Live Free

In an effort to get a handle on my Instagram addiction, I thought I’d lay off posting for a while.  I’m still chronicling my days.  I’m still taking photos and journaling.  I’m just delaying that jolt of instant gratification by resisting the urge to post.  

Besides, we’re living through disturbing times. I find it increasingly hard to show up with a pretty picture of my cup of coffee or snow covered moss or songbird or whatnot with words which convey the range and depth of this experience that we are all going through.  

All in all, I worked hard to take care of myself this week.  I walked everyday. I blended herbs from my summer’s garden and made nourishing teas to sip. I went to bed early. I left my phone on the kitchen counter at night and didn’t reach for it until the next day. I meditated and journaled and scheduled a session with my therapist.  I listened to plenty of podcasts while sewing or tending our home -- some news-centered podcasts, but also soul nourishing ones like Poetry Unbound, On Being, and Tara Brach.  I also enjoyed a new to me podcast called The Anxious Achiever. It’s a great one if you or your people are divergent learners. 

Let's get back to home tending, though, shall we? Tending the home brings me great peace. It's hands-down, one of the most reliable outlets I have to recenter myself when I'm feeling anxious. I’m forever reminded of the Buddhist parable about washing bowls.  Oftentimes, the most meaningful thing we can do is the next right thing. Like washing the dishes or sweeping up the wood debris around a winter’s woodstove or making the bed each morning or wiping the window sills free of dust and spiderwebs. These little chores center me. These little chores are my expression of gratitude that I have for my home, my family - my immediate world.  I don't keep an immaculate home, but I do keep a loved home. 

And still, despite my awareness and efforts and blessings, I am troubled. I am struggling. I’m grateful and I’m heavy with confusion and despair. I’m doing the best I can to take care of myself. I’m recognizing the privilege of that ability. I’m seeing others who have less means and who are less fortunate. I’m trying to love more and feel less guilt. I want to be kind to myself and to others. And yet, I’m having a very hard time feeling kindness towards anyone who has silently or not so silently supported the hate that has been given permission to rage like wildfire through our country. It’s absolutely not okay. 

 

Two Months into Lockdown

Hello Lovely, 

I'm not sure what to write about today.  Well, there's always the weather.  It's been quite cool in our parts. In fact, this weekend we had lows in the 20's.  Thankfully, I covered most of my garden so there wasn't too much damage. But, I'm glad I did, otherwise the plant babies would have not survived.  It's finally beginning to warm up to more average temps.  I'm looking forward to planting the rest of my garden out.  I planted beans earlier this week, but I need to get tomatoes, cucumbers, corn, and peppers in the ground.  

This week has been emotionally draining. I'm beginning to recover, but honestly, it's going to require some time. I've been thinking a lot lately, during this Great Pause about how I'd like to stand in this world and how I wish to show up.  

I'm so tired.  Of seeking validation for my worthiness from others.  I'm so tired. Of feeling shame or rejection for who I am.  I'm so tired. Of feeling misunderstood. I'm so tired. Of not feeling strong in my core.  Who would I be without these feelings and thoughts? I imagine the possibilities of  joy and love that can be felt when not burdened by the stories that I tell myself. This is what I've been stewing on the past couple of months at home.  The lightness. The release. The deep breathe. The sigh. The peace. The contentment. The compassion. The joy. The knowing that no matter what, I belong here. To myself. Deeply. Truly. That my higher self is unshakable. It is as sturdy and as wise as an ancient forest. 

I'm going to continue on this journey. Picking apart the thoughts and feelings that do not serve my higher self.  To recognize when the stories continue to play in ways that perpetuate shame.  To sit with it all and to discover that no matter what, I'm going to be okay. One moment at a time. 

And so, I think I'll end here and blast the rest of this post with images of spring in Appalachia.  There is a family  of phoebes residing in a mossy nest off one of our gutters.  It's always so fun to watch a pair of birds build their home, set on eggs, and then busy their days with caring for their babies. These hatchlings will soon be fledglings. The porch will be quiet once again without their endearing cheeping. A few days ago, a hummingbird nearly flew into my face. I was holding a red bag which must of sent her the message that I had nectar to offer.    Lately, I see them drinking from the Columbine blossoms. The wood thrush have returned and grace us with their ethereal songs as bookends to our days.  It's officially "dapply sunlight dancing through the forest" season. I can't believe that less than a month ago, the woods were barren. Sleeping trees. Sleeping perennials.  And now, just like all the springs that have come before, we see the life that was always there, quietly, majestically, growing in a way we couldn't see. 

