“And still, after all this time, the Sun has never said to the Earth, ‘You owe me.’
Look what happens with love like that. It lights up the sky.”
{Rumi}
Tag Archives: Outdoors
Breathe in the Outside Air
I need to go outside. I need to breathe in the outside air, feel the sunshine on my skin, the wind on my face. I need to walk in the woods, feel the earth crunch beneath my feet. I need to sit by the ocean, toes buried in sand, salty sea on my lips. I need to climb a tree, feel the rough bark against my skin, see the world from above. I need to hear the birds sing, listen to the leaves rustle with the breeze. I need to smell earth wake up again in blossoms and blooms. I am alive when the earth is alive. I am awake when I’m outside.
Spring is coming, we are almost there. Winter will let go, earth will wake up again. We are almost there.
A Winter Wonderland
Eleven inches of snow fell flake by flake into our yard last night. We woke up this morning to a winter wonderland. We tried and tried to get out of the drive, but alas, we are stuck. Since we are snowed in and I have nothing better to do, I decided to treck out into the snow for some pictures.
“Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast
In a field I looked into going past,
And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,
But a few weeds and stubble showing last.
From Desert Places By Robert Frost
{The bird house is wearing a snow cap}
{Today is the perfect day to put your feet up and watch the world go by}
{I’m going to sip some coffee and finish reading The Hobbit}
{Katniss thinks he should be sipping coffee too}
Are you snowed in too? :]
{Fall} My Personal New Year
{A hike up Peeked Mountain, Monson Massachusetts 2009}
Yesterday we officially slipped into fall. I love everything about this time of year. I love boots and scarves and warm cozy jackets. I love hot drinks and hardy soups, crackling fires and cobalt skies. I love snuggling up on Sunday afternoons watching football and sipping a hot pumpkin latte every morning on the way to work.
{New Hampshire Pumpkin Fest 2009}
There is something about this time of year that always makes me reflective. The air is cooler, the days are getting shorter, and the whole world feels like it’s wrapping up in a warm, cozy blanket.
{The Height of the Land, Maine 2011}
Every day I notice how many more leaves blush in crimson or show off in gold. I watch them fall to the ground, one by one today, ten by ten tomorrow, and I think about how quickly the warmth and reflection of this season will pass us by. Soon enough we will be watching the snow flakes fall rather than the leaves.
I used to dread the transition from fall into winter. I used to think of winter as the end when everything is dead and over and there is nothing left to enjoy. But after long busy summers, I’ve started looking forward to the quiet days of winter. Instead of thinking of winter as the end, I see it now as a time of rest. The snow I once used to dread is now a welcome reprieve if it means life will slow down and leave us with nowhere to go for a while.
{Maine 2010}
I have learned to love this rhythm of the seasons. The leaves fall and we drift into winter. The snow flakes fly and we gather around warm cracking fires. Soon enough winter melts into spring and new life buds and blooms all around us. We soak up the summer sun until the leaves fall again and the world goes to sleep once more. The ebb and flow of the seasons is the quiet beating of the earth’s heart…tick, tock, tick, tock.
{A warm cozy fire to chase away the chill}
Today I sit by the open window with the cool breeze blowing in. I bid farewell to the hot days of summer and embrace the cool days of fall and winter. I reflect on the year gone by and plan for the year to come. I don’t cry over what we lose with the end of a season; I embrace what we gain with the next…with the ebb and flow of life…with the rhythm of the seasons and the tick tock of the earth spinning round and round through the seasons of life.
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace
…
He has made everything beautiful in its time.”
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 & 11
Moments in Time
I spent Labor Day weekend up in Maine with Darren’s family. My brother and sister-in-law, their two little boys, and Darren and I decided to go for a walk through the woods and pastures. The hot sun was showing off its power for the last days of summer but as soon as we ducked into the woods under the canopy of trees, the heat broke and the cool Maine air gave us hope of fall coming soon enough.
