Enjoy

This has been a challenging week. I've gotten to know more about US healthcare and insurance than I ever wanted to, and I've determined that the system really is effed up and most of the people working in it are really, really nice. I'm fine, but I feel for anyone who has to deal with that mess while actually being ill.

I will get back to reports from California, gardens and orchards soon, really, I will. Life is just flying by faster than the trees are changing their coats and I've gotten swept up in it. It just keeps going and going, and I'm grateful to be in it.

Evidence

This was supposed to be the long put off post about adventures on the west coast, but somehow this one seems more appropriate tonight. I promise I'll get the one about protecting tide pools from vicious children and why I think Seth Green is the best person to get your picture taken with ever up later this week.

A random question crossed my mind a while ago. Why do I take so many photographs?

So many pictures of flowers and sunsets and cats and stuff that borders on trite.

I can't answer for anyone else, but I think there may be one primary reason for me. I'm recording evidence. Proof that, for one day, maybe for just a minute, there was peace in my world.

Beauty.

Joy.

Wonder.

Contentment.

Ridiculousness.

I record these images and the feelings that went with them because I know that there will be days that I forget. Depression's really good for wiping your memory clean of every good thing that's ever happened to you. There are long nights when I can't remember what smiling feels like or why I ever tried it. And entire weeks when I won't want to step foot outside my house to look at flowers or clouds.

I take the pictures to remind myself that these moments happened and if they happened once, they probably will again. Not the same ones, I know, but equally interesting ones. That reminder might be the thing that gets me through the dark hours or out of the house again. It might be the only thing.

There is hope. It might be in the form of therapy for some people or medication for others. For me, for now, it's memories of all those moments that I found worth keeping. Depression might try to convince me that they never happened. Depression lies (thank you, Jenny). These photos are my proof.

The photos of me awkwardly lying on flowers was inspired by Neil Gaiman's photo of his wife, Amanda, from last spring. We didn't have any blossoms on our trees then, so I chose the next best option. I tried to get my friends to come with me to take the photos, but they declined, so they didn't come out quite like I'd imagined. Still, I like them. The photos, I mean. My friends need to learn to live a little...

AWOL, again

Where did I go?

Someplace with water and new plants and herons.

I flew to a new city to see one of my favorite bands play in a tiny venue. I had 48 hours to explore.

People there were very kind. I ate radishes with butter and wild rice porridge.

It feels like it was yesterday, but it was two months ago now. They had wonderful trains.

I stayed in a mansion where I listened to vinyl in the attic.

I got to experience spring and its plum blossoms weeks after my own had faded.

 I walked and walked, but bikes let me roam further. There was so much water.

I want to go back, but first I'm going forward. More adventures await.

No. 5: A short ramble

I walked two miles in the snow today. It's good to be reminded that spring means different things at different altitudes. I could have taken the dry, paved road, but I was looking for a path without people and that's what occasionally post-holing through the late spring slush got me.

The warmer weather is uncovering what was left behind in the winter.

The snow is taking a road trip and it seems to be in a hurry.

Sometimes its exit is grand and sometimes it appears to be sneaking off, hoping no one will notice.

May as well throw in one last snow angel while you can.

Eventually I had to give up the solitude of the trail less traveled for a faster return trip. I rejoined the mini-masses and looked at the pretty scenery and then headed back on the car-free road (yay for late park openings).

It was a nice walk. There were many signs of moose and squirrel, but no Rocky or Bullwinkle present.

Oh. Hey there.

It might be tempting to say that someone who wanders around in the woods for no good reason has lost their marbles, but it's usually where I find mine.

Moving at the speed of life

Pardon the internet silence. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in living that I can't seem to sit down long enough to recollect any of it. I guess that's not really a bad thing.

A little while ago, I decided to test out a theory. The world seemed to be spinning just a little too quickly for me. Not out of control, just so fast that I was beginning to see recurrences of small seasonal events what seemed like just weeks after they'd happened the last time. I wondered if I could somehow slow down my perception of time by being awake for more of it.

The experiment wasn't exactly a success. Turns out that if you're awake longer, there's just more to see and hear and do, though maybe that's a good distraction from the ticking clock and the crossing off of the days on the calendar.

I can't even remember when I took these photos. I know it was a pleasant walk on a trail I can see from my kitchen table. Since that day, I inhaled as much apple and plum blossom perfume as I could before they faded (we're done with lilacs already, too). I heard the first hummingbird and goldfinch. Ate too much Eton mess. Witnessed north-bound cormorant migration.

The honey locust blossoms are already on the verge of opening. I got to eat the first kick-ass breakfast sandwiches of the season this week (chimichurri sauce, fresh spinach, sliced tomato and a fried egg on toasted light rye). Bees are swarming the borage every day now. In a week or two, there might even be peas.

I guess there's no slowing it down. Stuff just keeps happening. It would be weird if it didn't. Sometimes the stuff sucks and sometimes it makes my day. Either way, I'm glad I'm around to witness it all.