Walking without lead in my pockets

It is windy today.  We are expecting another large rain/wind storm on this Monday.  After the man headed for work, I bundled up and headed for a walk trying to gain some steps for the day. I walked here. I walked there.  Always staying at least 2 blocks from home, opting out of walking nearer the forest and the tall trees which were bending now and then in the wind.  I contemplated the ease of walking up one street thinking not bad, not much wind, I might be able to go further as the sky did not look like it was ready to dump buckets of water on me.  Until I turned a corner.  I stood still. Trying to hold my ground. As the wind gust eased up, I stepped forward determined to make it a few blocks more.  I ended up stopping, holding my place, my back to the wind as I was pelted with small debris. Needles from the pines, leaves of gold and red from maples, twigs broken and now heading for parts unknown.  I changed my mind, though my heart was in it, for the walking but common sense against having bits and pieces blown into my face, my glasses, and my eyes made me turn around and head for home. 

I like being home on a blustery, rainy day. I spend part of it turning on lamps as the house darkens with the presence of heavy skies. I have wandered about the house now, turning on the lamps which add a false warmth to the rooms.  Outside, the storm has arrived.  It is time for a cup of tea, a moment of sitting in a comfortable chair, with a warm cover on my legs.  It is times like this, I don’t read, I don’t watch a video or tv.  I like to just sit with the tea, hearing the rushing of the wind, the pounding of rain on the roof and windows.  

I used to love the sound of wind and rain but now I find an occasional note of discord vibrating through me.  The world has changed or maybe it is just me with a different awareness.  Whenever I feel it, the note swimming around, I let it hover, I let it dive and I breathe. 

Today, I turned off all of the lights, sat in my chair with my hands and fingers wrapped around the cup. Hot, close to burning but warming my hands as I drank the tea. A bit of cold metal brushed my cheek. The long sterling silver teaspoon nestled in the cup.  I use it to stir my matcha tea as it settles.  I enjoyed the near burning sensation of heat on my fingers, on the palm of my hand.  How often, I just do things without paying attention to what is really going on.  Today, I was present. When my tea was gone. I rested in silence, filled myself with gratitude.

It is always gratifying when you step into a different awareness no matter how brief.  In a wind storm walking without lead in my pockets makes me aware of how light I am, how small in a great big universe.  I like it.

 

 

 

Talking over the Fence 

 

I sometimes think about going to visit friends I haven’t seen for a long time but I stop.  The thought they are probably busy with other friends and family keeps me from calling.  I don’t want to take up their time.  I was wrong.

After connecting with friends, we had a date.  A lovely drive on a Sunday morning to reach their home in the county.  We were greeted by them and two dogs. We strolled in the yard where the summer splendor had been spent leaving a few buds and blooms about. It was a lovely fall day. We talked and stood enjoying the sun on our backs.  There was no reason to do more.

We had been told to bring our coffee cups for coffee. One of our friends said he thought we would be bringing larger mugs.  We had bought small cups.  No matter, he said and off he went with cups in hand to make lattes. When he returned, we sat beneath a large umbrella to keep what morning sun there was from our eyes so we could gaze at the faces of friends not seen since the beginning of shut down from the virus.  As I told them how much the visit meant to me, tears formed in my eyes.  I was surprised to the depth of my emotions.  I thought I had been handling the isolation quite well but then I had been working locked in an office occasionally seeing co-workers masked while passing in the hallways.  I had only been partially secluded.

I missed seeing, touching, and listening to others.  I am fortunate. I have the man, my husband to keep me company.  He is a wonderful companion and friend but I realized the glory of other bare faces looking at me, and different voices in the air on this Sunday morning. It was as if discovering the beauty of dew or rain drops upon the upturned heads of flowers.  Beautiful, sacred, and a miracle.  It was no wonder there were tears of emotions gathering in my eyes.  Contentment filled me.

As our conversations grew with the help of lattes and then the introduction of a lavender sponge cake, it occurred to me.  This type of moment needed no encouragement, no planning.  I hung on every word, every gesture, and the very whisper of a breeze. I was present.

We were treated to a lunch outside in the air.  It was delicious.  I licked my fingers clean.  As I look back on the day in the country, I have hopes for another such day.  It will happen but the apples on the trees will be gone.  Made into pies, applesauce.  I am still enjoying mine picked on a sunny Sunday day with friends who I hope are not waiting for my call. I will no longer think I am intruding on their peace, time with other friends and family.  They have all the time in the world and part of it is for me.

 

When is enough, enough?

 

I drive myself sometimes with the most trivial things.  I go for months with doing a new ritual of drinking a tonic of lemon in hot water with turmeric, ginger and cayenne pepper, sometimes with a bit of local honey.  It is a way of taking care of myself.  I make a practice of walking throughout the day until it is a habit. I stretch and touch my toes as a balancing act.  I admit somedays, I am wobbly. It is because I get distracted. My mind wanders into what I imagine I want to do for the day.  Being retired is hard.  Planning nap time, tea time, reading time and writing time.  I have been falling down on the writing time.  Distractions.

