Transition time

Carol, me, Lily, Kitty, Lynn

I woke up this morning feeling blue, thinking about the party we had yesterday for my friend Carol. She's leaving the area, moving to North Carolina and joining her remaining family, now that her two sons have graduated from school and have moved away from this area. She's been a really good friend and I will really miss her. But in these days of instant communication, I'm hoping we'll still remain somewhat close. We had a nice gathering at Kitty's.

One of the things that happens as one gets older, people move away through either illness or life circumstances, and it isn't as easy to get over as it once was. My friends are people I count on to be there when things get tough, and losing any of them is wrenching, for whatever reason. Carol works as a caregiver to older people, and several of them have passed away recently, making it even easier for her to decide to move. Okay, that's all I'm going to say about it, since I can feel myself getting even sadder. It's that time of year when, if I let myself, I could sink into depression.

Most of the time I am upbeat and enjoy life to the fullest. My regular exercise routine helps immensely with that, and yesterday we walked five miles in the rain, fifteen women all chatting and laughing as we walked. It amazes me that so many of us will show up even when the weather isn't ideal; it illustrates to me that others also feel that getting out and moving is essential to one's mental and physical health.

Our writers' retreat on Vashon Island is now behind us for another year, but I learned so much about my own abilities this time. Last week at this same time on Sunday I was propped up with pillows in the big suite at the farmhouse, with the adventure of kayaking scheduled for the day. I will admit that I was more than a little anxious, but it turned out to be so much fun. Once I got into the kayak and our guide pushed it away from the safety of the beach, I could feel myself tense up and the unfamiliar sensation of being unmoored momentarily threw me into anxiety. "Just roll with it!" I could hear Erin, our guide, admonishing me.

Roll with it? As I pushed out with my legs, which anchor on blocks connected to rudders that help to steer the kayak, I felt suddenly vulnerable. But I tried it, feeling my lower body slowly become part of the kayak and managed to get myself used to the push and pull of the paddle, and... yes, I could feel what she was saying! I wasn't going to fall over into the water, and I was able to control myself in this pretty little yellow water craft. Hey! This is fun!

I allowed myself to paddle away from the shore and into the harbor, joining the others as I began to sense my way into feeling, if not comfort, at least like I was going to be okay. We paddled together around the harbor for a couple of hours and then returned to the shore. It's not fair to say I will be running right out to buy kayaking gear, but I will definitely try it again. I'm no longer afraid of it, and I think it would be fun to join a group of others who want to learn the ins and outs of the sport. Who knows? I've certainly seen plenty of people around in the waters around Bellingham who seem to enjoy it immensely.

During our writers' retreat, I decided over the next few months to give myself the task of attempting to write a short story, creating characters from my imagination and bringing it to Vashon Island next October. Our facilitator, Deb, got us all to write an action plan to accomplish our goals. They are all different, and I decided to take on something small enough that I feel confident I can complete it. Others were more ambitious, but until last week, I didn't even know I could write fiction. I discovered it during our writing activity and even "met" a couple of characters whom I look forward to developing.

I am going to the movies with my friend Judy this morning, to see a Swedish movie that was made from the book, A Man Called Ove, which I enjoyed immensely. I think I've talked about it before: when I began the book, I was at first not drawn to the central character, a curmudgeon of a man who didn't appeal to me at all. But I persevered, and by the time I was halfway through the book, I felt completely differently about him. Since the book was translated from Swedish, I was pleased to find that the movie is also made in Sweden, with subtitles.  This tells me that it will likely stay true to the central character. I'm looking forward to it and hope that it will help me to leave my blues behind.

It's still raining and blowing outside, which it has been doing for days now. When we walked yesterday, we had to sidestep downed branches from Friday's storm, but the intensity of yesterday's storm never materialized. It was breezy, but that was about it. We were expecting a windstorm of epic proportions, so it was pleasant to see that it was just a normal one. We didn't lose power, thank goodness, but we were ready, just in case.

