Cometsgirl

While the impetus for this trip was to celebrate the 75th birthday of my sister and brother, my sister-in-law’s birthday is today.

Everyone greeted her this morning with song.

Then we went on a hike. About 6 miles from the cabins is the trailhead for The Colorado Trail. It was a perfect choice from the standpoint of elevation gain, hiking at an elevation of over 10,500′, and our oldering status. It’s an in and out trail, and we were on the trail around two hours. It was glorious!

The wind blowing through the trees made a kind of music.

Afternoon was time for relaxation, conversation, and reflection. About our lives decades ago. And now.

We were here long enough to have a favorite coffee house, City on the Hill Coffee and Espresso, and a favorite restaurant, Tennessee Pass Cafe.

After dinner we returned to the cabins for ice cream and gifts. The birthday celebrant declared it one of her best ever birthdays.

At the coffee house in town this morning, I spotted a young man in line whose shirt-back had a great message. I asked him if I could photograph his shirt and he was delighted to oblige.

I’m certain I was the reason for some smiles this day. I shall try to be a reason each day forward.

Leadville is proud of being two miles high in elevation, often comparing itself to the better known mile high city of Denver. Today we took a train ride on the restored Leadville Colorado and Southern Railroad. Climbing to 11,152′, the air was thin, the views magnificent, and the pleasure of our company a joyous time.

The ride was 2 1/2 hours, first pushed forward then pulled back by the engine. We chose an open car, riding along with “sunshine on our shoulders making us happy”.

Lyrics from the Weepies came to mind:

“All this beauty, you might have to close your eyes, and slowly open wide.”

And John Denver’s words:

“Colorado rocky mountain high
I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky
You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply
Rocky mountain high.”

This was a surprisingly entertaining adventure, helped enormously along by our legendary senses of humor.

After dinner….

driving the road home we were gifted with this sight,

The day drew to a close with lovely reflections both seen and spoken.

From W.S. Merwin’s poem Thanks

“Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
standing by the windows looking out
in our directions…”

We scattered a bit this morning. Scattered in a good way. Three of us drove into Leadville for “real” coffee and quick shopping for cabin provisions.

Meanwhile two others took off to fish.

My sister and I opted for a road trip to Vail to see an art installation by the stick sculpture artist, Patrick Dougherty, installed at the Ford Botanical Gardens.

Having seen his installation in Highlands, NC, we were eager to see this one. Hodgepodge was created using several varieties of willow locally harvested. Dougherty was inspired both by Japanese square-shaped pottery and hedges He had seen.  The design includes sloping shoulders to shed snow. A practical consideration for this locale.

“Some of the individual elements lean;  some bend at the waist, falling into each other.  This is meant to suggest camaraderie and interdependence.” This seems to echo what we three families are experiencing these gathering days.

I brought a Colorado playlist I had made for our drive, so we sang along as we twisted and turned to Vail and back. We especially like to sing rather enthusiastically “I want to be a strong Colorado Woman, I don’t want to be a Mississippi girl…” from Caroline Herring’s Colorado Girl.

State Highway 24 was made for low-gear driving with lots of pull offs for photos.

Hear what I heard this day.

By mid-afternoon we had gathered back together for fellowship in the sharing of our scattered experiences. Reunions with my brother and sister are infrequent, so these daily reunions take on some significance and much pleasure.

A beautiful drive to Minturn for dinner, all squeezed into one car so as to be together for the vistas and conversations. Then as the day drew to a close, we gathered for a slide show of recent travel my brother and his wife (my other sister) had enjoyed, cruising the fjords of Norway. Stunning!

Day is done, gone the sun. Gone the sun, day is done.

For a time today, I thought to myself, “you can’t go home again”. Driving out of the Denver airport, then across Denver east to west, then up through the foothills was generally unpleasant. And unattractive. Just a slog.

Lots of weighed-down trucks crawling along the high altitude byways, substantial real estate development in place of wide open spaces, and no real stunning sights to be seen along the way.

It’s true I thought, you cannot go home again.

Then we turned onto Colorado State Highway 91.

Little traffic.

Stunning views.

Wide open spaces.

I’m in the High Rockies.

It’s true, home is much more than a vista. Yet for me that is where the tug on my heart begins. This place I am in this day reminds me of the places of my growing up years where I found contentment and safe-keeping. Places so vast all that was in me could escape.

My family was always “going to the mountains”. My sister and brother and I were free to roam in the early mornings during these trips. We explored and adventured endlessly.

