The Colors of Summer

               
The colors of summer mountains and meadows wrap their arms around me. it is a hug that arouses the senses and calms the soul. Looking across the landscape I see the grasses sway in the gentle breeze and the contrast of colors: varying shades of green, pink, yellow, lavendar, blue,and even white.

I know some of the flowers by name, but many I just recognize as old friends.  Paint brush and lupins and wild geraniums stand tall amid the high grasses. Each summer when I revisit these gardens I never take them for granted. What a marvel that Mother Nature tends them and graciously opens them up for our enjoyment.

She charges me no fee to walk the moutain trails.  In return I will be careful and respectful of her hard work.  This land she watches over is public land. It is part of our heritage and history saved for us to enjoy and connect with.  It is owned by no one person and can not be fenced off or sold.  Thus the name public land.

Never take these lands for granted and just assume they will always be available.  They need wise observers and users to stand up for them providing a voice that can be heard on their be half. That voice must let states know how important and valued our public lands are to its citizens. If these lands are sold to private parties it will be a sad day and the beginning of a journey of no return.

A Curious Soul

I have a curious soul--a restless soul. I question whether that is a curse or a gift. There is a tickle in my feet that makes me want to be on the move. The curiosity of what is around the corner or over the hill pushes and prods until I finally accept the challenge and give in.

Whatever it is that makes a person feel the need to see more and experience more, is a mystery to me. Possibly there is a gene that skips some individuals and over-loads others. While I feel that itch to explore, others are not even tempted to look beyond their backyard. Perhaps there is a calm sense of peace they experience because of this lack of curiosity.

A curious soul is never at peace or rest. I have a need for variety and experiences I can't find in my backyard. A restless soul has an appetite which constantly needs to be satisfied.

I'm not the kind that wants to push the limits and pump the adrenalin to the max. It isn't the rush that makes me want to wander, but the desire to see more and experience more. My restless feet move at a moderate pace. I don't need to know what it feels like to be on top of every mountain and be its conqueror.
 Let me touch the sharp edges of the rock and absorb its energy and remind myself of the powers of nature that created the mountain.

My feet and soul will eventually find peace and satisfaction, reminding me it is time to return home for a while. I will be content, but soon that itch will return and a new journey will begin. I'll read a book, see a documentary, buy a travel magazine, hear about someone else's adventure or Nolan will say, "I think we need to get away." Instantly the ideas and plans begin to gel and off we go with our home on wheels behind us and I will think---isnt it great two curious souls with restless feet came together.

                         
                                         icebergs in Iceland. No
                                         home on wheels this time

a peaceful walk

                                      simple food and great atmosphere

Where is Your Voice

When do you use your voice? When do you speak up about an injustice you see or use your voice to stand up for someone or against someone? When do I use my voice? Is mine the first heard or the silent one waiting for a braver person to speak .

A voice is a valuable and powerful tool. It offers support and strength when used in the silence of ambivalence or condemnation. Can your voice speak loudly enough to be heard? No matter who else may hear your voice, your ears are tuned to hear the sound and vibrancy of the words you speak. They hear you using your voice to stand up for your values.

I want my voice heard when I witness a wrong or the shaming of an individual. I don't want to be the by stander pretending I don't see or hear.

Anxiety in the world is an everyday issue. It is easy to develop a false sense of security and safety by closing our eyes and pretending the unpleasant issues do not involve us. The road often chosen is the road toward insulation, lack of empathy and a road of silence.

Where is the voice that speaks out and touches people, offers hope, warmth and dignity. What happened to the voice that says 'this is not who I am or who we are as a people.'

I am only one woman among many. But where there is one there is more with a voice to be heard. I am not hesitant to say I believe in a god that teaches love, respect, and tenderness; a god that sees no color separation, hears hearts that beat in sequence
and sees tears that are shed when we are broken.

My voice may be timid and hesitant, but the more I use it the stronger it will become. Using our voice gives strength. The more a voice is used the louder it becomes. Where there was once hesitation and fear, muscle develops. I will walk a little taller knowing I used my voice and and was honest in my expression. If no one listens or hears it matters not. It matters only that I used my voice as it was meant to be used and just maybe some one heard.

Too Many Winters

I think perhaps I've experienced  too many winters. I say that not because I find my life ebbing way, but from the total saturation of experience. The beauty of the first winter snow storm is exciting and stimulating until I realize that its beauty is not fleeting. This white covering soon begins to blend with the sky and the world surrounding me becomes a never ending dome.

My snow shoes and cross country skis sit in a lonely corner of the garage. The thought crosses my mind of actually dragging one or the other out and taking a spin. The exercise would definitely be a positive approach toward better mental health. As soon as the sun shines and the temperature reaches the high 20's I just might consider a little excursion.

I remember past winters where I raced down the snow covered slopes on my downhill skis and felt the wind in my face and pine branches brushing my frozen cheeks. I remember hoping I could still feel my feet when it came time to slide off the chairlift and gritting my teeth in pain as the weight of my snow boot crushed the bone spur on the top of my foot.

