BUMPS, PATCHES AND CRACKS
A ride down the back roads of West Virginia in October is a year-end bonus with a capital 'B'. The rolling hills show a bounty of confetti popcorn - verde, crimson and amber - weaving their foothills into a lattice valley of emerald green grass, a lime river carpet. As one might imagine, the road is not of particular pristine smoothness. Pedro gives no claim to a Cadillac ride. I feel the bumps. I notice a truckload of patched road cracks on my Saturday morning drive. However, the nostalgia of appalachian culture I witness roadside, distracts me. I am, at the same time, acutely aware of a squealing noise every time I steer to the right. Towns with a population of over 500 are scarce in the neck of the woods I'm traveling. My atlas tells me that I should arrive at a college town in an hour or two. Before my descent into collegetown USA, I am stopped on the winding mountain road by a long line of cars. The flashing red lights ahead speak of an accident. I see the ambulance. In a moment, I see 2 smashed cars. I pray. I wonder. I am reminded - life is precious. After the chainsaw splits the air, a time lapse - the ambulance drives off, siren-on. The road is cleared. I proceed, praying for the victim(s). God, ever-present - be my protector. Soon, my college town is in sight.
The bumps in 'my road' have landed in my lap. My left front wheel/brake issue from earlier this summer has resurfaced. I'll not list the number of 'check-up's I've had related to this issue. My wheel problem peaked with an on-the-tollway 'bang-thump-rattle-knock' event, shortly after my college town check-up, where a loose wheel was 'diagnosed' (a not-so-small safety issue) and Pedro was given a 'patch job' to get me to my nephew's home in North Carolina. The patch did not work. A two-hour delay for towing landed me at a repair shop that would 'reopen' on Monday morning. As per a book I am reading, I have decided to "Take refuge in the present moment", aka - Hampton Inn (INSIDE). That is - relax - unwind - read - soak in a real tub - be inspired - and let 'the fix' come to me. Thus, I have taken some hours to think of the soul messages meant for just now.
The people I have encountered as a part of this event are numerous, and represent a full spectrum of personalities and stations-in- life. I might preface this expo of events by reminding you that the language of West Virginia is considerably different from 'talking Minnesotan'. Did you ever see the movie - "Coal Miner's Daughter' starring Sissy Spacek? Well, 'that thar' would indicate all manner of speech, 'raught here-raught naow'! Don't get me wrong - there is not a thing wrong with this picture- the people I've met in the last 3 days of my motel hiatus have peppered me with 'sweetie' and 'honey' and - 'enytheng aelse I can dyuh fer ya, m'am' and 'teak care dear!'. It's all rather endearing, I must say.
The big burly man who rescued me from my roadside perch (tow truck guy) was a quiet but kind-faced gent, intent on his work of hooking up Pedro to all the gadgets required for a safe tow. In the half-hour commute with him I learned of a smattering of the challenges in his life. He was 1-week into this new job - a paramedic turned tow-truck guy. At last count, the deaths he'd witnessed in his line of work was 246. The nightmares were eroding his life. His fall-out with a relative who had a perfect 'God-fix' for him was troublesome. Did I have the perfect words - I think not, but I offered the best I had - a listening ear and my care. In private, I pray... for healing to come to his soul.
The two 'lube-shop-boys' who applied the temporary lock-washer patch (45 minutes pre-roadside breakdown) were a genuine 'south of the Mason-Dixon line' duo who tell it like it is, straight up and with a bit of colorful language (complete with .. 'scuze me m'am' after explicatives). After their half-hour work to tighten up my wobbly tire, I asked for the bill... to which one responded -' don't worry 'bout it m'am... my good deed for the day.' I wish I had time to 'detail' each of these do-gooder-boys, it could be a fine moment!
I could elaborate on the tire-shop stop, 5 minutes prior to the do-gooders stop, but the bruskness of Mr. Tire-shop guy would only be good for a quick roll of the eyes.
The young-dude at Sheets Dodge who shuttled me to my Hampton Inn hangout was another of the quiet, gentle ones, who'd just lost his job, elsewhere, 2 months prior. I sensed he was grateful for his new job. He wore his kindness well.
