It’s still dark here at the trailhead where I am waiting for daybreak. It’s a pleasantly mild morning and expected to be a warm sunny day. I’d hoped to sleep in, but woke at my usual early hour, and did my best to slip away quietly so my Traveling Partner could get the rest he needs, too. So here I am, thinking about life and waiting for the sun.
I watched an excellent perspective piece on YouTube last night with my Traveling Partner, discussing what makes a “good life”, and what a life well-lived consists of, generally. That’s an utterly inadequate summary. It sort of describes “how the sausage is made” with regard to all the media crap we cram into our brains that tell us we could or should do more or live differently. You could just watch it. I found it a worthwhile way to spend 11 minutes. Inspiring in a wholesome way. I don’t think I could have said it better.
Daybreak comes. Mt Hood is backlit by a broad strip of a relatively bold orange. It’s a lovely morning to be on the trail early, alone with my thoughts. Time to wrap this up and get going…
Is this a “boring” life because I don’t travel to exotic destinations or do amazing adventurous things? No. It’s a quiet life built on contentment and sufficiency, doing things I truly enjoy, and spending time with people I have real fondness for. It’s not only not boring, it’s very much the life I have been working towards for so long. 🙂
I’m sipping on the very last of my morning coffee. It’s past noon. It was an iced coffee, though, so it’s still quite nice (if you like coffee). I’m taking a break, pausing my mind and giving myself a real rest for a couple minutes, before moving on to the next busy moment. The sky beyond the window is a brilliant clear blue, something between a “robin’s egg” and a cerulean hue. The sunshine reflects off the residential tower across the park and dazzles me. I consider drawing down the shade a bit to reduce the glare… but… later. For now, I’m enjoying the beautiful blue of the sky.
El Gato – my cat neighbor.
I sip my coffee and think about my garden. The neighbor’s cat started shitting in my damned garden again – ah, yes, signs of Spring! lol Yeah, for now I’m still laughing. El Gato (my nickname for him) is a cranky old half-feral tomcat much-loved by neighborhood children, and fed by my next-door neighbor. He’s not all that friendly, and very particular about any adult attempting to get too near, but he tolerates the kids pretty well. Unfortunately, kids at play are not reliable garden guardians, and given the opportunity, El Gato finds the soft freshly prepared vegetable garden beds quite nice for certain bodily functions I very definitely do not want being handled there. It’s annoying. I’m still laughing, for now, having once been fond of a cat of my own, and having a certain residual appreciation for the monstrous wee wicked carnivores. He’s just being a cat. Still… I can’t be having that nonsense in my food garden, so I sit thinking about my solutions. Once the garden grows in somewhat, he leaves it alone… in the meantime, his dastardly deeds limit how well my garden can grow, so steps must be taken! He’s already wrecked 1 square foot of planted veggies (carrots and radishes), and after I dig out the cat shit, all that has to be replanted. Fucker. For a moment I stop laughing…
…Just the other day I had the passing thought that it might be nice to have a cat around. I am not thinking so now…
Presently, I’m trying to recall whether I still have a bit of that portion of a roll of garden wire-fence material that I used to make the pea trellis last year. If I do, I am planning to resolve my difficulties with El Gato by making it unreasonably difficult for him to step on, or dig in, the garden at all. Problem solved. I do wish the little fucker were litterbox trained. That’d be nice. I guess it’s not a realistic expectation of a feral cat, though.
The deer visit regularly.
I’m reminded of my other garden visitation challenge; the deer love my roses (and some of the herbs, and tops of many of the bulbs)… perhaps another day I will do something about that. I may have to cage one of the roses such that they can’t get to it at all, just to give it a chance to survive. It’s the way of things, eh? There’s just this one planet, we share it creatures who live quite differently than we do, and we don’t share a common language, making boundary-setting conversations rather difficult. I’m not a fan of cruelty… so… there’s a bit of thought and effort involved in communicating boundaries with my four-legged neighbors. Good thing this garden is an endeavor I truly love. 😀 No stress, very little frustration, and tons of laughing, and time spent in the sunshine. That all sounds pretty good, actually. I certainly love the video footage of the deer in my garden, captured by the security camera. I get a lot of (s)mileage out of that. 😀 (I’d still rather they not eat my roses down to the bare canes!)
So… it’s almost here. Spring. My head is filled with roses and flowers and sunny mornings and afternoons in the garden. As my Traveling Partner continues to recover from his injury, and in spite of how lush and beautiful the lawn is, I’m thinking more and more of a second veggie bed, or a bench to sit under the redbud listening to the bees buzz and watching the grass grow. All in due time, I suppose. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the soft feel of the lush lawn under my feet.