It's also very cathartic to sit here with my laptop and peck away at the keys, letting my angst flow away. The state of the world continues to weigh on me, and I will be so very happy when this election season here in the US is over. As hard as I try to avoid it, I cannot help but be affected by its tenor. Soon it will all be over, and until then, I will think about other more pleasant things as much as possible.

One pleasant thing is being here in my favorite little spot, with hubby gently snoring next to me, darkness outside, the sound of the wind every now and then, and thinking about my friends who sustain me. My tea is gone, the post almost finished, and my mood has lifted. I look forward to having a wonderful Sunday, and I've got a full schedule tomorrow with my volunteer work. Life is good, and I need to keep that uppermost in my thoughts.

I hope that whatever comes to you this week, that you will also not forget that you've got at least one electronic friend who wishes you the very best. That would be me. Until we meet again next week, be well.

Sun, rain, and wonderful times

Taken from the living room window

Here it is Sunday already, the last full day we will spend on Vashon Island at our writers' retreat with the five of us. This year, and I hope for many more years to come, we have all agreed to come back again in October 2017.

This has been a magical time here again for our fifth reunion at Lavender Hill Farm, and when I think back about how it all started, it seems hard to believe that we have grown together so seamlessly. For the first three years, we only came here for a weekend, arriving on Friday and leaving on Monday morning. Then last year Deb, who had been attending writers workshops to learn about the Amherst Writers and Artists method and to become trained in teaching the method to others, is our guide. We have now had two five-day-long retreats, focused mostly on learning how to use writing prompts and a time limit (five, ten, twenty minutes) to write in longhand whatever comes to mind from the prompt.

Then we share our writing, if we wish to, and get positive feedback from the others. Each complete session takes more than an hour or two, depending on the length of our writing. Deb has been shepherding us through the process, and learning how to use the method to hone our own craft. It's all based on a book by Pat Schneider, Writing Alone and With Others, and gives us a safe place with each other to hone our craft. Here's what Pat says:

Whether your purpose for writing is artistic expression, communication with friends and family, the healing of the inner life, or achieving public recognition for your art — the foundation is the same: the claiming of yourself as an artist/writer and the strengthening of your writing voice through practice, study, and helpful response from other writers.

What has emerged for me this week is a new voice that I didn't know I had: the ability to write fiction, creating characters out of whole cloth. In several sessions I have focused on characters who have come alive, and it is rather astounding to me, since I usually (make that always) have written pieces from my own past experiences. I'm not sure what I will do with this new knowledge, but it's very exciting to me to think about exploring it more deeply.

Today is our "adventure day," and we will take a break from writing to head to Quartermaster Harbor and get into rented kayaks for a two-hour paddle. I've never even been in one before, and when Jann suggested it last year, I didn't give it another thought, since we were talking about it from the distance of a year. And now it's today! Who knows, this might be another exciting sport that could help take the place of my now-ended skydiving career. I'll find out today.

In any event, it's been a really wonderful week. The weather has gone from brilliant sunshine to periods of rain, sometimes heavy, but still every morning three of us, me, Deb, and Sandi, have gone for a three-mile walk at sunrise. The two night owls sleep in, but at 9:00am sharp we have begun the day's writing. Today we will not write in the morning, but once we've returned from our adventure, we intend to have a shortened afternoon session.

I've been feeling so blessed to be part of this group, and I think all of us would say the same. We learned several good things during this, our fifth reunion, about how perfect the number five has been. Although last year Sally made six, when she decided not to return, we decided not to add another person but go with five. Now we all know each other so well, I can't imagine a new person joining us, and why would we even try? Last year we had Linda Reeder, who lives in Seattle, join us for an evening, and that was very pleasant, so a "guest" is always possible. But now we are sisters of the heart, joined very deeply through our love of writing. Five bloggers who are branching out into other areas of our lives.

And we are all sisters of a certain age, happy to still be learning and growing as we celebrate our diversity and love. Aren't we a good looking bunch of senior citizens?