I contemplate these, and a bundle more of those I've been rubbing shoulders with during this 'bump-in-the-road' event. My prayers cover them. God intercedes in sighs, too deep for words. He knows them all. This pilgrm is poised to listen.
The book that inspired my pilgrimage tells me that a pilgrim progresses - across time and space. For me, the time now ticks off just over 4 months. My odometer tells me I have traveled 15,000 miles. I have visited 10 extended family members. Hospitality offered by hosts along the way contributes immeasurably to personal delights and gratitudes. We wandering-folk experience the world in a new way. The customary vernacular of others rings new in our ears, firing new thoughts-new questions in the pilgrim's mind. Paying attention to the lives of 'the small ones', rather than the grandeur of the famous, or of relics of notoriety paves the way for the inner journey to life's deeper meaning. Let me explain - As I travel, there are many historical monuments of significance along my pathway. I have, on occasion, taken time to have a quick 'look-see'. However, the inward journey of the soul, both of mine and of those who cross my path holds greater meaning to me. The works of artists, whose paintings I have observed in a multitude of galleries/museums are, to be sure, part of that journey. Contemplating the lives of the artist-folks, the met-along-the road folks, and the next-of-kin folks has illuminated for me both the pain and the exhileration of life.
As contemplation leads to the deeply embedded values that run the motor of daily living for all of us - the 'How' of it - the 'Why' of it - I find myself in conversation with God. Sometimes I think I have it right - sometimes I'm sure I must have it wrong. One day is sweet - on another day its a mountain to climb. On occasion I think I hear God's voice - on another I can see and hear only a big white, empty space - But, I KNOW the Spirit remains - I BELIEVE in the promises of God, and so - I hang on, for the sweetness and 'The Voice' to return. The scriptural Proverbs are a virtual storehouse of Godly advice on 'how to live'. On a prior visit I had this summer with a nephew on the west coast, he shared with me a poem that helps him in his daily choices. He granted me permission to post the poem on my blog. To me, it is profound. I am certain that every principle in this poem could be found in Proverbs.
I share with you.... "IF" by Rudyard Kipling:
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
..... (and, may I add my 'take' to the last line... '..which is more - you'll soar, my earthling traveler!")
As I meander, I learn from others - I observe with open-mindedness - I learn from the bumps. God willing, I give from the heart - I am becoming - MORE than I was - at least, for today.
Intothewind - Naturegirl
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
SAND CASTINGS
The wind off Lake Michigan blows ferociously at times. The trademark shoreline in southwestern Michigan is abundandant with gently curved and thinly structured grasses that perch on mound after mound of sifted tawny sand. A barefoot walk through the dunes is an experience I highly recommend. Not only will your muscles get a workout as you churn upwards through the sifting dune-sand, but the cold silky-smooth grains submerge your feet in a pleasure moment all its own!
The past four days have been spent near this favorite spot of mine, Benton Harbor, Michigan. The arts are alive and well in this city. A friend I have come to know in recent years is a pewtersmith and resides in this delightful city. Her studio is located in an old Box Factory - a place that many artists call 'home' for their creative ventures. She creates some of the finest pewter vessels and wall art that one can find, having recently been selected for a special award at our own Twin Cities-St. Paul Arts and Crafts Show at Xcel Center this past April. One of her techniques involves casting molten metal in various shapes. She can also be found pounding, torching, coloring, pitting, etching, fusing and twisting this malleable metal. Her patinas and style is truly unique. With a gentle spirit and committed daily routines, her work has caused me to examine my own life-journey through the eyes of her labors. As I contemplate my life as the metal in her hand, I have felt my share of blows, a pounding of the spirit. Sometimes the cutting edge, an etching if you will, of words, has brought a measurement of pain and the heat of conflict has torched my soul on, but a few occasions. These are real-life experiences most all of us face in life as we are cast into a being that hopes to find beauty in the end. Allowing ourselves to be shaped by The Creator, we learn through our own efforts, to create through individual experiences a meaningful, peaceful and fruitful life. Each of us are a piece of art, working our way to life's completion as we receive from others and give from our soul, the best we have to give. And so, the days pass one by one as we step off our future.
