Rabbit holes

 

On my walk this morning, I noticed so many more people than usual on the trail. Quite a few families, in fact, on bicycles or pushing strollers or playing near the creek. It took me a minute to realize - it's spring break week here - students are out of school, teachers have a much-deserved week to themselves. I'm so glad that the rain has let up for a day or two, and everyone can enjoy the sunshine and mild temps. Oh, how I loved April break! Truly, the end of this school year is in sight; those last weeks seem to fly by upon return.

We've been gardening and squabbling here. Sometimes, when I look out at the yard, all I see is what it needs - not what it has. Our yard needs a lot. Something. Focus. Love? It gets plenty of love; it has my husband - and yard work to him is what writing is to me - he piddles and dreams and puts things here, there and rethinks and wanders and tries again. I can't stand the 'in-between process' of the garden - I want it to look like a page from a gardening catalogue. I'm impatient. Thus the squabbling - totally started and stoked by me:

Me - Why did you move all the pavers from under the fire pit? I just did those last fall! 

Him - Well, I noticed they weren't level. So I'm making the pad level.

Me - Oh, nobody noticed! 

Him - I did. I'm fixing it. You don't have to worry about it; I've got it.

Me - Well it looks messy.

Him - Because it's in process. 

Me - Why do we even have that darn firepit? I hate that you keep it covered in the old brown tarp. It looks messy. 

Him - You bought it for my birthday a few years back, remember, hon? It doesn't have a cover and we don't want it to rust. We've had fun with it. 

(This man is too nice for a cranky wife like me.)

I heard the ugly in me. I wandered away and start pulling weeds nearby; I even mulched a part of the yard, soothing this insatiable need to 'complete' something, to have a finished task. 

It just feels like everything everything everything is up in the air, confusing, mixed up. We are in such a state of 'in-between'...we are a matter of weeks away from the start of a major home remodeling (contractor is in midst of securing permits) and inside the house is just a flurry of movement - emptying, culling, shifting, preparing. It feels as if everything I go to touch leads down some new rabbit hole, revealing something more, something unexpected, to do.

Then there is the larger world, which is off its axis. I can hardly bear to hear or read news - which makes me feel doubly bad, to be privileged enough to take it in small, manageable doses. 

It helps to write.

For some, it helps to garden.

___________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

SOLSC 2022 #29 - Touring Hickory Flats

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

With the phone on speaker, my brother-in-law's southern drawl filled the car as he shared the directions he remembered - 

"From there, you go down a big ol' hill; at the bottom, on the opposite side of the road from a pasture, there's a big Sycamore tree. We lived right up the road from this bend..."

Yesterday, I spent time typing up notes I had taken on a very special driving tour with my husband and in-laws. When we were in Georgia in February for my sister-in-law's funeral, my husband Tony and his two remaining sisters decided to drive around and visit the places that they had lived as children. They called their brother up on speaker phone, so that he might help them find their way around. I went along as the "scribe," bringing my trusty notebook and pen. I tried not to interrupt their conversation, and to write down every tidbit I heard them sharing. I knew this was an all-too-rare opportunity to capture family history.  

Tony is second youngest in a family of 13 children; the sister-in-law that died was the baby of the family (and it doesn't seem right for the youngest to die before others, does it?). One of the first thoughts I had when she died, in the midst of all the grief, was that we had just lost a lot of family history. The baby sister was the one who kept tabs on everybody and everything that had happened through the years. She truly treasured her family.

Their father worked as a preacher, a cabinet maker, and a tenant farmer, which meant that the family was uprooted many times, moving to new locations in the state. A number of years were spent in the vicinity of Hickory Flats, which was near to where we were staying. (It's amazing to think how much population has grown in this area - Hickory Flats was considered 'the boonies' when my husband and his siblings were growing up, but is now considered the outer environs of Atlanta.)

Now, there are only four living siblings, of the original 13 - Tony, an older brother, and two older sisters. It was a very special day to drive around and hear their reminiscing. It was also fun to type up all the notes from this grand tour and share them with everyone. Tony and his sibs are making edits, adding details, and sharing new stories to the ones I captured - there is a touch of healing in this memory-writing. 

SOLSC 2022 - #26 Consistent joy

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

Every Saturday morning I enjoy reading the On Being newsletter called On Pause which never ceases to send me thinking in some new, positive direction.  Today's post asked the open-ended question, reflecting on this time of pandemic, 

What are the joys I've "hoarded" and protected these past two years?

