A day with the tulips

Lily and me amongst the tulips

 Every year for the last decade or so, I've made an April pilgrimage to see the Skagit Valley tulips, many of which have been spent with my friend Lily. It was sunny and warm on Friday, but not yesterday. There were clouds that came in and then a cold wind, so we were bundled up to stay warm. Lily wasn't thrilled with this picture, but I like it myself. 

The tulips were, as usual, gorgeous

Isn't this a beautiful color?

We stayed a little more than an hour, before we drove to Mt. Vernon to have a snack at the Skagit Valley Food Co-op. In previous years, we've gone to La Conner for lunch, but since we were too early for that, we headed instead to the nearby town of Mt. Vernon to enjoy the incredible ambiance of their co-op. We have a pretty good one here in Bellingham, but it doesn't hold a candle to the one in Mt. Vernon. Not only does it serve great food in its deli, but it also has lots of shopping for unusual items, for cooking and more, I love it there.

Never ending tulips

Not only is it a great place, it is also much cheaper to eat there than at any of the restaurants we have previously visited in La Conner. Although we didn't eat much, we spent a good amount of time browsing through the items for sale, some of which I have never seen before (along with socks and costume jewelry). Although I didn't buy anything, I sure had a lot of fun watching a professional shopper (that would be Lily). 

We took the long way back to Bellingham; instead of hopping on the interstate, we meandered back on the Chuckanut Highway #11, and enjoyed looking at the bay and all the people out and about. By this time the clouds had cleared away, and it had gotten much warmer.

We started back to Bellingham around noon and decided to have a real lunch in Fairhaven. On the way we spent many delightful moments talking about our long friendship and discussing where to eat. At first we considered a brewery in order to have a beer with lunch, but we ended up going to a local restaurant we both know well. And I enjoyed a draft IPA from a local brewery anyway. 

It was a fun day

I didn't take nearly as many pictures as I used to, but part of that is because of my failing eyesight. It was also because there are only so many different times you can look at the beautiful tulips and be transported, as I was in times past. There were also so many people at the garden that it was difficult to take pictures that didn't have other people in them. I realized how much my vision has deteriorated since last year, and I am not at all sure that by this time next year, I will even want to visit the display. It's sad but a fact of life I cannot deny. There are plenty of things that deteriorate as we age, but macular degeneration of one's sight is probably one of the hardest to accept. For me, anyway.

It's Easter Sunday. I am reminded of the many Easters I have enjoyed in my long life, and remember fondly the times I would spend Holy Week at the Convent of St. Walburga in Boulder. I wrote about the convent and its nuns in an earlier post (from 2011). I didn't know when I wrote that post whether I would still be here, celebrating Easter in a much different way. But still, decades later, I am happy to be able to look back at earlier Easters and be grateful for all that I have been able to experience over the years. 

And I am also grateful for the friends I have met, here in the blogosphere, and to reflect on all that is good and peaceful in the world today. There is plenty of uncertainty and upset, but beyond all that, there is a sense that the season of spring and new beginnings heralds a possible moment of change in the world. And I so much benefit from visiting the websites of friends that I have known now for decades. Everyone is living their lives and making their own futures as positive as they can. Some are finding new avenues and learning new skills; some are continuing to hone their old habits as they age and must slow down. I'm one of them, but I am still incredibly grateful for the life I have been given and what I can still accomplish. Precious life. Mary Oliver said it perfectly when she asked, "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" She certainly lived a wonderful life of her own, and died just a few years ago. You can read about her amazing life here.

And now I am beginning to think of how I will spend this hallowed day. First, after getting up and doing my exercises and a short meditation, I look forward to John arriving in his truck to transport me to Fairhaven for an Easter breakfast. When I return home, I will spend some time with my wonderful and dear partner, and we'll talk about our possible "wild and precious" ways to mark the day, with sunshine and birdsong and good food. And each other. I wish a wonderful day and week ahead of you, my dear friends, and I'll visit your blogs to find out how you are (or are not) celebrating the holiday. Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things.

