Sunshine After the Rain (and hail) (and wind) (and thunder) (and more rain)

I rather enjoy my life on my [hobby] farm. We have enough growing here that I can call it a [hobby] farm. We have several patches of vegetable gardens.We have chickens. We have several berry plants and fruit trees. I like to call my backyard "my oasis." This past weekend, I spend several hours working in my oasis, enjoying the glorious sun and breeze. My back muscles and swatches of tender red skin will attest to it. 

Last week, we had two severe storms roar through West Tennessee. The first one came suddenly with little warning. It was sunny, calm, and 84 degrees one moment. Then it was blowing sideways rain, pelting hail, and the weather radio began to blare the evil tornado warning message. The electricity went out for about two hours and it rained all night. Sure enough, within a day of that storm another one came through. The second one lacked the tornado warning, but it knocked out our electricity for a solid 23 hours and brought damaging winds. Randall worked for some six hours helping the fire department clear roads of felled trees that night.

I could see the storms looming on the second day and the events from the day before made me especially "weather aware." I lit candles as we sat down for dinner. Sure enough, the electricity went out as we were eating. Randall barely finished his second slice of pizza when he got that call from the fire department and was gone until almost 1am.

I had the foresight to light candles before dinner because of the previous day's storms.
I did not know the need would last so long.
It is amazing how difficult it is to have both no electricity and nowhere to go.

The next morning was clear and sunny but I knew it would be difficult. I had just transplanted several of my "babies" from their safe harbor under their grow light in the basement to their new homes in the garden. Hail and plants are not friends. I donned my red, rubber boots and proceeded to march around my yard for a damage assessment. I couldn't even bare to take pictures because the damage made me sad. Stalks and stems held up torn and holey leaves as mini, green surrender flags. The strawberry patch was a mess of shredded, green foliage and a few beaten-up berries. Several of my babies were gone.

My beautiful broccoli (from maybe three weeks ago)?

We have such a small [hobby] farm that these damages are practically insignificant. But I could feel the weight of a farmer who has to face whatever nature throws her way. Weather? Pests? Fungus? Blight? I don't farm for a living, but in the moment of sadness for losing all of the living things that I helped cultivate, I also realized that there is so much more. Generations have felt this way. People across many landscapes on different continents have felt this way. I have been raised in a modern enough time that the weather is more of an annoyance and not the force to be reckoned with if you want to feed your family. It took me about three days to digest my sadness and work onward.

I spent many hours this past weekend in my yard (my guess is something like 13 or 14 hours total). Yes, there were things to clean up. There are always things to clean or repair on a farm. But there were also chores to keep things moving forward. More plants need to be planted, more weeds need to be pulled, more seeds put in the ground. I had my chance to be sad for what happened after those storms, but dwelling in the damage was not going to make anything better.

What impressed me during those beautiful days is how the damaged plants bounced back. They have leaves with holes but those leaves still turned to face the sun. Birds still sang. The earth still rotates and the sun still sears my skin unless I apply regular and complete doses of SPF 800. Maybe that is why I love to garden? I receive many lessons outside, like the days don't stop even if I want them to. That the worst maybe isn't actually the worst. That the sun will return even after the most severe storms blow through.

As I was working on one part of the yard, Randall was mowing. He stopped and started motioning to me like a crazy person (let's just say that maybe we should not be charades partners). I finally understood that he was motioning to a tree. I checked it out and saw a mockingbird's nest about chest-height with one spotted egg in it. New babies! This morning, I saw that there are now three eggs in it. That mockingbird probably did not like the storms, neither, but here it is, continuing with its life.

And yes. I should be studying for my final final law school exam of the semester. But my brain can only do so much, so I am reflecting and writing instead. It is a way of continuing to digest the events of the week (and maybe also the events of the past two and a half months).

Planting Wildflowers

I've been meaning to write more. My buddy, Paul, helped motivate me to get back into it. Last night, I found a moment that felt inspired enough that I could write about it. Forgive my forthcoming stream of consciousness:

Randall and I purchased land from his dad this spring. One swath of land runs to the side of our property and we decided it would be a good place to create some form of "buffer" from potential future neighbors. We decided said buffer would be an orchard. Now, this land has been agricultural in nature; the farmers who leased it rotated growing crops on it, like soybeans and corn. When the land has nothing growing, we see a weed-splosion occur. In order to combat the weed-splosion, we bought this: 

Clover and wildflower seeds! The clover is native and will be good for the ground as it grows our various fruit and nut trees. It is also good for pollinators (and we have to save the bees!). However, because of the world predicament we are in (this here Time of the Coronavirus), I have turned into Scrooge. If we don't need it, we are not spending any money on it. So, while we talked about wildflowers back in January, a few weeks ago Randall said he was going to buy the seed for the patch along the road. "Maybe next year?" I offered. "It seems like an unnecessary expense right now." He said that's one way to look at it, then followed up: "but think of the joy we will provide to anyone driving by who sees the cheery patch of flowers." Ok. "Think of the joy you get every time you see flowers." He's not wrong.* So we bought the wildflower seed. And I already experience great amounts of joy just thinking about the flowers.