What an uplifting reflection this was for me! Here's where I landed - and I am sure the list isn't complete, how wonderful is that?

• cozy, kind, nourishing, loving connection and time with my husband, Tony; we have really prioritized this, in many ways, including walks, talks, dinners, even our evenings on the couch just binging shows together
• having a minimum of two days a week when I can completely lose myself in the magical playful world of young children, thanks to babysitting my sweet granddaughters "Frog" (age 3) and "Bird" (age 1)
• my sons, always my sons; being more intentional about regular connection during this time...at least weekly ... how incredibly special it has been to have my sons and the in-laws all living close by, which meant we were able to form a 'pod' very early on in the pandemic, and this has led to many beautiful 'whole family' times - two sets of grandparents, the granddaughters, their parents, four uncles, a fiance - sharing holidays, birthdays, special events...this has been so, so dear
• my girlfriends! long rambling phone conversations with my high school buddy and my college buddy, both of whom live far away, but we seemed to find a way to get closer during this time; same is true for others...I think I have been hoarding these friendships, hahaha - my local buddy and I doing weekly runs in the woods, another dear friend who meets me for long walks and talks, my sweet bookgroup, just four of us - we managed to "zoom" through the hard pandemic months, eat outdoors lots, and we've read and discussed so many great books together...we made it work...
• dear couples in our lives...meeting one at the playground with our grandchildren together, another for hikes every now and again, still others for special lunches or dinners...I have truly been blessed by these friendships
• my gratitude circle - only one of whom I actually know/have met - how close we've become through the years, but how important this has been to me these past couple of years, to share our gratitudes via email on a regular basis, to have a window into each other's lives, and to support and care for one another
• all my own siblings and my husband's siblings - sadly, grief and loss brought us together too many times these past two years...we grieved the death of my Dad, my sister-in-law's Mom, Tony's brother, my uncle/godfather, Tony's sister just recently...it's been a lot of sorrow, but I have really loved how we siblings held each other up, sharing honestly and openly our memories, our love - and we connect with one another regularly through phone calls and some visits, knowing how important it is, treasuring our time together
• my church community - what a joy to have this to lean on, to depend on, every single Sunday, whether a zoom service or in person, the ministers offer love, hope, support, inspiration, prayer, guidance, open arms, welcome to all
• my neighbors/my neighborhood, the friendly, welcoming vibe, the looking out and caring for one another
• being quiet, alone, developing my spiritual practice, making time for contemplation - I have been very intentional about this, able to grow, pray, and reflect deeply, making this intentional each day; much of this is done through my daily personal writing/journaling, but also through books and podcasts, reading and listening to understand, hope, grow; plus, I have a dear 'friendship circle' of women from church that I connect with, too. 
• my online writing communities (again, there seems to be a theme of me hoarding 'connections'!), how I have loved the Two Writing Teachers slicing and my poetry writing with EthicalELA, how I have enjoyed reading and commenting on writing of others, and hearing from them about mine, how I feel I have made real friends through this practice
• NATURE - I had to capitalize this because it may be listed last, but it is not last; I seek it out all the time - through gardening, time with kids, walking, hiking, running...how the natural world has supported me through this time, oh my! It is a blessing to live in the Washington, DC area, where there are innumerable parks to explore....

I feel that I must have missed something...which is kind of a joyous thing, in and of itself!

What joys have you protected these past two years?

SOLSC 2022 #18 - To Life!

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

A friend shared this quote by Katerina Belash, Ukrainian refugee  - 

"Please do cherish a clear sky. Every single time you see sky, treasure every moment of your life."

For a long while now, perhaps since the pandemic began and my long walks have been a more daily routine, I have been taking lots of photos of the sky. I don't really do anything with them; I'm just intrigued by the sky's beauty, its vastness, its personality on a given day. Let me share a few of these photos from this month of March, as my post today. 

Happy Friday! To the preciousness of life!

(This is the sky right now, in Silver Spring, Maryland.)

SOLSC 2022 #11 - House and home

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

Thirty-four (34). Tomorrow. That's how many years we've been married, how long we've lived together in this dear home.

Thirty-one (31). That's how many years ago we added onto our house, creating a new family room/kitchen.

Seven (7). That's how many months it's been since our contractor first drew our attention to the sagging ceiling in our kitchen/family room.

Five (5). That's how many drywall holes that have been cut, as we try to decipher the enormity of work that must be done in order to correct the structural issues in our house. 

