fall equinox

And you would accept the seasons of your heart just as you have always accepted that seasons pass over your fields and you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.

-Khalil Gibran

At first glance these look like tomatoes, until you look closer, taking in the entire plant. The colors of bitter nightshade are always a pleasant surprise, making me wonder how many have dared to taste the fruit and been poisoned. I am amazed how nature in its wild form, imitates the flowers and plants we purposely grow for food and beauty.

I think about the shifting of the season as the fall equinox settles around us. How over time, if we pay attention, we learn that life too has its seasons, and so it is possible that even on the brightest days of summer, winter’s darkness can overtake us. Our only rebuttal is to understand that we cannot change the the seasons of our lives anymore than we can change the rotation of our world. So I come to this space lately, with not a lot to say. No wisdom or questions to ponder. Wanting instead to just share the nuances of the world around me that I have captured with my camera.

“There comes a day each September when you wake up and know the summer is over and fall has arrived. The slant of the sun looks different and something is in the air--a coolness, a hint of frosty mornings to follow. I woke early on the morning of September 24 and reached for a warmer petticoat.”

― Ann Rinaldi, Time Enough for Drums

getting ready for winter

“The squirrels, leaping joyfully from branch to branch: not a single one doubts its existence.”

― Marty Rubin

I sat and watched him fill up his cheeks and take off, slipping into a little hole underneath the cabin next door, only to be back on the stump in less than a minute.
Storing up for winter, never questioning that this is what he was meant to do.

it occurs to me

“How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?”
- Robert Frost

We walk through the march, following the boardwalk along the small inlet. I watch for birds but the air is laden with smoke and there are none to be seen. It is no surprise that I am drawn to the weeds, the spent flowers and cattails that fall on both sides of the path. I am not alone, and fully aware that others might be questioning what it is I see, but I force myself to take my time, for it is a wake up call for me and I am not going to allow the moment to slip by unnoticed.

the last swim of summer

“Sometimes I return back to the state of mind I had as a child when I believed nothing was impossible.”
― Jonathan Harnisch

I stood on the shore of the Lake Pend Oreille swimming in memories, bits and pieces of all the time spent on this beautiful lake as a child and teenager floating to the surface. My parents grew up here and my grandmothers both lived here, along with many of my parent’s siblings, and a slew of cousins. On this day I stood at the City Beach, getting ready for a swim - same City Beach where my mother pulled me out of the kiddy pool unconscious, the pink ruffled butt of my swimming suit sticking up out of the water as I floated face down. Of course I don’t remember any of this, but the story was told over and over throughout my childhood, with a reminder to anyone who took me to any body of water, that I was not afraid and to keep an eye on me.

Lake Pend Oreille is a large lake, the 38th largest lake in the US. It is also deep, 1,158 feet deep in places, with only four lakes in the US deeper. The water is never very warm, but during the summer, if we were on the lake, we were in it from morning to bedtime. Today I still prefer to swim in cold lakes posed to smaller warm lakes or pools. On this day it took me awhile to slip into the water, having checked the water temp and noting it was 63 degrees. But once I did, I didn’t want to get out. My husband had suited up and considered joining me, until he wadded in a bit, deciding instead to sit on the beach and cheer me on. After the swim we drove up and down the streets of Sandpoint as I tried, unsuccessfully to find my grandmother’s old homes.

The weekend was a deep dive into my childhood, starting with placing flowers on my parent’s graves and ending with a beautiful wedding on top of Schweitzer Mountain. Emotions flowed like the waves of this beautiful lake, and I didn’t fight them. On Sunday we jumped back in the car and headed to Coeur d’ Alene to visit some family and then on to my close friend’s lake cabin, where we spent a few nights.

We arrived back home, six days later to find Baker alive and well, eager to see us, our daughter-in-law I am sure, going above and beyond to spoil him and I feel blessed. I arrive home, knowing myself a little bit better, a little bit more confidant in the choices I have made with him to get us to this point in our lives. I arrive home happy and relaxed.

I tell you, cold water swimming will do that for you . . . bringing you back to your body, clearing out the clutter and doubts in your mind, setting the stage for what if’s, certainty, and a bit of tenacity.

see you, same time next week

“Travel brings power and love back into your life.

- Rumi

We leave tomorrow morning bright and early for a long awaited vacation of sorts. It starts out with a wedding and from there some time at one of my favorite lakes. It will be five or maybe even six days away, as we are playing it by ear. Both of us admitted to each other last night as we were packing, that we are a little bit nervous about the whole thing. Nine hours in the car, bathroom stops, eating out, lots of people, and staying in strange places. We packed extra masks, even a couple of Covid tests, and I feel ready to get back to life - to get out of town, to see some friends and extended family.

I will be offline, using my phone for weather reports, find a good restaurant, or maybe map out a walking trail. We have a couple books on tape, a few new playlists, and snacks. My Nikon is packed and I plan on keeping it in my lap as we drive.

And the dog . . . he is staying home with our daughter-in-law.

pockets of delight

Joy is different than happiness. Happiness is something that measures how good we feel over time. But joy is about feeling good right now, in the moment.

- Ingrid Fetell Lee

I am aware suddenly of pockets of joy that appear throughout my day unexpectedly. Sometimes it is a past memory that resurfaces, bringing with it a feeling of elation that I allow to envelope me for few moments. Frequently it is a spark of color or a moment of wonder, that if given some attention, brings with it a feeling of hopefulness and glee. I am learning to pause and sit with these pockets of delights, enchanted with what surfaces.