Knowing it was going to rain over the next several days, Randall and I tilled the land in order to spread the layer of seeds. Randall and I had already used the tractor a few weeks back to turn over the soil. So as the daylight hours slipped away, Randall and I feverishly completed the task of planting seeds. Ok, I just did some tossing of seeds and a few light raking motions to cover them up. But we got the field planted.

Look! Look at this! Ok, ok. Right now it looks like patchy dirt. But while Randall and I were sowing seeds, a thought dawned on me. We are sowing hope. We plant for the future. We don't know what the future will hold (in this case, we hope it is a field of wildflowers), but our efforts are for the future.

So I offer this thought: we are living in a world of uncertainty right now (completely off topic, but if I hear the word "unprecedented" one more time, I might stab someone). Maybe it feels like we are living in an abstract place of patchy dirt. Maybe it is difficult to see through the weeds. But we keep working toward a future that holds things like wildflowers. We keep educating children for their brighter future. We keep being kind to others because that's the type of world where we want to live. We keep living, taking each day as it comes knowing that we can't change that these days continue to come, we can only do our best with them. Ultimately, there is still a future and even if it feels like a vast space of tilled-up dirt right now, we can still hold on to hope. Hang in there and stay well, my friends.

*Actually, often my handsome husband knows more about me than I do. In this case, he preemptively offered me a season of feeling grounded in my garden.

Life in an RV (for a week)

One of the most-oft questions people ask upon the return from a trip is "how was it?" I think we especially got asked this question since we've been back because 1) we went to a cool place, 2) we traveled with teenagers, 3) we traveled with teenagers across country for a week, and 4) we were in a confined, vehicular space of recreation for said week. 

To answer: everyone survived.

One of the handiest of things was being able to park when we wanted to use our space. On the first night, we parked in a Walmart parking lot somewhere in Arkansas and slept there:

Now, sleeping ended up being very hard for me. That's weird, because generally I can sleep anywhere at any time. I did not sleep more than two-hours at a time for the whole week; I would sleep, wake up, repeat throughout the night. In order to keep the rig cool, we had to run the loud AC unit (and sometimes generator). If someone so much as blinked, you could feel it when you were laying down in the bed. We had to sleep with all the doors open for air circulation and that was the longest amount of time that I had no privacy (and that Randall and I had no married-partner privacy). Trips to the bathroom at places like rest stops and Walmarts became the only moments of privacy any of us experienced for the week and that was more draining than I anticipated.

For most of our lunches, we tried to find a park to set up and eat. We'd stabilize the rig, pop out a slide, and folks could eat a lunch (hot or cold!). We did dinner that way a few times (I planned the snot out of meal prepping for RV trips).

A small, but super-convenient space

It was also handy that everyone could spread out during the drive. That was probably the most convenient part of having the RV. In a minivan or station wagon, everyone would be snug, crammed even, and sitting for what ended up being especially-long drives. In the RV, folks could sit on the couch or at the dinette and could lay down if needed. So in that sense, it served its purpose. The kids could watch movies on different TVs. Additionally, without the availability of a bathroom on board, we would have been stopping at 45 minute- to hour- intervals to accommodate my amazing ability to stay hydrated. 

We initially evaluated that renting the RV (through RV Share) would probably end up costing about the same as renting a car, driving, staying in hotels, eating out all week, etc. After we tallied totals, we probably spent a little more than we intended, but I also think we did the trip our way and it worked out the best it could have possibly worked out for our family. We will all have memories from the week that we will carry for the rest of our lives. 

I definitely enjoyed the freedom of just being able to park wherever and enjoy.
Here, we parked at a city-managed park, ate our lunch, and the kids played in the river for a bit.

And Randall and I have talked about getting our own little rig for retirement. I enjoyed the experience enough to not reject the idea in its entirety.

Managing Expectations

When people ask me "what does a tour director do?" I usually respond lightly "I point at things and take dinner reservations." A tour director does a heckofalot more than that. Once of my biggest roles is that of expectation-manager. Guests who come on tour have ideas and expectations of what they might experience. After having led dozens of tours over the course of five year, I knew what complaints to expect and had some tricks up my sleeve to prevent these complaints by setting expectations in advance. Evidently, I need to figure out how to apply these tricks to myself. I had my own expectations of our visit to Yellowstone, as well as the trip itself. When those expectations did not work out as I anticipated, I have nobody to blame but me.