…That blue sky, though, so beautiful…
Ah well. Coffee gone. Break time is over. It’s time to begin again. 😀
I had a restless night of interrupted sleep. No bad dreams, just periodically waking up for no obvious reason, before settling into sleep once again. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the night seemed unreasonably long and I got up well ahead of my usual time, dressed, and left for work early. The commute was effortless, because at that hour there was no traffic on the road. Now, I’m sitting at my desk, looking out at the dark pre-dawn cityscape, sipping my coffee. It’s a Tuesday, and my calendar is pretty full, but all that begins quite a bit later, and I have some time to sit with my thoughts.
A cherished handmade gift from a dear friend.
Last night as I was tidying up a quiet room that is mostly decorated with books, I found this small handmade paper journal sort of just set aside, waiting for some moment. It was a gift from my recently deceased dear friend, celebrating my 60th birthday. It was intended to accompany me on a camping trip with my Traveling Partner, and as I recall now, I elected to keep it safe from harm by not taking it out into the wilds where dirt, wind, or rain might wreck it, knowing I’d find some similarly meaningful use for it some other time and place.
It even came with instructions. 😀
I sat for a moment with this cherished gift in my hands, gently unfolding the letter that is still tucked into a pocket inside the cover. I reread the letter, my heart filled with love and fond memories, a soft sad smile on my face. I miss my friend, but how delightful to have this memento of our friendship to remember her by!
Each page decorated by hand, each page unique, bringing to mind the illuminated manuscripts of another age.
I turn the pages, one by one, each one different, each one ready for some thought, or poem, or random handful of words to be written there. I felt so inspired, just to hold it in my hands! I examined each page, reconnecting with so many memories of the friendship we had shared. I delighted in the recollection of her enthusiasm for small handmade gifts, and how extraordinary and special each such gift to me remains to this day. I smiled thinking about her best friend bringing a similar cherished gift to the hospital while I was there visiting, to share that precious memory. What a beautiful human being my dear friend was! She was – is – so well loved by those who knew her. Missed.
“Friendship is a gift that lasts.” – It is indeed.
I turn to a page with a pocket from which a string dangles, and a note attached to the pocket reads “Pull the white string up”, and so I do – and as if speaking to me from “the beyond”, a tag appears that reads “friendship is a gift that lasts”. My eyes fill with tears that don’t fall, and the smile on my face becomes a bit brittle, a little fragile, with this reminder that I was also dear to my dear friend. I feel loved. I feel grateful to have shared this amazing friendship. My smile deepens as I sit with my memories for a moment. I’m okay. Grief is a process, and there is no escaping it; “the way out is through”. Fucking hell, what a first rate friend she truly was.
The last page. A bookmark. A reminder.
I turn page after page of this small handmade journal, and imagine writing in it, at long last. What would I write in such a precious space? What words fit in this slim fragile volume? I imagine for a moment that whatever I wrote here might be something she could read, from wherever her spirit rests. Fanciful, but comforting. The bookmark tucked into the pocket on the last page says only, in large letters, “Roses”. I smile and think about the roses I recently purchased to add to the garden with her – and the memories of our friendship – in mind. I allow myself the fancy of imagining she somehow knew. (Certainly, she knew I love roses.)
What a beautiful little moment! It lingers with me now, and I woke this morning to see the wee journal resting on a cushion, next to my neatly folded clothes, waiting for the new day. Where will this journey take me? What is ahead on this path? I sip my coffee and think happy thoughts of trails to hike, and roses to plant, and long summer days in the garden. I think about the wee journal, and my dear friend, and what words might fill these pages.
My mind wanders to other cherished friendships. I could be a better friend; I make a commitment to reach out to friends I haven’t spoken to recently. I think fondly of my Traveling Partner – our deeply loving relationship is also built on a firm foundation of a cherished friendship. We were friends long before we were ever lovers. I’m grateful for that friendship, it has carried us through some tough times with considerable affection and grace. Whatever else goes on in life, friends are such a huge part of life being worth living in the first place. I sip my coffee and think about how fortunate I am to have the rich friendships I do. The value isn’t in numbers of friends, either, it’s in the quality of enduring friendships, and the love and laughter they bring to this very human experience, that can sometimes feel so lonely otherwise.
