At Least They're Committed

Time to write! Intertwining my fingers, I point my palms out and push, ‘crack.’ My fingers didn’t pop or crack, but my left shoulder sure did.

Day 2.5 of solitude. In addition to doing a walkthrough for the security system installation, I have washed and dried all the sheets, remade the beds, taken down and emptied the hummingbird feeder, rolled up and put away the hoses, called my sweet Mom and Aunt Patti, completed a thorough sweeping of the entire downstairs and even tried to wash the windows. Note: Tried.

I promptly followed this up by going online and searching for window washers near me and have reached out, using a local company’s online form. I’m also waiting to hear back from the garage-door people. So many fixes. See? I’m working hard! Getting things done! No, really.

As I write this (goal No. 3 for my self-imposed reawakening), I’m looking out the big-ass window at the skeletons of dead trees jutting skyward. Blanketed below them is new growth, the youngsters now boasting a captivating orange, red and gold glow. Shhhh, they’re fading now, slumbering into the complete blackness of the night.

Wait. No. As any good artist knows and even some not-so-good ones, not black. Nothing is black or gray (well, I’m a Gray). There’s always color in there somewhere and you must mix the hues so as the tint is perceived by the eye to be black even though it isn’t.

That’s goal No. 2 for this trip — paint something. Anything! Even if it’s bad. And it certainly will be (ignore my buddy ChatGPT’s vision for my art below). I’m about one-third through, doing some sort of loose interpretation of the fall colors on the aspen trees outside. That said, the ones nearest to the house haven’t started to change yet.

That’s good — since the old gals will be taking the train up Thursday, then spending a couple of days exploring, using CoolWater at the Highlands as their base before driving down the mountain on Saturday. They might hit the colors at their peak.

Hence the sheets and the deep clean and, hopefully, the window washing.

I drove into town briefly today to replenish the wine stash for the octogenarians. (I like it when every port in the wine rack is full — it looks pretty and all cultured and shit. I miss Ellen. We put this rack together, um, together. But I digress.)

And I’ll go again tomorrow to visit my favorite boutique. I would have visited it today, but I forgot my phone up here and, ya know, my children or grandchildren might need me.

I’ll just get stuff that I need — like a bowl to burn sage.

Despite picking up pumpkins (I got zero from my garden this year — possibly because of the negative energy that is so pervasive in the house down below) I will not be buying any fall decorations.

I thought about it, really I did. But it’s so unnecessary! Looking out the car windows on the drive up here, I can just imaging traveling on the train and then from the station, settling onto the deck here and gazing upon the river and all the foliage that surrounds it . . . there’s no greater splendor. Anything store-bought pales.

Earlier today, cleaning the stove, I was sucker-punched (not for the first time, but for the first time today) by what day it is. A week from now will be the 10th anniversary of my dad’s passing. (It’s not death — it’s a transition. They were wrong to tell is in J-school to call it death and nothing else, because there is something else). Soon after being struck by that thought, a magnificent hawk swooped in and landed on a tall, burned out tree not far from the deck, just for a moment, and I knew Dad was near.

Thanks Dad! Thanks for checking in! With your deep devotion to nature and in appreciating this corner of God’s Earth, I hope you and the pups visit often. We are grateful for the opportunity to adopt this home and steward the land because of D’s Dad. But I am truly, eternally blessed to have been instilled with the love of — and dedication to — nature by you. I love and miss you so much!

Should anyone wonder, what was my No. 1 goal for this trip beyond cleaning? Peace. And peace of mind. I’d say I’m doing fine.