I saw this sign on the back of a car while driving through the bush on the way back to Treasure Beach from three days on the north coast of Jamaica with Liz and Giuliano. We saw so many special and secret spaces on the island. First Silver Sands, a delightful old enclave of family villas with access to a beautiful beach. Groups of teenagers walked on the beach making plans for their evening. We could hear parties starting at cocktail hour at neighboring houses. It seemed like everyone must be friends from long ago. One night we walked off property to Leroy's Place, a ramshackle shack at the edge of the sea. A TV blared shoot 'em up movies in the back room where a few customers sat quietly. We sat outside drinking beers and watching the sky deepen from dark blue into black, a steady wind keeping the summer night pleasantly cool.
Next day we drove inland to Itopia, Sally's magical old house in the jungle. Before getting there we turned off the main room and bounced along a dirt lane until we arrived at the sea. The landscape looked Mediterranean--a jumble of rocks, scrubby bushes and a turquoise sea. We scrambled over the rocks to a large tidal pool filled with crystal clear water. We could have been in Greece.
The next day we drove through sun and rain down to Treasure Beach and then at last up to Round Hill and Yellow Plum Farm. I love Jamaica.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Weather
I love when this happens: it's a beautiful sunny day. I do my laundry in the morning and hang it on the line to dry. In the afternoon I take a yoga class with Maura on the deck and then a long walk with Jane. Around 6 0' clock I pour myself a class of wine and contemplate taking a shower. Then suddenly it all changes. I hear thunder. The lake turns into an ocean and whitecaps smash over the dock. The wind bends the trees almost horizontal. I see lightening and the sky gets dark. Finally the rain comes in huge sheets soaking the deck and I have to rush to close the windows. I sit on my bed, nestled in my pillows, and watch the weather move across the lake. The deck is littered with leaves and pine needles. I can still hear a distant rumble of thunder. The rain is slowly tapering off and the wind is silent. It's just 7 o'clock and I am sure we will have a sunset tonight.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Fourth of July 2011
A traditional Fourth of July party in downtown Otisfield, Maine. Click on the photo for the full report.
Some things never change-salmon and peas, strawberry shortcake, Lotke's ribs, my black bean salad, Marge's brownies. Some things are different--we actually ate at 9 not 11.
I've been feeling Steve's presence all weekend--seeing him sitting on the corner of the deck early in the morning, hearing him arguing a call on the tennis court, woofing down the ribs last night, sauce all over his beard. He knew how to have fun. So do I.
Some things never change-salmon and peas, strawberry shortcake, Lotke's ribs, my black bean salad, Marge's brownies. Some things are different--we actually ate at 9 not 11.
I've been feeling Steve's presence all weekend--seeing him sitting on the corner of the deck early in the morning, hearing him arguing a call on the tennis court, woofing down the ribs last night, sauce all over his beard. He knew how to have fun. So do I.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Home
Laughter is good. Happiness is better. I was laughing and happy a lot this past week in Cartagena. I needed that...especially since yesterday was my wedding anniversary. I would have been married 42 years, a seemingly impossible statistic, a whole lifetime really.
I loved listening to the girls talk and talk and talk about their lives, their relationships, their plans for the future. And all the time I was thinking how much they have in front of them, whole new worlds of happiness and sorrow to experience.
I loved listening to the girls talk and talk and talk about their lives, their relationships, their plans for the future. And all the time I was thinking how much they have in front of them, whole new worlds of happiness and sorrow to experience.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Moving On
Time to pull out the suitcase and start packing again. This time I am off to Cartagena, Columbia to celebrate Liz's 30th birthday in the company of 10+ accomplished young women, every one of which is gorgeous, talented, stylish (can't wait to see the outfits!), intelligent and interesting. And did I mention fun as well. I shall try to keep up.
This is definitely my summer of moving around, a deliberate strategy to keep me looking forward, concentrating on the new and not the old. Maine. . .Montana. . .Maine. . . Cartagena. . .Maine. . .Jamaica. . .California.. . .Maine again. . .and who knows where else until I arrive at September and a month of weddings. So far this peripatetic life style seems to suit me. I'll see how long it lasts.
This is definitely my summer of moving around, a deliberate strategy to keep me looking forward, concentrating on the new and not the old. Maine. . .Montana. . .Maine. . . Cartagena. . .Maine. . .Jamaica. . .California.. . .Maine again. . .and who knows where else until I arrive at September and a month of weddings. So far this peripatetic life style seems to suit me. I'll see how long it lasts.
Friday, June 10, 2011
On The Wide Missouri
I am at Triple Creek Ranch in Darby, Montana soaking up the luxury after three days and nights on the Missouri River retracing the route of Lewis and Clark in a big red raft with Bob and Jane, Michelle and Kevin and Elliott.
This has truly been one of the most amazing trips of my life. We started out on a glorious sunny day, literally all alone on the river, with our guide and helmsman Bob. I felt like Huck Finn paddling down the middle of America, in the middle of nowhere, through a fresh and beautiful landscape I had never experienced before. The river was incredibly high and muddy and fast moving. Any anxiety I felt before hand was instantly allayed by the sensation of being on the river away from it all.
That night we camped on the bank of the river, tried to fish but nothing was catching and went to bed after dinner anticipating another day of easy paddling. Some time after midnight the heavens opened accompanied by major thunder and lightning. I was too dumb to be scared. I was more worried about stepping on a rattlesnake if I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
In the morning I found my tent flooded and the rain dripping on my face. The day was damp and cold and soggy, perfect for poker. Later in the afternoon, it eventually cleared enough for us to take a spectacular hike through a slot canyon that has us scrambling over and under rocks as well as sloshing through water and serious mud for almost three hours since the normal route had washed out.