Now those winter memories are just that---memories which I treasure and feel no compulsion to revisit. Perhaps it is time to pursue a change of climate where warmer memories can be created. The stoic cacti of Arizona are looking more graceful and inviting as each winter passes. Feeling the sun on my face and a warm breeze would be a welcome change. My rose colored glasses have become tarnished and scratched from years of winter use and I lack the energy to find a replacement. The solution to this problem is becoming clear. Leave! Just Leave! Allow winter to have her peaceful time blanketing everything in white and gray. I have paid my dues and moving on is the next step toward survival. Sorry Winter, but you have literally burned me out and sucked me dry. I apologize if you are offended by such a blunt statement. The truth can be painful, yet it must be said. You may drop all the beautiful snow flakes you desire, but I will not be here to appreciate them.

A Changing Beauty

 I am from an area where mountains are covered with pine trees, stands of quaken aspen and shrub oak. The mountain vegitation follows the seasons starting with soft greens in the spring. Summer moves in and the light green shades become deep and dark to be followed by orange, yellow and red when fall arrives.

I have found the beauty of the desert to equal the beauty of the mountains. One cannot out do the other; each presents it own special gifts. The desert is new to me and I am just becoming acquainted with its diversity and hidden treasures.

It has a spirit that quietly and gently draws you to explore and learn more. The mountains of rock change from red to pink and slide into soft peach as light changes through the day. The rising sun peals the darkness away from mounds of rock revealing bright orange rock.

We walked the trails through The Valley of Fire State Park in Neveda and found some of Mother Natures art work. It is hard to wrap your mind around the time line required to create this park. It took thousands of years, for wind and rain working in tandum, to mold its features.

A desert with all its harshness offers a beauty that some how finds the spot in us that seeks and appreciates beauty.

     

   

The People We Meet

The people we meet broaden our horizons and add a color to our lives. The further we venture from home, the more our scope widens as a variety of people cross our path. An ordinary day changes from uneventful to interesting by a chance conversation with a complete stranger.

Appreciation of diversity  comes with age. It is the maturity that age brings which gives us the gift of being able to look beyond ourself. Age also comes with the courage to look around the corner in an effort to find a new view of the world we know. Shaing bits and pieces with a stranger is a step toward understanding our world and those who also call it home.

Everyone has a story to tell, and for the most part are willing to give you the gift of sharing a small portion of their tale.  Ask a question and open the door a crack.  Question for question works both ways. The more people I meet the smaller the world becomes, and the warmer it feels.

I hope, as a whole we never arrive at the point where fear prevents us from seeing the commonalities we share as world neighbors. My experiences meeting new and diverse individuales have been positive. Perhaps my perspective on the world is still seen through rose tinted glasses. I hope I continue to see the world and the people I encounter through eyes that are open and astute enough to not judge too quickly.

As things  are brought to our attention from a negative aspect it is easy to view the unpleasant as the norm and we fail to realize that it goes far beyond that small bit that is shown to us.  One thing that proves true is the basic good that is inherent in the majority of the world's people. It would be a shame to deny ourselves the opportunity to learn from someone we view as a stranger simply because we only see the outward differences.

I think much of what the world has to teach us comes from the people we meet outside our tiny neighborhoods. Every individual has something worth sharing and I'm curious enough to put myself in a position to listen. My backyard has grown in size and color as I've ventured beyond its boundaries. The more I communicate the more I learn about the good of the world and the people, who just like me understand that we are the ones to keep it going in the right direction. Maybe there will come a time when we have learned enough from our conversations that we will see some of ourselves in the face of a stranger.      



 

My French Lady. I saw her standing on the bridge behind Notre Dame and took her picture. How I wish I'd been able to talk with her. I'm sure her story is special.     oil pastle painted by Nolan Olson

Getting Summer Started

 

Things have been quiet the last few weeks. It has been catch up time around the home front.  Little tomato plants brought home from Hagerman needed to be planted. Apparently, I timed their planting well as they have very small tomatoes on them. The patio pots are all so done and they too are doing well. The rain has helped get things off to a good start. It is nice to see the yard come to life after being dormant. I never get tired of the transformation that takes place in a matter of weeks. The perennials are impatient to get the show on the road. Little green heads push through the cold ground with strong determination and a desire to get on with their job. In very early spring they greet me as soon as the snow gives way to the warmer temperatures. Now the beds are lush and full just waiting for the sun to help them continue their job.
                                                                                    

a finch a little confused after a mishap



pansies are always the first to be brave 

A bright yellow bird feeder is hung to invite the birds to stop by for an easy meal. Slowly, they are finding it and taking advantage of the free meals. Such flighty characters, they have a hard time staying in one spot for very long and don't like to share the table with many companions. There is a constant fly by between my feeder and the neighbors as they check the days menu. The humming birds much prefer the feeders next door over my tiny little things, which I think are so cute and unique. Apparently, they aren't fond of change.

June is just around the corner, and as hard as it is to believe, the longest day of the year is close on its heels. Summer  must be used and savored. She moves so fast, if we don't move with her, we will find ourselves trying to grab her by the tail to slow her down. There is much to fill the short months of summer: yard work, repairs, gardens to plant, trips to take, and family activities. It will soon be time for us to roll the little guy out of the garage and hook him up. Roads we have not traveled await us and our feet are getting itchy. The patio pots will be moved so the sprinklers can tend them in our place, the birds will be on their own, and the flower beds will take care of their own needs. Coming home is always rewarding to see the changes that have taken place in our absence. Flowers will have bloomed, the tomatoes will be bigger and the birds will pout for awhile because we abandoned them. Everything survives without us and the places we have yet to explore keep calling to us. We enjoy the summer in our backyard, but other backyards have summer splendor too.