I love New York City with its pulsing energy, cultural abundance,
delicious food, and fabulous architecture.
There is just something that sings to the creative side of me.
However, truth be told, I am a nature girl and struggle with not seeing any plants, animals (except pigeons) or even the horizon for days on end. I think it would be grand if they would move New York City a little closer to Rockaway Beach, Oregon, so I could have the best of both worlds.
As that is highly unlikely, I do believe I shall wander home to Salt Air Station
I've been pondering loneliness lately. I spend a lot of time alone, yet am not lonely. You know, heart-breaking, tear-shedding, chocolate-eating lonely. Don't think I haven't been there though.
Before I had children, I was desperately lonely for the pitter-patter of little feet and the sweet smell of my baby's neck. The longer I struggled with infertility, the worse it was. Once the adoption papers were signed and the waiting game began to bring them from Korea, I would look up at that big old moon and tearfully wonder if they could see it too. Now my children are thriving adults and even when I miss them, I don't feel the same depth of loneliness.
After my divorce and before I began my life with Bob, I was lonely for a lover and a partner. Someone to dance with, share my day with and hold me when I was scared. I used to look up at the moon then too, wondering sadly if he was out there. It was the stuff good country songs were written about. Now I have my special someone and we connect in a way I never thought possible. So even when we are apart and I miss him, I am not lonely.
This is a season of my life when, surrounded by loving friends and family, I can wander off and still know they are holding me safe in their hearts. Realistically, there will probably be times in my life when I feel the hunger of loneliness again, but I am going to pretend that will never happen because I am older, wiser and stronger.
Just for today, I am grateful to be at ease with my sweet self.
Everywhere you looked this weekend, there were bands of women. Groups of five or more beautiful, laughing, happy women, They were shopping, walking the beach, and generally exploring the town.
So many joyful women without men...hmm. It took me a while to remember it was hunting season and while all the macho men are chasing defenseless animals with high-powered rifles, their "better halves" go to the beach. It's a tradition.
Saturday night's sunset was especially dramatic and a crowd had gathered at the wayside, mostly ladies carrying cameras and beverages in plastic cups. As they watched and toasted the end of a beautiful day, the setting sun saluted back by making itself into a martini glass. Mother Nature loves a good party.
Today, I offer no photos, because what I am about to describe isn't pretty.
My trip over the Coast Range last evening coincided with dusk and a large "Salmon Fly Hatch" along the Wilson River. If you have never seen a salmon fly, think smallish version of a dragonfly but drunk...really, really drunk. The most awkward pilots of all insects, they fly in huge dips, loops and waves without much forward progress at all. If you were trying to get out of the way of an oncoming salmon fly it would be tough, because you just can't logically forecast where they are headed next.
They did, however, have pinpoint accuracy for my car window. The wipers swished and swashed my window clean all through the trip and still I ended up with a windshield full of bug juice when I got home. I was outnumbered. They must have had it in for me personally, because the passenger's side was nice and clean.
Perhaps they were after the fly-fisherman in the car behind me.