Taking a break, yesterday, from the collage-art I am creating on this pilgrimage journey of mine, I ventured down to Silver Beach in St. Joseph, MI, a large and impressive beachfront, as beaches go. A mild breeze prevailed on this day with temperatures feeling colder than the weather-person declared. I was amazed on my first visit to this fine place, how the beach resembled the winterscape of Iowa on a snowy day. That is, the wind-born sand at this spot creates drifts more than 3 feet high! I am told by locals of the invasion of tractor-sized equipment with their mammoth shovels being brought beachside with regularity to clean up the massive drifting. After a redepositing of the sand at water's edge once more, the monster wheels roll off the beach, leaving gigantic herringbone tire track castings for beachcombers to contemplate. As I walked swiftly toward the water's edge yesterday, clutching my sweater tightly to my neckline, I stared at the castings in the sand. Big tires tracks, smaller tire tracks, perfectly imbedded jogger shoe tracks and of course, plenty of webbed seagull bird-prints. The sand flats are water sodden on this day, making castings with perfection. I contemplated the lives of those whose footprints were left here at Silver Beach for my scrutiny. Perhaps a contemplative beach visit, an exhuberant moment, a love-struck moment, a sorrowful visit to water's edge - only God knows the souls of those who stood here, where I now stand in my own contemplative moment. A prayer flung upward, to The Keeper of those who still walk this earth, for good welfare, peace and life-direction, I turn away from the pounding surf on my walk back to Pedro, my home on wheels. I smile at the multitude of patterned designs the jogging shoe industry comes up with to plaster on the soles of their brand, each etched to perfection in today's sandscape. I could easily have material for a one-person art show today, if I reverse-casted the variety of jogger-sole imprints left for my perusal on this nostalgic day. I will resist the urge and return to my collage-art still in process in my own art space.
The wind of change is blowing in my life. Having retired within the past year from a good many years working as part of a hospital team that gives care to children, I have been searching for my next life-focus. It is at once, a bit unsettling as well as totally exhilerating to have such a freedom. I usually find my days unfolding in a relatively intuitive manner. This can be a good thing and, oft-times not so good, depending on the need at hand. If the 'to do list' is long, intuitive living is rather conterproductive. However, given my current 'life on the road' with relatively few deadlines and a great deal of flexibility, intuitive living works quite well. Life as a single person also allows for decision-making with less restrictions. Being a third-of-the-way through my year-long travels, I am beginning to gain a new focus for my future. This years' purpose, for me, involves both a committment to connections with family and extended family as well as exploring with more regularity the creative side of me, through the art I am making and giving to those I visit. The states I pass through (12 at last count) have shown me a multitude of landscapes and people-cultures which have broadened my understanding of life. I spend time (almost) daily at coffeeshops (and I am sitting in one at this present moment), a place were a person can get a great 'read' on the workings of life and the people who frequent these establishments. Business transactions happen here, studying happens here, relationships are started and broken here, personal enlightenment through reading and conversation happen here. I've seen it all. I've cried, I've laughed and I've 'stewed' in these places. I've cast off the old and welcomed the new.
Having arrived at this moment, this coffee shop, in the early part of the day after my beach-walking day in Michigan, I am filing away my thoughts on 'casting' that have become a new awareness to me. People-cultures, whether socio-economic, race or religious heritage have always had their own 'cast systems'. This type of 'casting', a people orientation, brings to mind a different definition of the word. To illustrate - the route through the Indiana city I arrived in following my 'beach day', took me through a lower class part of the city. Moments of discomfort as I stopped at the traffic lights illuminated for me the relative life of priviledge I now have. I wondered, as I studied the ragged-edged people on these streets, how they arrived at this place they call home. Are they held (cast) in this locale by choice or by mandate? Lest I 'cast my cares to the wind' and forget the less fortunate of this world, my day's events served to remind me of both the role of re-creation and responsibility that is expected of me and all of mankind.