We woke up very early on our scheduled day to visit Yellowstone National Park. I knew it would get busy quickly and I thought it would be neat to watch the sun rise. I planned on spending some time at the Old Faithful location and wanted to secure parking for our rig. I also desperately wanted to see the Grand Prismatic Spring. Our first few minutes into the park granted us a glimpse of a glowing sky:

"Hooray!" I thought. "A sunrise at Yellowstone! And over the very spot I want to see!" We planned on stopping at the Grand Prismatic Spring. If you are not familiar, it is a fairly visually-iconic location of Yellowstone:

Within minutes after that glimpse of sky, we rolled into fog and clouds. This was our early morning view of the Grand Prismatic Spring:

I had not managed my own expectations. I had not planned on preparing myself for the advent of weather. And I *know* better. The kids pipped up more than once "that's it? where are all the colors? aren't we going to see it?" And I shallowly responded with something like "that's just a part of traveling, especially to places in the outdoors." I didn't believe myself.

The physical clouds eventually blew over but my mental and emotional cloud hung around. I was disappointed in missing out on the part of the park I was most excited about. I mean, I still experienced it. But I did not experience it in a way I expected. Additionally, at that point in the trip, the kids had gotten comfortable whining telling me their opinions about the trip and sharing what they would have liked better. You have probably been exposed to some version of a movie storyline where a parent tries to offer a fun vacation to his family (usually, it is a goofy father figure) and the kids just want to complain and stay home with their friends for summer vacation. I felt like I was that goofy father figure, grasping for something to keep my stepkids happy. Even reading articles about being a stepparent while traveling with stepkids did not prepare me for how I felt during several parts of the trip. Disappointed. Defeated. I gritted my teeth a lot. I tried to excuse myself sometimes. I even bubbled over some, just like we saw those geysers bubble over. I expected some form of a picture postcard vacation and I got a foggy day version of it. I still experienced it, but I experienced it in a way different than what I expected. I manage expectations for a living and I couldn't do it for myself.

And, as it goes, life moved on.

Old Faithful did its thing and folks "ooohed" and "aaaahed." The clouds disappeared and I got a sunburn on half of my face. We continued on our whirlwind visit over the course of the day. We were able to see Old Faithful spew 2.5 times. We hiked some (and the kids learned what hiking at elevation feels like). We saw some marmots. We picnicked by Yellowstone Lake. We stopped at Fishing Bridge. We then had to hustle home in order to meet the unyielding demands of the kids' biomother, which meant driving some 1,450 miles in two days (and we did it with 15 minutes to spare). The trip was equally exhilarating and exhausting.

I went on a very cool trip and got to share amazing places with my Love. I added two states to my "visit list" (only three more and I will have been to all fifty states). My body connected to physical spaces that my heart holds so near and so dear. I think just breathing the air at National Park Service sites energizes me at a cellular level. And yet, I sowed personal expectations that yielded disappointments. Social media sites like Instagram and Facebook allow you to share all your wonderful experiences and show off that you are having the best time. They don't leave a lot of room for sharing about disappointments (so I turn to my blog! I know, it is technically social media, too...). Who wants to hear Elizabeth whine about how she struggles with parts of life when she if off visiting Wyoming and Montana? But my struggles were as much a part of my trip as the geothermal activity we witnessed (and smelled). Also, I am allowed to write what I want on here and nobody is making you read it.

The trip will fade into my memory as a positive experience. My brain will rearrange my recollections so I remember the fun and forget the disappointment. And I imagine when I get ready to travel again, I will forget all these life lessons about managing my own expectations that I have been exposed to this past week. And that's just life.

Side note: Midwesterners are fun. But I still say "soda."

*I wrote and posted this on my own time.

Day 3: Go [indirectly] to Jail

We woke up with this outside of our window:

While it would probably have sounded awesome to hear the river running, the generator of our "rig" is especially loud and drowns out all noises, even thoughts. We got the kids up early to start our Colorado adventures.

First, we popped into The Dam Store for the kitch of it.

Then we had breakfast at the Colorado Cherry Company. Cherry pie and buffalo jerky topped off with cherry cider? Breakfast of champions.

Then off we went to do some exploring at Rocky Mountain National Park (and surrounding area, as we had limited time).

We stopped at the Wyoming State Historical Prison site (we did not pass go, we did not collect $200).

Then we drove another seven hundred and sixteen hours through the bottom of Wyoming to get to our campsite. (Well, it felt like it, anyway). That part was nerve-wracking, as we had absolutely no signal for most of that drive.  We crashed in Dubois, Wyoming knowing that we had another early, long, and wonderful day ahead.

Beep (bleep) Beep

We woke up in Kansas this morning (which is a good thing, since we fell asleep in Kansas last night...). We overnighted at an RV park in Chapman.

