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Like an Old Friend

February 27, 2026 //
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I got the call yesterday evening. My car was ready to be picked up from the body shop. It’s been two… three? Three weeks, since I had dropped it off. I think. Close enough. I’ve been enjoying the comfort and luxury features of my Traveling Partner’s pickup. It’s very nice.

… I already miss the heated steering wheel and seats. 😆 The view is quite different, too. It defrosts faster on a cold morning, and has such a smooth ride! I already know that I will replace my current vehicle with the same make as my Traveling Partner’s truck, having determined the SUV in their product line will suit me nicely. That time is not now… lol

The Anxious Adventurer gave me a ride over to the body shop. I walked past my car looking over the repair work. Wow. Like new. I mean, I guess that’s the point. I slid into the driver’s seat gently, and readjusted the seat position and the mirrors. I start it up…no squeak. I pull out, getting the feel of it again; it’s very different from the pickup. Less luxurious. Less…(or…more?) of something else I can’t put my finger on. Feels weird, but also very comfortable and familiar. I like this car. But…? Yeah. It has its quirks and shortcomings.

From the trail, the vehicle doesn’t matter.

I drove to the trailhead this morning, feeling pleased to be back in my car again. I do enjoy the truck when I drive it, but it isn’t mine. I don’t like leaving my Traveling Partner stuck at home either, now that he can drive when he wants to. I chuckle at myself for being vexed that timing will prevent me from reloading my gear into my car before the end of the work day. I let it go. It’s not urgent.

I head down the trail into the fog. It’s a chilly morning. The season seems uncertain whether to be winter or Spring. I love hitting the trail at a time of morning to see the sunrise. This morning it is bold orange, veiled by the fog, creating a strange diffuse glow on the morning horizon. To the west, only fog, and the trail disappearing into it.

Friday, at last. It’s been that kind of week. I sigh to myself. I’d eagerly drive somewhere and try a new trail this weekend, but I need new boots before I do that. The car is due for an oil change, too. I  feel fairly certain there were other things I want or need to do this weekend, but I can’t recall them now.

I breathe, exhale, and relax, tasting the cold morning air and watching the sun rise. I stretch and sigh quietly. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, winter, Words

Taking Things One Moment at a Time

February 24, 2026 //
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It was sprinkling when I left the house, but it had stopped by the time I got to the trailhead. I walked down the wet trail, through the oaks and between the vineyard rows, as daybreak became a new day. A Tuesday, and an ordinary work day.

I make my way down the trail, around the bend, and along the creek. Gray morning. Looks like winter, feels like Spring. I meditate as I walk, stopping to write a few words along the way. I’ll resume walking soon. The morning feels shorter somehow.

… Shorter than what? I’m not certain…

I’ve got an entire new day ahead of me. It’s already time to begin again. I sigh to myself and get ready to finish my walk and get started on work. The clock is ticking…

… I sit a moment longer, enjoying this quiet moment, and wondering where this path leads…

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, meditation, Metaphors, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being, winter, Words

Raindrops and Kisses

February 21, 2026 //
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Saturday morning. I was up a little later than has tended to be my long-time wake up time. Have I successfully reset that by an entire hour? Promising.

I sit for a moment in the warmth of my Traveling Partner’s pickup, thinking about the many things I have changed over the years, with patient practice and persistence. Incremental change over time is slow, but effective. I’m not much like that woman I was at 40. I’ve come a long way on this path I have chosen. I think about my beloved, and this relationship that has seen (and nurtured) so much of my growth. I smile. I’m grateful and fortunate.

The rain was falling before I got to the trailhead. I sit waiting for the sun and a break in the rain. Oh, for sure I’ll set off down the trail and most likely the rain will start falling again. That’s the way of things, isn’t it? It’s not generally helpful to get stuck on some one plan or set of circumstances; change is.

What love looks like may vary.