Linda, Sandi, Deb, me, Jann

And so, with that I will leave you with my wishes for your upcoming week to be a wonderful one. I'm sure my hubby is still gently snoring, without me next to him, and I have to say I miss that sound. But soon, tomorrow night, we'll be sleeping next to each other again. Until then, I'll be enjoying my remaining hours with my dear sisters of the heart.

October is here already

Melanie took this of me last Thursday

 Where did September go? It seems like summer just ended, but today I am feeling the change in the weather and noticing how quickly the days are flying by. There are the same number of hours in every day, but right now it seems like I no sooner start my day than it's over. How much perception matters.

I wasn't looking forward to Thursday's hike. It was the third time I've gone to Mazama Park from the Ridley Creek trailhead, and my memory of the hike was one of steep ravines where I struggled down one side and then had to climb back up, several times. But this was the first time I actually saw the views that you have once you reach this area, and I realized how pretty it is. Not to mention how spectacular the fall colors were and the late summer berries abundant along the trail. I enjoyed myself in spite of my misgivings.

Plus I knew that I would miss next week's hike, because I'll be on Vashon Island with four other blogging friends, getting together for the fifth time. It's hard to believe it's been that long since we met and began this journey together, gathering at Lavender Hill Farm (you'll be hearing more about it next Sunday), five days of a writing retreat that I know will inspire me and expand my horizons. We started out as six, but Sally is the only one who doesn't live close enough to drive and must fly from Colorado. She decided last year that she wouldn't return; however, the rest of us will gather this coming Wednesday and leave the following Monday. We'll miss you, Sally.

Although we spend much of each day with writing prompts and sharing with each other, we also have one day when we explore the island, which has become an "adventure day." Jann offered to arrange this year for us to go on a kayak adventure. I've never been in one (and I'm not alone), but she has found that we can not only rent kayaks but also hire a guide who will help us make the most of our time on the water. I'm looking forward to it but have just a teeny bit of trepidation about it, too. Not that I'm afraid of capsizing or anything, but mostly of loving it so much that I get hooked!

The farmhouse that we rent for this occasion has six bedrooms, one of which is very small, but all the others are really nice, with one suite that has its own bathroom and sitting room. I've stayed in the small basement room twice, and in its larger companion basement room twice more. This year, I will be staying in the suite! I resisted but now that I've agreed (everyone else has taken her turn in the suite), I am looking forward to it. The small basement room will remain unoccupied.

You know how much I love my daily routine, which will be upended during this coming week because of the Vashon retreat. I have already begun to pack, hoping I don't forget anything too important. I haven't gone anywhere overnight since last November when I visited my sister in Florida. I'll be going there again in either December or sometime early next year. Suddenly I am beginning to realize how important it is for me to stir things up a bit so I don't get fixated into feeling like I cannot take a break from my routine.

I've been obsessing on the upcoming election during the past month or so. As a lifelong Democrat, there has never been any doubt as to which candidate I would vote for, but it has been hard for me to come to terms with the two candidates who won the nominations of their respective parties, both disliked more than any other candidates I can remember. I was a Bernie supporter but in reality have known very little about Hillary until lately. However, I had never even heard of Trump before this election cycle, since I never watched "The Apprentice."

Watch Frontline to learn more

I am breaking my own rules by discussing the election at all, but I watched this very informative Frontline video on my local PBS station the other day and learned so much about them both that I didn't know. It is important enough that I hope that at least one of my readers will give it a chance and watch it. Frontline did the same thing four years ago with Obama and Romney, and I was impressed then with their ability to simply present the facts and not make judgments. This program is no different.

Next Sunday evening, I will be gathered with my blogging friends as we watch the second Presidential debate. Since this election feels so different from previous elections, I wouldn't miss it for anything. But in any event, whatever you do, please remember to exercise your right to vote in November. It will be here before you know it. Here in Washington state, we mail in our ballots and will have plenty of time to discuss the issues before voting. At first I missed going to the polls like we did in Colorado, but now I prefer this method. SG and I sit down with our ballots and discuss each choice before marking our ballots. With the Voter's Guide and our political website in front of us, it's actually a fun way to vote.

