Reverb 13, Day 2: Nourishment and the BEST moment

The prompts:

1. The way we nourish ourselves determines our ability to shine our light in the world. And nourishment doesn't just come in the form of food and drink and sunshine; it's equally important to nourish your spirit.
What made your soul feel most nourished this year?

2.  Shine: What was the best moment of 2013?

 Ah, nourishment of the soul: what feeds my spirit? 

 The arts, short answer. Theater, books, magazines, movies, music, even television. Creativity unfolding in story, notes on a scale, words on the page, actors and designers and directors creating timeless emotion and story. 

When I was recuperating from surgery, I literally could NOT do things and thus sat still for days. So I read more than I usually get to, devouring books and stories and articles daily and luxuriating in that freedom to just read. My first real excursion outside the house was to a play while I was still non-weight-bearing in a wheelchair. Nearly the first outing when I graduated to the boot and using a cane was to a play, the annual performance of The Vagina Monologues, held this year at Rolling Hills Casino. We watched movies a lot, have our favorite television shows.

They make me think. They stir my emotions and my beliefs. They help me find answers to hard questions, and ponder paths and options. Bits of music -- yes, even the dreaded earworms -- help me through difficult times and even pain (my iPod was with me in the hospital and got me through some hard and noisy hours). 

I am challenged and found and redeemed by the words I have read and seen this year, and I am so grateful for the ability to see and to hear them. 

The best moment of 2013: hmmmm.

I think the best moment was when we drove to our favorite Oregon coast spot in Bandon on our 13th wedding anniversary to spend a few days, and seeing our glorious Mama Ocean rolling in. It rained quite a bit while we were there, but we watched her from our windows facing in two directions and went places anyway. We met by the ocean 16 years ago and were married on the ocean. She never fails to settle our spirits and minimize our worries and fears, and we've happily spent many more days this year on her coast than we have in some time. But that day, May 20, we had come through months of surgery recovery and work and worry, and it was so good to be together by our beloved ocean and not to have a list of chores to do. It was a beautiful time away and apart from everything else.

Reverb 10 -- Down the road

For Dec. 22 -- Travel. How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?

Most of my traveling was by car, and a lot of it was going to doctors' appointments or physical therapy or shopping. I wouldn't exactly call that traveling, and yet when you are five miles out of t0wn, you travel if you want to go anywhere.

We went by car for a week by the ocean; a journey over the mountains and through tall redwood forests and by the rocky beaches of the Pacific.

I flew to Indianapolis for a week in autumn to be with my best friend and to visit places and people I'd known there some 20+ years ago. There, we traveled by car to see an old friend who was dying of cancer: she left this earth not long ago, just tired out.

For 2011, I hope to go back to the ocean again, to renew and to let go. Perhaps next fall will find us traveling further afield, although I think longer trips will wait until 2012.

These days I far prefer car travel: it is more interesting, it is easier. Airline travel means long lines at security gates, limitations on what and how much you can bring with you, hours of being crammed into narrow seats with too many people nearby. The airports do make for interesting people-watching, but so does car travel.

I'm always delighted to get home after any travel. This is a peaceful place, one infused with love and calm, and I appreciate it.

And the days keep rolling on...

It's been hot again here in Lake Woebegone -- er, Red Bluff.... gusting to 106 yesterday. It is supposed to plunge tonight to a high of only 82 tomorrow, and a possibility of showers for Monday. We'll see.

This is the time of year when everyone is sick to death of brown crunchy landscapes and hot temperatures. The trees have turned that desperate blue-green color of late summer, those that haven't already dropped their leaves and turned up their twigs in despair -- I worry about the pair at the front of the house because they look dead-dead-dead right now. Acorns are dropping, a good thing, since the deer don't have much left to eat and are looking mighty slender.

A family group visits around suppertime every day and includes a pair of twin fawns who largely have lost their spots now. When I come out to water the herbs and plants on the back patio, they prick up their ears and step closer in hopes that I'll toss out some peelings or past-their-prime veggies, not that I have a lot of those this year. I always worry about them too at this time of year, wondering if they'll make it until the rains come and grass starts growing again.

The vacation glow has worn off, although it stayed mostly through the first week back. Tony said while he was processing all the photos we shot that it made him want to go back to Bandon! Wish we were a little closer to the coast and the beautiful ocean. Even in the fog and rain, it is a wondrous sight, a reassuring constancy that no matter what else happens, it will be there, rolling in, rolling out.

You can see the coast pictures here -- taken by both of us.