The staff were super friendly and the shower house was immaculate. There were several box-store produced signs of encouragement. I think the one that read "Don't let yesterday use up too much of today" spoke to me most.

I am especially prone to dwelling in the past (hey, I am an historian, after all). I worry a lot about what I said or what I didn't say when I could spend that time dealing with the present. Although, sometimes, dealing with the present provides it's own struggles (so it is easier to reminisce about our version of the past).

Hours and hours of Kansas

Today we are riding in an RV through Kansas. We should be to Colorado by lunchtime. I want to embrace everything about my today, however, we have a slight situation: something about air flow makes the RV sound like it is spontaneously honking as we drive along. It is one part annoying, one part aggravating, and all parts loud. It is not the actual horn. And it does not seem that cars passing us can hear it (nobody has started at us as they drive by, nor provided us with any special "hand signals"). But it still happens and, gosh, it is hard to stay "present." Figuring out potential remedies is becoming Randall's slight obsession. Well, that, and removing these smushed bugs from the massive windshield.

Onwards (while staying present, of course).

Not Technically "Day 1" because we started driving last night

I am typing this out on my cellular device that doubles as a technological wonder these days. Currently, I am somewhere on Interstate 70, heading straight into the sunset on a family trip to Yellowstone. Some time ago, my husband and I decided renting an RV on a cross country trip with three teenagers was a good idea. Today is our first full day of said trip and so it still seems like a good idea.

I brought my computer with me but it has been giving me fits and now won't even turn on. Thanks, Dell. Randall's co-workers evidently mentioned how it might be fun to track the trip (maybe via video). If I can get the technology to work, I might just make it happen. For now, typing out blog posts on a phone will have to do.

I'm Back (or Am I?)

I have drafted and saved many blog posts over the past several years. My desire to write exists. Time to sit and write thoughts about thoughts does not. So I have been reticent to publish or attempt to commit to blogging again, as I don't want to start only to wane. During the school year, my time is more or less consumed with taking classes, doing homework, reading for classes, taking notes for classes, retaking notes for classes, studying for classes, driving to or from classes, and making dinner for my family. Sometimes, I get some free time to vacuum the massive amounts of pet hair that is now a common feature at my house.

Since I last posted (some four years ago), I divorced, spent some time gallivanting, had intentions to move to a new and wild location, found a most marvelous man in rural, west Tennessee, married said marvelous man, gained three step kids, three step cats, two step dogs, and seven step chickens. In the past year, the chickens have all met their maker and we gained another cat. I also decided to go back to school in pursuit of a law degree because I am insane, evidently. Anybody providing advice about being a step-parent will say "it's one of the hardest things you can do in life." Anybody providing advice about going to school will say "it's one of the hardest things you can do in life." And here I am rolling along, doing two of the hardest things you can do in life in tandem. Many of those drafted and saved posts were inspired by events of my past year because this past year has provided more than enough fodder for writings.

One reason I want to keep up with publicly posting about my life again is rooted in the earliest reasons I started this blog over ten years ago. I felt like I neglected talking to my extended family while I was in grad school, and this was one way to let everyone know I was still alive. It is also therapeutic for me. So I think what I might do is publish this and see what happens after that. No commitments, though.

See? I do things.

I promise, I have been meaning to post! It is not always easy, as internet is spotty at best out on the road. Yes, I am on the road and am behind on my days. I thought on Saturday that I would try to post once a day every day this week. And today is Wednesday and I am just now writing.

 

I thought I would share some photos from the road, or in this case, the water. Yesterday, we cruised through Lake Powell (also known as the flooded part of Glen Canyon). Usually, the trip is just an hour and a half and then we go on our merry way.

 



 

Except, then we got a call. Well, the captain got a call. Another boat's steering went out. Rather than have their 98 passengers paddle, they called our captain to see if we can pick them up.

 

 

So we did. It took an extra 15 minutes or so, but between the crew members of both boats and the patience of all passengers, we completed our rescue mission. (Ok, ok, maybe that may be a little dramatic...)

 

 

Every once and a while, I get a few moments to myself. So after a day that started at 5am, I enjoyed a local amber ale, a kale salad (POW!- it packed a nutrient punch), and some light reading about the slave trade in the eightteenth century.

 

 

My days are busy and I have little time to think about anything beyond what I need to do next for the tour. But sometimes I take a moment to appreciate my surroundings. Last night, along with a nearly full moon, I watched oranges and purples battle each other as the sun set. Ultimately, a starry night won.

 

 

Small Fires Happen

"Small fires happen."

When my friend was talking about things I cook up, she meant figuratively. I also meant it figuratively when I said "as long as I don't burn down the kitchen!" And we laughed. She probably didn't know it, but her reply about small fires served as words of encouragement. Small fires do happen.