Well, with that, I have made it through another post. The only thing I knew before I began is that I wanted to share that video with you and give you a chance to know about it. Now I will begin the rest of my day by getting up and following my Sunday routine: dressing for yoga, doing my morning exercises, having a light breakfast and heading to the coffee shop to join my friends there. I'll leave in time for my yoga class, which I know I will enjoy. I'm going to the movies with my friend Judy in the afternoon to see "Sully." It's gotten great reviews, so I'm looking forward to it.

Until we meet again next week, with me blogging from the Vashon Island retreat, I hope you will have a wonderful and productive week. As usual, I wish you all good things and remember to give your loved ones a hug or two. I am sending you, my dear reader, a virtual one.

My eventful week

Yesterday's amazing sky

When I went walking with the ladies yesterday morning, we had just finished a couple of days of rain, but the day was forecast for clouds and, later, sun. I happened to look up as we were gathering and saw these interesting clouds. We had a lovely walk, all twenty of us. Last week we walked in torrents of rain, and not many showed up. Today was dry and delightful.

And then yesterday afternoon, I went to a concert that my friend Al, the leader of our Thursday hikes, had mentioned. It was a free concert at a local church, so I didn't know quite what to expect, but I was blown away by the Male Ensemble Northwest, a group of thirteen educators from around the Pacific Northwest, some local and some coming from as far away as Idaho. They get together four or five times a year to practice, and all of them teach, elementary to college level. They are good friends, and next month they will travel to Thailand for their first international concert series. From their website:

While a high level of artistry is always an important goal, the members of MEN value the professional and personal associations they have with each other.  It is important that the personal soul is fed as well as the artistic.  

 It showed in their performance: starting out with regular chorale singing, by the time they were finished they had the entire audience standing and clapping, with one song even miming the playing of instruments. One talented fellow, Justin Raffa, was able to sound like a piccolo! I sure enjoyed this, as you can tell, and if you visit their page you can also find out more about them. If you live in the Pacific Northwest, it's worth going out of your way to hear them.

Last Thursday's hike up to Church Mountain was a memorable one, too. Our first hike of the autumn season was spectacular with fall scenery, and the group size of eight made it easy to visit with everybody. We were without our leader, Al, who was a little under the weather, and I think that might be why I ended up with such sore legs afterwards. Al sets a very nice slow pace, and without him I think we climbed the incredible 4,000 feet of elevation at a faster pace than usual. Or maybe it was the downhill, who knows? All I know is that when I got out of bed on Friday morning, I hurt just about everywhere, but especially my quadricep muscles. Today, Sunday, they are much, much better. The five-mile walk yesterday helped work out the kinks, too.

I am so glad that I can still do such difficult hikes as Church Mountain, and I know there will be a time in the not-too-distant future when I'll be lucky to hike to the meadow rather than making it all the way to the top, but as long as I'm able, I'll keep going. It not only feeds my need for exercise, but my soul as well. Someone told me about the concept of "forest bathing" or the Japanese art of Shinrin-yoku. That link will take you to a Washington Post article about the practice. From the article by Meeri Kim:

A number of scientific studies emphasize that reveling in the great outdoors promotes human health. Spending time in natural environments has been linked to lower stress levels, improved working memory and feeling more alive, among other positive attributes.

I can certainly attest to feeling more alive after a time in the wilderness. In fact, my Thursday hikes are sacrosanct: it takes a lot for me to miss one, even in the rain and wind. We only have another month, at best, to play in the High Country, and then for late fall and winter, we'll move to the lowlands. But we will still go out on Thursdays to play in the beautiful outdoors. I do think it keeps me healthy.

