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...

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.

Are you an October soul?  I know you are too!

"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!”

Cloud-heart

It’s been known that girls who spend a lot of time in the clouds possesses some sort of a special magic within themselves… and you know how it goes—you can see clouds a thousand miles away, you can hear ancient music in the pines, and sometimes, you can even walk around with the cutest little dragon sitting on your shoulder. Of course, don’t ever let him sit there for more than the necessary you know... for who knows, he may decide to crap all down your back… just saying!  

If you ask me though, this too could make life even more interesting!  If nothing else, it would certainly give it an added dimension to your magic and so on… and thus, clouds suit my spirit just fine.   

And it happened... the other day this past October 11th.  For the very first time ever in all of the birthdays I have ever had in my entire life, I got to literally speaking sit on clouds… literally!

You see, we were flying back home from a lovely vacation in Spain, which it happened to be on my birthday. And what a magical gift that was!  I sat by the little window side of our airplane, and for a  magical moment I flew out though it to the outside—high, high into the sky where clouds traveling across the skies lifted me up, and tossed me around from one to another, hiding me among themselves as they scattered light and painted the sky in varied colors. Dreams, illusions, and mystery, inspiration, high spirits, and height. It is interesting how clouds can represent so many different emotions or states of mind.

It was cold, dark and very late when we got home, but the minute the new sun came up the following morning scattering wonderful magical golden rays all over my little world, my heart knew what to do… 

Ah the sun… the new sun kissing window panes and showering life with new blessings and expectations, shifting despair and bringing hope and optimism.  I opened my eyes, and went outside… to the garden, to greet it to worship it to drink in all the late glories I had missed there…

What I found there left me speechless.  Autumn had moved in and it had made the garden yellow and crimson and each leaf in the vines had turned to paper ash. 

Grapes are over ripe, vines covering fences and walls have been stripped out of their glories; now exposing wine-colored veins and pods and berries the color of purple plums. 

But the real magic rested in the roses…. Frozen in time as they seem to be.

They had all dried to thin paper right on the bush… as silent ghosts from eras gone by, still standing in all its glories... for  me to see and be amazed over them.  What a magical, magical sight they posed under the new morning sun...

I kept walking and kept marveling; crushing leaves under my feet as my heart fluttered above and around like a little white butterfly...

Then, I hurried on to make some bouquets with them...

No need to dry them at this point. Nature had already done the work for me!  I will still have roses during our winter and I will still keep the magic growing in my cloud-heart.

If you are a dreamer, I can tell you with certainty that the sky knows the reasons and the patterns behind all clouds, and that if you lift yourself high enough to see beyond horizons, untold secrets will be revealed to you too.   

I love how Wilfred Peterson puts it: Walk with the dreamers, the believers, the courageous, the cheerful, the planners, the doers, the successful people with their heads in the clouds and their feet on the ground. Let their spirit ignite a fire within you to leave this world better than when you found it. Don't ever be afraid of dreaming!