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.
Memories
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.
On This Day
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.
Quiet
The neighborhood smells good these days, of green, of dust, of dying flowers, of cooler air and lower clouds. I walked into the woods on Rosh Hashanah to smell it even closer, to get that scent along with calls of birds, a few falling leaves, and filtered sunlight through the trees.
Heartbreak
**I posted this on Facebook after a dear friend died suddenly, but want to have it here on my blog as well. I saw Kim twice a year at our shared music festivals, over the past 15 or 16 years or so, hard to remember exactly when we met. "All the years combine, they melt … Continue reading Heartbreak
Camp NanaPa
This winter we're back in the sleepover groove with the grandkids after a long hiatus. Fun but tiring. I somehow feel youthful and ancient all at once.
Oregon Coast Winter
Day two of an Oregon adventure. Setting off southward, we drove and stopped and drove and hiked and drove and stopped some more. That's the Oregon coast, thick with rest stops, viewpoints, waysides, and more. You can't get far because you want to stop at them all.
Gray
...here I am, still trying to make my peace with winter. I turn my back on the gray skies, annoyed, wondering when blue would win out, watching and hoping it would peek through, a ray of hope. I calculate outings for the best of weathers.
Mother-in-Law
Marilyn was a family gal through and through, and she worked at being a good mother-in-law.
It’s All a Dream We Dreamed
Robert Hunter, the lyricist for the Grateful Dead, was also the lyricist for my life. His words threaded through my life since I was 21, when I met some new friends, Harold and Alan, and a community of people that became my tribe. Would I be who I am without Hunter?
Rivers and Roads PDX 