One hike I'll miss will be in early October, because I'll be heading off to Vashon Island with my blogging buddies for our fifth adventure together. It's hard to believe that it's been five years already since I met my fellow bloggers for a three-day retreat to the island. We have since expanded our time together to five full days, and I look forward to it with anticipation. We will miss having one person with us (we started out as six), but she lives in Colorado and the rest of us are more locally situated. Plus the six-bedroom farmhouse we rent for the period has one bedroom that is not as comfortable as the others, so we will not have to use it. Everyone has her own room at the Lavender Hill Farm. Being surrounded by lavender fields is also a real bonus.

My dreams during this past week have been vivid, for whatever reason. I met an old friend in one dream, and she's been hanging around with me ever since. Although it's someone I had a difficult time with for years, in my dream we made up and became close again. And probably because of the concert yesterday, I dreamt last night about an old favorite song that has been playing inside my head. When I was young, my parents had a stereo system and a collection of albums (remember those?). One that I particularly liked was The Ink Spots. They were a black vocal group popular in the 1930s and 1940s. They have been a presence in my life ever since. The song that I keep hearing in my head is called "If I Didn't Care," and I found it on YouTube. Here it is, and I apologize for the lead-in commercial, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. I've listened to this a couple of times now.


And with that, I've finished another post. As usual, I wish all the best to you, my dear readers, for the week ahead. Now that we in the Northern Hemisphere are in the autumnal season, with leaves falling off the trees and painting our pathways, I hope that path will take you to some walks in the great outdoors. And I always have to remember that some of my readers are beginning their springtime. What a great world we live in!
:-)

Contrasts

Beautiful Mt. Baker 

I saw this picture of Mt. Baker when I happened to turn around at the end of the long day's hike on Thursday, seeing her backlit by the sun, dark hills in front, making for a set of contrasts, which sort of defines the weather I've experienced this week.

This morning (just a few minutes ago), I woke to discover that I had overslept by an hour. Usually I wake naturally around 5:00am, which gives me plenty of time to get my tea, write this post, then get up in a leisurely fashion and do my exercises, dress and get to the coffee shop for a half-hour of visiting before heading to my yoga class at 9:00am. This morning I'm already late. For most people, waking up on a Sunday at 6:00am would NOT be sleeping in. For me, it's sleeping in. That's a contrast: usually I am sitting here contemplating the post, not thinking about what I might slap on the page to allow myself not to be late.

I really dislike being late for anything and am usually the first to arrive at any event or party. I leave the house in the morning to catch the bus so that I can arrive at the stop three minutes before it's scheduled, leaving the house at 7:06am to walk a two-thirds of a mile and arrive at 7:17. I get downtown by 7:30 or so and walk to the coffee shop (five minutes) and hang out with my friends as I drink my latte, leaving for the gym by 8:20. That gives me plenty of time to walk to the gym (seven minutes) and change into my workout clothes and get on the treadmill to warm up before the 9:00am class. That's my usual weekly schedule, except for Thursday when I hike with the Trailblazers. After the workout, I shower and dress back into my street clothes and stop at the grocery store to pick up any items I might need and catch the bus at 11:00am back home.

Am I someone who loves routine? You know I am. I've been keeping this same schedule now for years, and I watch the change of seasons as I head out for the bus in the early morning. In the summer the days are long and the early morning light is beautiful, and the birds welcome me with their song. In the winter, it's very dark out, and I wear a head lamp so I can see where I'm going and be seen by other early morning risers. My clothes also change from light slacks and shirt in the summer to warm long pants and a coat, winter gloves and a warm hat in the winter. And of course, there are those days when it's raining, and I add my rain gear (I've got lots of different coats to choose from) and a rain hat.

My car sits in its spot at the apartment complex while I walk to the bus in all kinds of weather. The worse the weather, the more thankful I am that I have a bus to ride in, rather than driving in it. You also might wonder if it ever gets bad enough that I don't actually get out and go to the gym. The answer to that is no. The only time I stay home is when I am sick. The instructors know me and if I don't come to class, I am always asked about it when I return. I like that.