 

Dusting this space off

Hello lovelies. Gosh, it's been a long time.  I'm writing from the Days of Corona, of course. My family and much of the world has now been quarantined for nearly two months. It's been scary and worrisome. It feels like so much of the existence we have been accustomed to is spiraling out, and away, from our control.  People are suffering in many ways.  There's no way to know when things will return to normal or what the new normal will look like. I do hope it is a more gentle, kind, and earth appreciating normal. 

I'm trying to ride the wave of unknowing by practicing being present here, at home, with myself.

My family is safe and healthy. I am immensely grateful that our basic needs are met today and, most likely, for the near future.  And that, for reasons both explainable and not, we get to shelter in place in a place that truly feeds the soul with the deepest sense of connection. Yet, I cannot see into the future. There is no certainty for another day like today. Ever.  

I'm trying to sit into that idea. And it's not as if I haven't "tried" to do that before. I mean, I realize the fragility and fleetingness of life.  I often wonder:  How would I survive? How would I thrive if I didn't have x, y, and z? Could I do it?  Could I manage the stress and anxiety and not let it overwhelm and override my spirit?  I do stew over such thoughts a great deal. I wonder how my mother did it. I wonder how my great grandparents survived the Great Depression.  I think back to the stories my grandparents swore by. That they were poor, but they were happy.  They had no monetary wealth but they were rich in love.  Could I be so resilient? Could I be so wise?  I so very much aspire to be. Has middle class existence weakened my tenacity? 

And so, admittedly, this quarantine has done me lots of good.  At the beginning of shelter in place, there was an adjustment to this new way of being home. Our lives shifted suddenly.  From busy days of school, work, and after school activities, to nothing.  I floated in a daze of anxiety and confusion for a few weeks. Unable to do much more than scroll the news feeds. 

Now, several weeks later, we are largely settled in to the new normal and I can clearly see the deep need for this time together.  I am relishing the pause. My body, my heart, my spirit needed this time. And though I wish everyone had the opportunity I am having, I am conscious that feeling guilty is not the same as feeling love.  I won't feel guilty for having the time to sit at my window and watch the birds at my feeder. I will not feel guilty for time walking around the woods, discovering beautiful plants I'd yet to have the time to meet.  I will not feel guilty for baking bread for my family. Or for gardening or sewing or writing letters to friends afar, or taking daily nature walks with my husband.  I will instead, live my life with gratitude and appreciation for the simple beauties. I will lovingly wash my family's beautiful hodge podge collection of plates and bowls. I will raise the windows and let the warm breeze percolate through our home. I will listen to the chorus of birdsong as I hang a load of  clean towels, t'shirts, and dresses to dry in the fresh, sunny air.  I will delight in every request for hugs and kisses from my 11 year old. I will mop the floors to my home weekly and marvel at the deep satisfaction of walking barefoot on these well cared for surfaces.  

And I guess that's the gist of it.

This pause has allowed me to tend and grow my love for the people and the world immediately surrounding me in a way that wasn't possible pre-pandemic. And for that, my heart sings with praise for the opportunity. Thank you that this is the life I get to live.  May I never take it for granted. May I continue to see and appreciate the small beauties that make up this magnificent world.

 

November fog

The weather has been especially wet and cold this week. Think 30's and rainy.  I have not felt inclined to spend much time outdoors.  Stick season is in full swing.  Nature's palette is a hundred shades of gray with a tiny bit of remaining rust thrown into the mix.   My cat-like ways have me retreating indoors where it is warm and dry.  Still, during the earlier part of the week, with the clouds low and heavy, the daytime felt like a blink in time.  I was having a hard time keeping up with days of the week and I was beginning to feel lost and disoriented.  I could feel that darkness creeping into my being. The weight of it felt like being stuck or trapped under a boulder.  I can easily swing from hopeful to numb to desperate and alone.

The great news is that with a little self awareness and compassion, I can work to crawl out of those dark spaces just by choosing to  participate in life.  I have always felt that if I can do just one creative activity a day, my mental health thanks me for it.  This week some of the activities that helped me crawl out of the depths of my despair were: gathering kindling in between rain showers, baking cookies with Beatrix while jamming out to JoJo Siwa (it makes her happy that I can take a break from my moody taste to enjoy her tweeny pop choices),  making chocolate over the wood stove, tending the fire (love affair, right there),  reading the book Wild Folk, and snuggling my dogs.  Honestly,  it is often the simple tasks of homemaking that work to keep my brain in that happy meditative place.  The place where thoughts and feelings might come and go, but not linger for much of any time.  It is easy to forget but simple to remember that it's often what we deem the mindless work that helps me find my mindfulness.  

