Saturday, October 19, 2019

The gypsies

Nature had turned the color of maple syrup and cinnamon toasts round here… and it’s been cold with beautiful sunny afternoons.  And thus, the gypsies wanted to go explore the world again; one, or maybe two more times before things get really cold and dreary winter days descend upon the land with its accustomed vehemence.

And I’m so happy we did!  The campground we chose this time was like a beautiful shroud of splendorous colors spread-out upon the landscape.  Trees, shrubs and vegetations had turned into a dreamy, magical storybook, while yellow leaves covered the ground, bequeathing it with a certain mystery and a feel of wonder and magic.



A few feet down the trails, was the Snake River with its Three Island Crossing where many years ago emigrants on the Oregon Trail reached a critical junction. Here they had to decide whether to make the difficult crossing of the Snake River or take a longer alternative route along the south side of the river.

 

We cooked and ate our lunch...


And then I engaged in my favorite pastime
of embellishing and organizing  our gypsy caravan...  

 
 
Later that afternoon we went to visit The Oregon Trail History and Education Center where visitors can learn about pioneer immigrants and Native American history.


Some of the hardest things the emigrants had to do were crossing rivers. When you read the diaries there are a lot if incidents of deaths at the river crossings. So, when they get to Three Island Crossing, they’ve got a decision to make. They could continue on down the south side of the Snake which was known as the dry and the longest route and the more desolate route or they could risk crossing. So, it was whether you wanted to risk drowning or take the long route. 


We walked down to the river right after visiting the museum, and then ambled around where these people once stood, lived, and died… what an amazing experience, and what amazing view!


The evening turned in in soft hushed colors and a great hush came over the place… 


The gypsy caravan felt cozy and warm... It was so cold and wet outside, but inside it felt cozy and warm and wonderfully the two of us… ah I want to stay curled and cozied with my cups of coffee and all of our books, iPad and laptops in our gypsy caravan!

We woke up very early the following morning; woke up with cold and a deep desire to visit the darkness outside and perhaps… be blessed too with the awesome vision of a nocturnal bird and its hunting songs…


But it didn’t happen.  We cooked our breakfast and eat it inside our gypsy caravan shrouded by its coziness and silence; the darkness outside peeking in through lace-covered window illuminated by fairy lights…

 

It rained that morning and everything got soaked and it was cold and damped, and I almost beg the Fisherman to return home.  but we stayed.  We read and wrote and watched some movies...

 

In the afternoon we hop in our truck and went by the quaint little town to explore its surroundings; stopped at an ice-cream parlor and sat down to enjoy… that’s when all the rains came down! The wind picked up and rain rushed through in a big gulp of water and hail and wind and we went back to our camp to cozy up again in our gypsy caravan...




Wednesday, October 16, 2019

October soul


Ah how I love this time of the year!  How I love the slow and calibrated passage of time and the scent of ripe fruit on trees and vines.

 
I spend my hours going out and coming in—drinking in all the beauty of the season, every glory ripening to autumnal melodies and to the mellow sunshine of October…

I fill each bird station and marveled at birds. Do they have enough? What a joy that You, oh precious Father do not see as man sees and that your measuring is perfect. 


There’s a feel of desolation and beauty on everything, and this melancholy that’s felt in the atmosphere has its own voice—it satisfies and fills the deepest parts of one’s soul—effortlessly and beautifully.  


The quality of the light is pure magic, unpolluted purity and mellowness that calms and intrigues the soul, and I want to live here; live in the oblong and elliptical leaves of the black-eyed Susan and in the bluish pods growing in the Virginia creeper vines this time of the year… 

 

I want to be a Silvery Checkerspot butterfly, be a bird and sing the song of the Red-winged Blackbird; the dark purple disk florets of late perennials be my home.  I want to be a Paradise rose and attract bees and butterflies and be the main pollinator of autumnal plants. It’s all to do with my heart… you see, this heart cannot be other than the dream of the dreamer and the house of the idealist.

Roses have been frozen in time… perched as they are on bushes gone to sleep, and the beauty of dried petals are infinitively lovelier and dreamier than those of summer roses.  



I am enamored… deep in love with October and with those autumnal days of the month which birthed me…  I could had not come into this world in another month other than in October.  For I am October and October I.  I am its mystery and enchantment the howling wind and empty trees.



"October, baptize me with leaves! Swaddle me in corduroy and nurse me with split pea soup. October, tuck tiny candy bars in my pockets and carve my smile into a thousand pumpkins. O autumn! O teakettle! O grace!”