I have been playing with my color pencils. Fire is hard to capture.

Recently, I have seen quite a few folks around me who are clearly struggling with where they are in their life. I struggle with it, too, sometimes. We thought we would be somewhere else, doing something else, living someplace else. We made choices that brought us here and sometimes we feel like here is not where we want to be. And when small fires happen, it feels like the end of the world. The small fires feel like they engulf us because we fuel them with our own doubts. The sooner we accept that these small fires happen, the sooner we can put them out and move along.

I think it is important to keep "cooking things up." The more often you try things in the kitchen of life, the more often you are going to start small fires. The more often you start small fires, the better equipped you will become to deal with them. The better equipped you are to deal with life's small fires, the more you can experiment in the kitchen. Maybe this is not the best example of life's cycles, but it is what I have been pondering.

I never want to stop trying. I never want to get so caught up with the "oh, I wish I had" that I forget I am still alive and opportunity is waiting for me. So here is to today's small fires! May you appreciate them in the moment and later be able to see how they helped shaped your future.

Forever Amazed by Technology

I like to imagine throwing my computer out the window, sometimes. That tends to happen when the device does not do exactly what I want exactly when I want it. I forget how magical it is just that technology like this exists.

The other day, I needed to print something from my laptop. I was downstairs, my printer was upstairs. I knew both devices had Bluetooth capabilities, but I had not actually used the two together before. I was lazy enough to give it a shot. I pressed "print," selected the correct printer, and waited. A moment later, a message popped up about the ink status of my printer and asked if I wanted the document in black-and-white instead.

What? What was that? My computer was effectively communicating with my printer? I clicked "yes" and ventured upstairs to see the result. There it was, glowing in the plastic printer tray... a piece of paper with my words, my very own printed document. My brain exploded! Everything on my screen traveled through space to become a document on a different floor!

When I was five years old, I was floored by the idea of a fax machine. At a local science/children's museum, there was a room with fax machines set up. Kids got to draw on a paper, fax it, and then see that their drawing was replicated across the room. My little five-year-old brain broke after I saw my drawing appear across the room. How could that happen?! I examined the cords and decided there was no way a paper rolled up could fit through the wire. The whole concept was likely scientifically explained, but I would always chalk it up to some form of magic.

Bluetooth is a technology that I still vaguely understand (and yes, it has been scientifically explained to me). It ultimately gets filed in the "it's magic!" part of my brain and I cease to be amazed by technology. Now, watch this. I am about to press a button and this will post to a floating magical webpage and you will get to read it from anywhere in the world (with internet access)! How is that not amazing!?

It is the little amazements that quell that urge to throw things when technology acts imperfect.   

Rebellious Fire Alarm

RWOOOOW RWOOOOW RWOOOOR.

Think of the shrillest, loudest, most piercing noise you can imagine. Now add another 50 decibels. That was the sound of the fire alarm in our hotel the other night. It startles one into a state of awakeness that forces the brain to go from rational to whoa. In this case, the alarm started at 2:54am. It continued until 3:06am. That 12 minutes of constant alarm felt like 48 minutes.

Now, over the past few weeks, I have been reading "The Hunger Games" series. Semi-futuristic, the plot essentially rests on the foundation of The Capitol (government) against The Districts (tribal groups) through the eyes of 17-year old Katniss. Katniss is fierce. Katniss is awesome. The books are good. I usually avoid all things super popular culture, but stumbled in to these. You should read them.

Anyways. I am in the midst of reading these and may have fallen asleep while reading one. No big deal. In fact, I fall asleep reading a lot (a product of graduate school). So when that alarm went off the first thought that popped into my mind was:

OH NO. THE CAPITOL IS HERE AND THEY WILL CRUSH THE REBELLIOUS DISTRICTS.

Immediate follow up thoughts included the violent death of Katniss and the horrible victory of the Capitol. It only took another half a minute for me to remember: This is not my bed. This is not a book. I am in a hotel and in charge of a group of people.

The shrill alarm distracted me from thinking clearly (although, it being 3am did not help) and I found the items I thought I would need in the event of an emergency: my wallet, my room key card, shoes. I left my room with the intent of finding stairs and walking down, when I realized I had no idea what direction would take me to a stair well. I was about to return to my room to find my map when the announcer came across the loudspeaker that the alarm was a false alarm.

