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Night and Day

May 4, 2025 //
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I woke this morning with a song in my head. That’s not so strange. It’s not even strange for it to be a love song; it’s been that sort of weekend. What is odd is that it is a Frank Sinatra version of a Cole Porter classic. lol Nothing against Frank, but he’s not generally my choice of crooner for most jazz standards. lol

… The strangeness didn’t stop me from singing along with the song in my head (and heart) all the way to the trailhead…

It is quite a chilly morning for May. I’m glad I wore my frumpy warm favorite baggy sweater. I almost didn’t and I would have regretted any other choice this morning. It’s almost freezing. There is a dense fog clinging to the marsh lowlands. I swap soft shoes for my sturdier boots and head down the trail.

Dawn beats me to the trailhead these days.

Yesterday was a lovely day. I got home from my walk and spent the day on household tasks, mostly laundry, and made time for some reading and played a video game. It was a relaxed day in my Traveling Partner’s good company. I walked thinking about love and feeling grateful and uplifted, rested and recharged.

I baked the best brownies I’ve ever made.

I tried a new brownie recipe. The results were fantastic. I’ve never made better. I used Joshua Weissman’s Fudgey Brownie recipe from his Texture Over Taste cookbook, which differs slightly from the recipe of the same name online (otherwise I’d link it). Seemed like a good day for brownies – and it was. They were so good my beloved had me talked into baking another batch today (they’re easy), but adulthood caught up with him during the night and he later asked me not to. They’re quite irresistible, and also full of sugar; not ideally healthy, and best served as an infrequent treat.

I ran out of energy before I ran out of daylight, and kept things quite simple for dinner.

Just a bowl of ramen.

I smile thinking my thoughts and hearing the sound of my steps crunching along the marsh trail as I walk. The fog enveloped me in my solitude. I could see sunlight in the treetops as I stepped along. I reach my halfway point and stop with some reluctance; 38 degrees (F) feels colder in May than it did in March. lol Still, I stop and write awhile. It is a thing I do.

I’ll finish my walk (probably with my hands jammed into my pockets for warmth), then go to the store before I head home. It’s another day of housework, minus the relaxed shilly-shallying of yesterday. There is a new week ahead, and it’s time to set aside play in favor of getting things done. Laundry. Tidying up. It’s not really a long list – I’ll even find time in the garden. An ordinary day, in what feels like a mostly pretty ordinary life. It is mine, and there are choices to make, actions to take, and projects to see to completion. I know my results will vary. That’s fine. When I fall, I get back up. When I fail, I begin again. It’s a journey. I smile at the rising sun and get to my feet with a song in my heart…

…”Night and day, you are the one…”

…It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, gratitude, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Moments, Perspective, Relationships, Spring, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Uncategorized

Renewal, Spring, Gratitude

April 30, 2025 //
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I’m sipping my coffee and eagerly looking forward to a long weekend. I’m taking a couple days off to enjoy my Traveling Partner’s companionship and love without having anything else to do (like work) to take my attention away from the joy that is this good partnership. 14 years married. 15 years together. Hell, I didn’t live with any previous partner, nor even my parents for 15 years! LOL This is worth celebrating. No plans, just presence. (And maybe some sleeping in?)

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and feel the simmering excitement that is, for me, a characteristic of celebrating just about anything, however small. Spring feels like a time of “renewal”, too, so there’s that. I love that we got married in springtime. Each year, as the flowers bloom all around, it feels like we renew even our love for each other. I like that. I’m grateful for this partnership; it has brought me a long way on this path I’ve chosen, and my Traveling Partner is a man I can count on for wise counsel, deep enduring affection, and honesty. I smile to myself and think “I chose wisely”. I hope he feels the same.

A rather random thought crosses my mind and fills me with a sense of my partner’s love, “he may not care at all about the flowers, but he cares deeply about how much I love my garden”. Perspective on love. I sit with that awhile, feeling both grateful and fortunate. There’s nothing about this that is “deserved” – we both work, every day, at making our love deep and strong and enduring. We earn each other’s respect and affection over and over again. We give each other reason to be grateful to share the journey for as long as we can. Some days I earnestly wish we might have the chance, truly, to live forever – just to enjoy each other longer.