Unplanned hospital visit

A favorite tree coming to life

On my usual walk home through Cornwall Park, I often stop to admire this maple tree that is beginning to come to life this spring. Tiny feathery little leaves are visible today, and in a few more days or weeks, there will be actual leaves to fill in the branches and make this tree appear even more beautiful.

It's been an interesting week. I was happy to show up on Thursday for my usual volunteer work in the Senior Center lunchroom, and I worked diligently for a few hours, before I began to feel a little weak and shaky (probably from not having eaten my usual breakfast) and sat down to catch my breath and feel a little bit more energetic.  As I sat down and drank a little orange juice, I began to feel somewhat better. One of the organizers suggested that I get my "vitals checked" and I agreed that seemed to be a good idea. But before I could say anything more, an entire squad of black-clad emergency management guys showed up. Someone had called for an ambulance and people with a gurney who were not being willing to take no for an answer had already strapped me in and were taking me out the front door to the ambulance! No vitals had been checked, but there I was, not feeling great but never having been hauled out like that, I didn't object because, well, I didn't know quite how to stop the procedure.

While I was being whisked away in the ambulance (while of course they took my vitals), I signed some consent forms and ended up being driven to the emergency intake window at the local hospital, assigned a bed, and taken on the gurney into a room. From there I was given a nurse who asked me a ton of questions and gave me even more consent forms to sign (oh, I know this is going to be expensive), but I didn't seem to have a whole lot of options, so I decided that, well, I would find out if there is anything wrong with me that they might discover. I was feeling quite weak and shaky beforehand, which isn't a usual condition for me. Why not see this as a couple of good omens, like finding out whether or not I have anything in my bloodwork (minus a few bucks)?

My blood was drawn, and I was given a saline solution to make sure I wasn't suffering from dehydration. Well, that caused me to immediately need to use the bathroom, but I was strapped in and unable to get to the bathroom. Somehow I managed to be extricated from all the paraphernalia long enough to pee, and then immediately hooked back up to the machines. Once that was taken care enough, I called SG to let him know what was going on.

There was plenty of drama going on in the rooms next to mine, so I decided to simply relax and let myself being carried along on the way to recovery and/or redemption. The doctor came in, a nice lady, and she ordered a bunch of tests for me, including an EKG, so there I was, still immobilized and trapped. SG showed up for awhile and helped to keep the staff apprised of my need to once again use the bathroom (as they continued to hydrate me). Finally, after what seemed to be endless, I was given a clean bill of health, nothing showed up as being concerning, and I was released.

Once I got home and checked my laptop, I saw that there were the results of all the tests sent to my primary care doctor, and there was really nothing to be alarmed about, only one number was slightly elevated, and my blood pressure is still a little higher than normal, but that was it.

Although I am learning how important it is to be vigilant about not letting myself be railroaded into something I knew I didn't need, I was actually quite happy to learn how much health care is available to me if, for example, I did experience a stroke or heart attack. Which, thankfully, I didn't have. I don't know what caused my dizzy/fainting spell,  but it was transient.

I have a blood pressure monitor here at home, and I just got out of bed and went into the living room to check my numbers. They are fine, 125/85, even if the lower number is a little high, I am not in any danger at the moment. I suppose everyone at the Senior Center will be expecting me to report my experience to them. It was instructive, and I will certainly be cautious if anyone asks me if they want to "check my vitals" any time soon.

My "ride" looked similar to this one

And now here I am, sitting in the dark with my dear sweet partner sleeping next to me, as I contemplate the day ahead. The weather looks great, so I hope I can get a good walk in this afternoon. John will be coming to transport me to Fairhaven for our usual Sunday morning breakfast. I am thinking I need to get back to daily walks, which have been curtailed lately because of my continuing hip/leg discomfort. I realize that, at my age, I must continue to get good exercise or it will be even harder to get back to normal. And what is "normal" for an 82-year-old? I am constantly being reminded that I am no spring chicken any more. But this old bird is still kicking!

