The Dude

A fish story

He's giving me the eye.

The Dude and I have a spotty, yet warm history. He was recently re-homed from the counter of our family yoga studio. Everyone was fond of The Dude, but because it was a very busy place with so many people coming and going, his contact with humans was fleeting, and usually consisted of people exclaiming, "Has anyone fed the fish?"

Every day, I would greet the nameless fish, by walking up to the tank, gently placing my index finger against the glass, and whispering, "High fin dude." After a couple of weeks, the fish started to respond. He would swim up to the glass where my finger was pressed, and then quickly dash off.

Alas, we decided to close the studio, and the fish tank was one of the last items to be moved out of the building. It was unclear who he actually belonged to. I didn't buy him. He just showed up one day on a bookshelf. A few months later, he was in a fancy new tank. A couple of weeks later, he was on the counter.

I walked up to his tank, and whispered, "Hey Dude, you wanna go home with me?" He began to flap his little fins in a fish frenzy of delight. "I take that as a 'yes.'"

There really weren't proper materials, and no time to pack him for travel. So like all intrepid voyagers, we winged it. He rode home in the floor of the passenger seat. I prayed to whomever may be the Goddess of Fish, that our trip would be a smooth one, and as stress free as possible for the fish.

He was a mighty brave sailor. Dodging potholes as best I could, driving as slowly as traffic would allow, there was still the occasional, tiny tsunami to sweep over the surface of the fish's home. 

His fish house. Very Bauhaus-ian, don't you think?

We've been roommates for three weeks now, and The Dude seems to be settling in. "The Dude" has become his official name. This morning, I think we had a relationship breakthrough. Normally, he is as aloof as a cat, He will occasionally deign to look at me over his shoulder. As I hovered over his tank, he dashed up to greet me, and I swear he looked up at me with fisheyes of friendship. His little fins flapped in joy as he sucked up his tiny pellets. The Dude Abides.

The Peaceful Kingdom of the Back Porch

Home is where I unpack. Home is where I dream and plan, and love and work, and eat, and drink coffee.

Happy colors.

What is better than having one's meals al fresco?

It's Charleston y'all. Of course we are serving shrimp and grits. Thanks for the photo Amy.

Friends old and new come to visit. Some stay for a few days, some for a few weeks.  And everybody always winds up on the porch. (Some folks even meditate out here, Lee.)

Cindy, Amy, Lisa – girls' weekend

My Gypsy Sister, Joelle

Occasionally, I think about selling the house and 70% of its contents, and moving closer to the beach. But then I sit on the porch, listen to the birds and the neighbor kids giggling, and at night, the mournful wail of the freight trains in the distance, and I wonder if I can leave.

Yes, that's a cast iron tub. It's moved from Pennsylvania, to Maryland, to Charleston with me.

I live mostly in 3 rooms: the bedroom, the kitchen, and the back porch. The back porch consists of a brightly colored deck, and a screened in sanctuary.

The passion vine grew right through the door.

I spend hours out here. In Charleston, the weather stays warm enough, I can enjoy the porch for most of the year, even when I have to bundle up a bit. 

Working from home means my office view changes every few hours. Scooter makes a point of barking at me every so often, so I will stand up and move. We take a break for some belly rubs and a snack and a trip to the back yard, then I relocate to a new spot.

We get lots of company on this porch. Our foster puppies love to cuddle up with us while I work. 

Scooter shares his home with the fosters.

A perfect spot to nap

This fellow is a great listener.

And of course, Reagan stays with us while her Daddy G is traveling.

My favorite girl helps watch the puppies.

Some of the humans even sleep out here on occasion. Amy ; ) my Dear.

And there's a whole lotta coffee drinkin' goin on.

The porch serves as a workshop. I'm anxious for Kendall to visit again this summer.

and my art studio

Iron man and the Griffin guard the porch.

And a film crew even shows up every now and again.

Neighbors drop by to hang out for awhile.

It's a peaceful place to meditate.

And I'm constantly re-arranging the furniture.

My Gypsy Sister is off camping this weekend in Pennsylvania with our girls Flo and Annie. In between working on a very big editing project, I plot and plan and dream my next trip. I'm headed out again in just a few weeks and picking up a fellow traveler and yogi along the way. What adventures await us?

Turn here

What is more fun than turning off the main road? Finding a peaceful oasis on the other side of the bend.

It was late in the day when we drove into Merchants Millpond State Park in North Carolina. We aim to arrive at our campsites before sundown, so that we can get a good perspective on our location and still set up in the daylight. 

After all, I need to see in order to gather the kindling for Joelle.

The park ranger assigned us a lovely, private spot to set up camp. Although, most any site would have been private on a weeknight. There wasn't another camper in sight, and we probably set eyes on only a half dozen people in the entire 3200 acres. 

Joelle built another toasty fire, and we made a delicious campfire dinner. Lisa sent along an egg & tot casserole, we toasted Italian bread with olive oil, and served a lovely Pellegrino. We eat quite well on our expeditions. 

And sleep well, too. 

Some may wonder about that. Two women alone in thousands of acres of wilderness? We have always felt perfectly safe. Even when I heard the coyotes howling in Palo Duro canyon. Joelle slept through it, and I didn't tell her til the next morning. While I sleep for 3 or 4 hours most nights at home, I can sleep an easy 8 hours when we are camping. It must be something about a lack of control. No phone. No electricity. Whatever my daytime concerns, I can't do a darn thing about them when I am out in nature. Mundane aggravations and dramas become trivial or disappear altogether.

