Posts Tagged With: Outdoors

It Was a Wonderful Life!

Posted on April 1, 2013 by Kami

Yesterday I got the chance to watch the second installment of home 8mm films that my Dad has transferred to DVD. If something like that doesn’t fire up the old neurons of memory, then nothing will!

Ben Lomond Peak (Photo credit: OwnUtah.Com)

I was the opening shot, well, me and Mom. I looked extra adorable in my frilly bonnet and chubby cheeks. Mom looked stylish as she always did and does. There followed scenes of my older brother in various stages of helping Mom in managing this new little sister he had.

Loved seeing Dad do his famous tricycle riding trick. He’d kneel on the back and pedal with his hands. That’s not an easy feat to pull off, but he could do it with a grin.

Ah, they were so young! The world seemed new and young. Life was new. For me, that is when the world began. (Insert a long, audible sigh here, if you would please.)

I cheered my baby self on when I lifted my head, crawled, walked and fell down. I watched, amazed, as I saw myself grow from a baby to a five-year old in less than twenty minutes. Looking back on my life, sometimes that ‘s about what it feels like. Yet, my childhood had a timeless quality about it that felt as if I’d always be a child. I was protected, provided for, well-loved, and given a wonderfully varied exploratory life filled with fun and adventure.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A trip or two to Yellowstone National Park was a highlight and a memory I still cherish. The bears ran as freely and as abundantly as chipmunks. Even without the film memory jog, I still remember the fishing bridges there, seeing fish thick in the water. Nothing can erase the memory of the smells of Yellowstone, the sound of footsteps on the wooden walkways, the feel of my hand in Mom’s hand.

I watched as we enjoyed breakfast picnics in the mountains, trips to Bear Lake, camping trips, hikes up Ben Lomond. What child could ask for more? Not me. I was happily allowed to explore my world, taken out and about often to see the wonders that this life has to offer. I think I fell in love with it all at a very early age because of exposure to so much abundance. I haven’t been able to narrow in on one particular favorite. The world is full and rich and I have tried to take in and be a part of as much of it as I have been able to.

(Photo credit: moirabot)

One thing I found particularly fascinating in this DVD that I’d hardly noticed in the first one was the backdrops in each scene. There was the beautiful hexagon shapes in the Grandmother’s Flower Garden quilt on the bed my brother and I were playing on. The cars that drove past were classics from the 50’s and 60’s. The television was vintage, the furniture now collector’s items. Even the drinking glasses were particular to that era. What I wouldn’t give to own a set of aluminum colored drinking cups now! The piano I learned to play on, the one destroyed in my parent’s house fire, made an appearance. Changes in the landscaping of the yard, neighbor’s houses I haven’t seen in decades, the up close view of the mountains that surrounded my childhood home all served as key elements in the background to this trip down memory lane.

Feeling very nostalgic today. Wishing for a time machine to visit those innocent, sweet days of love and learning.

Thanks Dad and Mom for the DVD, for the amazing childhood, for a wonderful life!

Categories: Family, Love, Memory Lane, Nature, parenting | Tags: Bear Lake, childhood, children, classics, memories, nature, Outdoors, travel, vintage, Yellowstone, Yellowstone National Park | 1 Comment

Pleasant Peasant Pheasant

Posted on March 15, 2013 by Kami

Bird feeder (Photo credit: Matt Peoples)

There is a Pheasant in my backyard.

Or a Grouse.

It comes and goes, from backyard to backyard. The one behind ours has a bird feeder, so it visits there often. And from what Jim, my neighbor two doors down says, it’s taken up residence behind an Oleander in his yard.

I took photos, to document this odd phenomenon in the dry desert. But the photos show what looks like a pile of rocks amid a bunch of rocks. Desert landscaping will do that.

Either way, Pheasant or Grouse, it just isn’t normal to see a bird this size, here in the crazy heat part of Arizona.

“Pheasant populations persisting in Arizona are largely confined to agricultural areas having a relatively high humidity (e.g., citrus orchards in the Yuma and Mesa areas) or high enough in elevation to escape the desiccating heat of Sonoran Desert summers. In such locations, a rooster will acquire a harem of from one to three hens, with mating commencing in early April. By mid-May most of the hens are nesting and of no further interest to him, and he will abandon his territorial patrols by the end of the month. The peak of hatching is during the last week of May, the most arid time in Arizona, which is one of the reasons why pheasants have not become established here”

Female pheasant (Photo credit: scyrene)

Based on photos, a bit of research and some common sense, I’ve decided this odd duck of a bird is a female Pheasant. Grouse tend to hang out up on the Mogollon Rim, high country as we call it here.

