Finally a little rain

Mountain scene with fog

 I live in one of the prettiest places on earth, if you ask me. This was taken a few years ago on a mountain hike with the Trailblazers. I don't know if I will ever again be strong enough to see this view again, but there are so many that are similar, and I am still able to be out there, even if "there" is not quite as high or as strenuous as in earlier days. It doesn't matter, really; I have so many chances to take a nice forest bath whenever I want. The term "forest bathing" comes from Japan:

The term emerged in Japan in the 1980s as a physiological and psychological exercise called shinrin-yoku (“forest bathing” or “taking in the forest atmosphere”). The purpose was twofold: to offer an eco-antidote to tech-boom burnout and to inspire residents to reconnect with and protect the country's forests (National Geographic).

We were very pleased to see the rain return Friday night. We got close to half an inch here in Bellingham, when we expected next to nothing.  We are still at least six inches shy of the normal rainfall we receive in the spring, with the normally dry summer season fast approaching. I am happy that it's wet outside again. I never thought I'd be such a fan of mist and fog. But I sure am.

I have accomplished quite a few interesting feats during my life, and sometimes I see how one activity emerges from an earlier one. In 2000, I had a life-changing parachuting accident when I broke my pelvis in six places, shattering the right sacrum and losing an artery in my right leg. After a long recovery of several months, I again returned to skydiving, but also became familiar with the need to take up long, brisk walks to regain circulation in the injured area.

It was one of the reasons to find a place to retire that would offer plenty of opportunities to get outside and learn about the local hikes in the Pacific Northwest. I decided to retire in 2008 with a pretty good annuity package and we moved from Boulder, Colorado, to Bellingham, Washington. (SG was already retired and collecting Social Security.) It was a fortuitous move, one that has given us both everything we need to continue to thrive.

And now it is fifteen years later, and we are finally through the pandemic years, with our lives substantially changed, but still quite functional. I no longer have daily classes at the Y, where I went for so many years, but have become more active with the local Senior Center, which offers many activities that I've taken advantage of. The Senior Trailblazers offer three different levels of hikes, one of which I began to attend every Thursday back in 2009. Now I've moved over to the next level of hikes, and am considering attending the easiest of the three groups this year. Many of my friends have already made the switch. The Senior Center also offers yoga and zumba classes, which I am enjoying very much. During the pandemic, my long-time yoga studio closed, so it was nice to try this very different yoga practice. It's not the same, but then again, neither am I.

It's been eight years since I last made a skydive, but I still think of myself as being a skydiver. That's where I met my dear partner back in the last century, and we've now been together for thirty years. That's an almost unbelievable feat for someone who didn't think it was possible for her to find a partner who could still bring her so much joy for so long, even though our skydiving days are far behind us. As I age, I notice how important it is to allow what's next to emerge without trying to direct or cause it to flow in any particular direction. I don't know what's best for me and am happy to let go and let whatever happens, happen. I am so fortunate.

Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone—we find it with another. —Thomas Merton 

Feeding a wild friend

I was looking for inspiration for this post and went browsing in my digital photo album and came across this picture. Although it was years ago now, I still remember the feeling of the bird's claws holding onto my fingers. Very strong and determined, always looking for food in that white landscape. These "camp robbers" are very bold, and if you are eating a sandwich and put it beside you for any reason, it will be gone in a flash, carried off by a hungry bird. I was happily sharing my trail mix with this guy.

I've had many memorable moments while hiking in the mountains, in spring, summer and fall. I don't venture out in the winter any more, and although this looks like it is taken in the middle of winter, it was actually in July. The snow at that altitude doesn't leave quickly, making for a scene like this in the middle of summer. The animals who make their home up there are strong because they must be to survive.

Because of the pandemic, my life has narrowed over the years, and I have lost a few friends who have either moved into other activities, or actually moved away. I am losing my long-time hiking partner Melanie next month, as she has successfully sold her home and signed the final papers this week. I was hoping she might change her mind, but now it's official. Fortunately for me, I've got other options and new friends to make in that hiking group. Last Thursday it was eight women, all new acquaintances, but fast becoming friends. 

I am also fortunate that I don't need to drive myself up into the mountains to enjoy the hikes, since we carpool and with my ancient car and failing eyesight, I am grateful that others can take over that task. Plus I really like sitting next to someone new and finding out all about her life as we drive to our destination. As long as I can continue to forest bathe and make new friends, I'll be fine.

Oh, and I almost forgot one of the most important aspects of today's existence: my virtual family. Who would have believed that people I will never meet in person but know intimately through their blogs could be such as important part of my life? And it's not likely to be going anywhere, since all I need is a good laptop and internet connection. Surely even when I can no longer hike, I will be able to continue this activity and maybe even expand it. But as I said earlier, I don't know where the future will lead me, and I will not try to make any predictions. What I do know is that I am a fortunate and very grateful person for all that life has brought me over the years. Thank you for being a part of that.

And with that, I will leave you for another week. My partner still sleeps quietly next to me, that dear sweet piece of my heart. My tea is gone, and my friend John will soon arrive to transport me to our Sunday morning breakfast. Until we meet again, I wish you all good things, and offer up sincere gratitude for your presence in my life. Be well.