Edge Season

7I9A98657I9A9880 7I9A98937I9A98957I9A99117I9A99327I9A99377I9A99807I9A99457I9A01057I9A00327I9A01627I9A01357I9A00897I9A01967I9A0216I really like the weather in these edge seasons of high desert Idaho when the air and wind are deadly cold but the sun is gaining strength and heat — the feeling of it all pressed up against my cheeks while we are out hiking or running is simply one of the best feelings of all.  To be kissed by the sun and cut by the wind, simultaneously.  There’s nothing like it.

We went out yesterday under such a magnificent sky.  It gets foggy in the high desert during the winter months and the mantle has lifted!  We’ve been gifted with such bright days this week.  There’s a sense of coming alive all over the land.  The deer are beginning to drop their winter burdens.  I expect to hear a meadowlark any day now — last year, around this time, I heard the first one in the sagebrush above the riverbank here.  They always signal a seasonal shift for me.  I cherish their music.

I can sense it all stirring, waking, rubbing at sleepy eyes.

Along the roads and deer paths I run, the sage is coming back, fragrant and soft.  I run my hands over it as I pass through it and then lift my fingers to my face and breathe a little deeper.  Is there a greater, more soulful scent than the sagebrush of the interior West?  Maybe the perfume of an entire slope of wild rose in bloom.  That’s lovely, too.

Rob is starting early season work in the southeast (Arkansas, Tennessee, et al) sooner than ever this year.  The off-season seems to get shorter with the passing years as he goes deeper and higher with his job.  We’re savoring our last moments together as a little family before the fire season busts us up for a bit.  And no, we don’t know where we’ll be living or where I’ll be working or any of that stuff.  As usual.  Being a firewire is to exist in a kind of information less purgatory; I live a very last minute life.  But we always prevail and something pseudo-suitable always turns up in the way of housing and studio space.  I’ve quit worrying about it.  Things will shake out how they will, they always do.

I have enough projects and travels to keep me active and busy this spring (I cannot wait to share some of those details with you), but I’ll still miss Robbie when he goes.  We’ve done a lot of growing and shedding of old selves this winter.  All the change and growth has been rooted in truth, in realizing the things about our individual selves that we’d like to work on, and then simply working on those things and rewiring our hearts and minds, dropping bad habits and lighting new fires in our hearts.  I’ve loved this winter.  This winter with him.

He’s been building me a hotbed!  It’s kinda state of the art, you’d expect nothing less from him though, would you?  I can hardly wait to get it planted.  I have my seeds coming in the mail as I type this.  Maybe they’ll arrive today!

 

 

Comments

  1. Caryl Griffin says:

    So glad your posting new adventures! Love reading them all, what a wonderful vagabond life you and yours live! Enjoy!!

  2. What is a hotbed Jillian? I have raised beds for my veggies but never heard of a hotbed! Beautiful photography, thanks for the escape! Katy

  3. with age comes wisdom and shedding of the old, growing into the new. and it feels good. i know that much.

    as always, your photos are perfect images of your idaho life therein.

    prayers of safety and camaraderie for robert.

    xx

    [p.s. totally diggin’ your field boots. what brand?]

  4. No doubt, I’ve learned something invisible from your invisible…savor and enjoy each successful step…thank you for your jaunts…

  5. You inspire me Jillian! Thank you for sharing your beautiful photos and words with us.

  6. It’s the season of Imbolc, I feel it too. The garden is calling, loudly. Beautiful photos, as always. I’ve got all of this fertile, wet warmth here on the west side of the Cascades, but those clear open skies make me want to run to them.

  7. Maybe you don’t realize how your photos and words enrich lives and expand minds. I’m just sitting here with my coffee, in the early light of just another work day, and then transported to a gorgeous wilderness on the other side of the country. I can smell and hear the horses and mules and dogs and rivers and fish and hawks and campfires. Thank You Thank You!!

  8. Catherine Chandler says:

    What beautiful shots and experiences. I love the way you guys live your life–perfectly suited for you. At the core of it, you know what’s most important.

    Also…when you said hotbed I immediately thought of a heated bed. It sounded completely luxurious 🙂

  9. You and your lovely life…

  10. That sunset….I was in a different kind of desert this weekend in Albuquerque and it too had one of the most incredible sunsets I have ever seen. Best of luck with the changing of seasons – For me too its a period of shedding the old and being brave enough to see what emerges. Thank you for sharing 🙂

  11. so much beauty and peace here. your writing is an oasis for me. thank you for that.

  12. I am fairly new to this space you’ve created. It is so rich and beautiful to behold, I find myself returning again and again to take it in. Thanks for sharing your talent.

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