Two (2). That's how many times the blueprints have been revised, as the structural engineer and contractor discover more issues. 

Yesterday. That's when the contractor explained in detail the work that must be done. 

One (1). That's how many new steel beams we will be putting in our home. 

That last line is so succinct - wildly oppositional to the grueling mental slog this work has been to date and the work that must yet be done.  Let's be serious: no 'real' work has even started. I hold no false illusions about the future weeks/months of construction being any easier than this discovery phase. 

It's going to get ugly. 

The months that lie ahead will offer lots of great mindfulness practice; I will be an expert by project's completion.

Time to lose myself in a good book!!

284 out of 376 - That's how many pages I have read so far of Sarah Broom's memoir The Yellow House.* What a great read, especially for me at this time. She writes about her family and their home in New Orleans East, and by no means can I compare my situation to this one - her childhood home is completely destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. But throughout the book, Ms. Broom offers such beautiful reflections on 'place' - how the walls that surround us, the ground we walk on, the people we grow alongside, these feed our souls. 

In the midst of my own home falling apart, these words of hers resonate: 

"The family grew into all the spaces of the house: all rooms were multipurpose; all were lived in, the family's traces everywhere. Everything was used; nothing existed solely for show."

"...Mom was convinced. She had grown to believe that the objects contained within a house spoke loudest about the person to whom the things belonged. More than that, she believed that the individual belonged to the things inside the house, to the house itself."

"It could be said, too, my engineer friend told me, speaking more metaphorically than she was comfortable with, that the house was not tethered to its foundation, that what held the house to its foundation of sill on piers, wood on bricks, was the weight of us all in the house, the weight of the house itself, the weight of our things in the house. This is the only explanation I want to accept."

"I said the moment you want to leave is probably when you should try hard to stay."

This poignant memoir is making me think -

I need to write more about my home. I need to write into the emotions that are coming up for me as we do this big fix. More to come! More to come!

*If you are interested in learning a little more about Sarah Broom's The Yellow House, here is a seven minute PBS interview with Sarah Broom. Here, she shares the 'why' behind her work - and offers some insight into her writing and research process.

SOLSC 2022 #6 - On hopelessness

 

It is March 2022 and time for the

 15th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge  

Every single day, for all thirty-one days of March,

writers will share stories.

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

Most days, I begin quietly, contemplatively. I read, re-read, listen to, absorb a variety of meditative, loving, inspirational sources. It's somewhat aimless, unstructured, this quiet alone time. I take a lot of notes. I write write write in a daily journal. I write into the day. I love this time alone. It is sacred time.

Today begins with my finding these notes on an index card, kept at my writing table, from an interview I listened to ages ago... words from Devendra Banhart   - 

I have no faith -

zero, zilch, nada -

in today being a good day.

But I can try to do good today.

(I jotted them down quickly, they are perhaps an incomplete quote, but you get the idea.)

I love this.

Seriously, I do.

Just what I needed to absorb today.

I am grieving, we are grieving; raw from the death of our sister/sister-in-law just two weeks ago, the sad surprise of her death, all the emotions, history, memories it has dredged up... battered from the daily painful news of the war and atrocities in Ukraine; I could go on and on; yes, I'm just/we're just hurting, hurting, hurting. 

I have no faith -

zero, zilch, nada -

in today being a good day.

But I can try to do good today.

I went out on a long walk by myself, trying to lose myself in my head, pound and ground my body to churn away all the yuck inside...yes, if I can't seem to solve it through writing, I'll often try to walk it off.

There was this little guy, maybe eight years old, struggling with his bicycle - walking it on the side of the road. He wasn't someone I knew, he was a stranger to me, just a young boy. He was at that 'thickening' stage of child development, before height and hormones come racing in. I was immediately heartened to see him, just to feast my eyes on his roundness, thinking about my three sons when they were younger, how they grew just like this. Yes, I'm a weirdo. Hahaha. Anyhow, I called out to him - 

Do you need help? 

And he shook his head, no. At once, I could see the mixed-bag fear of 'I don't know you, lady, I'm not supposed to talk to strangers,' maybe even - 'hey, neither of us is wearing a mask, I need to keep away from you.' But his sweaty, frustrated face, the struggle and exhaustion in his eyes, made me think otherwise - he did need help. He couldn't get the bike going. I crossed the street to his side, keeping a distance, and said gently,

Looks like that could be the chain. I've had that happen a time or two. May I give you a hand? and I pointed towards the bike. 