April flowers and showers

Cherry blossoms are amazing

On my walk home through Cornwall Park on Wednesday, I saw that the cherry blossoms are now at their peak. Such a breathtaking sight, it caught my eye and I ended up taking quite a few pictures. I think this is the best one.

We have had so many days in a row of sunshine, plenty of it, that I can no longer pretend that we are not moving into a wonderful period of the year: my favorite part of springtime. The birds are all singing, feeling the fragrant and abundant time of the year, when nests are created (or returned to) in order to attract their species to procreate. A week ago I wondered where the song sparrows had decided to nest, since I hadn't heard their birdsong. And that all changed this week; they are everywhere and loudly singing in the trees around here. They join the chickadees, robins, bluejays, and yesterday morning I heard barred owls calling! It's a plethora of feathered friends, and they lifted my spirits as I listened to them as I walked.

Today, I think I'd like to contemplate all that is going on in the world, and see where, if anywhere, I might be able to make a positive difference. All over the globe yesterday, April 5th, people gathered to protest what is happening not only in our country, but all over the world. Not just the awful tariffs that Trump has imposed, but the number of important offices that have protected us in many ways. I am mostly worried about the destruction of the Social Security Administration, which has never missed a payment in ninety years, and now is on the chopping block to be destroyed, because it is seen by some as a giveaway. But the truth is that we have all paid into the system during our working lives, and now they think they can take away our benefits by calling it a "Ponzi Scheme."

There are many other programs that have been eliminated or are being destroyed, just because they can. Although I cannot fathom where this will end, I know that we will all be impacted, and not in a good way. What I have trouble understanding is WHY? I am pretty sure that the current administration will eventually pay the price at the ballot box, unless they suspend elections. That is not just hyperbole, I have read that they are considering it. Hopefully somehow we will return to a semblance of normal, eventually, but I am not holding my breath. 

At the same time that our country is falling apart, it seems that my body is joining in the cacophony. Ever since I had that fall in February, I keep getting messages from my right leg and hip that long walks may be behind me forever. We'll see, because yesterday I was able to walk five miles but not without pain. I did complete my volunteer work on Thursday, even though I was slow and not feeling my best. It was nice to be back with my friends, though, working together as a team to get the place set up and then put back together at the end. I have to admit that I kept watching the clock and hoping I would be able to make it before my need to sit down and rest gained traction. I did make it, and once I got home and settled into my comfy recliner, I felt quite happy to know I am better. 

This Tuesday is the dreaded every-other-month eye jab. My eyes continue to deteriorate, but I can still see well enough to write on my laptop and pray that will continue for awhile yet. I have magnifying glasses and other aids to help me see better. I have purchased another headlamp to help me see things that I cannot see without a bright light. It sure does help, as I sort my vitamins or fix myself something to eat. Or sit down to read a novel on my Kindle, set at the low vision option. I'm reading a new Liz Moore novel, The God of the Woods, which is really a fascinating thriller. Once I am unable to read on the Kindle, I'll start listening to audio books so I can continue to "read." And since I've just discovered the wonders of Liz Moore's writing, I've got lots to catch up on. 

There is so much to continue to be grateful for, and I realize that all of us are in the same boat: feeling unsettled about what is happening in our country, and not knowing what to do other than to join a protest march. I am so glad I live here in Whatcom County, in the upper left quadrant of the State of Washington, which is also in the upper corner of the entire country, just a few miles from the Canadian border. And as I started this post with, the days are growing longer, the skies are filled with blue and fluffy white clouds. We are at the beginning of a really wonderful time of the year, and I am hoping against hope that the political situation will mellow along with the weather. I can hope so, anyway, and why not?