The last thing I did before departing the shores of Lake Michigan where I spent the previous four days was to return to the same beach. My return trip revealed a very different sandscape - dried out sand, now-ferocious winds covering the intricate sand-casted footprints, I realized the temporal nature of all of life. Things change. New realities unfold. God takes the old and makes a new tomorrow.
As I rolled down the road and out of the town of my pewtersmith friend, windshield wipers moving to and fro, I relished the joys of new friends, of the lessons of nature through grains of sand and the anticipations of new life-scapes as sand sifts through the hourglass of the days of my life.
Intothewind-
Naturegirl
The wind off Lake Michigan blows ferociously at times. The trademark shoreline in southwestern Michigan is abundandant with gently curved and thinly structured grasses that perch on mound after mound of sifted tawny sand. A barefoot walk through the dunes is an experience I highly recommend. Not only will your muscles get a workout as you churn upwards through the sifting dune-sand, but the cold silky-smooth grains submerge your feet in a pleasure moment all its own!
The past four days have been spent near this favorite spot of mine, Benton Harbor, Michigan. The arts are alive and well in this city. A friend I have come to know in recent years is a pewtersmith and resides in this delightful city. Her studio is located in an old Box Factory - a place that many artists call 'home' for their creative ventures. She creates some of the finest pewter vessels and wall art that one can find, having recently been selected for a special award at our own Twin Cities-St. Paul Arts and Crafts Show at Xcel Center this past April. One of her techniques involves casting molten metal in various shapes. She can also be found pounding, torching, coloring, pitting, etching, fusing and twisting this malleable metal. Her patinas and style is truly unique. With a gentle spirit and committed daily routines, her work has caused me to examine my own life-journey through the eyes of her labors. As I contemplate my life as the metal in her hand, I have felt my share of blows, a pounding of the spirit. Sometimes the cutting edge, an etching if you will, of words, has brought a measurement of pain and the heat of conflict has torched my soul on, but a few occasions. These are real-life experiences most all of us face in life as we are cast into a being that hopes to find beauty in the end. Allowing ourselves to be shaped by The Creator, we learn through our own efforts, to create through individual experiences a meaningful, peaceful and fruitful life. Each of us are a piece of art, working our way to life's completion as we receive from others and give from our soul, the best we have to give. And so, the days pass one by one as we step off our future.
Taking a break, yesterday, from the collage-art I am creating on this pilgrimage journey of mine, I ventured down to Silver Beach in St. Joseph, MI, a large and impressive beachfront, as beaches go. A mild breeze prevailed on this day with temperatures feeling colder than the weather-person declared. I was amazed on my first visit to this fine place, how the beach resembled the winterscape of Iowa on a snowy day. That is, the wind-born sand at this spot creates drifts more than 3 feet high! I am told by locals of the invasion of tractor-sized equipment with their mammoth shovels being brought beachside with regularity to clean up the massive drifting. After a redepositing of the sand at water's edge once more, the monster wheels roll off the beach, leaving gigantic herringbone tire track castings for beachcombers to contemplate. As I walked swiftly toward the water's edge yesterday, clutching my sweater tightly to my neckline, I stared at the castings in the sand. Big tires tracks, smaller tire tracks, perfectly imbedded jogger shoe tracks and of course, plenty of webbed seagull bird-prints. The sand flats are water sodden on this day, making castings with perfection. I contemplated the lives of those whose footprints were left here at Silver Beach for my scrutiny. Perhaps a contemplative beach visit, an exhuberant moment, a love-struck moment, a sorrowful visit to water's edge - only God knows the souls of those who stood here, where I now stand in my own contemplative moment. A prayer flung upward, to The Keeper of those who still walk this earth, for good welfare, peace and life-direction, I turn away from the pounding surf on my walk back to Pedro, my home on wheels. I smile at the multitude of patterned designs the jogging shoe industry comes up with to plaster on the soles of their brand, each etched to perfection in today's sandscape. I could easily have material for a one-person art show today, if I reverse-casted the variety of jogger-sole imprints left for my perusal on this nostalgic day. I will resist the urge and return to my collage-art still in process in my own art space.
