Archives for posts with tag: do the verbs

I woke shortly before my alarm lit my room. (That became important later, because I forgot to shut it off.) I dressed quietly, grateful for clear sinuses and no sign of allergies. I left the house without making any obvious noise and stepped outside into…a thunderstorm. Huh. No kidding? Those used to be quite rare, here.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I got to the trail and started walking. Watching the flashes of lightning. Listening to the thunder. Smelling the scent of petrichor. Feeling raindrops on my bare arms. Shit. I didn’t put on my lightweight hoodie or remember my rain poncho. I walk hoping it doesn’t rain harder, still enjoying the sensations of the morning.

A different beginning. A different day.

It didn’t last long. We often create the conflict we find ourselves dealing with. Our actions have consequences. My failure to turn off my alarm became a seriously crappy start to my Traveling Partner’s morning – and he let me know in very clear and specific terms.

… I’ll definitely be more careful about my fucking alarm in the future…

Stormy weather.

I’m grateful that the climate is quite good, even when the weather is bad, metaphorically speaking.

I made a plan, yesterday, to get away for a couple days. I’ll head out in the afternoon Friday, make the drive (grateful for the long summer days) to the location that I hope has an available site, and counting on disbursed camping if that campground is full. Everything reservable within a three hour drive is booked for this weekend, but this particular camping area is all first come/first served, so I’ve at least got a chance. My Traveling Partner suggested maybe a shorter getaway and booking a room might be the better option, but most of the affordable places are full (and everywhere is peak season pricing). So… Taking my chances on camping.

… I’m rarely out of cell phone range these days, but this trip will definitely take me beyond most signals. I wonder if that will be weird for us? It’s been a long time since we couldn’t just message each other whenever we like.

…I’m looking forward to the digital break…

Now it’s a couple of days and a bunch of preparation. I’ll shop for groceries and mostly finish loading the car today, and get my nails done (short). After work (short day) on Friday, I’ll pack up last minute items, kiss my beloved, and head out. Oh damn I am looking forward to the drive, maybe even more than the camping. 😆

…The weather seems good for it; I’ll bring my paint box and my easel…

I look at the morning sky, watching the lightning and chatting with my partner between sentences as I write. Soon enough it will be time to begin again. For now I’ll just enjoy the moment I’m in.

I woke gently to my alarm brightening the room. I dressed, and slipped away quietly after I watered the lawn. Today I headed south, back to Basket Slough, but I took an alternate turn into the park, to a different trailhead, and a different perspective. Sometimes I need fresh perspective.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

I parked and sat for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the birds. So many! This trail is at the base of the hills which the trail on the other side of the park climbs into. There is a lake nearby, and this lowland trail leads to and alongside it, if the map is to be believed.

Where this trail leads.

… The map is not the world…

I set off down the trail shortly after daybreak. It is a mild morning, a bit cool, and the air smells of meadow flowers. There are so many different bird songs, even the gronking of geese and the quacking of ducks. The morning sky is cloudy.

A new day, a new path, a new beginning; bring your verbs!

I step down the trail feeling sure footed and unbothered. Lovely morning for it. I stay alert for creatures, and spot bunnies and chipmunks, and signs of something larger – maybe a skunk? Little birds everywhere.

Natural camouflage.

I keep heading down the path. I’m not expecting any sort of convenient stopping place but I happen upon a badly deteriorated primitive bench. It’s enough for a few minutes off my feet, writing. I pause for awhile.

A bench, a view, a moment.

The morning begins to feel quite chilly as I sit with my thoughts. I’m okay with that, I wore suitably warm clothing for a chilly morning.

I reflect on the weekend thus far. It’s been a pleasant one. My Traveling Partner has gotten some work done. We enjoyed some time together flying our drones (I’m still very much a beginner, still learning the basics). Unexpectedly gusty winds brought us down early, but it was incredible to see my drone in the air.

…I still have so much to learn..!