This week ushers in the first day of fall in the Northern Hemisphere, and the first day of spring Down Under. One of my blogging friends in the Southern Hemisphere has been posting pictures of the burgeoning spring in her area, while the rest of us have been putting lots of pictures of changing weather and turning leaves.

Although we had just about the most perfect day in the High Country last Thursday, when that picture was taken, yesterday was the complete opposite: I woke to rain and a quick look at the radar on my weather channel confirmed that we would be walking in the rain on my Saturday walk with the ladies. When I first starting going on these walks, I would skip the wet ones, but I knew that some people would show up, no matter what the weather. The only time Cindy, our leader, cancels the walk is when it's icy. I know to check my mail on a morning when she might decide it's too risky, but that has only happened twice in five years or so. And now that Saturday walk is part of my routine. I don't miss it willingly.

And yes, we walked in the rain. We changed our destination from the mountain trek that was scheduled (see that walk with the ladies in 2014 here) and instead took a walk in the nearby park. It rained the entire time, but there were moments when it was a deluge. We didn't go very far, less than five miles round trip, but we were all so soaked by the end that we just got in our cars and went home to change, no stop for coffee. If you go to the linked post, you'll see fifteen ladies enjoying the mountain on our first time at that location. Yesterday eight diehard ladies showed up in spite of the rain. It could not have been more different than our Thursday weather. I just looked at the rain gauge and learned that we got three-quarters of an inch of rain yesterday. After I got home and dry, I was glad that I'd braved the rain.

Another contrast that I'll share with you is this post. Last Sunday I thought about the post during the evening before and woke with a clear idea of what I would write about. Yesterday my mind was a blank when I would try to think about it, and I hoped that maybe during the night something would pop into my head, but no, instead I had lots of dreams and then overslept. So today you are getting potpourri, a meditation of contrasting moments during my week.

I'm not sure why my readers keep coming back, but you do, and so I will always try to give you at least something, but it's not an easy task to write extemporaneously and be interesting every time. I write from my heart, sometimes, and there are other days like this when I write out of a sense of duty, wanting it to be good and interesting, but not knowing quite how to make that happen. Some of my followers start their Sunday with this post, and in the same sense that I don't like to be late, I also don't like to disappoint. But how can I do that? There are days when inspired words simply flow out of my fingers and I finish with a sense of accomplishment. Contrast that with today, when I hem and haw, start sentences and erase them, start over, and finally limp my way toward the finish line.

It's a strange relationship we have, me here with the laptop sitting in my bed in the dark tapping away at my keys, and you in your own respective home reading this sometime later, but somehow your presence is with me in this moment, and I look forward to reading your comments, knowing that everyone of us is connected through some unseen tenuous force, living our different lives but gaining knowledge and comfort through the connection. Most of you have blogs that I read regularly, and they are all different from each other but give me a sense of your life. It touches me throughout my day, and perhaps I'll think about a difficult journey some reader is facing and send wishes for a good outcome their way, or a blessed event in another life. Through it all, I feel your presence with me.

And with that said, I also sincerely hope that your week will be a good one until we meet again next Sunday. Who knows what will transpire between now and then? I hope you will remember to be grateful for your loved ones, and that you might include me in that number. Be well, dear readers.

Alpenglow

Mt. Baker at sunset last night

My neighbor Carol is a night owl and comes alive once the sun goes down. Last evening I was sitting on the porch chatting with another neighbor, Lynn, when Carol came out of her apartment and exclaimed, "Alpenglow!" She was looking out towards Mt. Baker to the east at this wonderful view of the mountain. It only lasted for a few short moments, but I was able to capture this with my cellphone camera. The three of us shared some wine and finally I left to head into my bed, thinking about the post this morning.

