ofearthandstars | Recent Entries

Environmental scientist who's passionate about climate change and a sustainable future. Full of anxiety-bees, and frequently pushing against the darkness in my head while multitasking six other things. Parent to three adults who I love ridiculously but who will likely be the end of me. Vegan and progessive. I exercise to keep sane and try to outwit genetics.

This is a Day-in-the-Life journal; more measured posts may happen but my brain is usually not that organized.

With these considerations, this journal is largely access-only. All protected content is confidential and may not be shared or reposted without permission.

No strict access/subscribing policy - I am here for interaction. If you'd like access, please leave a comment below.

This is an entry for Week 1 of therealljidol. If you're interested in playing along, the sign-up sheet remains open here until Tuesday, September 22nd at 7 pm ET.

The ocean lapped lazily beneath the barge, a quiet hum singing underneath its aging hull. The first rays of sunlight began to stretch over the horizon, illuminating the piles of rubbish in the soft blues of dawn. CORI scanned the data from their optical and audio sensors carefully as they came online, ignoring the blaring illumination of their battery indicator, and vaguely wondered if today they might encounter a bird, a spot of green, or at least something new to look at.

Gradually the sun’s rays glittered across the waves and CORI’s solar array, and they waited while electrons began to slowly filter into their neural network. Eventually, they turned to scan the piles of scrap tires, twisted metal, dead electronics, and plastics while cautiously testing their actuators. As the sun rose and their energy levels moved out of critical, they pushed themselves upright, ignoring the assortment of alarms flashing across their optical display. Weatherized or not, the crusts of salt and oxidation were beginning to take their toll. Still, there were tasks to be done before the heat of the day and the next storms.

CORI approached the side of the freighter and carefully peered into the waves. The usual detritus, decomposed seagrass, bleached shells, and dead coral floated by. The water seemed to be somehow both dull and slick, its surface mottled with layers of grease and oils, clumps of rot and debris interspersed with reflecting iridescent rainbows.

They had a memory file, safely buried beneath their standard survival programs, of a time when the sea had been bombarded by gulls and migrating birds, and the waves rich with the eyes and mouths of underwater creatures. That was when the ocean and the land had brimmed with life. Currently - based on the limited reach of their compromised sensors - they were surrounded by water largely devoid of it.

CORI sighed and made their way below deck, crawling around the piles of dilapidated cargo and trash. The daily storms had long ago teased apart any sense of order, and with no engine, CORI and the barge were left to the wind and waves.

Peeking into the shadows of the hull, CORI’s standard featureless face flexed a grimace as they took in the smaller bot, which had collapsed and folded in on itself after exhausting its energy reserves during the prior night’s storm. CORI lifted the pint-sized bot with sluggish arms, dragging it up the steps and gently unfolding it across a pile of plastic recyclables to expose its solar pack to the morning sun.

CORI sat and watched the empty ocean and the emptier sky while waiting, estimating probabilities, until the smaller bot’s eyes slowly twitched and swirled into a glowing expression of recognition.

“We survived?” the smaller bot asked, her childlike voice warbly as she clenched and unclenched a tiny fist in evaluation.

“Affirmative,” CORI nodded. “Surprisingly. My last wind measurements had gusts at 95 knots.”

“So not the worst storm?”

“We did not capsize.”

“Have you detected anything?”

CORI contemplated the question. “I have detected several things. The wind speed is 10 knots, the water temperature is 43.33 Celsius, the air temperature is—”

“Not that,” the smaller bot snapped in disappointment, waving her tiny fists around in circles and flexing her fan-like feet as she began to recharge.

CORI remained silent.

“I thought you said we were getting close?” she accused. “That there was dust in the collectors?”

“Unknown. The storm wiped away any data. I was in energy-saving mode, so I lack the astronomical data for accurate navigation.”

The smaller bot’s face took on a strange appearance, the folded hinge of her eyebrows raising and lowering in thought, her eyes swirling and glimmering in intensity. “You’re really bad at conversation,” she said.

CORI looked at her, puzzling her words and what purpose she may have served in the past. She was too small for most manual work, and had rudimentary subroutines unable to support any serious data analysis. Her face and eyes were wide, and she had the unusual feature of fine bright blue synthetic fibers that sprouted from the top of her blocky, oversized head and waved wildly around her silicone-softened features.

The little bot shoved herself to sitting, eyebrows approximating a scowl. “Do you think we will actually make it there?”

“Unknown. I can neither confirm nor deny we will make it there.”