I will be at my computer working on a story when I become aware of my breathing.  I stop.  Typing is at halt. I pray. I breathe.  I envision.  It is a moment of peace.  Distraction? No, an awareness for me.  I am in the moment.

You know I start out this piece with an idea of a different sort.  I have mentioned my hauling out bathwater to our parched little tree who is now in the process of changing colors.  She will be magnificent. I am glad she is doing it.  Our son and his wife just flew out for a visit.  Little tree will do us proud.  He has never seen her in all of her glory. But I am rambling.

Saturday was a day of doing things.  We needed to go to the airport in the evening to pick up the kids.  I was on a mission and the man my husband was being steered right and left with things to be done. First, he needed to walk the wife. He ran the same route after safely delivering me home.  I mentioned to him to take his bath early as I needed him to come to the farmer’s market to carry the bounty to the car.  He asked me if I want the bath for myself after he was done.  Yes, we share the bathwater.  Get over it.  We have been sharing for over forty years. 

Tine got away from me with making a cup of matcha green tea with the powder, the time devoted to get the water temperature just right, whisking with my bamboo whisk, the pouring of additional water.  I needed to make breakfast, toast with avocado and tomatoes.  Busy, busy, busy. So, the bathwater was left unattended as we drove to the local farmer’s market.

We were successful with a bounty of lovely fruits, vegetables and some fresh mushrooms and our standard cup of Saturday coffee.  We figured the coffee would be greatly needed for our late trip to the airport.  After the fun and success at market we headed home.  Places in the garage, the fridge and the kitchen were found for nearly everything and I headed to my bath, dreaming of settling into its comfort and warm.

Did I mention we were gone for hours? I shrieked, memories of dunks into mountain ponds, creeks and rivers of my childhood returned.  I yelled to my husband. “Its cold.”

“Well, yeah.” He replied. 

I was quick.  I submersed myself, soaped quickly, rinsed even faster and was out in a flash.  Well, as rapid as a sixty-seven-year, old woman could be.

I thought to myself when is enough, enough.  I was conserving water. I was helping in some small way the planet.  But damn, the water was cold.

 

Retiring in tomorrow

 

This is week two of my retirement.  So far, I think I am on track to enjoy myself.  I have a daily nap if I feel like it otherwise I just rest, meditate, pray and compose idle things in my mind.   Today, I am hauling out water from the bathtub.  My man and I shared the water.  I love taking his tub as he is far more generous in the depth of his tub.  I take a teacup bath whereas his tub covers my shoulders when I am sprawled out on my back.  It is hotter than what I have because what use is a hot bath in an inch or two of water. 

Back to the hauling of the water.  We are in a drought like the rest of the western part of the country.  With the luxury of what few baths we allow ourselves, it hurts me to watch the water drain down the pipes before heading to the ocean.  Now I am home, I can haul the water out in the morning in an old mouthwash bottle.  It holds 5 cups of water.  I know it is a small amount but I don’t want to hurt myself.  The real reason is increasing my daily steps.  Just taking out the water in small amounts really keeps me moving.  I had indulged myself in a mocha and berry muffin this morning as my husband forgot his wallet and I had to run it to his office.  I have tossed half of the muffin into the compost (my apologies to the baker, it is delicious but the calories, honey, it is all about the calories).  I kept what I am eating in the kitchen and get up now and then to grab a bit.  Remember, I am trying to increase my steps in walking.  Currently, I am at over eighty-eight hundred steps.  I did tell my doctor yesterday I was working on losing weight. Probably didn’t need the mocha this morning or the muffin but I did do a delivery to the man so he could have his wallet.  Sacrifices.

It is busy in the neighborhood.  Across the street, a local landscaping company is mowing, trimming and what not.  I gave up hauling my bottle of water to Little Tree because of the noise.  Yes, we named a tree in the yard.  She is over fifteen feet high, gorgeous and in the fall, the tree is a cacophony of color with the sweet odor of spun sugar throughout the year.  She suffered as everything did in September of 2020 when our state was experiencing fires on the coast, the valleys and the mountains.  We are still having fires. But that year, little tree dropped her leaves early as she was hit with extreme hot winds, unbreathable air leaving her and other plants, shrubs, and trees suffocating. Nearly overnight, her leaves dropped until her branches were barren.  We can hope for a better fall this year and the wind not changing.

I find myself stopping whatever I may be doing, reading a book, walking across the room, or folding my clothes.  I get caught up in the moment.  I find myself only in the now.  I like it. The holding of my cup filled with hot tea.  I feel the warmth, I savor the flavor, and my palate is in a state of bliss.  Simply walking across the room, I can stop mid-step without pressure to hurry to end a task as time is stretched and I can hover in the spaces. 

I have been asked what I planned on doing now I am retired.  What trips or vacations I am going on?  I am.  I am present. It is the only trip I need.