I feel bad for this bird. Clearly, she’s out of her element and won’t do well when the heat really settle in, unless she can find her way to a citrus orchard somewhere in the area. The nearest ones are about five to eight miles away.

I’m always amazed at how wildlife adapts itself to the intrusions and weirdness of humans.

At the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

When we first moved to Arizona fifteen years ago, it was fairly common to see a Fox trotting through an open field. It was much more common to see open fields that many years ago. The housing boom hit Phoenix with a vengeance and most of the open areas around us disappeared in about four months, give or take a year or two.

I often saw Jackrabbits of a substantial enough size that I’d do a double take. I’ve seen a Mountain Lion at the Riparian Preserve. The “Rip” borders a canal which is significant. Lined with a dirt road or even asphalt or concrete paths, the canals here are like an open invitation to wildlife from the foothills to come on down and play the city game. Poor misguided critters!

I’ve noticed some people seem to have wandered from their normal habitat into the suburbs and cityscape. These are people who prefer solitude , silence and privacy. I think sometimes I am one of those misplaced creatures.

The sound of sirens, the constant hum of traffic, crowds, stress of every hue, all combine, sometimes, to make me wish I lived in the mountains in a secluded cabin with a well hidden dirt access road.

I feel a bit misplaced and out of my element.

But I’ve adapted. I grow wildflowers. I have a backyard garden. I have a hummingbird feeder. I disappear into other worlds through books. I enjoy what music I can find in the suburban bird chatter of Dove, Grackle, Finch, Towhee and Mockingbird. I visit nearby open spaces and green areas. I walk. I ride my bike. I dream of the mountains.

I wonder if the Pheasant in the backyard feels the same way.

Wish I could help her find her way back to where she belongs without upsetting the natural order of things.

It could happen.

Categories: Nature, Outdoors | Tags: Arizona, Bird, birds, Grouse, nature, Outdoors, Pheasant, Sonoran Desert, wildlife | 2 Comments

The Unmatchable Pleasure of Puddle Jumping

Posted on March 8, 2013 by Kami

The rarity of rain in the desert brings out the oddness in some of us dry skinned, somewhat parched critters. Today’s downpour, complete with a bit of surprising lightning, reminds me of some delicious memories.

We don’t live in a rural area, but we have rural patches of neighborhoods in the landscape of our town that haven’t been incorporated into the city. This leaves wonderful one and two acre lots with farm animals, irrigation, bumpy roads without curbs, traditional on post mailboxes out front of the houses, and best of all, a sense of the history of this former farming community turned big city suburb.

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I used to drive my youngest daughter to fifth and sixth grade, usually taking a short stretch of county road. On rainy days the water would flow haphazardly on the edges of the road in huge muddy puddles. At the time we were driving a well-loved older model Jeep Cherokee with four-wheel drive.

Did you know if you’re going just the right speed and hit a puddle at a certain spot you’ll get a wide arching wall of water that can shoot out a good twenty feet? My daughter and I discovered that one drizzly morning.

Rainy school mornings took on a whole different feel for us. The anticipation of knowing we’d get to splash and spray our way to the school motivated us so we were usually ready to go earlier than usual. We called these mornings puddle jumping days.

Fortunately no one was ever walking the muddy shoulder of the road on rainy days. Approaching a glistening pool of brown water filled us with excitement. The sensation of tires hitting the edge of the puddle was answered with a marvelous shower and spray of water propelling outward and upward in an artistic chocolate sweep. Sometimes, depending on the depth of the puddle and the angle the tires hit the water, we’d end up covering the jeep in a deluge of mucky water. Fortunately I usually had the wipers already going due to the rain pouring down.

Child enjoys a puddle in Vancouver, B.C., Canada.

Does this look fun, or what? (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We aimed for puddle after puddle all the way down the road. I’m sure any onlookers thought we were high school troublemakers raising havoc. The goats and sheep looked on in bemused silence. We left behind emptied puddles and chaos.

Ah, we laughed our way to school those days.