I sit looking out over the water, thinking thoughts about life, feeling strangely sleepy. I watch bunnies venture out onto the trail. They watch me. I watch them. I think about life. I think about laundry. I watch a bird of prey sailing on the air currents overhead.

I watch dawn become a new day.

Damn… I think I could use a nap! I laugh to myself. A nap would certainly be on the other side of the walk back to the parking, which seems now to be so much more distant. 😆 The walk… the drive…a shower… I’ll need to begin again to get there at all!

… That is the way of things. It is necessary to pick a step forward and get started to get anywhere…

I yawn and stretch and get to my feet. Maybe also some dusting and vacuuming? It’s on my list… and it’s time to begin again. Some moments are beautiful walks along a lakefront trail. Some moments are housework. It’s definitely time to begin again.

It is a gray rainy summer morning in the Pacific Northwest. Nothing particularly unusual about that. The temperature this morning is a mild 14C/58F. Comfortable. A muscle up the back of my right thigh is aching painfully. I mostly ignore it, but approach a favorite weekend trail from a different trailhead, with fewer hills. The more level ground is an easier walk.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

What’s your moment like? I wonder briefly how it is we each have our own experience, living our individual “now” moment, like pages in a book; so similar at a glance, such differences in the details, and still so common and familiar we are able to understand each other.

I walk with my thoughts, feeling a delicate spatter of occasional raindrops on my face. Not enough to call it “raining”. The marshy places are barely damp now, replaced mostly with meadow until the heavy autumn rains return. The tall grass is already brown. Most of the wildflowers are fading, dropping seeds for next year’s Spring bloom. The trees in the distance are many hues and shades of green, looking fresh and lush from where I stand.

Doesn’t matter where you are, you’ve got to start somewhere, and that somewhere is where you are.

There’s a delicious spicy herb-y floral scent that I specifically associate with Oregon. I don’t know what it is. I love the scent of Oregon. Meadow, marsh, forest, dunes, desert, savannah…it hardly matters to me. I love the places I have seen and been and traveled through. Oregon is special to me, though I have trouble being clear as to precisely why. Of all the places I have lived or visited, Oregon is one of only two that draw me back again and again (the other is “the Eastern Shore” region of Maryland, with her marshy flatlands and peaceful coves). It’s not that I don’t like (and even love) many other places, it’s more that these “two” (Oregon is pretty vast to be a single place) call to my heart to come on home.

I get to my halfway point feeling a soft gratitude just to be alive, existing, and able to experience the simple joy of a summer morning. Uncomplicated. Unbothered. From my perch on a fence rail, I watch a multitude of little birds flit about. They have their own way of enjoying the morning. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This feels like enough. Right here. Now.

…I am, of course, overlooking all the corruption, drama, and harmful bullshit going on in the US, and around the world. I’m ignoring, for the moment, all the violence and genocide. Drone warfare. The bombings of civilian targets. The fuckwittery of our gerontocracy. The obscene greed of billionaires. The commonness of hate speech and incivility. It’s much. We all need to take steps to preserve our individual peace, and our resilience; the future of humanity may depend on our persistence and endurance. This isn’t a sprint. I sigh quietly and let all that go, again, for awhile…

I spent a couple hours in the studio this weekend. I may go back for more. Painting fulfills something for me that nothing else does. It is soul-nurturing, healing work.

“Summer Sunrise, McMinnville June 2026”

I gaze across the meadow observing the changing light and thinking about palette choices, shade, tint, and hue. How best to capture a misty rain drenching a summer meadow, I wonder? I sit watching until the rain reaches me, then laugh with delight when it finally does, as if surprised. It passes by quickly, leaving me a bit damp, glasses spattered.

I grin at my happy predicament. I don’t mind the rain. I get to my feet and stretch. The trail through the meadow beckons me, and it’s time to begin again (already?).  This, here, now, is as good a moment as any to take a next step, to choose, to walk on, and to begin… but really, anywhere is, it’s simply necessary to begin. To walk on. The clock is ticking.

What are you going to do about it?

It is a new day. My birthday is behind me, and a new year waits ahead of me.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

A robin greets the day as I water the garden.