I love the woods.
I felt like Lucy stepping through the wardrobe into Narnia—welcomed by a whole world of sights and sounds just beyond us as we live our lives among cities and highways. How can the woods be so quiet even as they bubble over with the sound of bird’s song, crickets, streams, and the rustle of leaves? How can they smell so good? The sod mingles with the moss, wild flowers, and evergreens filling the air with a sweet, earthy aroma. The light filters through the leaves and everything feels soft and hushed, calm and quiet.
It makes me happy :]
We walked the muddy path hopping around to avoid puddles, crossed the broken little bridge over the stream, balanced along a fallen tree, and popped out of the woods into the open pasture drenched in sunshine. I told my sister-in-law that between the shadowy woods and pasture covered in wild flowers, I felt like we were in Twilight together…only we’re not vampires and we’re not in love…because that would be weird.
We all trekked across the pasture together through the knee-high prairie grass and milk weed. The boys took off in search of blueberries. The sun was hot and I didn’t feel like trekking anymore. Maya and I sat in the grass talking.
I sat there thinking that I would probably remember this simple moment forever.
It was just an ordinary day. Just a walk in the woods. But it was all so magical. The blue mountain peaks sticking up behind the trees. The smell of evergreens. The grass up over our heads as we sat talking. The yellow wild flowers drenched in the yellow sunshine as far as we could see.
It was ordinary and extraordinary all at once.
Maya and I noticed we had settled right next to a big fat yellow and black garden spider and we were very pleased with our bravery for sitting there beside him, letting him listen in on our conversation, without panicking or running for our lives…that’s what I usually do around spiders…panic. kill. run for life.
The boys came back without any berries and I was a little sad they didn’t take longer; I was enjoying that moment…sitting in the grass over my head, talking with Maya and taking in the magic of the wild Maine mountain side.
Ralph Waldo Emerson said to “Live in the sunshine, swim in the sea, drink the wild air.” I think he was on to something, that Emerson.
{Darren is always getting into trouble with the littles…I love him for that}
{The End}
Summer Days and Life Lessons
Earlier this week Darren and I went to the beach with our friends, Victor and Olga. V and O are in love with a beach in Rhode Island that Darren and I had never seen. So we all loaded in our cars and took of to see this spot we’ve heard so much about. A few minutes out from the beach we parked and climbed into Victor’s boat for the rest of the trip out to their spot.
I’m so glad they decided to share this place with us because it’s honestly the prettiest beach front I’ve seen in New England. I was completely mesmerized the whole day. As soon as we were on shore, I was busy walking along the water gathering shells and rocks and I even found a crab claw I plan on terrorizing Darren with.
{Such a happy couple}
{Earthy treasures from the sea}
There was bright green sea weed floating around and lots of the rocks had taken on the same lime green color—so of course I filled my pockets with them to haul back home and scatter around my house. Every time we go to the beach I look for little earthy treasures to take home and decorate with. My living room is filled with mason jars full of sand and shells from all over. There’s also a whole birch tree in my living room, because yes, I drag those indoors too :]
{I drug the tree in the house by myself and cut it in half on the kitchen floor with a hack saw…wahaha}
Darren sometimes forbids me from bringing any more nature indoors and I always smile like I’m listening and fill my pockets anyway. I think he doesn’t mind in the end because he’s always showing off our jars of sea treasure when we have company and telling everyone about the adventures that went along with each bit of nature we’ve brought back home.
Once we unloaded all our stuff from the boat and settled in on the beach, the boys decided to take the boat back out on the ocean exploring. Olga and I opted for staying on the beach with the kids and away from the wild ocean waves—we know too well by now how those boys like to drive the boat like it’s a water rocket.
{The boys}
The kids took off for the sand and waves and were quickly busy digging holes and building sand castles by the sea.