I still can’t resist a puddle on the side of the road, whether I’m walking or driving. I want to make a splash, soak everything in sight then look behind me at the mayhem.

Today is gonna be a great one!

Categories: Joy, Memory Lane, Outdoors | Tags: four-wheeler, making a splash, muddy puddles, Outdoors, Puddle, Rain, rain in the desert, rainy days, random fun, silliness, transportation, water | 4 Comments

Construction Phase Complete. Wildflowers Run Amok!

Posted on March 6, 2013 by Kami

It’s happened. My wildflowers bloomed!

It makes me smile to look out and see sunshine growing right outside my front door.

Right now it’s happy African Daisies. Bursts of yellow and orange wash across the front yard. A few more weeks will bring the soft velvety orange of California Poppies.

Just today I noticed the first shoots on my red yucca plants. These become beautiful sprays of stems filled with succulent reddish-orange flowers. Once these bloom Hummingbirds hang out near them like kids near candy shops.

There’s a very small patch of low growing purple Lantana smack in the middle of this nonconforming riot of color. It’s supposed to spread out into a four or five foot swath every spring and summer, but this one’s been anemic and barely manages its bits of purple. Maybe I need to have a daily chat with it, encourage it along, and tell it a couple of jokes.

Just to kick it up a notch

I’ve also got some pots near the front door filled with fun pops of bright annuals. And there’s a fifteen-year-old Pothos plant which was once an indoor dweller, but now lives in the shade outdoors. It could use a trim and a fresh topping of soil, but otherwise it adds a nice cool green to the mix.

On the other hand

The back yard is a work in progress. I’m grateful that a brick wall surrounds it almost six feet high. I’ve planted my vegetable gardens but those seeds are being stubborn about sprouting. And I’ve got a decorative raised bed that’s got its own little story which I won’t go into, but I could do a whole post on. It’s a tale of woe and aggravation. You’d be bored, trust me.

Nonetheless

Spring has sprung here in the desert. It’s a short-lived season of joy and jubilation before the blast of summer punches us full on.

I’m going to enjoy it while I can, every single day.

Weeds and Wildflowers (kamisbeautifulmorning.wordpress.com)
Northern Arizona Wildflower Update 3/4/13 (naturalhistorywanderings.com)

Categories: Gardening, Outdoors | Tags: african daisies, California Poppies, daisies, desert flowers, nature, Outdoors, Plants, spring, Wildflower | 9 Comments

Sacred Spaces

Posted on February 7, 2013 by Kami

The Pediatric Intensive Care Unit of a hospital is not a place you want to spend time in. I found myself there once to support a friend and her family.

When a child’s life hangs in the balance, people from all walks of life, of all faiths or no faith, search for peace, understanding, hope, answers, or a higher power to intervene. Whatever help they can find, however they can find it, they reach for it.

Over the course of several days I found myself in a beautifully designed, peaceful space we called the “chapel.” Stepping through the doors into the oval-shaped room, with its opaque stained glass trees and gently rounding edges, felt to me like passing into another world. Sounds muffled, voiced muted, lights diffused, peace hovered.

Lest you think it was simply my own personal reaction to the room let me offer the following incident.

Another friend and her husband came to visit and had brought their own young children as I told them I’d be happy to keep them entertained while the two sets of parents visited. We explored the child-friendly waiting areas with giant chess pieces, the floor that lit up when they stepped on the tiles, some really awesome larger than life toys, and gigantic Lego bricks. When the play area finally got boring I suggested we go upstairs to see what I told them was a beautiful tree room.

I had said nothing of the reason for the room, had not mentioned it was a chapel. I simply thought they would enjoy the colors in the stained glass and the unique shape of the room. When they walked into this room of glass and wood, of reflection and prayer, they immediately quieted their voices. They explored as children do, with fingers touching the different textures and colors of glass and gliding along smooth surfaces. A small wire and bronze tree sculpture garnered their attention with its tiny leaves and gracefully arching branches.

And then to my surprise, the seven-year-old boy said “hey guys, we can meditate here.” There was no fussing, or complaining, they all simply sat in a circle in the middle of the room, some in the lotus position, some with crossed legs, hands held just so resting on each knee. This tiny group of children, who five minutes ago were bouncing wildly through a play area, settled into a brief quiet meditation.