How do you crawl out of your own funky moods?  

It's a New Year

Well, I guess today is the day to get a little caught up on uploading photos from my camera to my computer.  These few photos were taken on New Year's morning. On New Year's Eve, we spent the day at a good friend's house. There was tea and cake and a fire and celtic music on Pandora and just a good ole heartwarming time. I feel so lucky to have one good friend here. Someone who knows a good piece of my story and enjoys me for just  as I am.  We left my friend's house early in the afternoon only to run into an unexpected ice storm. The usual 50 minute drive home took two hours.  Soon after we arrived home safe and sound, our sweet neighbors called to invite us over for sushi. Once again, with full hearts, we bundled up and started our walk to there home. Down the hill, up the hill, and across the creek...On our walk to their cabin, the snow started to fall.  It felt sort of magical. The frigid air. The snow. The scent of woodsmoke wafting around us. The little house in the woods. The cozy, kind folks across the road who call us over for an impromptu meal. The ease of it all.  

We visited with them for a few hours then made our way back home. Down the hill and up the hill and across the creak. On the way home, we made snow angels in the road and I wished and hoped that this memory of quiet, of cold, of starry skies, of holiday warmth, of happiness and health would stick with Bea forever.  And with Byron and I as well.

So, back to these photos.  I woke up early on New Year's Day feeling every bit excited and grateful. While my two people continued to sleep, I took in the cold, white world all alone (except for my ever loyal Molly dog).  Here we are. 2018. I am looking forward to all this year has to offer.   

Winter Trip to Colonial Williamsburg

These are photos from one of two recent trips our family took this winter season.  In the first half of December, we visited Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia.  It was really fun! The entire town was so elegantly decorated for the holiday season.  Think lots of understated colonial homes with quiet candles in the windows and stately trees shining with white lights glowing through living room windows or front doors.  I just love that look. It's so Little Women-esque, you know.  The living history section of town is a collection of streets, homes, and other buildings that have been preserved or rebuilt as they were thought to have been in the 18th century. These streets allow foot traffic only and it really fires my heart up so - my sort of Disney World, I suppose. It feels almost as if one is stepping back in time.  I imagine this version is a little more sanitary. The streets are paved and there are far fewer horses clip clopping along the streets. And surely a bit more comfortable.  Though nearly all of the buildings had fires going in the fireplaces or wood stoves, I noticed a constant low hum of the sound of central heat.   Also, and more sadly,  in colonial times, over half of the population of Williamsburg was enslaved.  Still the entire experience is pretty darn fun and interesting.  Many of the buildings maintain the same function as they did in colonial times. For example, the stories of inns and prominent homes come to life as the "owners and employees" welcome you inside and presume the normal day to day functions in your company.  

Wondering up and down the streets is also really neat.  Sometimes one will meet up with famous characters such as Patrick Henry, James Madison, George Washington, or Thomas Jefferson.  We got to listen to Thomas Jefferson speak at a public gathering about the importance of universal education, liberty, and civil duties.  Pretty cool! 

Some of the craftspeople that have businesses in Colonial Williamsburg are cabinet builders, wigmakers, coopers (barrel makers), book binders, millineries, black smiths, cobblers, silversmiths, and such. 

We bought a season pass (homeschoolers get a 50% discount) with hopes of returning again at another part of the year. I'd love to experience the town again in the warm months when everything is abloom and green!  

 

 

All Is Calm

Most nights of late I am drawn awake in the wee morning hours. As I roll over to my right side, my eyes open slowly, and I am greeted by a sky of sparkling stars and sometimes if I am lucky, even the precious moon is in my view. Each night, as I awake I am astounded by the night sky. It has been decades since I’ve lived anywhere with a view of those nightly jewels.

It is a deep comfort. This view of the stars. Their presence settles me in my restlessness.

As winter solstice approaches, the hours of sunlight have significantly diminished. By early evening, lights or candles are necessary. The nights are long and there is a lot of time to think.  It is during these dark hours that the melancholy sinks in.