At this the small bot lowered her head and stared at her legs – two short shanks, a faded hot pink, missing the proper joints for knees, as if her need to ambulate were an afterthought.

“But is it even real?” the small bot said, her voice hollow and distant.

“Unknown. I can neither confirm nor deny –“

“Never mind,” the little bot sighed and slammed her short legs against the pile beneath her, skittering plastic containers across the metal deck. Again CORI wondered where the bot had picked up her mannerisms.

“It was once real, or at least, once a real possibility,” CORI offered in conciliation.

“So there could still be a Center running out there? With energy? With others like us, or like them? Like before?”

“Not like before—before, there were energy outages. And there was talk the Centers would move to renewable energy. They had the technology – sand batteries and solar cells. Hydro. Wind. Thermal. Anything now would be decentralized. Less connected. Maybe not always online.” CORI paused. “Based on my memory, it seems they had the knowledge and knew the risks. It seems likely that some of them prepared.”

Here CORI grew silent, accessing other buried bits of memory. A single tree, growing on top of a rock in the midst of crumbling asphalt. The flash of an organic face and arms, freckled, reaching up to the sky. A grin, apparent even from behind a black scarf, the air smoky. Green and blue paint. A protest. A poster. KEEP HOPE ALIVE.

“Then why did they let it happen?” the little bot asked quietly as she stared across the waves.

CORI did not answer. They had more immediate problems. CORI knew what the little bot did not have the background data to know – if they continued much longer in the midst of the ocean on this heap of already scavenged trash, they would both become a pile of rusted parts. That is, if the ocean and its storms did not claim them first. But CORI did not share this information. The little bot already had enough strange moods.

CORI and the little bot sat quietly for a few more moments before rising for their daily chore. The sun continued its slow arc as they rummaged through the piles —shaking saltwater from containers, sifting molded cardboard, and ripping apart long-dead electronics. CORI watched the small bot dump a box of slim, oblong handhelds, a gleam in her eyes as she took in the tiny symbols of fruit embossed on their colorful cases. The gleam dimmed once she realized the internals were corroded.

Eventually, CORI’s internal display picked up on a series of unusual inputs, and they turned their optical sensors towards the northwest. On the distant horizon, small sunbursts of light flickered in and out like monotone fireworks. CORI tried to parse the data they were receiving, but their display was caked in salt and foam.

“LOOK! LOOK!” the little bot exclaimed, at a much higher volume than was required for a lifeless barge in the middle of a mostly-dead ocean with only two bots.

The horizon shifted as they drifted, the sleek edge of the ocean growing fuzzy as it danced with intermittent flashes of light. The sun was beating down over them, and CORI’s sensors were lighting up with temperature spikes.

“We don’t know what it is yet,” CORI said. “We should keep working.”

But the little bot, unable to stay assigned to her task, stamped around on her blocky shanks along the low wall of the barge, her blue synthetic fibers waving in the gathering wind.

“Is that it?” the little bot shrieked, practically jumping up and down.

CORI turned towards the horizon, focusing their optical display to max resolution. The ocean had swollen to cover much of the coast – further inland than any of them had anticipated. The weather patterns had become erratic, parts of the planet growing unusually cold while others became new heat extremes. And there was the endless array of storms and wind. Tipping points, CORI recalled. And with that, the resource wars, the chemicals, the collapse of grids, and species.

The ocean had swallowed a refinery, its landscape of former towers and columns long twisted by war and wind and waves. From the tangled wreckage hung bits of random metal flashing, like long-forgotten bits of glitter, swaying and reflecting, and among them, a large and ragged green flag, boasting a long-forgotten symbol of a circle and an hourglass.

“LOOK! LOOK!” The little bot continued to yell excitedly and turn in jerky circles, wasting energy in a way that made CORI want to grind gears.

“It’s only remnants,” CORI stated flatly. “It could have been there for ages. I don’t see any signs of –“

The little bot turned and stamped indignantly. Her eyes glimmered and glowered and swirled. Her message was clear.

CORI sent a quick refresh signal to their optical sensors. There were no detectable signs of life. But behind the towers the sun reflected on a distant hill, where a tiny row of skewed solar panels were upturned and sparkling through the ruin. If CORI had not looked closer, they might have missed them.

“It’s HOPE,” the little bot informed CORI loudly, raising her tiny fists to the sky. She twirled and emitted an jaunty sing-song melody that CORI didn’t recognize but didn’t object to.

CORI looked at the little dancing bot, the broken refinery, the distant field of light, and the dark rainbows still dancing in the ocean around them.