A couple days before Valentine’s Day, my Traveling Partner had given me a packet of adorable stickers – so many! They delight me. Yesterday, hanging out and watching a favorite show at the end of the evening, he went to the door (unexpectedly, from my perspective) and returned with a playful demeanor, opening a package. More stickers!! I smile every time I think about them this morning. We shared going through them one by one, delighting in the ones most meaningful or cutest to one or the other of us. Sooo many stickers. I feel very loved and visible. Understood. What a rare and beautiful feeling.

Even after I’d called it a night, I couldn’t stop looking at them, astonished by my Traveling Partner’s love for me.

Can love be measured in stickers?

The rain continues to fall. I sit listening to it, feeling loved, and merry. The unit of measure is unimportant, it could be heartbeats, kisses, stickers, or even raindrops. I am grateful to be so well loved. I think of my beloved sleeping at home. I hope he gets the rest he needs and wakes feeling wrapped in all the love I feel for him. It’s a lot. We’re fortunate to have each other. (We also work at love, together, because it matters. What could be more worthy of that effort?)

I think I may paint today, or perhaps relax with my book, reading by the fireplace… It’s almost time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, The Art of Being, women, Words

Steps on a Path

February 18, 2026 //
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I reached the trailhead at daybreak. The days are getting longer, and dawn comes a little earlier. I also slept a little later, and got a later start. It all makes sense.

The tangle of oak branches against the gray winter sky manages to look a little eery, and the marsh trail is quiet. I have it to myself this morning. It is a Wednesday. I took off from work for a appointment later; I would have had trouble focusing on anything else. It’s to do with a fraud someone attempted to perpetrate against us back in the fall. It was massively stressful, and without my Traveling Partner’s calm support, I’d have probably lost my mind. It helped that there were clear steps to take to protect myself, my property, and safeguard my family, but it was also costly and vexing. I’m glad it is over.

… Human beings can be such bastards…

Taking time for this moment, now.

I get to my halfway point, and stop awhile to write and reflect. (This is me, now, doing that.) It’s a cold morning. Properly cold, at 31F (0.5C). After my walk, coffee with a friend (who is also a colleague), and on into the city for my appointment. It feels like a busy day, but it’s more that the events on my calendar are significant or important in some way, than truly being busy. I think about that awhile; how subjective our sense of time really is.

An enormous flock of geese takes to the sky from the marsh. It fills the sky overhead as it passes. There is a thin layer of ice over the marsh ponds. The meadow grass sparkles with frost. However long or short the moments feel, in a practical sense there’s really only “now” to work with.

I think about my Traveling Partner, hoping he is getting the rest he needs and that I managed to slip away without disturbing him. We’ve had a couple of difficult days together, which sucks, particularly considering how much we’re both obviously putting into having a better experience than we are. Shit gets real sometimes. We’re both going through some health stuff that complicates our shared experience. We’ll get past these challenges. We’ve gotten through worse.

I yawn and stretch. My fingers are getting cold. I look down the trail – “steps on a path”, I think to myself. Time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter, Words

Something Like a Winter Morning

February 17, 2026 //
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The rain made a peculiar sound as it hit the pavement, this morning, as I left the house. Like plastic pellets being dropped on the ground, more than raindrops. Sleet? Freezing rain? I started the truck and got a better look as once-snowflakes splatted against the glass making patterns and sliding away quickly. Not quite snow, not quite rain, and 35F (1.6C), which amounts to a relatively ordinary rainy winter morning in the Pacific Northwest, in February. Could be worse, but at this altitude it’s not likely to be much worse nor for very long.

I drive to the local trailhead to get a walk in, if there’s a break in the rain, and let my Traveling Partner sleep awhile longer.

I walked briskly with my thoughts, down the slick trail, past the lights and pavement, around the bend and past the bench at my halfway point. Lost in my thoughts, hands jammed into my pockets for warmth, I didn’t stop to write. I make it back to the truck with time to spare before the work day must begin. The gray sky doesn’t really look like snow. The temperature rises a degree with the sunrise. Doesn’t matter. I’ve got the truck today, I could get home even in a blizzard.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’m grateful for the mild weather. I make time for meditation, before I begin again.

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Categories breathe, gratitude, Healthy Living, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, solo hiking, The Art of Being, winter
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