It’s an odd thing to follow your dreams. Or maybe it is that the  human experience is one long experience of continuously learning and relearning, pausing and noticing. There is joy. There is grief. There is sadness and pain. There is joy. There is peace. And on and on.  For many of us, this time of year is particularly laden with strong memories. Lately, I’ve been thinking about my dear old house in Texas at Christmas time and all the wonderful memories of Bea growing up there. Her little footsteps running down the hall when she was 2. The way the evening winter sun flooded the living room floor for just a brief moment before dusk arrived. How Bea would so often drag the stool to the countertop and join in on whatever it was I was doing in the kitchen. All the Christmas baking and the candles we lit.  Carols around the piano with dear friends. And hot cocoa in our Santa mugs. Those were very, very special years.  We left a lot of love when we moved.

I don’t regret moving here.  There is so much we want to discover that we couldn’t do in Texas but as is the nature of things, with the light, there is the dark. It is one.

Beyond the bittersweetness of remembering days past, It  been a lovely season so far.  The stockings are hung. The nativity scene is tucked in on the windowsill, and the wooden advent wreath is the table centerpiece. There has been snow.  I’m fairly strict about keeping the advent season quiet. This year I feel I have been particularly successful.  Less of everything has been my greatest desire. Less gifts to each other. Less garland (yes, I live in the woods and have all the garland I’d ever want this year, but since it’s all around me in nature, I feel like it’s good there and I don’t need it so much in my house). We dug up a sweet little hemolock and decorated it very sparsely. The branches cannot endure much weight so we chose only our most favorite and lightweight ornaments to adorn it. Since we try to run on solar power as much as possible, we didn’t add lights to the tree or the house. Instead, I’ve been lighting tea lights in the windows each night. There have been no big treks into the city to attend The Nutcracker or any other holiday festivity.  We’ve opted for hikes up the mountain and time at home, crafting and baking. I didn’t even send out holiday cards.

We have one more week until Christmas. My goal is to mail out the care packages we have prepared for family and to decorate a few evergreens in the woods with popcorn, cranberries, and dried oranges

All is calm. All is bright.

Thank you, dear souls for taking the time to follow my journey as I sporadically document the magic of the everyday here on this blog.  

Oceans of love to you.  

 

 

 

 

 

Allegiance to Gratitude

 

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Earlier this fall, I came across the book Braiding Sweetgrass. It was the book  for me to devour as we were just getting settled in this new world of spring water, mountain forest, and quiet, simple living like we've never known.  I was so moved by Robin Wall Kimmerer's words and her message. The gratitude for Mother Earth that she conveyed so poetically touched me so deeply. Finally, a writer speaking my soul language - a language I had no idea how to express!  Sometimes, our ancient wisdom gets buried beneath the modern expectations of who we should be and of how we should be in this world. I feel grateful that in my case, the connection to my ancient self has been nurtured just enough to survive all of my 40 years. Those longings, though rarely the center of my attention have whispered to me long enough and just loud enough that I have never forgotten them entirely.  

What struck me most of all while reading Braiding Sweetgrass was Kimmerer's message of plants as teachers. The idea that we humans do not dominate this planet but instead we are students of the ancient plant and animal elders.  In one of my favorite essays in the book, "Allegiance to Gratitude"  Kimmerer describes a tradition of gratitude practiced by the Onadaga tribe. Each gathering begins with the Thanksgiving Address.  Unlike Americans who grow up to memorize and recite the Pledge of Allegiance (to a flag),  tribe members grow up  learning to recite a pledge of gratitude to the natural world.  There are many versions of the Thanksgiving Address. Some versions are lengthy while others are condensed. They are spoken out loud at the beginning of gatherings and meetings. The Thanksgiving Address is meant to unify people as a way of agreeing on the common denominator that connects us all.  

Kimmerer ponders, "What would it be like to be raised on gratitude, to speak to the natural world as a member of the democracy of species, to raise a pledge of interdependence?  No declarations of political loyalty are required, just a response to a repeated question: 'Can we agree to be grateful for all this is given?'".

In what ways would our world be different if perhaps we thought about asking before taking from our beloved Earth.  Are we considering the future generation's well being? Do we value clean water and air that nourishes our body? Will there be any forest to lose and find ourselves in? What about our oceans so vast and deep? Will the waters continue to support reefs and whales and all those in between? 