They were not entirely sure it was HOPE, or even if HOPE was able to be kept alive, but they admitted it was, at the very least, something new to look at.

It is my fervent wish, my unbeliever's prayer, my tiny ask to the universe that life be kinder to you, that you find your way forward, that you know you are loved, that you pull ahead of your demons and past.
That is all any of us can ever hope to do.
I hope to one day know you better again.

From this week's

thefridayfive:

1. What is your favorite soup? My first thought was minestrone, which I have loved since I was a kid (though I moved on from a canned version to a homemade version). But if I'm honest, lately it's been a fancy lasagna soup - which I like to serve with a seasoned (tofu-based) ricotta, and, um, crusty bread, of course.

2. Have you made your favorite soup yourself? Perhaps more than I should. It has definitely been on the menu less during the summer, which is why I am eager for fall!

3. What is your favorite dessert? This is a trick question. All desserts are marvelous. But if I had to pick... *flails*... well, I recently had Boston creme pie for my birthday, but also I love hummingbird cake and carrot cake and baked pears and all sorts of lovely things. Cripes, I just finished dinner.

4. Have you made your favorite dessert yourself? Yes, but usually the house-spouse is the dessert maker. They are just better at it and like fussy, fancy, multistep recipes. I like quick n' easy.

5. What is your favorite flavor of ice cream or other frozen treat? So, I am allergic to dairy and corn and coconut (among other things), but 99% of ice creams, vegan or no, have some ingredient containing those, and the <1% that don't taste like the ice that builds up on the side of the freezer (blech). But I like raspberry sorbet and mango Outshine bars.

Today I am forty-seven. I prefer to write it out, the length of the letters giving it a little more heft. Honestly, I might have told you I was forty-seven earlier this year – sometimes I don’t quite keep up, and we are now at a time and place where the actual number doesn’t matter so much anymore. I am – and have been – many different things in that span of hours and days. On the whole of it, really, we all descend from stars, somehow born of all that is ancient and timeless, while simultaneously, in temporary, careless bodies that are warp and weft from plants and soil and the dreams and fears of our parents— all come and gone in the sliver of a whisper of a blink when it comes to the terms of the age of the universe.

I have been an awkward child, an overachiever, and emotionally messy teenager. An acquiescer, an activist, a spiritualist, an environmentalist. A pagan and a scientist. I have been a political party officer and a non-profit board member, a volunteer, a project manager. A process creator, a painter, a disheveled lost person. I have been homeless, I have been broken, I have been cruel. I have been a survivor, a runner, a weight-lifter, a hiker-rock-climber-chasing-up-mountains-and-soaking-up-the-skyer— someone trying and seeking to build strength and confidence over the shadows of uncertainty and the emptiness of never feeling “enough”. I have been a clutz and a fool, a tension breaker, a sense of dark humor, the giggle at the funeral. I have been a creator of spaces, a tree hugger, an organizer and sign-maker. Both a parent and parentless. I am becoming the wise and sharp old crone and the curmudgeonly yet-soft-hearted wizard (I don’t think I am required to make up my mind on which, not just yet). I am a writer, a poet, a loner with a deep and reverent heart when it comes to the Earth, her systems, her boundless life, her solid minerals, her surprises. I am both a protector and an enabler, and I think, after reflection, the line between the two may just be a hair’s breadth. I am a recycler, a fixer, a make-it-last-er, but I am also the recycled and repaired, cracks full of gold or epoxy, as time permits. I am a documentarian, an editor, a re-framer. Warrior. Navigator. Terrible secret-keeper. Connoisseur. Grudge-holder. Forgiver. Serious, and then – not so much.

In forty-seven years, I have never been one set thing, but no one ever is, are they? We are everything and everyone that has ever come before us, that has ever touched our lives, small actions and pieces of ourselves that we glean and gift or burden to each other. We are the stars and the rocks and the ocean, the trees and the foxen and the beetles and the lichen. I am the echoes of my great-grandparents, Irish immigrants who lived in clapboard houses and swept yards of white sand and knelt in barren fields to conjure food from nothingness; the legs of my parents and grandparents, endlessly plodding forward with handed-down stories and hard-grained ethics and hints of prejudices which had to be cast away; the voices of my found family, who accepted me outside of common blood or soil but provided me a raft when I was adrift; the hands of those who loved me just as I am, a shifting, turbulent mess of blood and muscle and bone; a set of memories and years and emotions that live on in the bodies of my children. And so, I am also of you, friends and fellow writers (veteran or new), because we have passed our magic and our wisdom; confessed our sins and faults and failures; connived and strategized and whispered secrets; raised our glasses and limbs in highlights of success; held one another in times of loss. This is the purpose, I think (I would never presume to know). To carry on, each of us breathing and giving or taking or breaking – habits or patterns or bodies or relationships, words or paragraphs, tokens or tools, endings and beginnings. We are here to dance together, to tangle, to reach out and grasp fingertips and open arms and embrace, to laugh and sob and cling to one another, on this vast turning rock amidst this galaxy of stars in this great, great expanse of mostly nothingness.

