The Life and Times of the Plume
I Love Your Soul
Go up to a high place, just to fall in love with the land, to meet the sky face to face, to run your fingertips across buds and blossoms, to press your soul against the green, to drink from the sun. Take your time, your sweet old time. Dawdle. Sit in the sagebrush. Listen to the birds and feel the wind. Don’t come down until the half moon is strung up in the feathers of the fir trees, the dogs are hungry and your hands are cold. I’m sure you’ll agree, it’s the perfect way to spend an evening.
For weeks I have had the urge to sunset hike but I’ve been so obsessed with trail running that I’ve opted for high gear and big distance over peaceful strolls with my camera and the dogs. Last night I finally committed to walking instead of galloping and up the mountain we went, step by precious step. Can you believe how long the days feel already? It’s miraculous. The seasons are miraculous.
One of my favorite things to do this time year is lay back in the bunch grasses when the sun is swooping low and simply unleash the power of my senses. I smell the earth around me, damp with snow melt and rainfall, musty with decay, and pungent with the greening. It’s delicious. I watch the sun in the grass and sage, see it straddle the ridge lines as it unwillingly gives night the upper hand, the streaks of color that lash at the sky and paint the clouds, a slow moon rising, alpine glow on snow capped peaks and a line of geese leaning North while they pepper the sky with disorderly order. I close my eyes and listen to the birds. I hear my first meadowlark, an owl down in the cottonwood creek bottoms, numerous other chatterings and chirpings, a woodpecker hammering and squawking at the inconvenience of low light, the screech of a magpie and robins galore. If I listen closer, I hear the breeze in the grass around me, the sound of the dogs digging for voles, snapping twigs beneath their paws, panting and smiling with their fierce little fangs into the cold air. I spread my hands wide and push my fingertips into the dirt and grass roots, connecting as much of myself to the earth as possible, the wind turns cold, I feel it raking my cheeks red, my hair is my eyes, my soul is untethered and drifting away like a winged seed on an infinite silk string.
We all go up on the mountain and turn into wilder versions of ourselves. It’s why we go; to be unleashed from everything that has a hold on us.
I heard the meadowlark last night, the song that is the bright sign of all that is to come with the stretching newness of light during these limber springtime days. Every heartbeat that thumps through the cage of my ribs and into thin air reminds me of the goodness of life, here and now, and always. I’m feeling it all.
Amen.
[Nothing makes me feel half so great as a good wander on the land I love.]
We had a lovely work-filled weekend here. Again! I laughed out loud when Robert told me, “Going to work for the summer is going to feel like a long holiday!” So true.
On Saturday I drove North to Idaho Falls where the best bead shop on the planet exists. The owner had just arrived home from a buying trip to Shanghai and the strands of beads were as rich and unique as ever. A trip to the bead shop is something I consider work but it’s really such a pleasure. I stocked up on a few really interesting strands of beads for the summer months and then, a little later, promptly bought myself three new and darling dresses. Fear thee not, they all came off various sale racks and so Rob and I weren’t doomed to eat rice and beans for dinner for the next week. I also wrote out the bones for two nice poems I have high hopes for.
Yesterday, I spent most of the day behind the scenes at my Getty photo contributor account doing the final submission work on about thirty of my images. Golly, it’s been really hard to find the time to do that work but now it’s done and I feel really great about it. Most of the images were self portraits and required a lot of scanning and uploading of model release forms which is slow and mindless work. I really like Getty. I like what they do and how they do it. I’m so glad they asked me to be part of their little family.
Then came the evening, we found ourselves out wildflower picking and the coming night looked so beautiful as the day faded away. Things are blooming in a most berserkers fashion here, about two weeks earlier than usual. I don’t mind so much as it means I get to enjoy the indian paintbrush a little sooner than later. The dogs were in a frolicsome mood and it was nice to feel the wind in my hair and see the slanted shafts of sunset lighting up the sagebrush as far as I could see. I get better and better at being able to step away from the tornado of life details that never seem to dissappate, no matter how hard and long I work. To be able to disconnect myself from that weight and steady effort, to step out, with all of myself, into wild spaces and to be fully present to witness the flight of bees and the song of the meadowlarks is one of the greatest gifts I can give myself and others. Those moments do more than exercise my body, they relax my mind and untether my soul.
::Update On The Airstream Shenanigans::
Brilliant. Just brilliant. Robert ordered our flooring last night and the interior has full power as well as two newly installed ceiling fans and a skylight over my work area. While we’re waiting on our flooring, Rob has been working on completing the belly pan which is the aluminum shell that continues down and under the trailer to completely enfold and protect the undercarriage of the rig. Once the belly pan is finished, the Airstream will be road worthy and ready to haul! Additionally, we have renamed her. More on that later, at the official champagne christening of our dear little Land Yacht.
I should also let you know that we found a new place to live in Winthrop! How delightful! This house is situated on 40 acres, has a barn and a place for the hens to do their laying. It’s very close to the North Cascades Smokejumper Base, which Robert is quite glad of, and I think it’s going to be a truly wonderful place to root myself this summer. To say I am looking forward to it is an understatement of grand proportions. How full this summer will be with the good and glorious company of all our Winthrop friends, the promises of visits from friends and family to our little abode, a fully functional studio space in my little tubular-road-home, and my gosh! When the cherries come ripe in the Methow and the Columbia River valleys, won’t I be in seventh heaven? If you see a skinny blond girl with a pair of bird dogs and one strawberry colored weenie dog in the front seat of her gigantic silver truck, driving down the road in that town, spitting cherry pips out the window while listening to this song, well, that’ll be me. Make sure you wave.
Have a gorgous Monday, all you wild beauties.
xx