I felt suddenly out-of-place and far too noisy simply sitting on a chair watching these amazing children respond the to climate and spirit of a room.

I believe the prayers, and tears, hopes and pleading that happen in that room remain long after the visitors leave. Those private tears and supplications for miracles and healing become a part of the walls, the glass, the wood, the very air. The room becomes infused with hopes and wishes. The very echoes of heartstrings stretched taut to breaking create a sacred space, a haven, a respite, a connection to something more.

Is this something beyond medicine? Or is it the ultimate medicine?

Or is it something else altogether?

What makes a space sacred?

Sacrifice. Need.

Intention. Tragedy.

Belief. Dedication.

Blessings. Desire.

Reverence.

Consecration.

Promises. Nature.

I know I certainly need more time spent in the sanctuaries of my life. The peace that comes as I take a solitary morning walk amid some of earth’s grand greenery is well compensated. Time spent contemplating life, or merely emptying my mind, brings a calmness that permeates my day. Other places I consider sacred can imbue meaning and hope in my life as I spend time and allow the atmosphere there to settle in and around me.

Life moves fast and can be fiercely painful at times. Going somewhere silent and sacred can lend balance and offer a balm like nothing else can.

Do you have a sacred space somewhere in your life? If not, do you need one?

Categories: Mental Health, Outdoors, Wondering | Tags: faith, hope, nature, Outdoors, peace, retreat, sacred, sanctuary, Stained glass | 6 Comments

Acrophobia Anyone?

Posted on February 4, 2013 by Kami

High places terrify me. Having an overly active imagination I envisioned myself plummeting down a cliff face in an out of control car countless numbers of times. I’m not sure this is normal. Probably isn’t.

As a child we often took the mountain pass from our side of the valley over the mountains to camp, canoe, fish, ride motorbikes and go sledding. Every trip up from our side of the mountain we had to take the lane on the outside edge of the mountain. I swear I held my breath for the entire ride up and all the way down until there were scrub oak thick enough to catch our car should it suddenly veer to the right off the side of the mountain.

The ride back home wasn’t as breathless since we were on the inside lane hugging the mountain. It felt safer, although still plenty scary.

The other option to get to the fun side of the mountain was a narrow winding river road with both sides of the canyon closing in on top of us and cars racing toward us as if in a time trial. After surviving that gauntlet we’d then have to drive along the tiny razor edge of the dam and the winding roads along side the reservoir.

Either road left me exhausted before we ever got to the “having fun” part of the day.

Dead Horse Point and the Colorado River – NARA – 545787 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my teenage years we went as a family to visit the Grand Canyon, Arches, Bryce Canyon and Canyonlands. You’d think the Grand Canyon with its precipitous drop-offs would have given me palpitations. The truth is I was so captivated with the beauty and magnificence of the place I forgot my fears, for the most part.

Fear came later. Total, paralyzing, utter terror.

We took a shortcut off one dirt road to another dirt road while towing the camping trailer in Canyonlands.

Can I just warn you now, in case you ever think you’re smarter than a map, that there is NO SUCH THING AS A SHORTCUT in Southern Utah or Northern Arizona. What looks like a little quarter-mile jog off the side of the road is, in actuality, a cliff face, or an impassable road, or a road cut into the side of a mountain shored up by a few railroad ties.

Which is what we found ourselves on.

By time we realized there was no pass that cut through the mountain, but instead only switchbacks up the side of the cliff for an eternity, it was impossible to turn around, especially with a trailer in tow. Our only option was forward, or rather, upward.

Each hairpin turn required a two steps forward, one step back movement, repeated endlessly. Dad would ease the truck and trailer through the hairpin as far as he could go, then back up while cranking the steering wheel, then forward a few inches, then back up a bit, then forward a few inches, until he negotiated the turn. Fifty yards of straight dirt road or so later, he would repeat the process.

A couple of times Mom had to get out and direct Dad, letting him know how close the trailer wheels were to the edge. Meanwhile, us kids were in the back of the pickup under a camper shell, huddled in blankets, chewing our nails, trying not to watch and praying our little hearts out.

I was sure we were all going to die out there in the middle of nowhere. I had already replayed the scene in my mind countless times before we were even halfway up the cliff. If and when park rangers ever found us, we’d be an unrecognizable heap of burnt metal and glass and broken bodies flung all over the red sandstone cliff. There wouldn’t even be a funeral.