Aw, thanks, guys.  Turns out the whole thing started because somebody left their shower running with hot water and the steam activated the alarm. Our lesson? False fire alarms are not enough to overpower the strength of The Rebellion. Or something like that.

this is what we call "fat and happy"

Did you know it is possible to gain eight pounds in two weeks? It is. I could be in the opposite-of-weight loss commercial. I toured New Orleans and south Louisiana for two weeks and I gained a half pound a day. AND that was with regular use of the hotel-provided treadmills. This is what happens when you have to decide between French toast, beignets, and eggs benedict for breakfast. Hmmm. Should I kickstart this 14-hour day with 2,000 calories of deliciousness, 2,200 calories of deliciousness, or 3,000 calories of deliciousness? Well, the eggs are protein, so they'll be good for me...

Do not misinterpret my jest as complaining! This is legitimately the first of first-world problems, I know. I love that I get to eat amazing breakfasts and that I have no dishes to clean up. I love that my coffee cup stays warm. I am on my fourth week of these tours so now the staff recognize me and some know to bring the orange juice and coffee when they greet me with a smile. And I love every minute of it.

Am I happy about the extra poundage? You bet. They were earned. That's why God invented elastic.

Now off to my morning visit to the hotel workout room to battle my half pound today. Maybe I can leave this week only three pounds heavier.

Magical Places

What makes a place magical? I grew up visiting Disneyland and understood that as a special place (ok, maybe a manufactured special place, but still special). Some might even call it "magical" (heck, the commercials for Disney experiences are founded on the idea that Disney is magical). How about places that don't have "imagineers" working to provide a magical experience? What makes those places magical?

 

I currently have a job as a tour guide in south Louisiana. I know, I know. I am surprised I am here, too. No need to dwell on the past or what I am doing or how I got here; all you need to know is I am excited for the experience, the job is a very good one, and my life is going well all around. Now this tour guide job is really more of a tour director of a tour throughout south Louisiana, starting and ending in New Orleans. I am writing this from my super plush hotel room, in fact. I even got a fruit basket upon arrival. It's fancy.

 

Now that we got that sort-of-crucial set of details out of the way, I can get back to my original question. What makes a place magical? Prior to my arrival here, I spent a few days with in-laws up in rural Wisconsin. That place was magical (and I don't just mean because of the abundance of cheese and beer). The undulating landscape rolls on and on and on into seemingly infinite hillsides. County roads pass one picturesque farm after another. Waterways and small lakes stitch these properties together to create a place bursting of greens and golds. And the atmosphere provides for some of the most stunning skyscapes I have ever seen: stormy skies, clear skies, foggy skies, sun rises, and brilliant sun sets. I suppose my historian self is also intrigued about the families and former settlements that make up the history of the place.

 

That is all magical to me. I don't know what made it that way, though. It just is.

 

Today's task upon arrival to the Big Easy was to orient myself with the city, especially with the routes and stops and hotels and restaurants for the tour. Tomorrow is the big first day officially and attendees will be arriving for their first day(s). So I did my first set of walking mid-day. Then another round. After I thought I had settled into my hotel room for the evening, I could see the sun was setting out of my window and decided to walk one more stretch as the sun sank into the horizon. And it was magical.

 

The humidity creates a feeling so that it seems microscopic beads of water gather in every individual pore. Just a full sixty seconds in this environment makes you aware of individual pores and the sweat that is about to drench clothing. That dense air also means each breath taken is velvety. The magic rests in how every body around the city feels it, too. We collectively just move slower. Except this is still a major city so while people may mosey, the traffic flies through the narrow streets, adding to the street noises. It stays busy and easy-going simultaneously. So many people (on a Monday a night!) crowd the streets and while that in itself is not magical, everybody is seeking something different. The historic buildings serve as the stage- beautifully colored props that please the eye. Then the players come out! On a Monday night, some folk have comfortable summer clothes, some look like "tourists" complete with fanny packs and visors, some have rolled up their blue collared sleeves and are looking to relax after a day of meetings, some have dressed to go out to the renowned five star eateries that seem tucked in around every corner. Everybody's plot weaves into this story that is New Orleans as they experience magic.

 

I don't even know if those things are what makes this place seem magical. These elements contribute to the vibrancy, to the hum, to the magic, but they do not complete it. Maybe it is in me and in each of the other beings that walk around here. Maybe it is just in us and up to us to find it and embrace it.

 

Jackson Square

Jean Lafitte's Old Absinthe House- I would be remiss if I did not incorporate the pirate lore somehow on my pirate blog.

 

A sunset view over the French Quarter



Forever in my Garden

If you knew me as a kid, you knew I liked the opposite of dirt. I did not like to go outside. I did not like to get dirty. I did not like the sun, nor sweat, or air. I liked a quiet corner of a library. In part because of my mobile upbringing, I understood "seasons" as weather. Gardening was more or less out of my peripheral understanding of life. Funny to think that, now, as gardening is very close to the center of my understanding of life.