{The kids + Victor digging in the sand}
Victor and Olga are Russian. They have three children; the oldest is in school and speaks English perfectly. Their daughter hasn’t started school yet and only speaks Russian. And then there’s the baby who speaks, well, baby. They also have a little boy from the Ukraine staying with them for the summer and he only speaks Ukrainian. So there were three children playing together prattling off in three different languages and yet they understood each other perfectly. Childhood is simply a language all its own.
{All the world is magic when you are five years old}
Olga and I settled into camping chairs in the sand with our legs and arms stretched out hoping for a kiss from the sun.
Just me and Olga.
Olga scares me a little bit because she’s very pretty and put together. She always wears nice clothes and has her hair done. She even smells good…how ridiculous is that? I always walk away from my time with her feeling like a frump and loser who needs to get her life together. It’s not Olga’s fault I feel this way either. She’s very nice and doesn’t do anything to make me feel bad. It’s my own jealousy and insecurity that leaves me feeling this way and not anything she needs to change. I share this because I knew going into our little beach trip that I wouldn’t have any fun if I let my feelings about O intimidate me. I decided this time I wanted things to be different. I wanted to relax and give O a chance instead of putting her in a little box of perfection she may not herself want to be in.
On the boat ride over to the beach I kept glancing over at her. She looked lovely. Her outfit was cute. Her hair wasn’t attacking her in the wind like mine was. I wanted to push her off the boat. No I didn’t…well, I sort of did :] But I decided I was going to do my best to open up and get to know her better that day. Usually I clam up and try to play it cool so she won’t figure out how not together my life is. But I knew I was being fake and frivolous and it was time to get past fear and insecurity. So after the boys left we started chatting…just our usual small talk at first. But then I started asking her questions and she asked me questions too. I thought I would be miserable trying to talk to her and open up but before I knew it the sun was dipping behind the sandy hills and were wrapping up in sweaters to stay warm. Olga told me about her life. She told me about some of the things that are bothering her and things that aren’t going right. She would stop sometimes, struggling to think of a word in English or how to communicate an idea from Russian to English. She told me I’m the only person she ever really speaks to in English and she feels silly when she can’t think of a word. I couldn’t believe Olga ever felt silly in front of me. I told her I forget words in English too and it’s the only language I speak :]
{Beautiful Olga}
I learned a lot about O that day and I learned a lot about myself too. I learned that as perfect as Olga looks and seems, she is a girl just like me. A girl with a heart that can be broken, feelings that get hurt, and fears that follow her just like me. I learned that I don’t need to try to be like Olga to have my life put together. I just need to be who I am, as imperfect as that may be. If I wear things because Olga wears them or say things because Olga says them, I’m not more like her, I’m just less like me. I cheat myself by thinking imitation will bring me any closer to who I should be. The truth is, Olga and I are very different people. We grew up in different countries and even in America, take part in very different cultures. She is six years older than me and the mother of three children. We are in very different places in life. How can I expect to know and be all that she is when we are so different in the very fibers that make us who we are? I realized that day, as we snacked on fresh fruit and treats from the Russian grocer, that my fears and insecurities are just that—fear and insecurity. There is nothing wrong with me and there is nothing unattainable about Olga; we are just different people. I’m glad I gave O a chance because I left the beach that day with a great sense of peace and confidence. Instead of feeling unattractive and inadequate, I left feeling inspired. Inspired to be the person I’m meant to be. Inspired to learn from the things I admire in Olga, not to merely mimic them. Inspired to grow and change…into myself, not into someone else.
{This is who I am, no one else}
The boys came back with the last rays of light and soon we were all marching off to get ice cream together. We sat on a wall with our ice cream watching the boats bobble on the water. There was a cannon like BOOM and people screamed; I laughed. Laughter is a nervous reaction for me. I have a feeling when the ol’ apocalypse gets here I’ll be laying on the ground giggling while everyone else runs for their lives. Maybe it’s a coping mechanism :] Victor said they do that BOOM to let everyone know it’s sunset. Olga joked about how we should probably know it’s sunset without a cannon going off and we all laughed. Of course she’s funny too…maybe I’ll push her off the boat on the way back home :]
It was a lovely day of sand and sunshine…and a life lesson or two as well. I’m thankful.