The wind of change is blowing in my life. Having retired within the past year from a good many years working as part of a hospital team that gives care to children, I have been searching for my next life-focus. It is at once, a bit unsettling as well as totally exhilerating to have such a freedom. I usually find my days unfolding in a relatively intuitive manner. This can be a good thing and, oft-times not so good, depending on the need at hand. If the 'to do list' is long, intuitive living is rather conterproductive. However, given my current 'life on the road' with relatively few deadlines and a great deal of flexibility, intuitive living works quite well. Life as a single person also allows for decision-making with less restrictions. Being a third-of-the-way through my year-long travels, I am beginning to gain a new focus for my future. This years' purpose, for me, involves both a committment to connections with family and extended family as well as exploring with more regularity the creative side of me, through the art I am making and giving to those I visit. The states I pass through (12 at last count) have shown me a multitude of landscapes and people-cultures which have broadened my understanding of life. I spend time (almost) daily at coffeeshops (and I am sitting in one at this present moment), a place were a person can get a great 'read' on the workings of life and the people who frequent these establishments. Business transactions happen here, studying happens here, relationships are started and broken here, personal enlightenment through reading and conversation happen here. I've seen it all. I've cried, I've laughed and I've 'stewed' in these places. I've cast off the old and welcomed the new.
Having arrived at this moment, this coffee shop, in the early part of the day after my beach-walking day in Michigan, I am filing away my thoughts on 'casting' that have become a new awareness to me. People-cultures, whether socio-economic, race or religious heritage have always had their own 'cast systems'. This type of 'casting', a people orientation, brings to mind a different definition of the word. To illustrate - the route through the Indiana city I arrived in following my 'beach day', took me through a lower class part of the city. Moments of discomfort as I stopped at the traffic lights illuminated for me the relative life of priviledge I now have. I wondered, as I studied the ragged-edged people on these streets, how they arrived at this place they call home. Are they held (cast) in this locale by choice or by mandate? Lest I 'cast my cares to the wind' and forget the less fortunate of this world, my day's events served to remind me of both the role of re-creation and responsibility that is expected of me and all of mankind.
The last thing I did before departing the shores of Lake Michigan where I spent the previous four days was to return to the same beach. My return trip revealed a very different sandscape - dried out sand, now-ferocious winds covering the intricate sand-casted footprints, I realized the temporal nature of all of life. Things change. New realities unfold. God takes the old and makes a new tomorrow.
As I rolled down the road and out of the town of my pewtersmith friend, windshield wipers moving to and fro, I relished the joys of new friends, of the lessons of nature through grains of sand and the anticipations of new life-scapes as sand sifts through the hourglass of the days of my life.
Intothewind-
Naturegirl
Saturday, October 6, 2012
HEADIN' EAST
For the past 5 weeks my trusty RV has not left Minnesota. I have enjoyed these weeks of renewed friendship with loved ones in my home state. I am getting restless for the road. Something wonderful happens to my soul when I head out onto a ribbon of highway. Tomorrow my RV, Pedro, will transport me to a new state, new adventures and opportunities to enrich my life. Looking back to the time of planning my journey, it seemed as though I pulled an Alice-in-Wonderland trick. I found myself slipping down, down, into the virtual abyss of a botanical world in my mind. I knew my travel time would need to focus on 'all-things-nature'. Thus my journey's purposes unfolded, as the petals of a rose slowly unfold from bud to bloom. "I must," I told myself, "visit as many botanical gardens as possible as I move from state to state." My travel days are filled with observations of the earth-life vegetation that passes by my RV window, as well as those special spots where public gardens are highlighted in travel magazines as great spots to visit. Whether I'm viewing natural habitat or carefully manicured formal gardens, I delight in each equally. Illinois, Michigan, Indiana, Ohio....where is my next glorious garden to be found? You can be sure to hear from me when it's discovered!
