The gypsies...

In a world fragmented by a menace of a mean virus where, being in close proximity to others is not the wisest thing to do any more, going up to where fresh snow still covers mountain peaks, and it is just you and those mountains up there; you and Nature and the cold-water rivers which run through them, it is just the natural thing to do for the old gypsy couple.

So, we did.  We loaded our gypsy caravan and drove ourselves up to the heart of Nature.

It rained all the way up to the mountains; dirt roads became exactly just that—mud!  And thus, our truck and gypsy caravan got a new shade of murky dark brown.

We set up camp—or mainly the Fisherman did, because I felt lazy and didn’t feel like doing anything.  Later, when he was done assembling things up, we got onto our bikes and drove around the camp.  We drove down to where the hot springs pool and office is.  We checked ourselves in and got our usual ice-cream sandwich.  The pool had been emptied out, and it had just gotten a fresh new coat of cobalt paint.  So, it was emptied of people as well and the park, too, was almost emptied.  Which it made me really happy, because when you go to Nature, that’s how it should be—quiet and lovely and uncrowded, just like it should be.  I love the solitude and privacy of natural places and camping where you can’t move without bumping into a motorcycle or a four-wheeler or a racer or a dog or two, is not my thing.    

The Fisherman had worked on prepping our menu the day before, and everything was deliciously ready to be placed on the coals and be cooked... salmon with chimichurri sauce (made by the Fisherman), a whole onion with bouillon cubes and cabbage stakes.

We sleep like silent trees... waiting for morning to break.  Breakfast of scrambled eggs, a medley of berries, dried fruits and nuts and toast with chimichurri yum!  41 degrees by mid-morning.  We read, we wrote and then went for a walk, passed on by the river to check for fish to fish and came back to read and write some more.

 

For lunch we made rice, black beans and veggie meat.  In the afternoon we went to fish at another part of the river outside the camp.  It is a beautiful open space, by even there I encountered a few motorcycles and few dogs without their leach that came by to sniff me and realizing I didn’t like them run away.

The Fisherman disappeared through tall grassed along the river bank searching for the right spot to fish, while I remained behind, in an open area by the river, where I sat down and read, took pictures and sang hymns.  It was such a beautiful place, with the river serenating me with its usual hastiness and calmness at the same time.  I wondered if perhaps I was going to encounter a bear which I hope I did not.  In any case, we carried our new walky-talky’s and were all the time communicating back and forth...

After the Fisherman was done fishing nothing, we drove back to our camp.  The sun had come out and it felt warm and comfortable.  We made us an oatmeal drink and sad down to read some more.  Tonight, I will be chicken taquitos for dinner.  

I want to sit outside and look for Sirius shining down on us from its place in the firmament, but it has been cloudy and rainy for the last few days and most probably it won’t happen tonight. 

See you soon my friends!  Be safe, be happy, be blessed!

Life

April 28—today, I pruned the viburnum shrub at the entrance of the garden. And how I love this beautiful shrub... its white bride-like rosettes are made of glorious little flowers so intricately close-fitting and in such a magical way, that the eye is always teased into believing they are a single flower, when in reality it is much to the contrary.

It was painful pruning it, I couldn’t leave those beautiful branches heavy with flower go to waste, so I made a bouquet with them, and brought them in. They won’t last for long, but in the mean time they will continue gifting me with the joy of seeing them for a little longer.

I’ve been bothered by a most strange feeling lately, it is a fainty feeling right at the mouth of my stomach.  It is not hunger, or pain and I’m starting to believe that it may has something to do with diabetes?  My energy levels are very low too, I force myself to go out for a long walk and I work in the garden practically all day long, but it isn’t like it used to be, and this fainty feeling it is most upsetting.

A hawk just flew by in front of me this very moment... down to eye level.  I am writing in the garden, writing atop the hours of my days... they seem to fly by too, for my hours go by too fast, days evaporate like water amidst my fingers.  How precious life is, and how I adore studying it under the breezes in my back porch.

I’ve notice that the morning glory seeds I scattered last year are coming back and I have decided to let some of them be this time, and see what happens; particularly the ones that are growing at the feet of one of the grapevines.  Earlier this spring, the Fisherman and I tackled the job of pruning the grapevines... and we did it quite aggressively, so it will be interesting to see the morning glories climb on the naked feet of the grapevines around our back porch.