I look up as I finish my coffee. The morning sky is hues of blue and shades of gray where clouds crowd the horizon. Daybreak has passed. Sunrise is moments away, although I doubt it will be anything exceptional to see, this morning. Regardless, here it is a new day – and already time to begin again.
Good thing I have my commute memorized. lol The Monday after DST begins is hard. I didn’t oversleep, but my silent alarm had the lights at full brightness before they woke me, or even disturbed my rest at all. I woke groggy and stupid, clumsy and disorganized, but still managed to dress, still remembered to grab my lunch from the fridge, still thought to get gas before I left town. I joined a ridiculous queue of Monday morning commuters, a lot more traffic than usual (some mix of folks heading out late, and others leaving early, on top of the “regulars” who depart more or less when I do). The drivers were a mix of groggy, stupid, and irritable, but traffic moved along pretty efficiently, and although it was a bit slower than usual getting into the city, I am grateful that I arrived safely – particularly after passing a really nasty traffic accident blocking one of the more complex intersections as I entered the city (looked like 3-4 cars, and not just a “fender bender” – there were cops and emergency vehicles pretty much blocking all but one lane, and that one was mildly obstructed, too).
I got to the office, made coffee, and got the day started, and I find myself grateful for routines and habits built over time that can carry me efficiently through the first couple hours of my day when I’m so groggy and stupid. I get things sorted out for what looks likely to be a routine and very commonplace Monday, and then take a minute for myself, and this cup of coffee.
…My coffee had already gone cold, so I get up and pour the whole thing over a glass full of ice…
The weekend was a lovely one, relaxed and easy, spent in the good company of my Traveling Partner. I got out into the garden a bit, even picked out a couple modestly-sized roses to plant with the memory of my dear friend who recently passed in mind. It delights me to celebrate her life, and our many years of shared friendship, and brings me a great deal of contentment and comfort to do it in this lasting way. I planted some flowers (seeds) here and there. I checked in with the neighbor who does some of the yard care (for many of us in this community) to see what his plan is this year, and coordinated some details. I got in a couple good hikes, did some housekeeping, ran some errands. It was a fairly ordinary weekend in my wee suburban paradise. I feel rested and contented, and the smile on my face lingers from the pleasant days spent with my Traveling Partner. So much joy and love. I sit awhile just enjoying the recollection.
A new addition to an old collection.
One of my errands took me to a local thrift shop, and although I was looking for something else entirely, I strolled past the cups and saucers (I always do), and I spotted a lovely cup and saucer that is a good fit for my collection! It’s been a long time since I added anything new (about… 8 years?), and I was excited to see that the manufacturer’s mark is an authentic one. I still need to take time to identify the pattern by name & number, and determine the likely age of the piece – all part of the fun (for me). In the meantime, it sits on my mantlepiece where I can quickly pick it up, examine a detail, and, you know, maybe enjoy a cup of tea in it. 😀
It’s been a wonderful weekend. I sit and enjoy that thought awhile longer. Soon enough it’ll be time to begin again. 🙂
By the time I reached the trailhead this morning, there was a steady rain falling. When I left the house it was a barely noticeable fine mist, and I expected it to diminish, or at least pause, giving me a lovely opportunity to walk this favorite trail alone, early on a Saturday morning. I sip the coffee I bought on the way, and listen to the patter of raindrops on the windshield and sunroof of the car. I’m not annoyed or impatient; there’s still a chance the rain may stop before I give up and head home.
Waiting for a break in the rain.
The morning is a pretty mild one. If the rain stops I’ll get into the garden and do something… maybe weed the flower beds, or do a bit of careful pruning. My Traveling Partner invited me to join him in the shop at some point today, too. The weekend is shaping up to be a pleasant one full of good times and things to do. I smile thinking about the rain falling on the garden beds and the lawn. I feel safe and contented, and relaxed and comfortable with myself and my experience. I sit enjoying the moment for a while.
I think about my dear friend, so recently deceased. No tears this morning, just warmth and fond gratitude that I had the chance to enjoy so much of her devoted deep friendship for so many years. I am fortunate indeed. I miss her greatly. So many Saturday mornings my first email would be from her, a reply to, or question about, whatever I had written about that morning. I feel a moment of heartfelt pain every time I remember that she won’t be emailing me anymore. No texts. No calls. No unexpected little somethings in the mail. No comments on pictures of photos I shared with her. Sometimes it’s hard to know quite how to move on from that.
The rain continues to fall. I sit awhile longer, just listening and thinking my thoughts. The time isn’t wasted; I enjoy these quiet solitary moments. Soon enough, it’ll be time to begin again.
Evening Light 