Did I mention that the vacation rental we stayed in had 57 steps from the parking area to the door? Did I mention how our legs quivered after we climbed up them every day (and had to stop at least twice along the way?)

We were out and about every day, and made an excursion to Shore Acres State Park near Coos Bay. Gorgeous gardens with the ocean right there. Tony has a new lens and had a ball shooting pix; I used my trusty 18-200mm and got some nice ones too.

My flowers at Shore Acres, Tony's flowers.

Next foray will involve a trip back to Fayette, MO, the home of Central Methodist University, for my -- gasp -- 40th college graduation reunion. It oughta be an experience seeing all those old people, hm.

I'm hoping for a taste of fall weather there, and also that by some miracle the weather will change in the few days we'll be gone and that we'll be into fall weather here by the time we get back. (delusional, I know...)

We got to see our cutie-pie grandson last weekend for a few hours, and just marvel at how quickly children change, how quickly time passes as we age. All the time in the world that we had when we were young has now shrunk to something far too finite for comfort in some ways, and it makes us talk seriously of retirement and of doing things we hope to do, like more travel and more play. Not yet, we think, but not too far off either.

We have always felt that the Universe presents us with choices and options at the appropriate times, and that doesn't feel right just yet. Nonetheless, we are keeping our eyes and ears and minds open and watching. I feel a bit at loose ends right now about the "right" things for me to do, and seem to be reacting by not doing much of anything substantial. Little bits of writing here and there, little spurts of cleaning and refurbishing and weeding out stuff. We shall see what comes of it.

Meanwhile, we are in transition yet again from late summer into early fall, anticipating the rains and change, whatever it brings. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time, doing all we can to be where we are....

Taking time

We spent last week in Bandon, Ore., in a charming beach house with windows that looked like picture frames because of the beach and ocean views from every one of them. We had no agendas, nothing that had to get done or places we had to go. It was marvelous.

The weather was cool -- a few days we actually got slightly above 70 -- and mostly sunny: one morning of fog that lifted by afternoon; another morning with rain showers (loved it) that also lifted later in the day. We walked on the beach, picking up agates, taking pictures of waves and gulls and starfish. We visited a couple of lighthouses. I spent an afternoon poking around the stores in historic old town and came home with several tops that I adore, plus gifties for various people. We read, we watched mindless television and movies. We slept with the roar of the waves echoing through our place. It was wonderful.

The only complaint about the whole week was that the house is 57 steps below street level, and they are steep steps, the kind you want to hang onto the railing to go down. But going up -- wow. What a workout for the legs! Cardio workout for sure. I never made it up there without stopping at least twice. The beach was only about 15 or so steps down, not nearly as steep.

We needed the time away. It has been a hard year in so many ways: emotionally, physically, spiritually, probably mostly emotionally. And it did what we'd hoped it would -- gave us a welcome respite from day-to-day life and stresses.

I think the trick is to create more of those moments within day-to-day life -- to declare a phone-free day, or sit and read a book, or watch mindless television, or cook from the freezer case instead of from scratch. Because there was no cell service in the house, our phone contact was limited to either when we'd go out on an excursion, ending up usually at the grocery store to buy that evening's dinner, or to the cumbersome phone card which we had purchased in anticipation of no service. It was lovely, actually.

We had internet -- and had brought the laptop, mainly so Tony could upload pictures as we took them -- and did check e-mails, but did little corresponding. We did keep up with an unfolding drama that infested the local art community here via e-mail, but did not respond to it, having taken a vow some time ago to stay out of that particular crock of manure. Well, okay, we did correspond briefly with a few of our friends who got spattered, just to offer our support and concern....

It was good to have that much time together, though -- with Tony working and out of the house so long five days a week, we really treasure what little time we do have. When we first came here and were in real estate, we were together pretty much all the time -- actually, that was one of our primary goals when we moved here -- and we have missed that. We know the current situation will end eventually, but right now it works...

When it is so hot outside, which it is here pretty much at least four months of the year, you don't really want to go out and about much, so we tend to cocoon indoors in the summer where it is cool. But that is not necessarily healthy either -- it's good to get out and do something interesting, even just taking a drive, or going to the mountains where it is at least cooler. Heat tires one out, too, and there is never a lack of things that need doing around here, although in the summer most of them are indoors. In the winter, my favorite time actually, it can be too cold or rainy to do stuff outside, and then we cocoon inside with the wood stove and pots of soup!