The days of autumn are at peak here in Minnesota. I sat, yesterday, outside a friend's house, relishing the day, cup of jasmine tea in hand. The green of the moss-carpet that blanketed the pond a short distance away was outlined in early evening shadows. A nearby aspen released its overripe golden leaves, descending on a swift breeze - a ticker-tape parade of golden chips that was the endcap of a perfect day. If the next month on the road heading south and east unfolds as I dream of, it should be an ongoing display of colored autumn splendor. The great river road that follows the Mississippi southward from the Twin City area will be on my proposed itinerary. Somewhere halfway down Iowa's east boundary I'll angle east through the Illinois countryside. I am eager to take in all the sights of a landscape that has already seen the season's transition to frosty mornings and pumpkins on the doorsteps of midwestern homes. The same eagerness I felt in June as I left on my westward journey is settling into my bones. I wish for sunshine and mild temperatures. However, I suspect I'll take what I get.
I am a farm girl. Born in Iowa, raised on 160 acres of flat, fertile soil, where tall corn grows like bacillus in a petri dish. I usually fondly say I 'survived' life with four brothers - all limbs and cranium intact. My life was filled with plenty of the great outdoors. Much to my mothers' displeasure, I preferred being out on a tractor or playing Ms. Robinhood in the woods, just a stones' throw from the big white farmhouse I called home. It was in the drippy-nosed days of my youth that I began to crave digging in the dirt. One fine midsummer day I suddenly noticed the sea of orange that clustered in the roadside ditch at the east edge of our so-called lawn. The seed catalog that had arrived midwinter informed my curious nature that these were indeed a hearty bloom called day lilies. Thus began my self-education in botany, a fascination that continues still. That would explain why I find myself standing in the aisle of Home Depot reading plant books in all parts of the U.S. as my travels take me from one region of the U.S to another.
Learning early in my youth that some flowers were perennials and some annuals, I nourished my love of flowers by planting different varieties each spring. I voraciously would peel through the catalog pages that pictured delightful new blooms I'd never before seen. Bedtime dream fantasies were of snapdragons and dahlias, sunflower and bachelor buttons. Planting time each spring, pleasured my days as the cherished new flower garden burrowed into the black Iowa soil, bordering my mother's vegetable garden. Then, the great wait - when would those minute spears of green first appear? A day of glee, when they burst forth stretching up through the clumps of black, looking for the warm sunshine and nourishment to fortify their grand stalks to come.
Another of my passions, collage-art, has occupied a tidbit of my time as I have enjoyed my mid-trip Minnesota re-connect. A weekend in the Brainerd Lakes area a few weeks back with friends allowed me a couple special days to do my artmaking out of doors, lakeside and flanked by some wonderful northwoods pines and the smell of a crackling fire come evening. I wish I could package moments like these - the tranquility - the inspiration that comes when immersed in nature's best - the creativity that flows so easily. I am finding my niche in this new art medium. It was a delight to present one of those art creations to a niece and her family recently. The family connections I continue to make on my pilgrim-journey seem to be filling me with a new and deep joy. Giving is truly more blessed than receiving! Having completed 5 art projects to date, I keep looking for those special ideas that come to me as I cruise down the country roads of state after state. I suspect the remaining 8 months of my journey will be filled with plenty more 'ah-hah' art moments.
You are, I hope, getting the 'gist' of this 'Art and Soul Journey' I am on. This (my journey) is, I am beginning to believe, one of my central life purposes. At least it feels that way to me today. I am grateful for the opportunity, and I highly recommend a road trip- with a purpose - to all you blog-readers.
Think of me - pray for me, as I will for you - as I am 'on the road again' come Sunday. The journey continues!
Intothewind-naturegirl
For the past 5 weeks my trusty RV has not left Minnesota. I have enjoyed these weeks of renewed friendship with loved ones in my home state. I am getting restless for the road. Something wonderful happens to my soul when I head out onto a ribbon of highway. Tomorrow my RV, Pedro, will transport me to a new state, new adventures and opportunities to enrich my life. Looking back to the time of planning my journey, it seemed as though I pulled an Alice-in-Wonderland trick. I found myself slipping down, down, into the virtual abyss of a botanical world in my mind. I knew my travel time would need to focus on 'all-things-nature'. Thus my journey's purposes unfolded, as the petals of a rose slowly unfold from bud to bloom. "I must," I told myself, "visit as many botanical gardens as possible as I move from state to state." My travel days are filled with observations of the earth-life vegetation that passes by my RV window, as well as those special spots where public gardens are highlighted in travel magazines as great spots to visit. Whether I'm viewing natural habitat or carefully manicured formal gardens, I delight in each equally. Illinois, Michigan, Indiana, Ohio....where is my next glorious garden to be found? You can be sure to hear from me when it's discovered!