It's September 11th, and we all know what that day means to most of us. I've already read several posts from my blogging friends about where they were that day, the significance of the event fifteen years later. That will probably continue for the rest of the anniversary; on this day we will be reminded once again of those planes of destruction flying through the air toward their targets. I won't be watching any TV today, because they will be showing the Twin Towers falling once again. Instead, I'm going on a journey through time.

Time isn't only linear; it can also be event-based. A few days ago, I was lying on my massage therapist's table getting a wonderful rubdown and realized that my sense of the passage of time had morphed from moment to moment into parts of my body: first the back, then the left leg and then the right, and so on. I could have been getting that massage for days, instead of just an hour. My sense of time was concentrated on the pressure of her hands, the oil. Peace and serenity were the only things going through my mind. I was in an altered state, one which doesn't always occur with a massage, but it often does.

Sarah (the massage therapist) and I didn't say even one word during the massage. She communicated with me through her hands, and I with her through receiving the massage. Afterwards, as we set up a time for the next one, I realized that my entire outlook had changed for the better. I get a massage every third Friday, and it's as important for my mental health as anything else I do for myself.

I've been getting regular massages ever since I began to recover from my skydiving accident in June 2000, more than sixteen years ago. About six months afterwards, I was pretty much over the worst of it and could walk without a limp, but the trauma was still very much in my body. My friend Karen gave me the gift of three massage sessions with her own therapist, and that's what started me seeing Melissa on a regular basis. At first I couldn't even allow her to touch my lower back or the areas where the damage was the worst. But during the coming months and years of regular sessions, I was not only physically healed but emotionally as well. Scars will always remain from our injuries, but that's different than allowing ourselves to become crippled by them.

The definition of alpenglow is the rosy light on the setting or rising sun on high mountains. Alpenglow is also very present in my own life, as I see the setting sun as a metaphor for my golden (or glowing) years. I remember well the peaks and valleys of my youth, when I could be ecstatic over a new relationship or even a new restaurant, and the valley of despondency when it ended or closed. I don't have those much any more. My peaks and valleys have all evened out to become much more neutral. I get excited about things, but not like before, and I have low periods, but they have lost much of their drama. It must be the mellowness of aging, and I have to say I like it.

Thinking of some of the high points of my life gives me great pleasure, and the memories will never leave me (at least I hope they won't). Sitting here in my bed with the laptop on my knees, I can recall any number of outstanding skydives and can almost feel the air at altitude, when the door of the airplane is opened and I jump out into space. There is no feeling like it, and even after thousands of skydives, it never lost its adrenaline rush. Just writing about it, bringing it back into my consciousness, makes my heart start beating faster.

Do I miss it? Sometimes I think about it and wonder if I would still have what it takes to get into an airplane with proper gear and jump out. But then I realize, what would be the point? It's like trying to recapture youth when you're old: it just isn't the same and you're fooling no one but yourself. No, I am a retired skydiver, left with many wonderful memories and friends for life. Because of Facebook, I still see those friends posting pictures of their latest skydives, and I'm glad for them. I was there with them once upon a time, but they are carrying on as I sit on the sidelines and cheer them on.

That's perfectly appropriate. I am sitting here in the alpenglow of my wonderful life, realizing that if it ended today, I have done and accomplished everything I ever wished to. Nothing is left undone, or untasted, that appealed to me. Next month I will be heading off to Vashon Island to have the fifth reunion of my blogging friends and a five-day writing retreat. It will be the impetus to capture these feelings and emotions, writing them down and getting feedback from the others. Of course, I get the same thing through the comments that you, my readers, leave on these posts, but the dialog is truncated because the form doesn't allow us a chance to sit down together over a cup of tea and chat.

Robert Frost once wrote, "The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected." And the evening? Well, that's the time to sit and gaze at the far-away mountains shining with the alpenglow of the setting sun. Beautiful, isn't it?

And with that, I have finished another Sunday morning reverie. I will have a latte and share a bagel with my friend John at the coffee shop before heading to my yoga class with Laifong. I just signed up for a fourth semester at Yoga Northwest and I must say, it gives me pleasure to think of that resource available to me for as long as I want. Whatever this day brings to you, I hope part of it will also be a sense of gratitude for the people and critters around you. I know I am filled with it and it's spilling out of the page towards you, my dear reader. Be well until we meet again next week.