He whispered, okay and rolled/scooched the bike towards me.

One knee in the dirt, next to the bike, I held the bike up with one hand, and took stock - yep, there's the drooping chain, slipped off. With my other hand, I grabbed it, pulled it, tucked it back into position onto the sprocket, instantaneously feeling the mucky slime of grease on my fingers (such a distant yet familiar feeling is bike grease). I rolled the bike back towards the boy, and wiped my greasy hands in the grass.

Give that a go. I think that's all it needed.

He jumped back on the bike and rode off, with an enthusiastic - Yes! It works! and an even bigger shout "THANK YOU!"

Leaving me smiling.

I have no faith -

zero, zilch, nada -

in today being a good day.

But I can try to do good today.

Altered fun

Something that is bringing me a lot of light this winter is a new 'found' project.  Let me share what I am up to....

I have two old journal/day planners of my mother's that she never really used. She was not a journaler, and I am not sure how she happened to have these two, very nice quality/Italian made, with sewn binding. Mom died a few years back, so it's not like I can ask her. Perhaps they were "new year's resolution" purchases, something she thought she'd have a go at? These books are from 1992 and 1993, soon after Dad had retired from the Navy and they had moved near the beach, in South Carolina.

It took a little courage on my part to open them up and read through these. I was not surprised yet still disappointed to find that there were very few entries, and everything was quite superficial - "haircut at 10 am." The biggest confidences seemed to involve food, "We went out to eat and I had scallops for dinner." Truly, there were very few references to any family members, except for noting phone calls, as in "I called Maureen this evening."

Later, when I was out running trails with my pal Marla, I lamented aloud - "How I wish I found some sort of affirming words about me in her writing. I'm half-thinking of writing a love note to myself in the empty pages." (This was one of those 'give yourself what you need' ideas that a therapist might recommend.) Marla, an artist, immediately suggested - "Oh my - you should make an altered book!"

"A what?" I asked, confused.

When I got home from the run, I went on a deep dive (thank you, Google and YouTube) to discover everything I could about altered books...and this has become my 'found' project. This visual art/craft approach appears for some to be a way to create almost an artist's portfolio, or to experiment with different art techniques. I am taking mine in a more personal direction, using Mom's book/writings (or lack of writing) as a muse, creating art collages and drawings, basically 'playing' with the book. 

Let me show you a collage I have just started - this is going to be a map of their home and surrounding area, showing all Mom's favorite places. I have created the 'toe' of the island that they lived on and the water all around, using papers cut from picture book jackets. 

(I should ask you teachers - do you recognize the illustrators?). 

(Okay, okay - I'll share! The 'land' is from Jerry Pinkney's The Lion and The Mouse and the "water" is from Michaela Goede's illustrations in Carole Lindstrom's We Are Water Protectors)  

As I said, I'm mid-process on this collage - I have yet to add roads, bike paths, and favorite places. More to come!!

I am awed by how this work is stimulating other writing, leading to poetry and some fanciful fiction draft ideas. Honestly, the exploration is meditative and hopeful. I am having so so so much fun.

Let me share a little poem I wrote, totally imagining Mom living in her new community, immersed in her local Catholic church and new friends. I thought about her and a friend taking a day to visit the local shopping outlets, from her entry "Tru and I to the outlets": 

the perfect day

how the waitress made us chuckle

shouting our names, saying hello

she knows us now, each morning

early Mass, coffee and biscuits

then we drove to the outlets

searching for the perfect shoes

finding so many bargains

that turquoise blouse looked so good on you

how fun it was to wander into

the little art boutique

so many beautiful pottery pieces

people are so creative

we sat on the bench outside for a bit

remember how cool the air was

how gentle the breeze

such a nice break from the heat

driving back, you shared that story

your trip to the mountains

all the antics that ensued

how we laughed and laughed

I had no sooner put my new things away

when he came through the door

we sat on the porch together

sharing our stories

I seriously don't know where I am 'going' with this project, but it is the perfect thing for me as another winter of isolation bears down.

___________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

Too many words

Happy January 2022! Another year beckons, another year awaits, another year welcomes. 

We began the year here in Maryland with unseasonably warm temperatures - taking walks in long sleeve shirts, pulling weeds from the yard, sitting on the porch for a moment...the world appearing to be spring. Then, overnight, a storm front came in and the temperatures plummeted and we are now blanketed in snow -

Are we standing on the threshold of another year of the word   

EXTREME?