Well, it's time for me to get out of bed and get ready for my trip to Fairhaven with John for our usual Sunday morning breakfast. I hope you will find some happy moments in the week ahead, and that you will surround yourself with lots of love and positivity. Why not? That's what I am going to do. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

The other Dorothy

Blossoms burgeoning

¥ou might not see able to see those blossoms on your first look, but they are coming out all over my neighborhood, now that we are at the end of March and beginning to see them coming out to celebrate the first signs of spring. Yesterday, on my short walk around town with my friend Steve, I saw these with the backdrop of partly cloudy skies. In another week, these will be in full bloom. 

Today, I think I'll reminisce a little about my father's mother, who has been gone for a long time, but is still quite present in my memories. Here's some background information:

Dorothy Billings

Very little is known about the early years of my paternal grandparents' life together. This is an old photograph of my grandmother, Dorothy Billings, obviously taken in a studio when she was young. There are no pictures of my grandfather, Robert Stewart. My father told me once of watching his father walk out the door and knowing he would never return. Daddy was 12, and it was at the beginning of the Great Depression, in 1929.  Before that, however, they had had four children: Marlow, my dad's older brother, then Daddy (Norman), Edith, and the baby, Jack. I never knew my aunt Edith, but I remember Marlow and Jack very well.

Marlow, Mommy, Norman, Jack

Although you can't actually tell in that picture, Dorothy was quite tall. We, her grandchildren, were not allowed to call her Grandma, but instead all of us were told to call her "Mommy," as her own children did. In this picture you can see that Marlow was the tallest, and Daddy, next to Mommy, is almost six feet, and then Jack is over there on the right. That look on Mommy's face is what I remember most about her. I don't think I saw her smile very often, but I saw that stern expression regularly. By the time this picture was taken, Mommy had disowned her only daughter. If asked about Edith, she replied, "I have no daughter."

One thing I know for sure: every one of the siblings was above average in intelligence. And they were all alcoholics. I don't know how old Marlow was when he died, but he took an overdose of Seconal along with his usual evening three liters of wine. Nobody knew if it was intentional or not. But I think 50 Seconal along with all that wine was at least suspicious. I was too young to know, but I remember overhearing conversations between my parents about it: Mama thought he did it, and Daddy thought it was an accident.

Who was my paternal grandmother? Well, my first name is Dorothy, after her, except it wasn't my mother's idea. Mama had decided, because I was the first granddaughter and my name had become an issue, to simply name me "Jan Stewart" with no middle name. I can imagine the arguments that must have taken place.

In those days a mother was kept for ten days in the hospital after giving birth, even with no complications. Somehow or other, Mommy was able to get into the hospital records and got her name on my birth certificate (really!). You can see that it's written in at an angle as if it was an afterthought. My mother was furious, of course, and she refused to acknowledge my first name at all. Being called by your middle name tends to be problematic, especially when you move from school to school on a regular basis.

Mommy never talked about her husband Robert or her daughter Edith. She lived in Burbank while I was growing up, in the same house as Marlow and his wife Mary Kay.  When we lived in California, we visited them occasionally, and I remember their backyard because, small as it was, it had a lemon tree, which seemed amazing to me. Once I remember cutting a lemon in half and writing my name on the cement wall of the garage, and Daddy punishing me for incriminating myself by writing "Jan" all over the wall!

Mommy would also visit us, and I remember that she took care of Norma Jean and me when my mother was not around for whatever reason. She was with us when my sister P.J. was born: I was seven and remember that time vividly, since my father came home from the hospital devastated because he had another daughter instead of the son he craved. Mommy, Norma Jean and I tried to comfort him for his "loss."

Once, long ago when my dad was "in his cups," he told me about my grandfather, and that is when I learned that he and Uncle Jack went into the California mountains to find their father. Robert lived as a hermit in a small cabin, and he came into the nearest town once a week for groceries and to frequent the local bar. That is where they met him and the three of them got drunk together. I don't know how they had found him. I also learned that some years later he had died of exposure, when he was out hiking and had broken a leg, unable to get back, or to get help.

