaving the Province

Today, we left behind the province (Palawan Island this time) and jumped on a plane to Metro Manila. Back to streets teeming with motorcycles, jeepneys, and cars, to a pace slightly exceeding island time, to a high-rise skyline somewhere in your view, to deep poverty just around the corner.

Interestingly, one sound remains constant throughout the Philippines, whether in a city or province: roosters. You can expect to hear roosters nearly everywhere you go, especially early in the morning. But gone are the goats, pigs, and carabao (water buffaloes) attended by snow-white egret birds.

I am decidedly a province type. That is the life for me. Today, I am posting the image of a small pig napping at the foot of a concrete step—province stuff. Good stuff. Island time.

Napping Pig

—Mitchell Hegman

Treshfanny

Our final boat excursion was on the Treshfanny. This proved to be by far the best of our three boat ventures. For one thing, the six of us had the boat to ourselves. This allowed us to be more flexible with time and also allowed us to visit Papaya Beach, a private (pay-for-use) destination—a quiet and lovely place. In addition, we stopped at some of the most stunning places and experienced the best snorkeling of the entire stay. We saw plenty of fish and healthy coral reefs.

Treshfanny

Our Group at Big Lagoon

Big Lagoon 2

Snorkeling at the Edge of Deep Water

Hidden Lagoon

Desiree Below Rocks at Hidden Lagoon

Desiree at Papaya Beach

—Mitchell Hegman

The Seawall Dog

There is a young woman who rents snorkeling goggles and water shoes to tourists just before they climb aboard the daily excursion boats that launch from the sandy beach at El Nido and slice away across the bay to the outer islands. The woman keeps her shoes and goggles in a thatched basket and conducts her business on the open sand near a concrete railing above a seawall. It is there, at the seawall nearby, where her dog rests with his head cradled between balusters.

I have, upon finding the seawall dog there several times, decided he is leading the life I wish to lead as I venture forth. The dog lives on island time, as they call it: take it slow and steady, be patient, and ignore all but the sharpest sounds that surround you. Eat when hungry. Sleep whenever the weight of it settles upon you.

Life is good at the El Nido seawall.

The Seawall Dog Resting at the Balusters

—Mitchell Hegman

Blue Waters, Green Waters

We spent another day boating through the blue waters and smaller islands that rise up in attendance around Palawan, the main island. The ocean water here is always aspiring to invent new colors as depth, coral formations, and swaths of sand mix a new palette.

The sky, too, is ever-changing. The blue there also transitions where it embraces the mountains in the sea. The clouds, born on the perfect line of the horizon, sway in and out above us, occasionally dropping curtains of rain.

I am hoping the photographs I am sharing tell the tale better.

At the Sandbar

The Waters at Matinloc Shrine

Hidden Beach Entrance

The Lot of Us at Hidden Beach

All of Us at Secret Beach

Sunset at El Nido

—Mitchell Hegman

The Most Beautiful Island

There is a reason many people consider Palawan one of the most beautiful islands in the world. That reason is because it is. On our first full day on the island, we went on an 8-hour boat tour. The tour comprised a loop through the mountains in the sea surrounding El Nido. During the tour, we stopped to snorkel in the aquamarine waters, visited two isolated beaches, and waded along a white sandbar extending between two mountains in the sea.

The ocean water was quite warm—so warm, in fact, that we remained in the water up to our necks when a monsoon rain struck as we were on the sandbar. That kept us warm from the chill rain, but I joked, “I don’t want to get out of the water because I am going to get wet!”

I am sharing a few photographs from the tour. I am, thus far, quite impressed.

Framed by Palms

Our Tour Boat

Desiree, Her Daughters, Her Sister, and Me on the Boat

Our “Lunch Room”

Hibiscus (Gumamela)

—Mitchell Hegman

Palawan Island

We have arrived on Palawan Island, located in the western Philippines. This island is a stunning tropical paradise known for its unique geological formations and breathtaking beauty. The island was formed through a complex process involving the collision of the Eurasian and Philippine Sea tectonic plates, which uplifted the region and created its rugged terrain. This geological activity, coupled with the island's location within the Coral Triangle, has resulted in a diverse landscape that includes towering limestone cliffs, crystal-clear lagoons, vibrant coral reefs, and an extensive cave system that has been carved over millions of years.

Often cited as one of the most beautiful islands in the world, Palawan offers seemingly endless pristine natural scenery and abundant biodiversity. The island's beaches, such as those found in El Nido, our final destination, feature powdery white sand and azure waters teeming with marine life, making them perfect for snorkeling (one of my favorite activities). The lush forests and rich ecosystems support a variety of wildlife, some of which are endemic to the region. This is a tropical wonderland in every sense of the word. For today, I am posting four images of where we are staying for the next few days.

The El Nido Garden Resort (Our New Home)

Desiree on the Deck at One of the Rooms

The Ocean View from Our Pool

Against a Setting Sun

—Mitchell Hegman

Wild Goose Island

Perhaps one of the most iconic photographs of Montana is a capture of Wild Goose Island at Saint Mary Lake along Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park. I have taken the photograph many times and seen it in prints and on screen many dozens of times.

When I walked into the house of an aunt and uncle of Desiree, I was shocked to see what is nearly the same image in a painting, but of someplace (presumably) in the Philippines. I am sharing a photograph of the painting (a bit wonky due to avoiding reflections). I am also sharing an image of Goose Lake. The resemblances are uncanny.

A Painting in Bayawan, Philippines

Wild Goose Island, Glacier National Park, Montana

—Mitchell Hegman

A List of Important Things to Know in the Philippines

Following is a list of important things to know in the Philippines:

1. A bathroom is called a “comfort room” or a “CR” in the Philippines.
2. Expect unusual reasons for flight delays or cancellations in the Philippines. Our next flight from Dumaguete, for example, is presently in question due to a volcano eruption on our island (Negros) that occurred a couple of days ago.
3. Driving within your own lane (and in the proper direction) is not a fixed requirement here.
4. The floors in many comfort rooms are almost constantly wet, and you’ll quickly understand why once you get here.
5. Don’t fear the local beers.
6. The heat index here (the apparent temperature based on relative humidity) is important in the same way the wind chill is important in a Montana winter.
7. Here on the islands, it may be possible to achieve sainthood by repairing air conditioning equipment.
8. Make firm arrangements for having toilet paper before you enter a comfort room.
9. Fish: it’s what’s for dinner.

This is What You Will Often See: Palm Trees With an Ocean View

—Mitchell Hegman