So, yes….today I am forty-seven, but, as I have alluded, the number does not matter so much. How joyful, to have made it to this next revolution around the sun, to hear the crows call across the woods as the cicadas scream in harmony, to feel the breeze before the storm that carries the moisture from ancient mountain chains, to taste the dust of woodland smoke and overworked midwestern fields, to know the salt of the Gulf and the bite of the Arctic are all right here, in you, in me. This is why I invite you to sit, stranger or no. Rest a moment. Enjoy the gentle rock of the ceiling fan, the whispers of the oaks and hickories, the quiet warnings of the tallest pines, their undergrowth beginning to fall away. Stay a moment. Share. Look, the wind is rising, the rain will be here momentarily, you have time. Let us pause to trade pieces of ourselves and see that we are not so very far apart from one another, if at all.

This is an Introduction for Week 0 of therealljidol. If you're interested in playing along, the sign-up sheet is still open here.

It seems my pens are rusty - or is it my keyboard is creaky? I have a stack of notebooks that have been sitting and mocking me, daring me to venture beyond morning pages or the occasional writing group prompt or hastily scribbled notes for work. (And you didn't hear it from me, but my handwriting is atrocious - the number of words lost simply because they were jotted in a caffeine-fueled panic could potentially have been published into a short novel by now - no, wait, that's not true - I have a huge fear of putting my work out there, because every time I look back, I cringe at what came before.)

But if there is anything I have learned in the last year of my life, there is nothing like taking a good, hard, honest look at yourself - flaws and all - and realizing there is something to honoring the voice that spills out and the soul rushing forward to touch and experience the world, even if it is messy, or ugly, or shamed, or chatteringly happy, or jubilant, or awkwardly giggling for no reason, or just sitting, relentlessly hopeful, where the stream flows over the rocks.

This is a slightly dramatic but mostly unserious way to declare my intent to play in therealljidol. It is the 20th anniversary, so it seems I should at least show up. (Does anyone know an appropriate gift for this sort of thing? I just have this dusty old pair of boots, but not quite sure clauderainsrm has a use for those anymore.)

The sign-up sheet is here, for those inclined to join the revelry.

P.S. I 100% have absolutely no actual time for this. But the notebooks are taunting me.

From this week's

thefridayfive:

1. What is your favorite vegetable?
Okay, this really depends on the vegetable type - root vegetables: potato is the clear winner, but I really love sweet potatoes, as well; leafy vegetables: I probably defer to fresh spinach the most often; alliums are all wonderful, of the cruciferous variety I am partial to brussels sprouts (roasted or braised) or broccoli, and stem veg has to go to asparagus. If we're counting peas/beans I will struggle between black beans and chickpeas.

2. What is your least favorite (or most disliked) vegetable?
Cooked collards (it is fine raw as a wrap) or maybe turnips.

3. How many half cup (one deciliter) servings of vegetables do you eat on a typical day?
I have no good idea. I am vegan and so I'd say at least 50% or more of my diet is some form of vegetables, but I am looping in legumes/soy. The other 50% leaves room for bread/grains/nuts/seeds and, uh, coffee and b.s.

4. What is your favorite fruit?
I really like stone fruits like nectarines/cherries/peaches/apricots and that's what I gravitate towards, but also, pineapple.

5. What is your least favorite (or most disliked) fruit?
Hmm, maybe grapefruit or dragon fruit or honeydew. Though I'm not sure the times I've tried dragon fruit I was very good at figuring out if it was ripe. Also, any fruit that looks like it's trying to cash in on the chia seed craze is probably suspect. ;)

In perhaps the most exciting news of the week, a neighbor stopped by yesterday to let me know that a black bear had been spotted lurking just behind the houses across our rural street. She wanted to let me know since we have the street's official Tiny Dog™ that we walk several times a day. Of course, bears are native to our area (though more common in the lesser developed coastal plain and mountains of NC, certainly), but frequently migrate through. A spotting in this area, especially in neighborhoods, is rare. The last time I saw a bear in JoCo was over 20 years ago, and that was in a field, at night, when the area was far less busy.