I smile to myself and look out the window onto a beautiful Spring morning. The deer stopped by my garden yesterday and ate my newly planted peppers right to the ground, sampled the beans (they weren’t to her liking, apparently) and moved on. I laughed, frustrated but still merry. There is childlike delight in seeing the deer pass through, and it’s hard to be mad that they also enjoy the taste of my garden. lol I’m glad I made space for a bit more garden on the other side of the house, in a spot the deer can’t really get to at all. My “blue jay friend” who follows me around the garden while I work each year (for the last couple years) has returned to keep me company, too. He takes a position nearby when I’m in the garden, and follows me as I work, from bed to bed, from branch to branch, curious about what I’m up to, and occasionally finding a tasty bug to enjoy as I weed and water. The robins visit the lawn daily, picking bugs from the soft ground after the Anxious Adventurer waters. I love this season for so many reasons. The roses have buds now, and it is a quiet race between “Baby Love” and “Rainbow Happy Trails” to flower first. Something ate the Dahlia tubers, but the primroses are thriving. My garden is a happy sanctuary filled with lessons on resilience, patience, will, effort, love, and making good choices, and it is also a living metaphor I spend considerable time reflecting upon. I feel enriched and fortunate to have even this small garden. I laugh when I think about how many roses I’ve managed to wedge into this small space, each (all but one) thriving. More than anything else, having this small suburban home and wee garden space has contributed to a profound feeling of security in my life, much in the way that my partnership with my Traveling Partner has made me feel secure in my heart. It’s a nice place to be – and I am so grateful.

The clock ticks. The day begins. There are things to do before the long weekend comes. Choices, verbs, and my results may vary. There is no time to waste – each moment is so fleeting – but it is important not to rush them; they only come once. Each moment unique like the butterlies in my garden, and the flowers. Still… it is time to begin again. I should get started. 😀

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Categories Allegories, breathe, gardening, gratitude, Healthy Living, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Perspective, Practices, Relationships, Roses, Spring, The Art of Being

The Clock Ticks On

March 29, 2025 //
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It was already daybreak when I reached the trailhead this morning, partly because the season is changing, partly because I slept in a bit (for some values of “sleeping in” lol). I got my boots on straight away and hit the trail. Quiet morning. Cloudy sky. It rained during the night and the trail is wet, muddy in spots. I walked with care, grateful to have my cane, annoyed by my pain with each step: ankle, knee, back. I persisted. I walked on.

A first look at a new day.

I’ll do this bit of writing. Meditate. Then run a couple errands before I head home to help my Traveling Partner with some paperwork. I suspect he could do it himself, if he chose to (although I’ve no doubt it would be unpleasant, difficult, and awkward), but it is easier to ask my help. I’d rather be helpful than deal with his discomfort and lack of enthusiasm for the task, but I honestly also hate doing this sort of crap (and somehow end up doing it in every relationship nonetheless).

I breathe exhale and relax. Sometimes things need doing, and it is important to get them done and see the process through. Like pulling weeds in the garden, it’s real work, often repetitive, and sometimes the payoff is not immediate, nor the value obvious. Still has to be done as a step on a path.

… I think about that a lot when I am walking. Steps on a path eventually make the journey…

The meadow this morning is dotted with tufts of greenery as the lupines begin to stand out from the grass here and there along the path, and in patches on hillsides. They are one of my favorites, and I’m eager to see them bloom again. I’ll paint them with soft pastels, as I have with watercolor, oil, and acrylic. I smile when I recall yesterday’s discovery of three new lupine seedlings coming up in the flower bed beneath the kitchen window.

As I sit at my halfway point, I watch the clouds drifting rather sluggishly across the sky. Less wind today. My headache worsens from looking up, and I frown at myself. I know better, I just like looking at the sky, and watching the clouds. Is it worth the pain? Maybe. Maybe it is; how long will I have the opportunity to see the sky overhead? We never know when the clock runs out, and it is always ticking. I’m not being gloomy, nor feeling the weight of my years, just aware that this mortal lifetime is finite, and that pain is inevitably part of the experience (but not the whole of it). I can choose differently.

I sigh to myself. Some moments I almost hear the ticking of the clock. It vexes me to be aware of the passage of time. I breathe exhale, and relax. I let that go and turn my attention to the flowers blooming on the marsh, the sweetly scented Spring air, and this delightful moment. It’s enough. I’ll begin again later. For now the moment is mine to enjoy, as I sit here beside the meadow trail.