That is not the word I intend to focus on this year, oh my, no. 
If that is the word placed upon my shoulders, I will serve up DENIAL instead. hahaha. 

Escape. Hide. Ignore. Read. Write. Hibernate. 

I've been flirting with choosing 'one little word' for this year, and so many words cross my mind. This is always a bit of a wrestle for me. I find choosing one word to be elusive, impossible, both beyond and narrow...not quite big enough and yet overwhelming. How can one little word hold all my hopes and dreams for the time ahead?

I have a daily practice of a 'word of the day' - as revealed by angel cards, a gift from a dear friend a long time ago. This is an inspirational and uplifting ritual, to randomly select a simple word of positivity and see what lens it adds to my day - do I struggle to achieve the word? does it spontaneously appear over and over throughout the day? I often begin my day by journaling into and about this one word.

Don't I need at least one word a day, not just one for the year?

Yesterday morning, as the snow fell, I sat on my bed with a cup of tea and my journal, with the curtains pulled open wide, so I could be an eyewitness to the immersive quiet of the falling wonder. 

Truly, is there anything more delightful than a snow day? This unexpected indulgence of found time?

I had to take a photo:

No, I thought, I need to look closer. So I got out of bed and moved nearer:

No, this is still not enough for me, I must get closer, so I moved all the nearer to the screen:

Oh my, look at my mahonia shrub. It has been unexpectedly transformed - this prickly bush looks so soft and cuddly, almost squishy, like a child's plaything. The gift of snow, letting me see things in new ways.

Wait...what is that? I looked even closer, and took one more photo:

Still paused at my window yet looking even closer,  I discovered that the snow had created almost a path in the midst of the shrubs, a hollowing out, beckoning, inviting...revealing this magical little open space that is not normally there.

Do you see it, too?

This, this, this

is what I want for my year ahead,

to follow embrace manifest expect wander imagine do play go nurture believe pursue immerse pause hope dive linger create unfold reveal connect explore deepen love.

I want to find the ever-present positive, I want to find the light.

I am realizing, it is so easy to name what is painful and hard about life these days.

It is so easy to wallow and complain.

My intention this year is to seek, discover, and observe

the light that surrounds me

even in the midst of all this yuck.

Why not focus on

what is good in the world and bask in this a little bit?

What offers hope?

What joy am I missing?

This year, I seek light and 

strive to share it, show it, shine it, 

whenever possible. 

There's my one little word:

light

Yes, I like that.

Happy new year, everyone!! May blessings abound!

___________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community 

of teacher-writers!

The year ends quietly

As this year draws to a close,
I am feeling the need for quiet contemplation, and very few words.
Today's slice is told through photos,

the family hike we enjoyed today:

___________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

On Tuesdays, I run

On Tuesdays, before the sun, I run.

I repeated this little ditty as I crawled from my warm bed this morning, found my exercise clothes, pulled back my hair into a ponytail. 

On Tuesdays, before the sun, I run.

I run three times a week, and once a week it is in the dark of morning. 

On Tuesdays, before the sun, I run.

Lace up my shoes, get out the door...don't forget the reflective vest, the bright white sweatshirt. Running in the dark! It makes me feel, all at once, both adult and child - giddy and yet responsible, alert, aware. 

On Tuesdays, before the sun, I run.

Today it is cold, it is cold, it is cold...I am running before I even leave my driveway... only in the low 40s, my first cold running day in a long while... thin gloves and fleece headband much-needed...I try to convince myself: it's not bad, not bad, not bad. Maybe even invigorating? 

On Tuesdays, before the sun, I run.

I am grateful for my quiet neighborhood, though I would love to see a few more folks out. Where are all the dog-walkers? I suppose they are dog-backyarders at this hour?

On Tuesdays, before the sun, I run.

Where are the stars? My last early morning run, the sky was awash in stars, clear with constellations, bright and comforting. Today, ah, nothing but clouds, yet still comforting - the sky is a blanket of grey-white-blue-black.

On Tuesdays, before the sun, I run.

Today I am celebrating one year of running, one year of getting back into this very good habit for me, three days a week, 
Tuesdays, Fridays, Sundays, 
Tuesdays, Fridays, Sundays, 
Tuesdays, Fridays, Sundays, 
on and on, 
one after another.
One year! Woohoo! One year!

On Tuesdays, before the sun, I run.