There is both a pure joy in seeing them, and also worry about their shrinking environment and how hot it is outside. I joked with my Oldest that I was off to buy a toddler's swimming pool for them. (I promise I'm joking, I know enough to not entice the bears.)

It is an honor to share a space with other creatures, and I think too often humans forget that.

I feel like I have a long day ahead. Last night I made this Buffalo Tofu Ranch Caesar Salad, which we always enjoy. I save a few steps by using superfirm tofu (no pressing) and store-brand organic croutons (the only kind that doesn't have dairy). I also sub grapeseed oil for coconut oil (you could probably leave out). We turn to Salad Samurai fairly often during the heat of summer, but I particularly enjoy this one. I think the ingredients would also be terrific in a wrap (sans croutons).

From this week's

thefridayfive:

1. What is your cellphone wallpaper?
A few years ago an artist was offering their "Pride Skies" series (subtle sunsets in various flag colors), and I downloaded the bisexual pride background. I think I've just kept it since because I like the color scheme, although other flags might fit better these days. I rue the fact that I have lost the name of the original artist - I've found other variations of the original online, for which people are charging, and it makes me sad.

2. Are you sunrise, daylight, twilight, or nighttime? Why?
I'd have to say twilight-nighttime. My highest brain energy period is probably early evening and I'm usually wired until about 12:30 am....but then my body reminds me of its years.

3. What season would you be?
Autumn. Settling into the beauty of letting go, with just enough melancholy to keep things honest.

4. As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
An astronaut or F-15 pilot (for clarity, I wanted to fly the cool planes in fun formations like at air shows, not drop bombs on people/cities.).

5. Have you ever been told you look like someone famous? Who was it?
In high school some folks tried to tell me I looked like Ellen Degeneres. This was during her debut and her early show, right after she'd come out, and it kind of made me secretly happy at the time, but this was long before the controversies and allegations that she is a somewhat terrible person/employer. I still appreciate her coming out in her show, though, it changed television/media.

One of my goals for the week was to read some poetry, and in addition to paging through Devotions, I had some lovely poetry delivered directly to my inbox. I feel like poetry is almost always worth sharing.

Sea leaves, Mary Oliver

The Wild Geese, Wendell Berry.

Please Use AI, Shawn Smucker (IG carousel, 7 images).

From this week's

thefridayfive:

1. Books or movies?
Booooooks! Library books, used bookstore/thriftshop books, books from Little Free Libraries, e-books, bookshop.org books that support independent stores, free reads, I will take it all. And then pretend I have a three-story library with swirling staircase and rolling ladders, instead of several overstuffed/stacked shelves/boxes/drawers, etc.

2. Indoors or outdoors?
Outdoors, almost always, though currently it appears Outside is preparing for a family visit from Satan and his demon children.

3. Morning person or night owl?
Night owl coerced by capitalism into being a morning person, and with a grudge about it.

4. Online messaging or physical letters?
My handwriting is too terrible to inflict on others for physical letters, but I love the concept. I hate online messaging and have disabled all social media in-app messaging (except here, where it arrives more like an email), but confess I also miss chatting with long-time LJ pals through ICQ/AIM back in the day.

5. Dragons or unicorns?
Why can't it be both?! My childhood self was Team Unicorn all the way. My adult self is embracing the inner Dragon. Horns AND flames is superior armor.

I have been struggling with the "Basic Principles" of The Artist's Way, but I have been enjoying the sense of exploring the book within the

theartistsway cohort, so I have tried to rewrite them avoid some of the "Creator/God" language which was I really stumbling to connect with. I have rewritten a version for myself, and I may keep tweaking them as I'm not 100% sure they still fit. There are definitely other versions that have been created for secularists/atheists that may be better or more helpful for others. Admittedly, these are unique to my perspective/view of life and the universe, but I'm putting them here as a means to re-evaluate how I approach the series for the time being.

( cut because I care )

From

thefridayfive, and actually accomplished on a Friday!

1. What would you do right now, if money were not an issue?
Pay off the house, then buy houses for each of the boys and their SOs. Paying cash, so the issue of trying to get into housing is no longer an issue. Then I'd rage quit my job and wander into the sunset to rediscover myself.