Mommy was unforgiving of human frailties, and when I think of her, I remember that stern look and her no-nonsense ways. In her later years, she had a stroke and came to live with us for a short while. She sat around in her housecoat (similar to the one in the picture) and shuffled around in her slippers. I also remember whispered conversations between my parents, with us children unclear about what was going on. Mommy left after a short while and I suspect she went into a nursing home, but I really don't know. When I was told by my parents that she had died, Norma Jean and I were old enough to see the distress my parents were experiencing, but I never felt like I knew her well enough to grieve for her loss.

She couldn't have been really old when she died, but I have no way of knowing how old she was. Nobody knew her age, including my father. Now that I have written this all down, I wonder how much of her tendency towards a lack of empathy lives on in me. Perhaps it's the cause of me wanting to think of myself as being "generous to a fault." I have given away possessions and refused to care about acquiring things, and now I wonder if this might be an unconscious backlash against being accused of having a "hard heart" like Mommy.

All those early turbulent years of striving for happiness are behind me now. I have found it. As I spend my days blogging, working out, hopefully continuing to hike in the beautiful Pacific Northwest, conversing enthusiastically with SG about our respective interests, I realize that I have found something I was looking for during all my past years: equanimity.

What lies ahead seems, like it must for most retirees, predictable. But as we all know, everything can change in the blink of an eye: an illness, a car accident, even external economic upheavals. So I am consciously saying to myself, and to you, dear reader, I am, at this moment, feeling pretty darn lucky. Yes, I have lost more than most people must endure, especially to the parents among you, but I am left wondering if I did indeed work through all that grief. I don't remember Stephen very well, but I sure do remember my son Chris, and I still miss him, but when he visits me in my dreams, he is happy.

Until we meet again next week, I will count my blessings and be grateful. And I wish you, my dear virtual family, all good things. Be well.

Finding meaning in life

Time to plant flowers

Yes, even though it seems early for these flowers to appear at the grocery store, it's not at all early: we have already passed the first day of spring here in the Northern Hemisphere, and the first day of autumn in the South. Yes, the seasons keep on coming, never stopping here on Planet Earth as we move from the cold and rainy winter to a hopefully bright and sunny summer. 

Lately, I've been working to keep my spirits up, since it's becoming clear to me that the hard fall I experienced back in February has meant that I can no longer hike long distances, as I work towards being able to walk just a few miles to some longer and more challenging hikes. It will be awhile, if at all. The good part is that I am definitely learning to be patient with myself and taking each day as it comes.

With all of the bad things that are happening in the world right now, I think we need a message of togetherness and true unity. I believe that starts with personal reflection and then we can find kindness toward each other. —Marielle Heller

When I first sat down with my laptop to think about today's post, it was actually yesterday, and I began to ponder what's on my mind. I looked at my favorite websites first, one of which is The Guardian, a really thoughtful UK website that has articles that always expand my horizons. There is an article about What is the Meaning of Life, with excerpts from 15 different people and what they think it is. I find it fascinating, since it's something that speaks to my own desire to find what I think it is. After having lived a fairly long life already, being well into my eighties, it seems that what excites me the most these days is communicating with my peers and finding out how they are coping with all the really awful things happening globally. It's sometimes hard for me to keep my optimistic worldview, but I find it imperative that I at least try to stay positive.

Yesterday, I asked Steve to walk with me to the Fairhaven green, something I haven't been able to do quite yet after the fall. I did make it a bit further along I have managed so far, but I still didn't make it there before I began to feel my lower back and right leg develop some stiffness and a little bit of pain. So we turned around just before the Turner Dock uphill, and went back to our usual town environs. It was a little bit more than two weeks ago, but I am not able to make it all the way to Fairhaven yet. I could have pushed it, but fortunately I have my dear friend Steve to make me feel fine about turning around. We stopped at the Farmers' Market, which was having a non-produce display of vendors selling jewelry, CBD items, and various different items for sale. We bought three delicious homemade cookies and enjoyed them as we walked back to our cars. It was mostly sunny and got quite warm as we walked on the crowded streets. It seemed like everybody was out and about.