The days of autumn are at peak here in Minnesota. I sat, yesterday, outside a friend's house, relishing the day, cup of jasmine tea in hand. The green of the moss-carpet that blanketed the pond a short distance away was outlined in early evening shadows. A nearby aspen released its overripe golden leaves, descending on a swift breeze - a ticker-tape parade of golden chips that was the endcap of a perfect day. If the next month on the road heading south and east unfolds as I dream of, it should be an ongoing display of colored autumn splendor. The great river road that follows the Mississippi southward from the Twin City area will be on my proposed itinerary. Somewhere halfway down Iowa's east boundary I'll angle east through the Illinois countryside. I am eager to take in all the sights of a landscape that has already seen the season's transition to frosty mornings and pumpkins on the doorsteps of midwestern homes. The same eagerness I felt in June as I left on my westward journey is settling into my bones. I wish for sunshine and mild temperatures. However, I suspect I'll take what I get.
I am a farm girl. Born in Iowa, raised on 160 acres of flat, fertile soil, where tall corn grows like bacillus in a petri dish. I usually fondly say I 'survived' life with four brothers - all limbs and cranium intact. My life was filled with plenty of the great outdoors. Much to my mothers' displeasure, I preferred being out on a tractor or playing Ms. Robinhood in the woods, just a stones' throw from the big white farmhouse I called home. It was in the drippy-nosed days of my youth that I began to crave digging in the dirt. One fine midsummer day I suddenly noticed the sea of orange that clustered in the roadside ditch at the east edge of our so-called lawn. The seed catalog that had arrived midwinter informed my curious nature that these were indeed a hearty bloom called day lilies. Thus began my self-education in botany, a fascination that continues still. That would explain why I find myself standing in the aisle of Home Depot reading plant books in all parts of the U.S. as my travels take me from one region of the U.S to another.
Learning early in my youth that some flowers were perennials and some annuals, I nourished my love of flowers by planting different varieties each spring. I voraciously would peel through the catalog pages that pictured delightful new blooms I'd never before seen. Bedtime dream fantasies were of snapdragons and dahlias, sunflower and bachelor buttons. Planting time each spring, pleasured my days as the cherished new flower garden burrowed into the black Iowa soil, bordering my mother's vegetable garden. Then, the great wait - when would those minute spears of green first appear? A day of glee, when they burst forth stretching up through the clumps of black, looking for the warm sunshine and nourishment to fortify their grand stalks to come.
Another of my passions, collage-art, has occupied a tidbit of my time as I have enjoyed my mid-trip Minnesota re-connect. A weekend in the Brainerd Lakes area a few weeks back with friends allowed me a couple special days to do my artmaking out of doors, lakeside and flanked by some wonderful northwoods pines and the smell of a crackling fire come evening. I wish I could package moments like these - the tranquility - the inspiration that comes when immersed in nature's best - the creativity that flows so easily. I am finding my niche in this new art medium. It was a delight to present one of those art creations to a niece and her family recently. The family connections I continue to make on my pilgrim-journey seem to be filling me with a new and deep joy. Giving is truly more blessed than receiving! Having completed 5 art projects to date, I keep looking for those special ideas that come to me as I cruise down the country roads of state after state. I suspect the remaining 8 months of my journey will be filled with plenty more 'ah-hah' art moments.
You are, I hope, getting the 'gist' of this 'Art and Soul Journey' I am on. This (my journey) is, I am beginning to believe, one of my central life purposes. At least it feels that way to me today. I am grateful for the opportunity, and I highly recommend a road trip- with a purpose - to all you blog-readers.
Think of me - pray for me, as I will for you - as I am 'on the road again' come Sunday. The journey continues!
Intothewind-naturegirl
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