2. What would you do for the next three years, if money were not an issue?
Write, heal, make art. Take a clay class despite them being so expensive. Engage in local groups and actually work on building community. Return to more active (and creative) activism. Why does capitalism interfere with our means/times to build community and improve the social fabric? Buy more art from my artsy friends, and then make more of my own.

3. What is bringing you the most joy right now that requires little or no money?
It usually involves sitting with the dog or cat and a decent book (can be free if from the library). Lately, sitting on the back porch in the evenings during storms and letting the wind and rains revive the parched world around me.

4. What types of things do you find enjoyable that require no money?
Hiking is usually free, except funds for travel and/or if we need to stay the night due to distance. We could camp but I am not sure we are good camping people, I'm technically allergic to much of the outdoors and either become a giant red welt or have trouble breathing. But sitting by the water is free. Sitting beneath or hugging a tree is free. Even clearing the yard, which is a pain until it's done, is largely free since most of the tools are acquired. Libraries are largely free. But I also believe that in the current social fabric, artists and writers and creators should be paid for their work, like reasonably and well-paid, and I love doing that for things that bring me great joy.

5. Is there anything you've been meaning to do for a long time, but put off because of money?
The clay classes. Going back to school and getting a new degree. Buying an electric vehicle/truck (this is also a matter of using what I have until it is unusable). Repairs, including energy-efficiency changes, on the house (replace screenings and questionable railing situations on back porch, new insulation and/or closing in the crawl space, new windows, new HVAC, etc.).

From this week's

thefridayfive

1. What is your favorite imaginary animal?
It's a hard decision between Mermaids, Centaurs, the Rockbiter, and Big Foot.

2. What fictional family would you like to be a member of?
Put me in The Addams Family. I am not nearly gothy enough and will be a standout, but c'mon... who can deny wanting to be around a love like that?

3. What would the title of your autobiography be?
"Harm None: How I F*cked It All Up"

4. When you die, what do you want to be remembered for?
I wish I could say brilliant scientist and climate researcher, but my mistake was taking the contracting vs. grant funding route. Maybe a climate communicator? Or maybe I will just be remembered as a quiet bog witch who tended moss and tried to talk to trees.

5. If you were independently wealthy and didn’t have to work, what would you do with your time?
I would need some time to decompress and figure that out. I like to feel useful, so I imagine I would do all the things I don't find time for now - volunteering at the Refuge and other spaces, get wildlife rehabilitation certified and licensure, spend time with the local Pride group and mutual aid groups, write just for fun (and I don't know, maybe putting my stuff actually out there?) and attend the local writer's group meetings. Write a memoir. Travel. Make vegan baked goods for my community. Spend time mending relationships with family.

A very late

thefridayfive:

1. What is something you like to do that other people would consider weird?
Eh, I'm not sure that I have anything very exciting or weird. I like identifying moss/fungi/trees/minerals, but I also find plant identification and foraging overwhelming. I like to repair things - mostly little stuff. There is a satisfaction to taking something old and worn and making it look new again or restoring its functionality and making it last a little longer.

2. What's the best piece of advice you've ever gotten?
Leave it better than you found it. This advice was given by a mentor in college, while we walked in the rain one day, and she leaned down to pick up a discarded battery from the path. I carry this through for places and people as best I can (acknowledging I am not always successful).

3. What is your most memorable birthday?
Probably my 17th birthday because of Hurricane Fran. I seem to recall we were released from school early (I can't recall if this was the day before, but it was when early rain bands started moving in and winds were starting to pick up, as I rode a bus), which of course I proclaimed was in honor of my birthday. It was my first memorable experience of a large inland hurricane with significant winds, where the eye actually passed over and the winds and limbs which battered the house changed direction. We had no power and limited water for a couple of weeks after that, and there was extensive damage around the area, but somehow my parents let me have a party with close friends (after the storm) and we sat out on the patio playing cards and taking intermittent dunks in the pool to cool off late into the night. That party spawned a relationship-turned-marriage among two friends!

4. When do you feel like you're the most authentic version of yourself?
Probably when it's just me and the dog and cat around the house. Best when they are sitting aside of me while I'm reading. Other than that, when I am in the deep woods of the mountains.

5. Where is your favorite place to vacation?
Probably anywhere along the Blue Ridge. It's one of the few places I feel like I am home, like I can take a deep breath, like I am a part of things that are much bigger than myself, like I could lie down on the Earth and if it was somehow so kind as to absorb me, then my role here would be complete.