A gray Spring morning, suitable for self-reflection.
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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

Flow

March 19, 2025 //
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It’s already midmorning, still chilly. I’m warming up in the car between hiking and exploring trails, picnic tables, views and moments, and the planned purpose of this adventure; to paint. The honest underlying purpose has already been well met for this day; I have walked new trails, seen new views and new places, and experienced entirely new moments. My mind and my spirit feel refreshed and alive – so alive! It’s lovely. This is a beautiful place, and so early in the Spring (and the day) it is uncrowded.

A beautiful place for thinking and painting.

… There is a popular disc golf course adjacent to the picnic table I finally settled on, but it’s quite a chilly day, so only the most fanatic players are venturing onto the course this morning, and they are few, and no bother…

The sky is a soft featureless gray, at least for now. The river below the steep edge of the bank flows steadily past. It looks fast, deep, and cold. The geese bobbing along near the far shore don’t seem to mind at all. They call loudly to each other. Overhead a bird of prey surfs the air currents, circling a tall tree with a large nest near the top. I wonder if it’s theirs? Are there baby birds in the nest? I sit quietly, watching, listening, enjoying the moment grateful for the military experience of a lifetime ago that prompted me to bring spare socks. Cold wet feet are miserable. My feet are warm and dry, in spite of the muddy trails and occasional puddles.

One point of view.

There’s no reason to rush. I sit, warm, and filled with contentment and joy (and coffee). It’s a nice moment. I savor it. I am hoping the sun will break through for a little while, shortly. Regardless, I’ve found a nice spot for some painting and a chance to begin again.

Where does this path lead?
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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Healthy Living, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being

An Interesting Coincidence

March 8, 2025 //
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I’m watching the sunrise, preparing for my walk, boots on, between moments, when I am struck by an interesting coincidence in timing. It is Lent for many Christian observers. It is also the time of year many gardeners know as “the hungry gap”, that time between the last of the winter crops, and before the earliest Spring crops are ready, and during which there is little fresh produce available. (I pause to appreciate what an amazing thing a global supply chain and supermarket produce actually is for humanity.) It’s interesting timing that Lent happens to occur – with its ritual fasting – right at the time when the food supply is likely to be at its least plentiful. I don’t have anything to say about that. I just think it’s interesting.

Sunrise

I set off down the trail, walking with my thoughts. There’s work to do in the garden. The neighborhood feral cat that menaced my garden for the past four years died during the winter. My Spring garden (so far) is undisturbed by constant digging and cat shit, for which I am grateful. It vexed me having to deal with that. It bodes well for the flower beds, too. I proposed putting in a second raised bed this year and my Traveling Partner seems open to the idea. I mentally calculate the cost of the lumber, and the soil to fill it… These are times when there is profound benefit to growing as much of our own food as we can. I’m grateful to have that option.

I sit with my garden thoughts at the halfway point of my walk, enjoying the chill of a Spring morning and the solitary luxury of having the trail to myself. A small herd of deer step past me quietly. I pretend I don’t see them, and avoid sudden movements. This is a lovely moment and I savor it. I’m not in any hurry. The overcast morning sky is streaked with blue-gray clouds. It’s doesn’t feel like rain, it’s just a rather gray morning, now. Geese and ducks drift quietly on the marsh ponds. Nutria go about their business at the edges.

I walk on.

I stop later, it’s a longish walk, and sit for a little while on a fallen oak. It’s a nice spot to rest. Not much of a view; scrub grass cluttered with sparse oaks, horizon obscured by nearby trees and brambles. I’m near the river, but I don’t hear it as it flows by quietly. I only hear the geese overhead, and the sound of distant traffic on the highway at the edge of the park. Robins ignore me, as they pick through the leaves left behind by autumn, looking for a bit of breakfast.

I sit quiet, aware, observing. Sometimes it’s enough to simply be, here, now. I don’t really need more. This is enough. I sigh quietly, contentedly. I enjoy the moment, the birdsong, the soft breeze, and the feeling of contentment and joy. I linger here awhile, understanding that moments are fleeting, and this one will pass. That’s okay. Still worth being here for it.

I’ve got a list of things to do, later. I get up, stretch, and brush off my jeans. It’s time to walk on. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, breathe, Free Will, gardening, gratitude, inspiration, joy, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, Oregon Trails, Perspective, Practices, solo hiking, Spring, The Art of Being
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