We left after dark. The black water looked like pools of ink as we glided over it. I wanted to dip my quill in it and write you a story, this story.
Nature and Emotion
I didn’t realize until recently how deeply nature impacts my mood and emotions. I had gone for a walk in the woods and was taking everything in around me—the smell of pine, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the crunch of the leaves beneath my feet. I felt so alert and peaceful, so relaxed.
That’s when it occurred to me that the times I’m away from nature, cooped up in an office or at home, those are the times when I start getting stressed out and frustrated about every little thing. When I’m inside all the time, that’s when I start feeling down and start wondering if and when things are going to get better instead of seeing the beauty all around me.
When I’m outside, moving and enjoying the world around me, that’s when I see my life with a sense of hope and purpose.
During that walk in the woods, Darren and I decided to wade in the stream. We took of our sandals and walked in the ice cold water looking for wishing stones and marveling at the teeny, tiny fish. We climbed across the branches of a tree fallen across the water and planned out camping trips and days at the ocean. We dreamt up a house in the woods with a big yard and lots of room to move and breathe. Everything we talked about, everything we dreamt of had to do with nature and being outside moving.
I told Darren what I had realized during our day in the woods. I told him I thought being outside enjoying nature and being physically active had a huge impact on my mood and emotions. He said he thought the same was true for him too. The more time he spends inside sitting still, the worse he feels. The more we get outside, the better we feel about life and ourselves.
There is something so artificial about the way we live indoors. The way the fake air feels when its air conditioned or heated is nothing like the warmth of sunlight or the crispness of a cool breeze. The television and music we saturate ourselves with is cheap entertainment compared to the sound of leaves rustling, streams bubbling, and birds chirping.
We went camping a couple weeks ago in Vermont. At night we sat around a campfire roasting marshmallows and laughing with friends. I sat there by the cozy flames looking up and marveling at the night sky—a black canvas poked through with light from other worlds. The smell of the smoke, the sound of laughter echoing off the green mountains—mmmm, there is nothing like it. There is nowhere else I would rather be.
So the next time I get restless or feel down, I’m taking off to the woods. This won’t always solve the problem, of course. Moods and emotions are deeper and more complicated than a birds song can sometimes solve. But maybe stretching my legs and breathing fresh air will solve the problem without anything else needing to be done. And even if it doesn’t, I think I’m more likely to figure out what does need to be done when I’m outside moving and enjoying nature than I ever will cooped up inside breathing the fake air.
And Now I Can Fulfill My Destiny
I love being outside. I think perhaps I should have been a vagabond instead of a normal person. Oh well. I decided to make up an excuse for going outside and bought the cutest vintage bike you’ve ever seen. No really, EVER. Here she is:
She came in the mail this morning and I haven’t regained my senses yet. Here’s the husband putting her together in the kitchen. Nothing like having an aerospace Quality Manager put things together for you–if the helicopters fly then the bike should ride (we hope).
I decided to take her out for her maiden voyage, all along telling Husband what an avid bike rider I was all through my youth and pretty much laid it out that I was pro. Probably shouldn’t have done that. I almost died. I went like a 1/4 of a mile and my knee was aching and I was panting for air. Sooo, I guess I’m a little out of shape–fail.
Here she is in her new home–our living room. She can’t live outside because I’m fairly certain one of my various pot-infused neighbors will take her for a spin and then I would have to chase them down and we would fight to the death–not ideal if you ask me. So, I vote she lives in the living room. Husband says she has to live in the basement. Silly Husband. Does he really think I’m going to let him put my sweet little bike in that dark abyss? No, I win; she lives in the living room.