I guess my lesson in our little vacation by the sea is that we need to find some mini-breaks at least a couple of times a month, and get away from the house and the to-do lists, and just be with each other. Life goes by so quickly, and the most important part of it is our relationship with each other, not all the things that need doing. It's that balance lesson again, hm.

Salt air is a cure for smoke and haze

We escaped to the ocean over a long weekend -- escaped smoke and fire news and heat, and just soaked up the moist, cool salt air in Bandon, Oregon.

We'd planned to go to the Lost Coast some time ago and had made reservations, but the fires in Tehama and Shasta counties closed both main roads to the coast, and the alternate way, far south of us, led to more fire issues with some of those roads. So rather than cancel altogether, we remembered Bandon, a spot we visited more than eight years ago when we were on our honeymoon.

It was some miles and hours longer to get there, but probably not by a whole lot, since Bandon is accessible from here mostly via I-5, and then cutting over to the coast on reasonably good road.

We drove through smoke and haze until we got well north of Redding, where the smoke from the Shasta Dam fire billowed over the roadway and we could see smoke plumes much more closely than we really wanted to see them. By the time we came back yesterday, the air had cleared a lot. The fires are more under control, although by no means out. And the air quality is better, but far from good.

It was a lovely getaway. I read a whole book -- okay, an appropriate beach read -- the second in Nora Roberts' Blood Brothers trilogy and hardly requiring much brain, but perfect for the weekend. We ate fish, we watched a lovely sunset, we walked miles on the beach, we slept and watched some mindless television. Mostly we watched and listened to waves and sea birds. The constancy of the waves is reassuring, endless in its repetition. I love it. Tony said I was like a puppy sniffing the air. I took great gulps of the air, even filling my lungs full several times just before we left to come home in hopes that it would sustain me until I get back. When I close my eyes I see the waves, hear the waves. It is a good place.

The kitties missed us. McMurphy was all over us last night, wanting to be petted, and Ches just watched nearby, although he let me pet him and love on him later in the evening, but didn't climb into Tony's lap until just a few minutes ago. As long as the outside kitties are fed, watered, and petted daily, they're fine. And they were.

The garden is bountiful with squash -- zucchini and yellow. Tomatoes are ripening slowly, green peppers are appearing, and there are a couple of Japanese eggplant. No green beans. Lots of foliage, but no fruit. I've gotten some cucumbers and there are more out there. I still would like to plant more chard. I have a little plant -- the seeds didn't all come up -- and need to just plunk more into the ground. It's good -- all is tasty and fresh. Herbs are good too -- basil, chives, oregano, thyme, mint. Cilantro never does well, though -- I don't know why.

Time to fold clothes and try to relax a bit. It's been one of those days where I tied up loose ends and putzed, but didn't do some of the things I now HAVE to get done. Ah well. Such is the nature of a deadline-driven writer, I guess.

Making downtime

I seldom stop doing stuff, even when I'm supposedly "relaxing" -- I fold clothes while I'm watching TV, or go through the stacks of magazines that accumulate by my bedside table or in baskets all over the house, or read the newspapers more thoroughly.

I'll watch Oprah or a movie while I'm cooking or cleaning the kitchen up, or ironing (something I don't often do, but with linen season upon us, the stuff just does better if it's ironed, even briefly).

My mother didn't sit still either, at least until painful osteoporosis forced her into a sedentary life. She sewed or ironed or read while she watched TV or clipped coupons, or something. So it's not odd that I do much the same.

And it's not even something I really MIND doing, usually -- it just needs doing, and for some of these chores, TV makes them more enjoyable.

But sit and read a book? Wow. Only if I'm sick, and then I'm usually really sick and sleeping, not reading. (Note: I read every day. I read the newspapers (two of 'em), I read magazines over lunch, and I have a huge stack of books beside the bed. I always -- ALWAYS -- read after I crawl into bed and before I turn out the light: it helps me transition into sleep, let go of the day and most stressors. Sometimes I can even stay awake long enough to read several chapters.)

But vacation is when I get to read as much as I want, or give myself permission to watch TV without doing something else. Last summer, when we went to Tennessee, I put a significant dent in the last Harry Potter book while we were visiting my brother, and plane trips -- irritating as they can be -- are hours when I get to read without the remotest hint of guilt.

We had a little taste of downtime this weekend when we visited a friend in Davis and went to see Phantom of the Opera in Sacramento. We wandered around Davis, visited the Arboretum, sat outside and enjoyed an al fresco lunch and then brunch today, and talked about nothing deep.