I was pretty happy with my progress, and once I got home and settled into my favorite chair, I worked the NYT puzzles that have become a daily tradition for me. I went to bed early, as usual, and woke up feeling almost like my old self. It's raining hard outside, and John mentioned yesterday that he might not want to go to breakfast this morning and just skip it for a change. So I don't know whether we will go or not; he said he would call me. Since it's 5:30am already, I will hear from him in the next hour or so if he decides to keep our regular schedule.

SG had some good news last week, when he got his monthly blood draw and saw his oncologist. He's been on this chemo treatment for over a month now, and the doctor was very pleased with how well he's tolerating the drug, and said his numbers had improved significantly. That was very good news to both of us. I wish there was something I could take for my eyes that would give me such a happy outcome, but of course there isn't. The every-other-month eye jab is coming up soon: the first week in April. I dread it but won't stop until my central vision is gone in both eyes. 

As I sit here writing on my laptop, I can see well enough to read and find the keys I need to use to get this post written and published. I can hear the rain outside, and as I ponder my life, I realize how lucky I am. Although I have lived through plenty of hard times, I have also been fortunate to have a loving partner, good friends whom I care about and who care for me, enough good food to eat and keep me healthy, and the ability to be ambulatory, even if I cannot run and jump and play like I once did.

One of the more interesting stories told in that article about life's meaning is a woman who is a Holocaust survivor, 94 years old, who still travels around to give speeches to those who only know about that awful time through people like her. She has a Wikipedia page, and I read with interest about Susan Pollack. Although she was almost dead on that long ago day when she was saved by the kindness of a soldier who gently placed her in an ambulance. During the next few years, she was able to become a person once again and eventually went to college and got a degree. She married and had children. It's a wonderful story and gives me hope for our world to survive, since goodness and kindness are everywhere if we just look for them.

Everyone is capable of adding something wonderful to our environment, just by allowing kindness to become a guiding principle in our lives. I will spend today, and every day, looking for ways to increase the best parts of life: kindness, goodness, and love. I will smile and watch how that simple gesture can increase the happiness of those around me. Why not?

And until I return here again next week, dear friends, I hope you will have a kindness-filled time ahead. I will be doing my best right here, as I feel the spring in the air, in my step, and stroll into joyful activities. I wish you all good things, dear ones, and hopefully we will meet here again next week. Be well.

Sister memories

L-R: PJ, Fia, Norma Jean, me, Markee in 2011

A picture of me with my sisters in March 2011. I really had nothing I wanted to write about that is currently in the news, since it's all bleak and discouraging. So maybe it will be more fun to look back a decade and a half ago and think about my lovely sisters. This picture was taken by our lone brother in his home, when we got together to celebrate the life of my brother-in-law Pete. He died earlier in the year, the long-time husband of Norma Jean (in the middle of the photo). My sister PJ, standing next to me, died in 2014 of heart disease. It has claimed the lives of so many in my family. Now that I am probably no longer going to be able to hike vigorously to stave it off, who knows whether it will eventually come for me, too.

Frankly, these days it seems like it would be a blessing to succumb to a disease that would allow me to concentrate on something other than the current news. It seems unremittingly bad, no matter what part of the world I am reading about, and much of it originates right here in the good ol' USA. I am well aware that all things change with time, such as all of us in that picture; we are fifteen years older but still very much the same in many ways. In our country, many of us are the same as we were before the last election, but I truly didn't realize how deep the chasm is between us, those who voted for the winning party, and those who voted for the losing side. I now see it perfectly, and it doesn't make me feel hopeful.

At first, I felt that since I was well into my retirement years, with a fairly secure Social Security monthly allotment, and a (now somewhat diminished) annuity from my investments, I should be in better shape that someone who is just now getting ready to move into retirement. But it seems that no one and nobody is safe from these draconian cuts to our social infrastructure. If we lose enough, my husband and I will be unable to pay our rent and will join the huge unhoused population that already exists. We know we could be next.