I get to the more distant trailhead for the marsh trail that travels past the Tualatin River. Yesterday was the trail at Spring Valley. Tomorrow the trail at Basket Slough. After that, a couple days of painting on the coast. What an extraordinary birthday celebration. I love how much it has been more about presence and experiences than presents. I didn’t go without gifts, happily, and I’ve got quite a delightful stack of new books to read.

Software upgrades for a human primate.

63 was a good year, generally speaking. I wonder what awaits me in the year ahead?

Finally learning to play chess.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a beautiful morning. The clock is ticking. It’s time to begin again.

A new day – where does this path lead?

My tinnitus is shrieking in my ears this morning. (Well, okay, more of a high pitched static in the background, if static were made up of tiny chimes vibrating aggressively, with a touch of morse code in the background that I can almost but not quite make out.) It is a beautiful Spring morning in spite of that.

[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]

In the sunrise, all the promise of a new day.

I slept well and deeply. I woke gently. I dressed, watered the lawn, and headed to the local walking path to get a mile or two on my boots. So far an ordinary enough day. It is a Sunday, and Mother’s Day, but there’s not much to do about that around our house. I’m not a mother. My maternal figures have all passed. I sent my sister a Mother’s Day greeting and let it go. I suppose my Traveling Partner will phone his mother at some point today.

I think about yesterday as I walk. I think about today. Yesterday had some beautiful high points and some frustrating low points, too. I made a batch of excellent brownies. It was all very human. Today will no doubt also have highs and lows, beautiful moments and aggravating mistakes, failed communication and delightful moments of connection. Fucking hell, I’d like to get everything right all of the time, but I don’t see living perfection among the options on life’s menu. I guess I’m grateful that the brownies turned out well, if nothing else. I sigh to myself and keep walking.

Order, and chaos, and beginning again.

Yesterday was spent creating order from chaos. My Traveling Partner continues to move things around in his spaces, preparing for the work ahead, this week. Exciting to see. I help where I can, when I’m asked, and try my damnedest not to break shit, forget something, or misunderstand something obvious – with mixed success. I had expected to spend the weekend relaxing and focusing on my own needs, and my own spaces, and taking care of myself, but it didn’t play out that way; my partner asked for my help. Today, I have less to give. I’m not in as much pain, but my mobility is more limited. Today it takes longer to get to the halfway point on this walk. I’m actually fatigued when I get here. (I’d take a nap right this moment if that were convenient. It isn’t.)

I take a seat on the bench that is next to the trail, under the trees. My legs ache. My back, too. My head spins for a moment with unexpected vertigo and I half wonder if walking was a terrible idea, after all, but I’m here and the Spring air is sweet with the scent of flowers. I breathe it in deeply. The soft scent of joy is in the Spring breeze, it seems to me. I stretch and groan from the sensation of muscles protesting, and stretch again. In each movement, I feel yesterday’s effort.

I make a point of letting all my yesterdays go. This is a new day, and a new moment, all its own, to be lived and savored and enjoyed. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I commit silently to reviewing my to-do list and tackling the tasks that most directly support self-care in some way, and hope that my Traveling Partner doesn’t need much from me. I feel pretty drained and have little to give, but I don’t find denying him easy; I want to help. (Sometimes even at the potential cost of my health, safety, or sanity, and that’s not healthy.)

… Brain damage is hard to live with, and also hard to live around…

A small herd of deer steps from the trees, one by one. Probably the same little herd I see here now and then. Two of the does are obviously pregnant, the other two seem younger. I don’t see a buck anywhere around,  just the four does. They watch me with calm eyes and munch their way along the grassy edge of the trail, nibbling at the grasses and shrubbery. There is blue sky overhead, streaked with clouds, and the tops of the oaks are dark green against the sky. I could sit here for hours just watching the clouds and the wildlife.

Be present.

I meditate awhile. The deer move on. The clock keeps ticking. I wonder if my beloved got the rest he needs for the day ahead? I sigh to myself and get to my feet. It’s already time to begin again.