After two eternities and a stint in Hades, we reached the blessedly flat top of the cliff. If Dad would have let me, I’d have gotten out and kissed the ground.

Our destination was Dead Horse Point, which is itself a dizzying narrow-necked mesa. After what we’d been through to get there, it was easy to gaze out over the edge of nothing to the tiny river below.

I can look back now and say, “What an adventure!” I’m glad I lived to tell the tale. But, no thank you to any more high rise exploits in my future.

Categories: Family, Memory Lane, Outdoors | Tags: Arches, Canyonlands National Park, cliffs, Dead Horse Point State Park, Driving, hairpin turns, heights, nature, Outdoors, shortcuts, switchbacks | 7 Comments

Singing and Dancing in the Rain

Posted on January 26, 2013 by Kami

It’s Raining! Hooray! It’s rained so much that the park across the street, which is really a water retention basin in disguise, is filling up and almost ready for a few canoes or inflatable boats.

Here in the desert, nothing brings out the smiles faster the sound of rain. There’s no smell here more delicious than rain scented desert air. Nothing brings out the child in people around here faster than the steady drip and splatter of raindrops. It’s a joyful, snow day kind of excitement. We all become puddle jumpers, splashing with abandon, leaving the umbrella’s closed and getting drenched.

The three girls under umbrellas who let me take their photo fifteen minutes ago, are now at the park running along the edges of the newly minted “pond,” no umbrellas in sight.

Is there any movie scene more charming than Gene Kelly dancing in the rain?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1ZYhVpdXbQ

“I’m singin’ in the rain

“Just singin’ in the rain

What a glorious feelin’

I’m happy again.

I’m laughing at clouds.

So dark up above

The sun’s in my heart

And I’m ready for love.”

Something about cloud cover and water falling from the sky puts sunshine smack dab in the middle of my heart, just like those lyrics say.

I suppose if it rained often here, it’d be less delightful.

When we lived in the Seattle area the clouds were a constant companion, rain was as common as blackberries growing on the side of the road, and humidity was the norm. Summertime occasionally let the sun peak through, and it didn’t get much warmer than the 70’s. 80’s was a heatwave there.

Having spent 15 years in this desert now I’ve learned to cherish the few rainy days we have. We open the windows and doors and let the freshness waft through the house. Here, rain is like a gem and we cherish the intermittent, the atypical, and the rare.

Let the stromy clouds chase.

Everyone from the place

Come on with the rain

I’ve a smile on my face

I walk down the lane

With a happy refrain

just singin’

singin’ in the rain… dancin’ in the rain…I’m happy again…

I’m singin’ and dancin’ in the rain…”

I suppose learning to sing or dance in stormy weather requires that we suspend reality or access the inner child in ourselves. Dancing in the rain means we’ve set aside worries and negativity, at least momentarily, in order to just enjoy that short moment. We’re not concerned about what anyone thinks about us.

It’s not always easy to do that, that’s for sure. Sometimes the emotional or psychological climate we’re in just sucks the life right out of us. Singing and dancing are the last things we feel like doing.

It’s possible that’s exactly what we need to do.

Whatever the weather is bringing you today, I hope you can find joy in it, see the beauty in it’s variety, cherish the changeableness in it. Maybe you don’t feel like dancing about it. I hope you can find that sunshine hiding out in your heart and dance anyway.

Categories: Joy, Outdoors | Tags: clouds, Dance, desert, desert air, flooding, nature, Outdoors, Rain, Singin in the Rain, stormy weather, weather | 1 Comment

That Way, This Way, My Way, Some Way

Posted on January 21, 2013 by Kami

camino de santiago (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Here’s more than a movie recommendation for you; “The Way” starring Emilio Estevez and Martin Sheen.

I hadn’t heard of this movie until I stumbled on it last week. Apparently it never got the usual blingy press and advertising. That’s probably for the best. Created with care, reverence, and respect, its clarity and thoughtful, natural pacing create a feel for what it must be to experience such a thing. Not a single part of it felt gratuitous or forced. It’s not a movie for the masses.

Here’s a summary quote about it from Netflix:

“When his son dies while hiking the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in the Pyrenees, a grieving father decides to complete the 500-mile trek to Spain.”

