Now of all voyagers I remember, who among them

Did not board ship with grief among their maps?—

Till it seemed men never go somewhere, they only leave

Wherever they are, when the dying begins.

– Mary Oliver, “No Voyage” (1963), New and Selected Poems (1992)

Women Are Human shares with our readers the following excerpt from Ute Heggen’s upcoming book The Curated Woods: A Grass Widow in the Months of Remembering.

The first excerpt appears on Women Are Human here:

https://www.womenarehuman.com/a-trans-widows-tale-excerpt-from-the-curated-woods

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The Curated Woods:

A Grass Widow in the Months of Remembering

by Ute Heggen

When you’re my age, you are suddenly thinking that life is perhaps not going to last so much longer, and memories from the past drop by. They filter down, like the light through the leaves. I often think of Grandma Jennie, her hardworking ways, her doughnuts, her oatmeal cookies for breakfast. The gift I miss the most is the handsewn Raggedy Ann doll with the yellow hair, from a sweater she unraveled, carefully woven and sewn onto Ann’s head. She embroidered the face so precisely that you could not tell the difference between my Raggedy’s face and the ones in the stores.

Uninvited memories arrive too, like the last time my then-husband and I had sex, before I discovered that he had been taking estrogen, apparently for months. It felt different, his movements. There was a vacancy in them, a neglect of my breasts, a non-reaction to my embrace. His errant hand thrust between us, feeling my orgasm. It was a sudden and voyeuristic gesture. Intuitively I knew it was the last time, and that I’d always remember. I felt dissociated, emotionally confused. I was so disconnected, unusual for me, the former dancer. I assume it was the last time he ever had intercourse using his male parts.

It is an odd reality, probably the only orgasm I remember with an approximate date attached, on account of random events remembered, before and after. He wore a shirt, despite my preference for naked sex. About six weeks later, I saw his developing breasts. I thought I had forgotten this, but there it came, floating back, as I wandered around in the woods, trying to identify the Oaks. I have three significant Oaks, a wondrous fact. Oaks support many, many insects and animals. I spread my palms across the Central Oak, trying to transfer my memories into its tough, ridged bark.

The woods, oblivious to the plight of our illogical human race, grows on, drops limbs, decomposes, nourishes insects, which nourish birds, and on and on. It even shelters the occasional fox. Perhaps the trees are bemused at me chasing off the deer visitors. It is a habitat. Tick-devouring possums harbor here. Squirrels perform leaps of skill and daring, and the light continuously changes, never the same, as our seasons pass. I find a way to do good in my little forest bubble, as I, and everyone, wait for our previous human social life to return.

If I listen to my woods, I will hear her song, and I will learn the ancient text of her intentions and desires, her needs, her habits, our future. The sound of the leaves in fall, then the birds in spring, reveal the many verses, variations, clues to be read and understood, spaces between the lines, the archaic stoicism of the trees.

I curate this little spot, rip out the wrongful weeds, set in the native plants, and manage the trees. I want to see how it is, after years, if my plans and hopes come to fruition. As well, if I am lucky, and I live, I wish to see my curating, my earnest restorations. I see the butterflies, myriads of bees and dragonflies, the Hawks, the Titmice, the Sparrows. It is the collateral beauty of Mother Nature, if we only stop to notice.

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A Note from the Author:

On July 2nd, I received an email notification that I had been banned from YouTube for “severe and repeated hate speech.” So I appealed. My appeal stated, simply, that, as a single mom, I am trying to help other single mothers and protect children. The origin of the email was Google, the platform I was using to subscribe to YouTube. I had been posting links to my interviews with Karen Davis from her channel You’re Kiddin’, Right?, listed below, after the children’s books.

Interestingly, my ban arrived on the same day as the Wi Spa video trended around the country. Also of interest, I am a children’s book author, under a different pseudonym: Lea Utsira. Under this moniker, I am banned. The two books I have independently published with iuniverse.com/bookstore are Lea Utsira’s All About Leaves and Lea Utsira’s My Heart, Your Heart. The first is an early grade science book, while the second helps a child deal with the loss of a grandparent. I find that the act of banning me from these platforms is anti-woman, anti-child, and anti-science.

My recommendation to everyone who cares about women, children, and science is this: flood YouTube with comments. Copy links to your favorite gender-critical interviews into the comments of Disney and Marvel trailers, widely viewed news clips and sports clips, such as of the Tour de France. Flood the clown world moderators with work.

– Ute Heggen a.k.a. Lea Utsira

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Ute Heggen’s blog can be found at the following link:

uteheggengrasswidow.wordpress.com

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Link: https://www.iuniverse.com/en/bookstore/bookdetails/828223-leaves

Link: https://www.iuniverse.com/en/bookstore/bookdetails/829318-my-heart-your-heart