Magic unfurls

Each new morning is a new song, a new jewel under the brilliance of the sun.  I sit outside in the long settee, and listen to the birds sing from the various perches, and I listen... listen to the songs of water and to the silent notes of the earth singing a sad song...

Breathing with unconditional breath the freshness of morning air... 

...the quietness of little things

...the color green under my skin.

...and just now, as I was writing this, a most cruel battle between two bright orange-chested robins unfolded. I just sat there and watched as these two feathered little things flew along the garden in a terrible battle cry... making a ruckus of their twitting and their fluttering of wings.  What were they quarreling about?  One only has to wonder.  And why would the animal world fight like it is with humans in the world of men?

I have been feeding my roses with an organic magical potion called fish emulsion and indeed this works like magic, the roses are growing lush and strong leaves and I have never seen the peony bushes as lovelier and as plumped as they are this year.  The birch trees I planted last years are spiraling up like mad, and I’m hoping that the one little birch tree which had been desperately trying to survive for the last two years would come to life as well, and grow and be as tall and as beautiful as its older comrades—eyes and all.  Because, yes, these trees grow a very poignant and clear eye in the center of their trunk, which I assume it must be where their brain reside.

The lilac tree has started putting out their purple jewels and I guess I could never look at this tree again and not think of the miracle of the flowering branch, that winter after mom's passing.  How great is our Lord; how marvelous His love toward His earthly children... How well He knows us, how well He knows our circumstances, nothing is ever lost from His sight concerning those who loves Him. 

I spray painted the old pink bowling ball in yellow this time and sometimes I like to think that the morning sun came down to nest in my garden. 

The garden floors have been painted in fuchsia with petals from the crabapple tree.  It is always the same around this time of the year, magic unfurls, it snows petals, and it is beautiful, so very beautiful everywhere I look... my soul can’t get enough of it...

This garden it truly is magical my friends... just as I was putting my camera away, I spied a huge black bird flying away from the farthest end of the garden... what was it, I couldn’t tell... a raven, I supposed, although I’m still in doubt.  

The magic of our moments

Margarita sits in the middle of the garden... no, she isn’t some kind of a fancy drink.  She isn’t a flower either... she’s a Soul.  Yes, a Soul.  And I can attest to that, because I’ve seen her with my very own eyes more than once... in my garden, of course!

Every day is the same thing... I go out for my very first stroll of the day—first thing after my coffee time, and there she’d be... already sitting in the heart of my garden clothed in petal whites, singing love songs to the morning sky.

Hidden in the morning dew she’d be, and hidden in the light that shines dimmed and muted in golden tones from cloudless blue skies, she waits.  She sits and waits and stretches out her skirt of petal whites, just as what we used to do as kids when playing children’s games and singing children’s songs.  I can still remember:

“Estaba la pájara pinta

sentadita en su verde limón.

Con el pico recoge la rama,

con la rama recoge la flor...

Ay, mi amor... ay, mi amor”

It is no secret this Soul waits for us to join in. But, if only one thing is to be true in this story, that would be this:  you’d better pay close attention to details in your surroundings or else you’d miss your chances of seeing or meeting her.  For this magical Soul is well known for vanishing into thin air in a single puff of instances!  Yes, just like that!

You see, everything in life is so quickly vanished, so fast the moments go by, so wildly the world spins around, that if we don’t pay close attention to what’s going on around us, the entire magic of our moments could vanish before our very eyes.  Puff!

I can hardly stand this thought.  Moments go by way too fast if you ask me... days come and go, and almost in a blink of an eye all the precious moments are gone.  Like if when in an opera or a play all of a sudden lights start to go off... one by one.  Puff puff puff! Bringing everything to an end and cutting you off from all the splendor and joy and beauty of the moment. So it is with our days, and moments.  You want to retain the best of them forever, but you cannot.  Sad, isn’t it.  But that’s just how it is.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, slow down and enjoy the moment you're in and live your life to the fullest.  If you do not enjoy a moment, you lose it forever. If you enjoy it, it is yours forever... love with your heart, let your heart be the compass of your life. 

Hasta pronto!