I have lots of plans for my little bike–camping trips, racing the nephews, national parks, days at the beach…just as soon as I get my 26 year old knee and lungs whipped back into shape–who knew I would get so old so young? That’s what living in the city does to you, I say. Get me outside!
I bought the basket separately from Peterboro Basket Company located in Peterborough, New Hampshire. They hand-make their baskets right here in the USA using all American products…love that, love supporting local business when I can.
So, what are your plans for the warm weather days?
Missouri’s Quiet Lure
People here in New England often ask me why anyone would live in Missouri; that always makes me smile. They also ask me where Missouri is as they stare blankly trying to picture the United States map and the location of the (rather large, right in the dead center) state…somewhere…but where? Not that New Englanders aren’t smart enough to actually locate Missouri…it just escapes them due to its total lack of interest. The descriptions of Missouri that I have so far received from people who have never been there are as follows:
Flat, windy, tornado-ridden waste land that is hot and dry. Often mistaken with Kansas as if they are one entity. A place with no trees, water, or hills primarily housing cows and corn fields.
With this hellish vision in mind, can you blame them for blocking it out of their memory of the US map?
Like New England is stereotyped for its winters, Missouri is stereotyped for its nothingness. And like most stereotypes, it is wrong.
I suppose much of what is listed in that rather bleak description of Missouri is factually correct—it is flat, windy, and tornado ridden—but that’s not all. It also embodies the Ozarks which are studded with mountains, rivers, and caves—not at all flat or dry. And some of the things people make sound so awful are my most loved memories.
I grew up on a 24 acre farm in what we like to call the middle of nowhere. Our driveway was a quarter of a mile long and winding from our yellow farmhouse set in the middle of the fields to a gravel road leading to Higginsville and Lexington. Being situated between a gravel road and farm land provided a lot of dust. Dust. Dry feathery dirt. But without dust, there is no sunset, not one to revel in at least. I remember the sunsets in Missouri being nothing but epic. When you combine all that dust with heavy storm clouds, you get the brightest shades of pink and orange and the darkest violets and navies all mingling together with the fleeting sun in one last hurrah each night.
Like the dust, the endless corn fields too held a little bit of magic. The places where the tractor turned while seeding left perfect bare circles in the middle of all that tall corn. I would go out to the fields at night and lay on the dirt in one of those circles gazing up at the night sky so clear and bright you could pick out the star formations. I was lost in an ocean of corn and that little bare circle was my secret castle among the endless rolling Plains.
Next to our house was a field no one farmed that grew tall with prairie grass. I remember lying in that grass, watching it rock like the ocean’s waves all around me. It didn’t feel empty or desolate, just quiet and vast. William Cullen Bryant captures my thoughts in his own writings about the Midwest:
The Prairies
“These are the gardens of the Desert, these
The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful,
For which the speech of England has no name—
The Prairies. I behold them for the first,
And my heart swells, while the dilated sight
Takes in the encircling vastness. Lo! They stretch
In airy undulations, far away,
As if the Ocean, in his gentlest swell,
Stood still, with all his rounded billows fixed,
And motionless forever. Motionless?—
No—they are all unchanged again. The clouds
Sweep over with their shadows, and, beneath,
The surface rolls and fluctuates to the eye;
Dark hollows seem to glide along and chase
The sunny ridges. Breezes of the South!…”
I keep this poem on the bookshelf in my living room because it calls my heart back home and reminds me of those quiet days when I all I had to do was lay in the grassy field and watch the clouds go by.
All these thoughts about Missouri were stirred up when I saw a picture my mom posted on Facebook of the Katy Trail in Rocheport, Missouri. How many miles have I walked and ridden on this trail! The Katy Trail is a 237 mile railroad track that was covered over with crushed limestone and converted into a walking/biking trail. I had all but forgotten about this trail until I saw my mom’s picture of that familiar tunnel. Now my legs are aching for a long jog down this forgotten path.
Every place has its lure; you just have to go there and find it. Check out the link below for more information on the Katy Trail:
Outside Air 