Upon arriving at our cabins last night, it was time to explore once again. The cabin could wait. We were off to the ponds, to the river, to the soft light of dusk.

Then cabin settling in for the night.

Early morning rise for a walk around, espresso in town, and vistas that settle my soul

As Sara Groves sings, “It is well with my soul, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

And so this day, it is well with my soul.

10,152′ high should be about right for a big time birthday celebration.  The twins turned 75 earlier this year, and when deciding where we three families would gather to mark the milestone and celebrate together, it was a no-brainer.  COLORADO.

As I’ve said before, being a native Coloradoan is a big deal to me.

For my sister, it’s still home even though her residence is in another state.  She longs to be in Colorado.

For my brother, it’s a place that gave him a lifetime of the love of outdoors, and the activities associated with Colorado mountains in particular.

So we shall gather for a few days this coming week in cabins alongside the Eagle River just outside Leadville, Colorado.

We three spent much of every summer of our growing-up years either alongside, or near-by a river. And a fair amount of that time was wading up and down the river.  On the hunt for the wily adversary.

Generally speaking, being orphaned usually is thought of as happening to young children. We were orphaned later than usual, the twins at the age of 19, and I having just turned 21, and now considered an adult. It was tumultuous for a short time, then less so as we retreated into our respective college campuses. And then put it behind as we each created separate families and lived our lives.

That experience cemented a sibling relationship in ways that have carried us these many decades; apart by distance, but nearby through this particular shared experience, and through the shared experiences of the Colorado mountains….and because of our commitment to always be in relationship with each other.

Every time I have journeyed to Colorado it has been with anticipation of return, of first view of the Rockies, and eventually being wrapped “in” the Rockies of home. I’m in anticipation mode now.

Dr. Seuss says, “Today is your day. Your mountain is waiting. So…get on your way!”

And so I shall.  Traveling Mercies.

Today is my birthday.

For many years I have answered the phone on this day with “happy birthday to me”.  My family and friends seem to enjoy this annual moment. However, not having caller ID on the home phone, I’ve no idea who is calling.  I like to not know, and be surprised instead.  But imagine the surprise some callers have when they call this day for reasons other than my birthday. Just now the Walgreen’s pharmacist was taken aback, but immediately offered her birthday wishes to me.  And then notified me the shingles vaccine was in and I could come in for a birthday shot!

I awoke this morning to the sound of an owl in the woods just beyond the bedroom windows.  Owls have been scarce this year and I’ve missed their sound through the nights. So it was pretty special to be awakened this day by an owl.

I lay in bed listening to the hooting, and then to more sounds outside as the natural community just beyond my windows began to awaken.  Such a lovely way to begin the day.

Lying there, I considered how I want to live my 78th year. What ways do I want to walk through the next 365 (God willing) days of my life.  So as the owl hooted good morning I made a first decision for the coming year – to be intentional in listening. In Mary Chapin Carpenter’s song Jericho, she sings: “You can’t hear me yet, listening takes a long, long time…”.

I journeyed out to the deck to sit and listen.

The owl had moved on with daylight, but a Google search about owls informed me that one symbolic meaning is that the presence of the owl announces change. I’m pretty adverse to change, but this 78th year may be a time I embrace “some” change, beginning with intentional listening, then hearing.

Speaking of Google, today’s Doodle features Lyudmilla Vladimorovna Rudenko.  Born on July 27, 1904, she was a Soviet chess player and the second women’s world chess champion, from 1950 until 1953. She was awarded the FIDE titles of International Master and Woman International Master in 1950, and Woman Grandmaster in 1976.

This is good to know. A woman of my parents’ generation who had excelled at both the men’s and women’s game of chess, remembered this day.

What happened next was gastronomic joy.  Donuts!  Not just any donuts, rather artisan donuts.  The Farmhouse opened recently and a dear friend and I figured Starbucks and donuts would be the perfect way to enjoy a birthday breakfast.

I am touched deeply by gifts I received this day. I think more touched than any other birthday I can recall.  Each reflects intention, true intention.  To celebrate me, to honor me, to walk with me.

An old adage says, “the sky is the limit”.  I feel this 78th year of my life holds that promise.

Birthday Blessings for me.

I’m thoughtful about borders and barriers this day.

Having taken up residence some 15 years ago in the north Georgia woods, I’ve come face to face – literally – with creatures and critters who lived here long before I moved in. I have been delighted to share a geographical abode with some of these, not so delighted with others.

I’m not happy about the bears.  Bears in this area don’t experience deep hybernation.  Rather, they “rest” and are mostly inactive during the coldest winter weeks, roaming around the woods the rest of the year, especially in the spring when seeking food.  Berries, nuts and grubs are not plenteous until summer. So they roam to eat.