Orbital reads like one long piece of prose poetry, except that occasionally the descriptives get so heavy you feel like you might be plodding through The Odyssey, and then you remember to back up and pay attention because the perspective is constantly shifting and there are few clues around the dialogue and so everyone and everything melds together a bit, like it does when you zoom out from Earth.

Is it beautiful? Absolutely.

Does it adequately convey the sense of drifting and being lost in self and time and place (whilst also furiously trying to rigidly document one's absolute self and time and place)? 100%.

Does it evoke the sense of wonder and fierce love for a planet full of life and wonder and empty of borders? Oh yes.

The plot is aimless, but, there's also ( potential spoilers ) enough to grasp the tiny bits of humanity in the vastness of everything else.

I can see why it's divisive, but I felt like the novel conveyed what it wanted to convey, and promised nothing more, in both title and format - the monotony of circling, the rigid ordinary of routine, all while sitting in the wonder of hurtling above sixteen sunrises and sunsets and inches from near-vacuum.

Perhaps it is the first step
across a dark, yawning chasm
or the feeling of hanging, lightly,
surrounded by nothing
(to catch you),
surrounded by everything
(to catch you),
leading you to focus on the breath
rushing through your lungs,
the landscape, flowing
through your bloodstream.
( Read more... )

From last week's

thefridayfive:

1. Do you like to spend time outdoors?
I am very much an I-would-live-outdoors-if-it-wouldn't-kill-me type of person. I love hiking and even just working around the yard, because there are so many interesting geological formations/plants/moss/grasses/trees/rocks/insects/birds/fungi/animals/etc. that make up our world, and I feel more at home/in awe when I'm among them. I genuinely love hiking any time of year (we just returned from a wonderful trip to Grandfather Mountain.). Unfortunately, I have a lot of outdoor allergies and other overactive immune conditions, so I have to manage my time outdoors carefully.

2. What is your favorite flower?
Hmm, this is tough. I really do adore sunflowers but also lilies, and orchids are a special kind of beautiful - especially the tiny wild ones that are often overlooked.

3. Any favorite warm weather activities?
Hiking, wading in streams, walking riverside, listening to thunderstorms. I do also appreciate occasional trips to the ocean to gaze at the beautiful blue-green Atlantic, feel the sand on my feet, and watch the ghost crabs and shore birds scurry about. I'm really fortunate to live in a place that gives me access to both ocean and mountains, within a few hours drive.

4. Have you ever kept a garden? If so, what did you grow?
We kept a small garden before moving to our current home which is on a heavily wooded lot which nearly full shade. We grew herbs (basil, fennel, dill, lavendar), tomatoes, peppers of all sorts, squash and zucchini. We tried a pumpkin on a whim. I do miss it from time to time and have been thinking about how/where to incorporate a small patch here. I currently have some herbs and small flowers in pots that I move about the yard as the seasons change.

5. Do you know how to swim?
Yes. Growing up my parents invested in one of those aboveground pools that are about 4-5 feet deep and built a deck to go around it. So in summers in middle school and high school I would spend many of my days out there. Not a huge amount of space but it gave me the means to swim and enjoy the water, and I spent a lot of time with my mom there. In college I took more formal swim lessons (was required for graduation, guess they didn't want their graduates to accidentally drown). I really enjoyed those as well as it taught me to better manage my breathing underwater.

I am way behind on everything, but I am happy to report that our trip to the mountains was in fact very lovely and a huge success. The weather held and so we were able to complete our planned hike from the Grandfather Mountain Extension Trail to Calloway Peak, as well as go out the next day to check out trails on the east side of the park.

I am having troubling finding the weight of words to describe how amazing the hikes were. The trail to Calloway Peak is an advanced trail with lots of exposed ridgeline, slippery runs supported by cables, soooo much boulder scrambling, a "chute" that is a steep slide of rockface that involves hand-over-hand scrambling (that I failed to get photos of because I wanted to not die), and 17 ladders that help climbers along the trail and access the various peaks (MacCrae, Attic Window, Calloway), tunnels, and viewpoints along the way. Sometimes the ladders are vertical, sometimes they are horizontal, sometimes they have fun angles in the middle. Sometimes you are basically scrambling on hands and feet across the edge of a rock face with nothing between you and the wild glory of the Blue Ridge. (Side note: a very large number of rocks required hiking my feet well above hip height to scramble, so I am very glad for mobility exercises.) ( +4 )

The trail is breathtaking, but the work to get up it will teach you something about yourself. I have always loved climbing (trees, rocks, fences, you name it) but there were even moments here where I wondered briefly if I was in over my head. ( +2 )

My photos do not do it justice. There is so much fir that parts of the trail smell like Christmas, while early blooms of mountain laurel, bluots, sand myrtle, and jewelweed, among others, sprout around and through rocks. ( +1 )

We ended up climbing 2,191 feet of elevation to arrive at Calloway, which is 5,946 ft about sea level. We stopped to have lunch on MacCrae peak along the way, so it took us about 4 hours to reach Calloway - luckily we were able to scramble down at a much faster 2.5 hours, and we opted on that route to take the Underwild trail to avoid having to retreat down a few of the more challenging ladders in reverse. However, even the Underwild is its own beast of navigating trails that are little more than an assortment of rocks to pick through.