The Camino de Santiago is basically “the pilgrimage route to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in northwestern Spain, where tradition has it that the remains of the apostle Saint James are buried. “

Fascinated by this depiction of a modern-day pilgrimage, I let myself absorb the beauty of this film. The scenery was pretty, the trail looked user-friendly, the characters real. The story line was poignant and sincere. Something about this movie clicked in me and got me thinking.

So what is a pilgrimage and why do people do it? Dictionary.com defines it as

“any long journey, especially one undertaken as a quest or to pay homage”

Certainly a pilgrimage isn’t something every person needs or wants. But then, I wondered if life itself isn’t its own kind of pilgrimage for some, for many.

(Photo credit: VagabondTravels)

I know some who are on a long journey as a single parent, others who are traveling a difficult path through the daily trial of depression. Still others know their long road is shorter than they’d like and will end early at death’s shore. Providing long-term care for an ill family member must count as a journey worthy of honor or blessing.

I wonder if joining the military isn’t a kind of pilgrimage, certainly it’s self-sacrificing, serves a higher purpose and surely leads to deep introspection.

Service of a religious or charitable nature can take on the qualities of pilgrimage.

I’ve also wondered, since watching this movie, about my life. Do I need a pilgrimage? Have I been through any kind of refiner’s fire? Sometimes I think the answer is yes, to both questions.

Then the question becomes; do I want to take on a pilgrimage by choice instead of by default?

There is an ocean and a continent or two between myself and any beginning point on that trail across Spain. I would need a very substantial reason to walk such a path, to invest that much time and that many resources into such a quest. I’m not catholic, so a traditional religious reason doesn’t exist for taking this on. I’m sure, at this point in my life, I haven’t got the reason, the time or the resources, or the physical ability to take on something as big as the Camino de Santiago.

Grand Canyon, from South Rim near Visitor Center (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I set a goal some years back to hike the Grand Canyon. It seemed a reasonable quest, with a realistic time to prepare, to plan, to follow through. The goal date came and went long ago and I had done nothing to move myself toward it. Did I not really want to do it? Was it worthy of my time and attention? Or did life simply have other paths for me to take?

I feel compelled to find a reason, a justification perhaps, to take on such a quest as the Camino de Santiago. And yet, I find excuses at the ready, and know it’s something that will never happen for me. To think otherwise is to be a dreamer of the silliest sort.

Maybe all I need to do is treat my life more like the pilgrimage that it is. What’s my quest? What am I hoping to pay homage to? Where am I going? What am I hoping to achieve on this journey I’m on. What are the milestones and how will I honor them? All good questions I ought to know the answers to.

Have you been on a pilgrimage? Any experience with something like this? Any desire to do such a thing?

Guest post: Walking the Camino de Santiago – by Janice Meyers Foreman (hitchhikershandbook.com)
The Way (mbbsmkmedia.wordpress.com)
My Mind is Running Wild on the Camino de Santiago (passionateaboutpoetryandlife.wordpress.com)

Categories: Outdoors, Wondering | Tags: camino de santiago, challenges, goals, Grand Canyon, journeys, movies, Outdoors, Pilgrimage, Santiago de Compostela, The Way, Way of St James | 4 Comments

The Magic of a Dusty Country Road

Posted on January 6, 2013 by Kami

Dirt road (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Bouncing in the passenger seat of the dual wheel truck, dust billowing behind us, I rest my arm out the window, letting the leaves and bushes tickle my hand as we drive past. If we were driving faster it would hurt to do this, but the ruts and rocks of this particular stretch of dirt road keep our speed at a minimum. The truck eases right into the bushes and we slow even more as we make room for a jeep coming down the road toward us. As that cloud of dust draws closer my father raises his left hand and waves at the jeep. A man with a cowboy hat lifts his hand in response as the two vehicles ease past each other.

“Who was that?” I ask.

“Don’t know,” replies my dad.

“But you waved at them,” I venture.

“Yup,” he says.

“So if you don’t know that man, why did you wave to him?” I push.

“Cuz, that’s what you do out in the country.” He punctuates the sentence in a way I know means that’s the end of this conversation. Not abrupt, not angry, just “that’s all there is to say about that,” communicated in an inflection, a tone or a breath.

A few minutes later, a truck lumbers past us, he waves, they wave, and I ask. “Who was that?”

“Don’t know,” he responds.