On Gratitude and Learning

One recent day
I sang Five Green Speckled Frogs 

over and over again
while crouched in front of the toilet
where my young granddaughter was perched
hoping

trying

believing 

she would pee

yes

I sang Five Green Speckled Frogs 

with hand motions as well

many times in a row
at her insistence 
and perhaps a bit of mine
as I tried to lighten and normalize 
this new learning

while in a nearby room
I heard her young sister crawling about
knocking things over
chattering and cooing

and was immediately thankful 

for the other caregiver in the house

dear Poppa will tend to the littlest one 

I need not worry about her

just keep on singing

and thinking

isn't it extraordinary

a miracle 

such a luxury

to be proficient at

using the bathroom

somewhere along the way

I started taking it for granted

why not feel 

the magic and wonder 

each day 

celebrate

the sheer amazing learning

the accomplishment

the good skill

of so many of us

despite so many obstacles

yes

again and again we are reminded

this is such a divisive time

with passionate zealous strident adults 

believing so many different truths

often in direct opposition to one another

yet

where is 

grace and delight

about what we have in common

we are toilet-trained

___________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!

___________________

P.S. Just in case you need the words to Five Little Speckled Frogs - hahaha

Five little speckled frogs

Sitting on a speckled log

Eating some most delicious bugs - yum! yum!

One jumps into the pool

Where it is nice and cool

Now there are four green speckled frogs...

[Repeat lyrics with descending number of frogs - four, three, two, one, until you have no green speckled frogs...]

Outcroppings

There's this point near the end of most hikes where I really need a helicopter to appear, dropping a rope ladder directly into my hands, and instantaneously whisking me back to my car, without another moment of delay. I need to be OFF the trail, softly seated, feet up, with a refreshing cold drink in hand. Tony likes to say "the first immutable law of hiking is that for every downhill there is an uphill twice as long," but I claim there is at least one other enduring law - the hike will move instantaneously, without any foreshadowing, from feeling "perfect" (oh my, this is beautiful! oh my, what a great day to hike! oh my, I am having so much fun!) to pluperfect (as describe in Oxford Languages, "an action - in this case, hiking - completed prior to some past point of time specified or implied"). My gas simply runs out. The hike is over, past tense, completed, before it actually ends.

Perhaps it is this act of hiking while exhausted, past the point of comfort, having to dig deep into some invisible reserves, that adds to the feeling of accomplishment?

We recently hiked Sugarloaf Mountain, a small but beautiful, local mountain. The day was absolutely gorgeous, with cool fall temperatures, bright sunshine, lovely breezes - a day meant for hiking, and we really did enjoy the outing, despite my concluding sensations of needing it all to be over. In the end, we had hiked some eight miles, though the original plan had called for three or four - thus my fantasy of a helicopter arriving. 

Long before exhaustion hit, I enjoyed enjoyed enjoyed. I love how hiking requires your full attention, that you be alert to where you place your foot - is it root? rock? shifting sand? The terrain is constantly changing, always varied. My favorite patches involve hearing the echoing thunk of each footstep on the ground, as if I am all alone in the world (and oh so capable). I love the natural surrounds, and find myself absorbing all these minute details - the way trees bend, a sudden burst of orange or red, the shape of rocks. Perhaps most of all, I love how my mind wanders, thinking of so many different and unexpected things. 

Who lives here?

Wild mushrooms

Some parts of this hike were tricky - climbing over loose and shifting rocks, trying to wedge my foot in a tight crevice, bending and lifting myself up and over ridges. At times, it seemed my hips and knees were going in different directions, certainly separate directions from my mind. Always, always, always, just when I needed it most, there was a perfect rock waiting for me - wide, flat, steady, strong, beckoning, allowing me to rest, catch my breath, regain my footing. We had a refreshing snack while sitting on a beautiful outcropping, and felt energized for the rest of the hike. 

I've been blessed with friends like this through the years, friends who popped into my life by surprise just when I needed them,  rock steady and strong, letting me catch my breath, giving me much-needed perspective. These friends were often temporary, "passers-by," appearing at different phases of life and not necessarily in for the long journey - I'm thinking of former colleagues, dorm-mates,  "I'm a new Mom, too," and "oh, your child's at this school, too?" - you know, friends of a time. 

Yet, still very, very dear in my heart. 

I found myself remembering each of them on this last hike - their wisdom and insight, their reassuring ways. 

This, truly, is a gift of hiking - the memories tapped and released, to savor once more.

Tony & I at the summit

___________________

It's Tuesday and I am participating in the

 Slice of Life.  

Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for nurturing teacher-writers!