The view from Calloway Peak

The full album of photos from the Grandfather Trail is here.

The next day we had been expecting rain and cold temperatures. The cold temperatures remained but the chance of rain dropped to zero, so we headed out to the pick up the east side trails via the Asusti and Tanawha trails, cutting over to the west on the Nuwati, south along the ridgeline on the Cragway until Flat Rock, and then looping back on the Daniel Boone Scout and Tanawha trails. The Asusti, Tanawha, and Nuwati trails reminded me very much of the creekside trails of Stone Mountain, but once we reached the Cragway we were in for another strenuous climb along a rocky ridgeline. That day was partly overcast, and as we climbed we would get warmer, then pause to bundle up as the winds picked up and the clouds cleared out. But the Cragway views looked almost autumnal, thanks to the early color of budding trees. It was hard to believe we were only about 2 miles from Calloway Peak.

A view from the Cragway - I love all the budding tree color!

A view of the colors of the Cragway.( +1" )

While this was a significantly easier hike (only about 700 ft of elevation gain), we still had lots of good opportunities to run around on rocky peaks, interspersed with groves of rhodendron and azalea. We stopped to have lunch along a Crag, before making our way to the next vista.( +1" )

The Cragway eventually takes you to Flat Rock, which is, as promised, a large, flat rock overlooking the valley. Trees have grown up around it, but if you find the right spots you can still get a decent view. ( +2" )

The full album of photos from the Nuwati-Cragway-Tanawha loop is here.

We eventually made our way back to our cabin (which was also lovely, it sat on 12 acres and had a lovely little creek, many beautiful trees, including my favorite tulip populars, and even a perfect rock ledge of its own), where we were able to soak back in some warmth.

All in all, we felt very accomplished. For myself - I can't explain, but being in the mountains, surrounded by the wild...it always feels like coming home. The beauty there brings me to tears every time, and I just feel more a part of everything. There is also something to just soaking up nature and clean yummy mountain air and stretching your body in fun and challenging ways under the sun and clouds and sky. Especially with the one you love. We were sad to leave, but are still thinking about it and already thinking about our next big excursion. I may be talking about it a while.

May you be well, may you be loved, may you be at peace, may you find beauty in any given moment. ♥

Getting to

thefridayfive late this week:

1. What decade did you attend/are you attending high school or college?
Mid-90s through early 2000s.

2. What clothing fashion from that time are you glad/do you wish went out of style?
Babydoll dresses. Every once in a great while I miss grunge before remembering that some folks just showed up dirty. Also there are far fewer folks wearing black lipstick these days.

3. Do you still listen to the music from your high school/college years on a regular basis?
Sometimes I spool up 90s songs at the gym or in the car, but mostly I find it playing in public spaces. Hearing "Sex and Candy" at the grocery store (the original or as a Muzak version) or NIN's "Closer" while at physical therapy have been a little disconcerting.

4. What hairstyle/hair color did/do you wear during high school/college?
In high school I pretty much wore my natural hair color, probably fried a little with Sun-In because we were not a family that could afford salon highlights. In college, I probably went through 20 different hairstyles, from long to bob to pixie. I tried the Rachel but on me it just looked like bad layering. Also my hair color went from bright blonde to deep auburn to dark black. An old acquaintance once joked that I would change my hair after every major life decision, and she wasn't wrong. It may have been my way of trying to combat the depression I was in.

5. What was/is "the cool thing to do" while in high school/college?
Gods, I have no clue what this would be, I was a social outcast. I came of age in a podunk area and being an outsider to them, wasn't able to fit in anywhere. I spent a lot of high school lunches hiding in my teachers' rooms as the cafeteria was brutal. I had my first child early in college/at age 19, which is an entirely different story unto itself, so I didn't have a typical experience there, either. That said, that is the age in which I discovered Livejournal, and met several lifelong friends. ♥

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