Here I am, at the end of my third decade on this planet, and I love dirt. Dirt means I can play. Dirt means I can grow. Dirt means I can relax. Dirt means I can play in my garden. On a very small scale, dirt means I can eat. As much as I can with my crazy schedule, I try to spend time in my garden digging the in dirt. Especially on cool mornings, I get my daily thrills seeing each day's progress of a plant's lifecycle- especially the fruit-bearing plants. I get to eat those!

I love seeing the bud where I know a flower will bloom. And when a miniature globe peaks through and overtakes that flower, it takes everything I have not to shout "looooook! looooook! another one!" Today I noticed a grape-sized watermelon on the vine and nearly keeled over in joy. I enjoy watching the daily changes. Regardless of what I feel like is happening in my life, time marches on as evidenced by my garden. "Seasons" have greater meaning, too; weather plays only a small part of this concept of "season."   

I know what those flowers mean! 

Look! A baby tomato!

Look! Teenage tomatoes (they are still not quite mature enough to be considered adults).

We rent our property, so I had to use my 3' x 6' space with care.
Flowers, tomatoes, and watermelon vines that are now taking over my lawn.
I am okay with that.

I do not know where this life will take me. I just know I will forever keep a garden.

Day of Cleaning Ahead (so I write instead)

All of the final "to-do" things are left at the old place: minor knick knacks need gathering, place needs a thorough cleaning. That's what I am supposed to do today. All week I was excited for the all-day cleaning spree. 1) I like to do deep cleaning, as it makes me feel like I have accomplished something. 2) This is like a monkey on my back and once we are completely clean, we will be completely free. (We don't have to be out until June 14th, but I don't want to wait until the last minute). And now that my cleaning day has arrived, I am feeling a little apathetic about the whole process. Eh, who cares? We still have a week, right?

No.

I have to get myself together and make it happen. I thought maybe if I sat at my computer for a moment (in my awesome new place, at my awesome new desk space), I'd get myself inspired. Nope. I just gotta go do it and get it done.

Warming up my Brain

I am sitting on my (new) back porch, sipping on my (mostly) warm coffee, letting my (foggy) brain wake up. I imagine the workings of my brain as something from the interior of a cartoon clock, with cogs and springs and puffs of smoke when it starts working. We moved into a new place, complete with a back yard and patio, about two weeks ago and have been settling in. Today is the first day in a long time that I haven't had anything major to do (no work, no deadlines, only one load of laundry). So I am allowed to take some time to let my brain wake up. It's nice.

I try to convince myself that I can "get in a groove" once [fill in an imaginary event] happens. I'll start doing this more once this stops. I'll maintain a better schedule once I do this. When it boils down to it, I am just not a groove kind of person. (Note: I did not say "groovy"). While in school, I systematically clung to the idea that I was working towards a grooved life. I had a solid year with a solid "groove" after grad school. I spent that year looking for the next non-groove thing to distract me. I am not meant for grooves.

In my new place, I have space. Ask my mom, I like to explore the space. In my space I have an "office." My old desk in my old place was good, but now it is wonderful. I can't hear my neighbors yelling. It doesn't smell funky. Never underestimate the power of natural light through windows! And now I have an extension of my office through my back door and on a plastic Adirondack chair on my patio. The sun lights up the sky, but the towering trees rustle their proctection from the heat. I can think clearly, freely, and openly in my extension of my office before heading back to my desk where I can channel my thoughts into deliberate letter formations that create words that inform ideas I like sharing. 

As always, I struggle to maintain my balance of remembering my past while looking to my future while appreciating this moment. Maybe it is an impossible thing, but I sit here with a mind to be able to do those three things. I think about that as I fuel my day with the parts of life that is beyond coffee. Well, with a little bit of coffee, too.

Is it plural or possessive? That seemingly makes a difference.

I feel there is a societal push to laud your mother louder than everybody else does on Mothers Day (or is it Mother's Day?). "Everybody! I did not spawn from the Earth! Rather, I came from the loins of my mother! Isn't she great?" I have a hard time publicly sharing all that. Especially the loins part.

I know several people around my age who don't have mothers with them here anymore. That is heartbreaking. I know several people around my age who grew up with severe strains on their relationships with their mothers, some even growing up with abuse. That is heartbreaking. I know several people my age who want so badly to be mothers, that are loaded with motherly instincts, and can not conceive. That is heartbreaking. So I tend to keep quiet on Mothers Day, because I know the day represents forms of pain for some folks, for people I know and care about.

Unfortunately for my mom, it publicly looks like her kids (well, at least the eldest) don't celebrate Mothers Day at all. We've outgrown the finger painted cards from our youth and now face the aisles of "MOM" in early May. She has been mom for nearly three decades! But then again, she is a mom every day of the year. And she raised her kids to show humility, so it is hard to brag about Mom when she taught us not to brag. She contributed making my siblings and I into who we are today, but most Mothers Day cards are sappy and don't quite say it right. They don't say, "between you and me, you are a great mom and we don't have all the words to say how much we thank you and love you because there aren't enough words." They don't sell those cards in August when an opportunity might pop up to celebrate a mother after the holiday.