“But…”

“Yup, that’s what we do out here,” he says with a relaxed twang to his voice.

The fifteen mile road we bump along that day provided several more similar scenes. As we emerged on the asphalt and headed toward home I dangled my hand out the window to ride the slipstream of air that blew past. I felt the temperature rise as we s-curved our way down the mountain pass. I sighed as the scent in the air changed from pine to scrub oak, and from scrub oak to suburb.

We drove past many cars once we reached the main roads of our town and never did my dad raise a hand in a hello. I didn’t ask. When we reached our neighborhood, he wave once, twice. Then we pulled into the driveway and I hopped out of the truck.

Country roads were a staple in my life, for a variety of reasons, camping, canoeing, checking on the beehives my dad had stashed in various places, breakfast picnics, a day at the reservoir, or simply to go for a drive. Often my siblings came along, sometimes the whole family, occasionally just me. Always the same ritual of waving to strangers happened. Sometimes he even talked to strangers. “Anything biting?” he might ask a man with a fishing pole. Or “Howdy!” he might say to a couple of kids walking in the dusty dunes of tire tracks.

The Pacific Northwest Trail (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

All those roads taught me a kind of etiquette that isn’t in books. Out in the country, on back roads, on hiking trails, lakeside, or mid-river, there is an unspoken understanding. There is a camaraderie in solitary places, in nature, that temporarily suspends the walls we erect in ordinary places. There is permission granted in green open spaces that lets us, encourages us even, to be friendly, to be kind, to be more than ourselves.

To pass someone on a hiking trail and not say “hello” or “good morning” is unthinkable for me. Brief eye contact seems like a given as well. At the very least, a nod of the head or a smile is a must. Conversation is optional, but allowed.

Similar behavior at a shopping mall, in the grocery store, walking down the sidewalk, gets you weird looks and feels completely off the mark.

I haven’t analyzed this too much. Just noticed it. Seems there are many unspoken rules that are difficult to explain, but make sense just the same.

One thing is clear to me. I need to travel fewer paved roads, and I need more dust clouds in my rearview mirror.

I’m drawn to the outdoors by the beauty and serenity of it all. There is energy and peace found in nature that nothing else can match. I wonder if maybe part of the attraction is also the relaxing of barriers, the lowering of the defenses, the slightly more open connection with other human beings.

Categories: Family, Memory Lane, Outdoors, Relationships | Tags: country, dirt road, etiquette, friendliness, Outdoors, Recreation, sunday drives, Trail | 6 Comments

Singing in the Rain

Posted on December 16, 2012 by Kami

Goutte d’eau. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Three days of rain! Yes, we’ve had rain in abundance. Not the quick blast from a passing cloud that pounds the ground with too much water then runs off the desert’s hard surface, but a slow soaking, drizzly mist, with an occasional extra burst of water washing down the sky.

Walking at the Riparian in the rain gives the place an entirely different spin.

I’ve been here literally hundreds of times. I’ve walked the same paths, sat on the same benches, paused at the same spots, turned left at the same tree.

Today is different.

Today rain has changed everything.

Instead of hearing the crunch of gravel under every footfall, I hear the plash and patter of drops through the leaves, a quiet drumming on the water’s surface.

Today the greens are more alive and vibrant with a sheen of moisture and a kind of renewed energy of life.

Today the flower buds on the bushes glow with a difference in the light. This isn’t the usual direct sun, but a diaphanous cloud-filtered light that highlights colors more.

There’s a bush that looks as if it’s been hung with pearls. The raindrops have gathered on the ends of each branch on a small, solid puff-ball, giving the illusion of an ice droplet or a crystallized grain of sand. Nature’s magic at it’s best.

The ducks wander the paths today, not content to stay in their ponds. A turtle plods across a grassy patch and pushes its way into the thick, wet undergrowth.

Swallows dip, soar, swoop, circle, and skim the water’s surface, dancing an intricate and ancient rhythm.

The air is humid with the verdant scent of growth and hope.

I feel newly washed after three days of these gifts from the clouds. Almost anything is possible. Or so it seems.

Dancing in the Rain (gottayoga.wordpress.com)
Waiting for Rain (overthinkingexpat.wordpress.com)

Categories: Joy, Outdoors | Tags: Cloud, days of rain, desert, nature, Outdoors, puff ball, Rain, riparian, walking, water | Leave a comment

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