Other than PJ, who has gone to the Other Side, the four of us sill around are doing pretty well. At least for now, we all have relatively stable home situations. I will start with the youngest of us, Fia, who is now a matron in her sixties, but happily married with two grown children who are both producing plenty of offspring, and to Fia these are her precious grandchildren. She posts often on Facebook, and although I am no longer posting there, I still get a notification when someone I follow posts a picture. I always go look to see the newest addition to her delightful brood.

Markee married a Canadian many years ago and they are now the proud grandparents of a beautiful granddaughter. Bob and Markee ended up with three children, two twin boys and a girl (Sarah) who produced Evelyn and are thinking about a sibling for her. They live in Alberta for most of the year, but bought a home in Apollo Beach near Norma Jean where they come during the cold winter months to enjoy the Florida sunshine.

Norma Jean has had two children, a boy and a girl, and Allison, her daughter, has two girls who are now teenagers (can you believe it?). Her son Peter lives with her and is a good carpenter who helps to keep her mobile home in good repair.

And then there's me, with my dear partner, who have no living children, but then again, there's this wonderful thought from an earlier post:

I suppose it's inevitable that as I age and look back on the decades of life I've lived, that there are several versions of each of us. I was once a young mother with two beautiful children, and now the ghosts of my nonexistent grandchildren shine through each one of my relatives' progeny. Life is like that, I guess. I'll take it, happily.

 Many of my current acquaintances will show pictures and share stories of their grandchildren during our classes or volunteer work. When they do, I am always happy to see those sweet faces and hear stories of their exploits. When I was a young mother, I felt it was inevitable that I would have lots of children like my mom did, and that one day I would have lots of grandchildren, too. We never really know what the future holds for any of us. Now that I am an octogenarian, my days of adventure and discovery are behind me, and it's time to reminisce and look back, as well as enjoy the world of today. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever expect the world to look like it does right now. But as I contemplate the future, I am hopeful. And I have so many wonderful sister memories to remember with pleasure.

From that same gathering

My life is a good one, with plenty of happy memories, and I will continue to enjoy whatever the future brings my way. There is so much that I can focus on that is positive: my dear sweet partner, my family, and my dear friends whom I have made over the years. And I enjoy the routine that my life brings me every week. Since it's once again Sunday morning, I will hopefully be meeting John for breakfast, and then coming back home to settle into my recliner and spend some time talking with my guy about whatever is on his mind. And spring is just right around the corner, with early spring flowers already sprouting out of the ground. 

I will also spend some time today reading about the lives of my current virtual family. That would include you, dear reader. I enjoy hearing about how you are coping with the peaks and valleys of your own life. And hopefully giving those of us who are on this solitary planet among the billions of constellations some perspective on life and love. I am hopeful and filled with anticipation for another day filled with happy thoughts. Why not? Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Hanging in there

Crocus showing their beauty

One of the best parts about living in this neck of the world, the Pacific Northwest of the US, is that it takes very little time after winter's onslaught before we begin to see signs of spring. There are crocus blooming everywhere, and shoots of daffodils are emerging out of the ground, too. New growth, new beginnings after so much darkness and grey skies.

Today, in that relentless annual ceremony that attempts to take sunlight from the morning hours and tack it onto the evening hours so we have more time to play in the sun, happened overnight. I lost an hour of sleep, just so it will be lighter later in the day. I am not a fan of this ridiculous occurrence, but what can I do about it? I will just go ahead and try to get everything done that needs to happen before I head out for my usual Sunday breakfast with my friend John. I go through this every March, and then I forget about it until the next time it comes around. One of these days I suspect we will stop this charade, but probably not within my lifetime.