I am blessed to have my mom and I know that. I am blessed that I have both parents. I am blessed both parents had cool moms (and that I still have cool grandmoms). I am blessed to have mother(s) in law, as well. And I am blessed to have motherly figures. God saw that I'd needed a lot of help on this planet and provided me with many mentors and guides and motherly-like figures. They don't make cards for those folks and those folks don't get "days," but they count.

I love my mom and and grateful God gave me her. And I hope she understands ultimately she doesn't need one special day because she has them all.

How Many Trips to Walmart Does it Take to Change a Lightbulb?

"Hey, your left headlight is out so don't go drinkin and drivin."

"Just kidding, you should never go drinkin and drivin. But your headlight is still out."

My husband thought he was being funny in the way he texted me about some minor car maintenance this morning. Most mornings we have to play car switcheroo, as I park at night behind him but he has to leave fairly early. As an example to how early: It is only 8:00AM and our coffee pot has already turned off the "keep coffee warm" feature.

Seeing as it was likely going to storm some time this morning, I thought "Ah, ha! I am going to just go to the Walmart, change this sucker, and be done before the keep coffee warm feature turns off!" Thinking I wouldn't really see anybody at Walmart at 6:15AM, I threw on a dirty pair of jeans and a shirt I wore two days ago, tossed my hair into a haphazard bun, and trekked my way to the Walmart. Yeah, buddy. I bought the appropriate H7 headlight and drove home. I've changed a few headlights, this will be nothing. In fact, I tease my husband regularly that all of his car projects take infinitely longer than his initial time estimations. "I'll show him what's up. Watch this." I finished changing the bulb before the end of the Bob Dylan song I was listening to finished. "Ta da!"

But then it didn't turn on when I turned on my lights. So I fussed around a bit and discovered that the new bulb was missing a piece when compared to the old bulb. Nooooooooooooo! I had to trek BACK to the Walmart. I topped off my coffee and cruised back to the Walmart. It turns out all of the school zones rest between my house and Walmart. I made an exchange, even upgrading to the next better bulb (just in case), bought a *set* to change out both lights, and decided the Walmart parking lot is just as good of a place as any to do car maintenance. Plus I did not want to jynx myself by driving home only to discover further mishaps.

I popped my hood. "Do you need help, Miss?" "No, I'm fine, thank you!"

I changed the headlight AGAIN. "Are you having trouble, ma'am." "No, I am just changing my headlight, thanks!"

I tested my lights and it still was not working. "Ma'am, are you ok?" "I'm just fine, it's just my headlight."

I installed the other light. "Do you need a battery jump?" "No, thank you, just changing a bulb."

I realized I installed the second light in the wrong place and remedied the situation. "You need some help?" "Nope, just a light bulb!"

I tested the lights again, and they finally both came on. I proceeded to check all of my lights and they all worked. Thank you, Walmart Patrons, for all of your offers to help. Had I known I would receive that much attention this morning, I might have not worn a shirt that stinks. But then, I guess, it is Walmart.

So now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go heat up some coffee, take a shower, and scrub scrub scrub under my nails. And maybe take a does of humility for all the times I teased mechanics and my husband for taking longer than they originally estimated on projects.

Thinking of these past few weeks

Well. I had intentions of writing more. Time slipped away from me. Now, I have one week left of my temporary park ranger position at Andersonville. Where did my time go?

Working here proved beneficial to me for many reasons. It was such a positive experience for me to be reminded that healthy work environments can cultivate passion. My colleagues are nothing short of encouraging and thought-provoking and innovative and passionate. It turns out those things are like my own personal fuel. I thrived among them and was humbled by their intensity and brilliance. I don't imagine any of them will wonder their way over to this blog and read this, but in case they do, you guys rock my socks off.

It was also beneficial to me personally. Everything changed when I walked down that plush, Las Vegas aisle last year and recommited to my husband. I, however, had become so used to living single that I forgot the types of things required to tend to my relationship. I now know for me that proximity is vital. No more long-distancing for lengths of time. I am also more mindful of what it means to think and work together, rather than just for me. Additionally, the idea of moving every several years no longer appeals to me like it once did. I crave roots. Wearing the green and grey for the short time I did reminded me of what a mobile life could look like; I do not desire that anymore.

Finally, I know in my own way that I have made contributions to the memory of this place. They weren't many and they weren't ginormous, but I know the work I did over the past several months contributed to something bigger than myself. That alone made these days worth my time.