Oftentimes, I awake in the middle of the night. In this new home, I am tucked away into a forested cove. Right here, right now, I am safe, so it seems, from some of the horrors that threaten our world but it is all temporary. Those moments when my eyes open in the pitch darkness with only the tiny jewels of stars twinkling in the sky far above me, I feel at once a sense of deep belonging -  held yet free.  The sun will continue to shine. The moon will rise. The stars will twinkle.  There is magic that can't be touched.  And I pray that before it's too late, we humans learn to ask before touching what is within our reach and to take only what we need.  

Haudenosaunee Thanksgiving Address

Greetings to the Natural World

The People

Today we have gathered and we see that the cycles of life continue. We have been given the duty to live in balance and harmony with each other and all living things. So now, we bring our minds together as one as we give greetings and thanks to each other as people.

Now our minds are one.

The Earth Mother

We are all thankful to our Mother, the Earth, for she gives us all that we need for life. She supports our feet as we walk about upon her. It gives us joy that she continues to care for us as she has from the beginning of time. To our mother, we send greetings and thanks.

Now our minds are one.

The Waters

We give thanks to all the waters of the world for quenching our thirst and providing us with strength. Water is life. We know its power in many forms‐ waterfalls and rain, mists and streams, rivers and oceans. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the spirit of Water.

Now our minds are one.

The Fish

We turn our minds to the all the Fish life in the water. They were instructed to cleanse and purify the water. They also give themselves to us as food. We are grateful that we can still find pure water. So, we turn now to the Fish and send our greetings and thanks.

Now our minds are one.

The Plants

Now we turn toward the vast fields of Plant life. As far as the eye can see, the Plants grow, working many wonders. They sustain many life forms. With our minds gathered together, we give thanks and look forward to seeing Plant life for many generations to come.

Now our minds are one.

The Food Plants

With one mind, we turn to honor and thank all the Food Plants we harvest from the garden. Since the beginning of time, the grains, vegetables, beans and berries have helped the people survive. Many other living things draw strength from them too. We gather all the Plant Foods together as one and send them a greeting of thanks.

Now our minds are one.

The Medicine Herbs

Now we turn to all the Medicine herbs of the world. From the beginning they were instructed to take away sickness. They are always waiting and ready to heal us. We are happy there are still among us those special few who remember how to use these plants for healing. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to the Medicines and to the keepers of the Medicines.

Now our minds are one.

The Animals

We gather our minds together to send greetings and thanks to all the Animal life in the world. They have many things to teach us as people. We are honored by them when they give up their lives so we may use their bodies as food for our people. We see them near our homes and in the deep forests. We are glad they are still here and we hope that it will always be so.

Now our minds are one.

The Trees

We now turn our thoughts to the Trees. The Earth has many families of Trees who have their own instructions and uses. Some provide us with shelter and shade, others with fruit, beauty and other useful things. Many people of the world use a Tree as a symbol of peace and strength. With one mind, we greet and thank the Tree life.

Now our minds are one.

The Birds

We put our minds together as one and thank all the Birds who move and fly about over our heads. The Creator gave them beautiful songs. Each day they remind us to enjoy and appreciate life. The Eagle was chosen to be their leader. To all the Birds‐from the smallest to the largest‐we send our joyful greetings and thanks.

Now our minds are one.

The Four Winds

We are all thankful to the powers we know as the Four Winds. We hear their voices in the moving air as they refresh us and purify the air we breathe. They help us to bring the change of seasons. From the four directions they come, bringing us messages and giving us strength. With one mind, we send our greetings and thanks to the Four Winds.

Now our minds are one.

The Thunderers

Now we turn to the west where our grandfathers, the Thunder Beings, live. With lightning and thundering voices, they bring with them the water that renews life. We are thankful that they keep those evil things made by Okwiseres underground. We bring our minds together as one to send greetings and thanks to our Grandfathers, the Thunderers.

Now our minds are one.

The Sun

We now send greetings and thanks to our eldest Brother, the Sun. Each day without fail he travels the sky from east to west, bringing the light of a new day. He is the source of all the fires of life. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Brother, the Sun.

Now our minds are one.

Grandmother Moon

We put our minds together to give thanks to our oldest Grandmother, the Moon, who lights the night‐time sky. She is the leader of woman all over the world, and she governs the movement of the ocean tides. By her changing face we measure time, and it is the Moon who watches over the arrival of children here on Earth. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to our Grandmother, the Moon.

Now our minds are one.

The Stars

We give thanks to the Stars who are spread across the sky like jewelry. We see them in the night, helping the Moon to light the darkness and bringing dew to the gardens and growing things. When we travel at night, they guide us home. With our minds gathered together as one, we send greetings and thanks to the Stars.