Next day we hit the river again in our rain gear and extra layers and battled 35 mph head winds and two foot waves. Upper body got a serious workout! By lunch time the weather had cleared although the wind persisted to roar. We put in for lunch and hiked up through the sandstone rocks to “Hole in the Wall”, shimmying up and down a chute to the highest point like geriatric gazelles. Never have peanut butter and jelly tasted so good. Back down to the river and our raft, we battled the wind in our faces until we made camp for the night.
The next day, not surprisingly, was cold and wet but we had 20 miles to go until our landing. For once we didn’t have to fight a head wind. The river was smooth and spread out. It felt powerful to be on it. Like the seasoned and hardy paddlers we had become, we pulled and pulled, laughing and singing all the way, and make the landing in record time. Not surprising, we learned the next day that the Missouri was now closed to all river traffic given the severe conditions.
How to describe the sensation of spending three days on the river, seeing no one at all, passing through a desolate wilderness that seemed unchanged since the time of Lewis and Clark. Spotting bald eagles soaring above us in the sky or perched on a nest in a cottonwood tree guarding their babies. Watching antelopes and deer with their fawns gamble through the hills. Staring in awe at massive sandstone cliffs that looked like the ruins of ancient buildings and sacred spaces. Feeling the power of wind and water and the movement of the earth through the ages.
I kept thinking how lucky I was to be here now. How there must be so many other beautiful places in the United States that I have never seen. How grand and how diverse this country is in its scenery and its population. No wonder it is so difficult to govern.
This has truly been one of the most amazing trips of my life. We started out on a glorious sunny day, literally all alone on the river, with our guide and helmsman Bob. I felt like Huck Finn paddling down the middle of America, in the middle of nowhere, through a fresh and beautiful landscape I had never experienced before. The river was incredibly high and muddy and fast moving. Any anxiety I felt before hand was instantly allayed by the sensation of being on the river away from it all.
That night we camped on the bank of the river, tried to fish but nothing was catching and went to bed after dinner anticipating another day of easy paddling. Some time after midnight the heavens opened accompanied by major thunder and lightning. I was too dumb to be scared. I was more worried about stepping on a rattlesnake if I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.
In the morning I found my tent flooded and the rain dripping on my face. The day was damp and cold and soggy, perfect for poker. Later in the afternoon, it eventually cleared enough for us to take a spectacular hike through a slot canyon that has us scrambling over and under rocks as well as sloshing through water and serious mud for almost three hours since the normal route had washed out.
Next day we hit the river again in our rain gear and extra layers and battled 35 mph head winds and two foot waves. Upper body got a serious workout! By lunch time the weather had cleared although the wind persisted to roar. We put in for lunch and hiked up through the sandstone rocks to “Hole in the Wall”, shimmying up and down a chute to the highest point like geriatric gazelles. Never have peanut butter and jelly tasted so good. Back down to the river and our raft, we battled the wind in our faces until we made camp for the night.
The next day, not surprisingly, was cold and wet but we had 20 miles to go until our landing. For once we didn’t have to fight a head wind. The river was smooth and spread out. It felt powerful to be on it. Like the seasoned and hardy paddlers we had become, we pulled and pulled, laughing and singing all the way, and make the landing in record time. Not surprising, we learned the next day that the Missouri was now closed to all river traffic given the severe conditions.
How to describe the sensation of spending three days on the river, seeing no one at all, passing through a desolate wilderness that seemed unchanged since the time of Lewis and Clark. Spotting bald eagles soaring above us in the sky or perched on a nest in a cottonwood tree guarding their babies. Watching antelopes and deer with their fawns gamble through the hills. Staring in awe at massive sandstone cliffs that looked like the ruins of ancient buildings and sacred spaces. Feeling the power of wind and water and the movement of the earth through the ages.
I kept thinking how lucky I was to be here now. How there must be so many other beautiful places in the United States that I have never seen. How grand and how diverse this country is in its scenery and its population. No wonder it is so difficult to govern.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Weather Report
There is still snow on Mt. Washington!
And today on my run the air was so clear I felt like I could just reach out and touch it. It is a quintessential Maine Day--cool in the shade and hot in the sun. I've had the whole gamut of weather this vacation. Unseasonably hot weather over Memorial Day Weekend followed by a ferocious hail storm one morning that littered the deck with marble sized balls of ice. Then for a few days it was freezing. I built huge fires and had soup for lunch. At night, I jumped into my bed and really missed that big blonde hairy beast I used to cuddle with.
I'm leaving Maine tomorrow for Montana and I won't be back until the end of the month. By then, the lilacs and the lilies of the valley will be gone but the goldenrod will be coming up. Maybe the lake will be warmer and I can begin to think about going for a dip. And maybe the house won't feel quite as strange when I return.
And today on my run the air was so clear I felt like I could just reach out and touch it. It is a quintessential Maine Day--cool in the shade and hot in the sun. I've had the whole gamut of weather this vacation. Unseasonably hot weather over Memorial Day Weekend followed by a ferocious hail storm one morning that littered the deck with marble sized balls of ice. Then for a few days it was freezing. I built huge fires and had soup for lunch. At night, I jumped into my bed and really missed that big blonde hairy beast I used to cuddle with.
I'm leaving Maine tomorrow for Montana and I won't be back until the end of the month. By then, the lilacs and the lilies of the valley will be gone but the goldenrod will be coming up. Maybe the lake will be warmer and I can begin to think about going for a dip. And maybe the house won't feel quite as strange when I return.
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