We finally got our toilet installed last week, and it's really quite lovely. I didn't realize that we had one of the original toilets from the early 1960s. I notice that the new one uses a lot less water when you flush, and everything is whisked away efficiently. It's a much nicer toilet, so that's a plus. I'm glad we got it installed before the next big problem hit the apartment complex: some kind of underwater leak that managed to flood the entire front lawn, with rivulets of water running down the driveway. When I returned home last Friday, I saw lots of impressive looking trucks and diggers had arrived. Since we are just renters, we were not told what was going on, but I do think the poor owners are going to have quite a big water bill. I hope it doesn't get back to the apartment dwellers, to which we belong. There are twenty-six separate apartments in our complex, and the owners have worked hard to keep the place well maintained.

I have come to a watershed moment within my own life since the fall: I am no longer able to hike long distances, even fairly flat ones. Something has caused my already-damaged right leg to give up on me after a couple of miles. I know it might get better over some time, but I am beginning to consider that it might be an excuse to find other ways to get exercise. I wasn't always a hiker, and I've had almost two decades of weekly hikes with the Senior Trailblazers. We go to the same places and I've had countless visits to every location over the years, and now it's time to move on. I am in my eighties, after all, and hard hikes are long behind me. I think I'll be hiking solo or with maybe one other person, rather than with a group. I've already signed on for more volunteer hours at the Senior Center, and I have enjoyed so much meeting new people as I learn the ropes of other ways to volunteer. Right now I am learning how to collate and wrap silverware separately for the hundreds of people we serve every day. It is not as easy as I thought it would be, but I'm part of a team as we work, and that makes it fun.

And the weather has been just wonderful: not too cold, a bit on the breezy side, but very mild and enjoyable. I was only a little distressed to find I could not walk my usual harbor excursion before my back and leg began to go. My friend Steve helped me get back to my car, and I drove home without incident. Today I might try the usual Sunday walk I've developed and see how far I get before my leg goes bad. The hard part for me is that until it starts hurting, there are no signs to warn me of what's coming. I will adapt, as we all do, as our world changes. Life is a dynamic process, not static, and I tend to forget and want things to return to the way they were earlier. Nope, that's not possible, or even something to wish for. I will ride the waves of change and find ways to enjoy what's possible today and in the days and months ahead. I can feel my usual optimism beginning to emerge from the depths of my recent sadness. And I can also be happy to find that once again I can get out of bed like a normal person, no longer needing to roll onto the floor and then stand up. 

I just checked the clocks in the apartment, and they have all made the change without a hitch. The only clock that needs to be manually set is the microwave, and my guy did it before he went to bed last night. 

My mother and father had to change every clock in the house manually and they had three small children. Yet I never remember them complaining about something so inconsequential as Daylight Saving Time. —Mary Katharine Ham

Yes, in the scheme of things, it's pretty inconsequential. And frankly, if I forget about my lost hour, it's true for me, too. As I age, I notice that change of any flavor seems a little harder to deal with, but I also know I'm not alone in this, and that within a short number of days, I won't even remember having had a problem with it. I know that my gratitude will surface for all the magical transformations happening in the world today. It depends on where I look, and what I focus on. Emerging from the ground are beautiful flowers, and we are less than a month away from the Tulip Festival in Skagit Valley. Here's a reminder of what is to come; this one taken a few years ago.

Coming soon!

And so, dear friends, I will finish up this post and get ready to greet John as he picks me up to head to Fairhaven for our usual Sunday breakfast. Before that happens, I will have done my morning exercises, had a short meditation and shared my morning prayers with the Universe, jumped out of my jammies and into some fresh clothes to start the new week. I'll have two yoga classes and two volunteer sessions to intersperse with my other daily routines this week. There is so much to be grateful for, as I busy myself with life's roller coaster of ups and downs. 

And I know that the love and happiness of the week ahead will engulf me if I let it, and if I will put aside any and all distractions, moving away from that which brings me down. With the help of my loved ones, especially my sweet partner who still sleeps quietly next to me, I look forward to a wonderful week ahead. Be well, dear friends, until we meet again next week.