A number of bird feeders hang in the trees just beyond the house, and off the deck These entice the bears to drop by. In order to dissuade bears from climbing trees to access the feeders, Evan has wrapped the trees with sheets of metal.  When the bears try to climb the trees, they fail.

This spring the bears decided to climb up the posts to the deck to access other bird feeders.  While not actually possible to reach the feeders from the deck, they have not given up trying.  A number of planters have been knocked over and broken, leaving plants askew.  So now the deck posts are wrapped in metal.

After the arrival of two bears earlier today, it’s clear the wrapping length of metal on the posts needs to be extended.  All these barriers are placed so as to co-exist with creatures in whose habitat I have chosen to live.

These bear barriers have me thinking about borders.

My life experiences of crossing boarders has been through travel.  I’ve driven across state lines, picturing maps that show state borders with slender black map lines or blue rivers.  I’ve crossed in and out of countries, experiencing customs lines and officials waving me through after short questioning of my purpose and my planned stay. I’ve flown over state and country borders, without being able to distinguish the actual borders.

I’ve even been a passenger in a rowboat crossing the Rio Grande River border between  Texas and Mexico.  A burro and a horse were the transportation choices upon landing on the Mexican shore.  That’s a story for another time.  A good one, at that.

Currently, the borders surrounding our country are experiencing huge numbers of individuals seeking entry. Seeking the bounty of opportunity and liberty we enjoy, men and women, mothers and fathers, and children clamor for entrance.

With the exception of Native Americans, everyone of us comes from immigrant ancestors who were also seeking opportunity and liberty.

On my walk this day, continuing my focus on week one of my photographic pilgrimage, I walked with hearing, seeing, feeling sensors turned up.  I listened and looked, sensing images I might receive. It was to be barrier images.

Inscribed on the Statue of Liberty,   “Give me your tired, your poor…

your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, temptest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp…

beside the golden door!”  Emma Lazarus.

How can I help unlock the barriers of the seekers?

I begin here:

The Refugee and Immigrant Center for Education and Legal Services

Together Rising

 

A number of years ago my best friend and I exchanged gifts.  These gifts were a bit unusual, but they fit the circumstances of our lives at a certain time, more her life than mine.  Still, there was upheaval in that moment for each of us, and these gifts fit perfectly.

I gave her an airline ticket to Boston so she could go on retreat at the Society of Saint John the Evangelist, a monastic community of the Episcopal Church.

She gave me a six-week online course entitled Photography as a Contemplative Practice, offered by Abbey of the Arts.

I was faithful to the course for a short while. I have returned to the course a number of times since, though never completing it.  I returned once again this day.  There is no telling how far I will travel on this photographic pilgrimage, but for now I am on my way.

The author suggests that “photography is a deeply contemplative practice, and if approached with reverence and intention, it can help us to see the holy moments all around us”. There is a lot of contemplative time and exercises associated with this course, and that’s quite likely why I have not embraced this as completely as required.

Who is surprised to hear this?  I imagine no one who knows me. Still, I’m ready to step into the contemplative moment.

Something that caught my attention years ago, and has remained in my mind, is the idea about the word “taking” photos. The author suggests we should receive, rather than take, the gifts around us and to be “present enough so that when the photographic moment arrives, we are able to receive it fully, with our whole hearts”.

I’m definitely quoting here, because I just don’t speak in this manner.  I can, however, hear and understand the possibility.

All this to say, it’s the Fourth of July, and I’m mindful about the freedoms I enjoy and of the need to be reminded from time to time so as to never take for granted my privilege of freedom and my free-from tyranny.

I began this day as I generally do.  Cappuccino, and the NY Times. Then I took a long over-due walk. Later, my Fitbit app  sent encouragement to me by letting me know that I only had 2,225 more steps until my goal of 10,000 steps.  I admit I’ve not seen that encouragement for a good while.  Too much rain and a bit too much lethargy.

Faced with an empty rest of the day, I was reminded of Barbara Crafton’s words from an essay she wrote about living each day in such a way that if you were to look back on yesterday, you would not perceive it as a “wasted’ day,  She cautioned that one does not  get another chance of living the day that has passed.

I decided this day was a day to embark on a photographic pilgrimage

I set out on a walk around my home.  I went no further than a circumference around my home of about 100 feet.  I was looking for colors and shapes that form this day in my mind and heart.

Here’s what I received.

The American flag, and it’s colors.

Bells of liberty.

