It's only early November, I remind myself. Not winter, not February, not Iceland, I'm not homeless, the election will be over soon, and the only stuck thing about me is my mind. Get a grip. Time for a retreat.
Early November, pre-election time. Some years I'm poised at the edge, days fraught with worry or full of hope. Other years I pass the time with lighthearted endeavors. I don't actually remember - it's what I posted on Facebook.
It was a day for sunlight, one of few in a streak of cool rainy days. I went looking for an infusion - of yellow sun and leaves, of warm, blue skies, optimism, breath, whatever the forest had to offer, I needed it and would gladly gather it up.
Getting ourselves back to the garden, almost able to touch Mt. Hood.
The Japanese Garden may seem like a cacophony of design and yet, as soon as I pass that first archway, a quiet descends, a transformative hush. My busy mind is left behind.
So much to see in this little botanic garden. Enjoy an early autumn walk with me - the micro, the macro, the sublime.
After the planning, the waiting, the prepping, and the packing, driving out to the Oregon coast from Portland is a dreamy transition. Then, Pacific City's wide empty beaches are all ours.
I had a blog post all ready to go, but it was full of blue sky and soft sea breezes, crashing waves and soaring pelicans. I just can't bring myself to post it amidst this unsettling, almost apocalyptic scenario laid out before me, with so much suffering, loss, discomfort, and confusion all around.
It's one of those sparkly days between rains as the sun came out again (note to self: AS IT DOES) .... The mid-October gift of sunshine makes me feel like the Grinch as his heart grows three sizes bigger.
An old railroad is given new life, and a reminder to mix life's sweetness with the challenges.