And Phantom was simply glorious, just as I remembered it being the first time I saw it on stage long ago in Nashville, Tenn. We reveled in the music -- played the CDs all the way to Davis -- and it's been playing again in my head all day today.

The weekend was wonderful. Restful, although not related to sleep -- which we did, and well, thankyouverymuch, but just in the down time. Being away from the little things that call to me all the time at home -- do a load of laundry, check the garden, wipe down the sink, clean the kitty fountain, organize the desk -- you know. Being away from the lure of e-mail and Web browsers, from notes that need to get written into articles.

Honest-to-god down time.

We've got a longer escape planned for later, and it shouldn't require doing anything other than watching ocean waves and reading the Jodi Picoult novel I've been saving for such an occasion. I can't wait.

Meanwhile, there's a laundry basket full of clothes that need to be folded. Let me check what's on the DVR...

R&R

We had a lovely getaway just overnight this weekend in McCloud at the McCloud Hotel, and a wonderful dinner experience on the Shasta Sunset Dinner Train. What made it even more fun is that we went with a whole group of friends -- there were 16 of us, and a lively bunch it was, too!

There were no TVs in the rooms, no phones, and it was quiet == not that it is noisy out here in the country, but the lack of urgency to DO something wasn't there, nor was the vague sense of "I ought to be doing....(pick your favorite to-do)" that is nearly always present. It was simply relaxing and enjoyable. I wasn't thinking about what to fix for dinner or breakfast, wasn't thinking about doing laundry or answering e-mail or organizing the desk or anything. I was completely focused on what was happening in that moment....listening to the stories, watching the animated faces, laughing at silly comments.

The slow clickclack of the train through the piney woods was wonderful ... just enough sway to remind you that you're on a train, but it was easy to walk through the car without stumbling. And the car itself was just magnificent -- completely restored wood, lovely tables set with heavy flatware, white tablecloths and fresh flowers. Three attendants took care of the whole car -- probably around 50 diners -- for three hours, taking drink orders, pouring wine and water and coffee, serving four courses, and chatting as though you were the only people there. They were efficient and very pleasant and we thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

It's so interesting to watch people in a group. We knew most of the people who came, and easily visited with the new acquaintances. We discovered things we didn't know about the people we already knew, and enjoyed the new personality mixes.

I found out a few things about myself, too. I watched more than I participated this weekend.... oh, I talked plenty and laughed a lot. But one group started singing on the train -- lots of songs I've known and sung for years -- and while I followed along, it was quietly and not in the middle of the group for a change. They were old songs, and I've known all the words to most of them for decades (oh, those college drinking days!)

It was a bit of a new experience to stand back and observe the personalities and interchanges, and to watch the others in the group and on the train as they reacted to the singers. I was aware at different times of pulling back and watching and listening instead of sharing a comment or a related story -- and that was different for me. There are very strong personalities in this group and I learned a lot by just watching.

Yes ... I can keep my mouth shut and stories to myself on occasion!

Strangely, tonight I'm really tired -- we talked about it at supper and decided it was just letting down our guard and getting away even briefly, and that it was very, very relaxing, and that is what we're both feeling --

We love our home office. But you don't ever leave the office either -- even when you shut off the computer and walk into the other parts of the house, it comes with you. We need to get away more, I think, and let it go.

******************
Friday afternoon I planted seeds in the garden -- romaine lettuce, buttercrunch lettuce, mesclun, radishes, green onions, and sugar snap peas. And I threw a few bell pepper seeds into the ground to see if they'll root. The dirt is loose and fine from tilling it again just before I planted, and I hope to see seedlings later this week.

But we've already had a bumper crop of rocks. The garden is located on the old debris pile for the entire subdivision -- lots of trees, shrubs, rocks, etc. were dumped there in the late '70s when it was built. When we moved here, we burned the pile, which had sunk considerably, and it glowed for a week. We tilled and put a couple of loads of manure on top of it and let it sit over a winter before we put it into raised beds and tilled again.

And the rocks keep coming -- they grow little rocks. Some of the charred smaller sticks that were deep in the pile are coming up to the surface this year too. And rocks. Big rocks -- four or so inches. Gravel. Little rocks.

Long as the garden keeps growing, it's okay. I'll just keep sifting through the rocks with my fingers and toss them onto the paths around the garden. I expect to be sifting for many years.

It was a good weekend. I feel almost ready for the coming week -- but first, a good sleep in our own bed, kitties snugged in with us.