In April, two writers from my writing group came to visit for a week - a face to face immersion with familiar strangers. They convinced me to drive to Sacramento with them at the end of their visit, where we'd meet up with three others from our group. Strange as the whole thing felt, I kept saying yes. I was trepidatious to say the least...
California
I Will Always
I will always think fondly of California's warmer winters as I shiver here up north. Something in me refuses to fully embrace the Pacific Northwest cold. At the same time, I will always appreciate springtime here; the jubilance of those first radiant hellebores, the indefatigable daffodils waving their bright colors like flags, the bright glow of skunk cabbage in a swamp, and trillium, delightful spring harbingers, the robins of the flower world. Just when I practically give up, give in, and withdraw into a mossy ball in the corner of the couch, spring awakens outside and in.
Attics of My Life Part II
Ojai, Ventura, Santa Barbara, our weeklong adventure continues. This wasn't the sort of travel seeking new adventures and novel sights. This was a trip through the past to make sure the ties that bind are healthy and alive.
Attics of My Life
Sometimes you have to step back into the past to find a way to move forward. Actually I just made that up; I don't know if it's true. But doesn't it sound good? I went back to my old home for a week. What did I find? Sustenance, encouragement, joy, beauty, camaraderie. Oh and warmth. A jumping off place. I don't know what's next, but I feel good since coming back; the tank is full. That's good, because I'm writing this in record snowfall.
Love and Death
Home again, my exhausted brain is on random play, thinking about music, about Kimmy, about community, about death, about improvisation, all the things I immersed in on our bi-annual music gathering in the hills above Santa Cruz. I'm also thinking about the apocalyptic orange sky outside right now.
California Getaway
When I visit California it's with one foot firmly planted in the past. This is how it all used to be, this highway, those hills, that beach, this restaurant, that friend, the place I used to….
Lifting Me Higher
I'm not a big fan of air travel. Noise, discomfort, crowds, and TSA put me on the grumpy and impatient side of being the old lady I am. And I've probably watched too many plane crash movies. But looking down from up high fascinates me - the contrasts, the geography, recognizing places I've been, and the impacts of time and weather.
999 Days
The pandemic highlighted how important it was to all of us to have this music-based community, to recommit to one another, to hold each other up and cheer each other on, and to know that these friendships would be here when we return. The ultimate intimate connection for me is the music. When words fail, there's music.
999 Days
The long drive gave me lots of time to consider, and go over lyrics of songs I hoped to lead in the jams. I immersed myself in the scenery flashing by, and realized as we left the urban boundary, that this was our first drive so far south on I-5 in 999 days.
Inheritance
I inherited my father's brown eyes, bushy eyebrows, and his curly hair. I have his wheezy cough and I hear it when I'm sick, and wonder how he got into my room, though he is long gone.
Rivers and Roads PDX 