Labor Day marks summer's end

Heirloom tomatoes at the market

Some people might not think that heirloom tomatoes are as pretty as I think they are. They are all sizes, colors and shapes, but the way they taste is nothing like those uniform ones in the grocery store. That red one would slice up perfectly for a tomato sandwich, and I might just have to do that before the season passes away, along with the incredible harvest of this year.

I've got some pretty golden cherry-sized tomatoes in my garden, and I've been enjoying those, eaten right off the vine or slice in half in a salad. Yes, summer is coming to an end, and tomorrow is Labor Day in the United States. Do you wonder, as I have many times, just what the heck Labor Day is? Well, of course Wikipedia helped me out:

It honors the American labor movement and the contributions that workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of the country. It is the Monday of the long weekend known as Labor Day Weekend and it is considered the unofficial end of summer.

I also learned from that link that Canada also celebrates Labour Day on the first Monday of September, too. We have had a three-day weekend in September for as long as I can remember, along with it also marking the start of the school year and the beginning of football season. Yes, summer is now over, and I can start to enjoy those crisp fall days when the leaves turn magnificent colors and gently descend to the ground. The autumnal equinox this year will occur on September 22 at 7:21am here on the Pacific coast. That link from one of my favorite websites will tell you what the equinox is and when it will occur in your part of the world. It's the vernal equinox in the Southern Hemisphere, when spring begins there. Basically, though, it's one of the two days in the year when the days and nights are of equal length. The big difference for us here in the Northern Hemisphere is that then the days get shorter and the nights longer.

This morning, once I finish this post and get up to start my day, will take me in just a few hours to my yoga class, with Laifong finally back from her vacation. The substitute teacher, Lourdis, was much harder on me than Laifong, but frankly, I enjoyed being pushed a little. I've also signed up for my fourth semester with Yoga Northwest, thinking that I've found my niche for the next few semesters, with one Gentle II class on Wednesday and a Level I class on Sunday mornings. You can check out what those classes are on that link, if you're interested.

I spoke with Lourdis for a few minutes after our last Sunday class, so I could thank her for her instruction. Many of the others were quite comfortable with some of the poses that stymied me, and she had to spend more time correcting me. She also told me that I did quite well and that this level is an appropriate one for the present time, and that I would be able to benefit from continuing to expand my yoga horizons. I was encouraged and will miss her, even though I'm looking forward to seeing Laifong again.

What I notice in my everyday life is that I can move more freely and feel more balanced and upright than I did before I began this yoga journey. I'm also not sure if it's the yoga or not, but my knees both feel much stronger and gave me no trouble on our last Thursday's hike, with a thousand meters (3,280 feet) of elevation gain and loss. That's not to say that my thighs were not sore for the next couple of days, because they certainly were. But today I feel strong and ready for whatever comes next.

You might be noticing that I'm casting about here for something to compose for you, my readers, and you would be right. Sometimes I will think of the regular commenters and try to picture what should be just the right post to write for all of you, but today you must be quite an eclectic group, because nothing is coming to me. Instead, I'm sitting here thinking that maybe it's time to just end it and allow myself to get up and get started with what looks to be a wonderful day ahead.

My sister Norma Jean will probably look askance at it once she's read this post and wonder why I'm so lame this morning. But she'll just have to deal with it. We are getting close to the time of year when spooks and goblins begin to emerge, from the summer doldrums to autumn's darkening days, and (horrors!) the US Presidential Election will be everywhere to scare us even more.

With that, I'll leave you with my usual wishes for you to have a wonderful week ahead, filled with everything that makes you happy. And I have a fun short little video that I hope will make you laugh as it did me. It's only one minute long but it sure is funny. Wish I knew exactly what that kitty is seeing.