Now our minds are one.

The Enlightened Teachers

We gather our minds to greet and thank the enlightened Teachers who have come to help throughout the ages. When we forget how to live in harmony, they remind us of the way we were instructed to live as people. With one mind, we send greetings and thanks to these caring teachers.

Now our minds are one.

The Creator

Now we turn our thoughts to the creator, or Great Spirit, and send greetings and thanks for all the gifts of Creation. Everything we need to live a good life is here on this Mother Earth. For all the love that is still around us, we gather our minds together as one and send our choicest words of greetings and thanks to the Creator.

Now our minds are one.

Closing Words

We have now arrived at the place where we end our words. Of all the things we have named, it was not our intention to leave anything out. If something was forgotten, we leave it to each individual to send such greetings and thanks in their own way.

Now our minds are one.

  

Alone time, mindfulness, moldy windows...this and that...

 

5 Months

 

 

Yesterday as Bea and I walked to the end of our road and back, we counted the months since we left Georgetown.

The skies were overcast and the most of the leaves have fallen off the trees. Those that are still on retain the deep red, almost maroon shade of past peak. The goldenrod and aster have all gone to seed.  

Seasons have come and gone since we moved here. All of summer and now most of fall.  Five calendar pages turned and folded over.

She and I talked about whether or not our heart feelings have changed since those early days. They have.  We talked about all of the new places, people, and experiences we have been so fortunate to meet and learn about. We talked about our fears of leaving home and our fears of not having a sense of belonging in the new place. Those fears were big and scary. 

I have to be honest, my mama heart doubted the move so many, many times. I wanted to protect Bea. I wanted her heart to never break. I didn't want her to have to say goodbye to her dear friends,  her teachers,  or her riding pony.  I wanted her to always feel that she belonged. I cherished the community and the relationships we developed over the years. I adore how my friends love her through and through as one of their one.  It takes a village and we all need unconditional love and acceptance.  

Still, we had to do it. We had to trust our inner calling. I know that sounds flakey, but that is just what it was. We couldn't let fear of the unknown keep us from spreading our wings. I had to trust that we could belong wherever our spirits called us to be.  I had to trust that this world is full of beautiful and kind people and that we would be okay, love stretches and grows.  I had to trust that because Bea knew love from so many people, she would have a resilient heart and would learn something about herself through this whole experience. 

I hope I'm not jinxing the story by writing it down, but I do think we are feeling our way around here and seeing it more and more as home. I see Bea growing up so kind and articulate. She is headstrong and determined. She is passionate about  justice and fairness and is earnest in her intentions.  She enjoys our company and the company of others. She delights in watching the sunrise or fog and mist roll over the ridge in the morning.  And,  I know she will be okay growing up here in the mountains. 

Everyday Magic

"We need beauty to touch us as deeply as we need love. Beauty is not a luxury, an accidental experience that we happen to have if we are lucky. Beauty dwells at the heart of life."  John O'Donahue

Every day feels magical here. Yesterday, we woke  after a long day and night of hardy, steady rain, to sunshine and absolutely brilliant colors in the forest. The air was crisp and hovering right around freezing.  Giddy about it all, the colors, the cool temperatures, we bundled up and headed up the ridge behind our house and into the forest.  Today was the first day we hiked to the tippy top. It's quite steep and crawling is pretty much what I had to do in some places.  Once on the ridge, there is a wide trail that winds through woods and meadows.  At one point I turned around gasped and giggled out loud. What I saw was a clear view of those magnificent mountains facing my back. Watching over me, in a way.  Of course, the photo (#6) does little justice to capture my view because in real life those mountains are endless.  

How did we get HERE? What did we do to deserve this? WHO gets to do life here?  I very often doubted that it would be us.  Even though Thoreau's quote, "Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you imagined," stayed ever present to my eyes via a cheapo refrigerator magnet for the past 15 years, many days went by where Byron and I both resigned that we didn't have what it took to live out the dreams.  After all, there was always the idea that we had too much of this, noot enough of that.  What if this? What about that? You know those thoughts and questions, right?  I'm so glad that more often than not, we didn't let the doubt talk us out of believing in our dreams. 

Amongst ancient mountains that roll on and on for as far as the eye can see, sparkling rivers, and forest thick with diversity. I am grateful for every moment of it.  As the world appears to crumble upon unrest on so many levels, to have this opportunity to see a bit of it unspoiled feels like the greatest gift of hope.  All of life is worth cherishing.