A reminder of “this fragile earth, our island home”.

Celebration.

Expectation and promise.

Home.

My pilgrimage time was filled with contemplation and revelation. And with quiet — just enough quiet for me.  I even sat and swung for a time. Face-timed for a couple of minutes with my friend with whom I shared the gift-giving those few years ago.

Tomorrow I will do Day 2 of Week 1 of this photographic exploration.

A thought as dusk settles on this Independence Day. A good while back I clipped this image out of a newspaper, and used the Jeremiah passage for the 4th of July cards I made that year.  Designed by Mordechai Rosenstein, it sought to honor one who perished in the 9/11 WTC attacks. The Hebrew translates to: “Seek the peace of the Nation… and pray then it to God, then through its peace will you have peace.” Jeremiah 29:7.

How can I use my gift of freedoms to ensure others also have this gift?  Perhaps this photographic pilgrimage will point the way.

 

 

 

Returning home took some real effort, primarily by a petite, and high energy airline captain; along with the cabin crew. Severe weather forced Captain Jennifer to fly our loaded plane to Huntsville, Alabama, last night. The flight from Seattle to Atlanta began with a departure delay of two hours due to weather conditions in Atlanta which held up our “pick-up” aircraft.

A two-hour delay didn’t feel like a real inconvenience – just a later arrival home than originally planned. Lined up to board, the art installation at Terminal A was not only stunning, but a calming distraction as well.

It was a most beautiful day to fly!

Not long after takeoff, I gazed out the window hoping to see Mt. Ranier.  I wasn’t sure the mountain would make an appearance as we flew through clouds headed for our cruising altitude.

And then……….there it was.  Wrapped in clouds below, jutting up toward the brilliant blue sky. A WOW moment!

Cruising along in our metal tube, relaxed in my chair, the sights down below were like none I had seen before.

The Great Salt Lake and its environs were a color-filled scene below.

Next up was the Uinta-Wasatch-Cache National Forest.

The mountain views ended over western Colorado.

For the next hour or so, things were on track.  As I try to always be connected when I fly, this flight was no exception.  I brought up my app that lets me see my flight and its trajectory in the midst of all the adjacent flights.  I noticed we were going a bit out of the way, and then the straight line of flight became a large oval.  And another oval, and additional off-the-beaten-flight path routes appeared.  Uh oh.

Severe storms in Atlanta were the cause.  We were in a holding pattern.  What transpired over the next hour or so of hopping and skipping through the sky, was an unplanned stop in Huntsville, Alabama. Atlanta’s airport was CLOSED, and we were low on fuel.

Sunset as seen from 32,000′ as we turned left for our layover in Huntsville.

Captain Jennifer kept us cheerfully and honestly informed through it all.  The cabin crew agreed to extend their day.  And so it came to pass, that we spent a couple of hours on the ground, refueled, and then flew for 30 minutes to Atlanta.

After deplaning, one normally takes the escalator to the tunnel to catch the plane train. At 2am the train had ceased to be in service, so the walking trek from Terminals C to B to A to T to baggage claim began.  It was much needed exercise after having been seated for most of nine hours.

Another two hours and we pulled into the driveway – home – safe and sound.

Thanks be to God. And thanks be to Captain Jennifer and her most excellent flying skills.

Let’s review: The word commencement is derived from a 13th century French word meaning beginning or start. Commencement is the celebration of a new beginning, a new chapter in one’s life. One does not attend a graduation, because graduation is the completion of all education requirements and recorded accordingly.

It turns out Valerie had one more graduation requirement to complete before she could take part in commencement. She, along with the other 35 girls in her 8th grade class, had to write a 350 word speech, and then deliver it at the ceremony. THEN, she would meet all graduation requirements.

We began the evening by dining at Poquito’s restaurant.

Then on to the ceremony.

The school is a building previously owned by the Catholic Church. Built in 1904 , it’s the kind of structure her grandparents, or even her great-grandparents, would have attended in their high school years.

The ceremony itself was next door at the Church of the Immaculate Conception.

The girls entered one by one.

One of my favorite lines of Mary Oliver’s The Summer Day, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” was included in one of the teacher’s exhortations to the students.

The 36 speeches were incredible! These 8th graders had such presence, and such beautiful and thought-filled words, we were astonished and delighted.

NOW Valerie could commence.

Diploma in hand, she is officially a high-schooler.

It was a grand gathering to honor the accomplishments of this most special young lady.

The grandparents have dispersed, some early this morning, and the others shortly, all carrying the love and presence of family in our hearts.

Traveling mercies.