Plus, we have Scooter with us.

This bendy tree seems to have the stage to itself.

Scooter keeps me company while meditating. He's got my back.

Only the sound of the breeze. 

After packing up the van, we head out to explore the wilderness.

Oh yes, there are gators and snakes.

Cypress knots reach above the surface seeking oxygen for the trees. 

After a refreshing hike, we are ready to get back on the road, headed south again. There are storms headed our way, and we feel fortunate to have had beautiful weather for all but the last leg of our trip.

As we head down highway 17, a light rain begins to fall and the winds buffet the van. We laugh, feeling these conditions are so much more manageable than the high winds we faced in California last year. We got this. 

With every trip, Joelle and I learn more travel and camping skills, and we learn more about ourselves as well. We recognize what is important to us. We realize that we are strong and capable. We return home calm, at peace, and ready to more easily handle whatever comes our way.

Campfire Girls

Playing with fire

We are so much better at building fires than taking selfies.

Short girls. Short arms. It takes, on average, 23 tries before we manage to get part of both heads in the picture.

I'm beginning to worry about that Joelle. Everywhere we go, she wants to build a fire. That's probably the real reason she would rather stay at a cheap motel than the Walmart parking lot when we can't find a campground. You can't burn things at Walmart. (More on cheap motels in another post.) Has she always had this desire? Has she always had, what seems to me, an instant ability to set spark to whatever she touches?

Whatever her motivation is, I happily go along. It is very relaxing to bundle up and sit around the campfire. We have our fires down to a refined method now. Many campgrounds sell firewood where you check in. Did you know, that this summer, it is illegal to carry firewood across the state line? True story. Something about bugs. 

I am in charge of gathering the kindling, which looks a lot like this:

I roam the forest, bent at the waist, looking for the driest twigs. 

New camp chairs. Happy colors. 😊

I return them to Joelle, who within minutes, has a toasty fire started. We next warm some dinner over the fire, or perhaps make some hot chocolate. Then, we just sit and relax until the fire dies down. 

Scooter likes a good fire, too.

There is usually enough wood left to make a fire the next morning, too. Nothing better than steaming campfire coffee, on a chilly morning.

Remember the chandelier I found while thrifting with the girls in Delaware?

We couldn't resist decorating our campsite with the thrift chandelier we picked up in Delaware. Now the question is, do I hardwire it at my house (originally purchased for the hallway), or bring it, along with some candles, to our next camping venture? 

Mother Earth is not a subfloor

A place to reflect

Meditation Garden

Joelle and I were on the road for Earth Day this year, and as serendipity would have it, we found ourselves in this beautiful location – Edgar Cayce's Association for Research and Enlightenment in Virginia Beach, VA. I've been reading about the center for years, and we would be driving right past the exit. How could we not stop?

As we parked the van, we could see a sign for the meditation garden nearby. We don't even have to ask each other, "Let's go!" Being in nature, away from the noise of humankind, one can hear the trees speak and the animals chatter in blissful daily activity. 

Public policy has taken a sad step backwards in the last year. When the National Park Service has to start rogue social media accounts, the world has become skewed. When pipelines and profit become more valuable than humans and water quality, our priorities are are not aligned with humanity and common sense. 

Humans and the corporations they serve have been treating Mother Earth like sub flooring, merely a base on which to build urban sprawl and capital. 

This year's Earth Day theme is End Plastic Pollution. This has been a wake-up call for even a tree-hugger like me. I've rather naively been assuming as long as I recycle, I'm doing my part for the planet. Evidence now shows that all those items we blithely believe are being recycled aren't making the cut. They are winding up in the ocean, harming marine life. Plastics are finding their way into our food sources and disrupting human hormones, causing disease. Think about single-use plastics – something that holds your food for minutes will remain in a landfill for centuries.

Hidden home in the bamboo forest

We walked away from the garden, a bit more blissful, a bit more mindful, and a bit more grateful for Mother Nature. 

Here's a fun video on straw alternatives. Say NO to plastic. Say YES to pasta.

Metadata is my co-pilot

Where am I? Where are we? What town was that?

I'd be lost without geotagging.

They don't take pets.

So this is where we are.

Just north of Onancock, Delaware.

Back in 2015, Griffin urged me to start an Instagram. I was headed out on a solo journey cross-country; and he wanted to be able to track me to make sure I hadn't been eaten by bears. (I survived, thanks to the bear bells Guy suggested I attach to my backpack.)

In addition to letting family and friends know my most recent whereabouts, geotagging let me know as well. While driving through Colorado, I sort of lost track of my location, so absorbed was I in meandering among the Aspens and the mountains. When you aren't in urban areas it can be miles between signage.

I pulled over to the side of the road to photograph this eye-catching vehicle, and when I posted, Instagram informed me that I was in the middle of the Rio Grande National Forest. 

So apparently last weekend, I was in Lewes, Delaware. Not exactly the middle of the wilderness, but I'd hopped in the car with a friend and went along for the ride, not paying a whole lot of attention to direction.

Thank you Google Photos, iPhoto, and Instagram for tracking me as only the menacing vigilance of Kafkaesque Big Brother can. 

Enjoy the photos Joelle and I took in … ta da! …Lewes, Delaware.

John's family felt it important to let visitors know which way he was going.

Zwaandendael Museum. Metadata even told me the name of the museum.

This should have given me a clue as to my whereabouts.

Not a sign anywhere.

Finding my place in the world