Scoping It Out

 

It's really hard to photograph birds, especially through a telescope.  A few birds from my trip to Ecuador above.

March 2016

It has been some time since I had a book in hand that I didn't want to put down.  Eating, drinking, chores, work, and a sunset all took a backseat this week as I devoted one entire day and one very nice evening into night finishing Lost Among the Birds by Neil Hayward.  I had mentioned that I had anticipated I would like it and that I would find a few things in common, but it really is extraordinary (and inspiring) to trek another's journey through a year of unknowns.

It has been one year, one month, and two days since I left the day-to-day world of 5:30 am gym, 7:00 am breakfast, 8:30 am work, 3:00 pm finish my triple venti latte, 7:00 pm home (if I'm lucky) with maybe another trek to the gym in the evening before dinner to clear my head.  In the ten years building to this very conscious decision to say "no", I think I had only one relationship in the same city as my abode, preferring to trek across the US and to Europe than taking the plunge to stay put long enough to let someone in my life for more than a few seasons.

In my big year, I flew something like 90,000 miles to three continents for six countries to knock off 11 items from the World Heritage Site list, including a 560 mile walk across Spain.  I was out of my home country more than in it during 2016 (which incidentally is one of the reasons I have never had pets).

In January last year, the only item I had planned was that I would go to the Galapagos and to see Machu Picchu.  I bought a backpack and binoculars in February.  The rest evolved.  It was April 19th when I purchased my ticket to Paris confirming my start of the Camino May 13th.  I started reading the guidebook on April 20th during my flight to LA and began to panic a few hours later over the fly-over states wondering if I was, perhaps, in a bit over my head.  My solo journey ended in June with plans to go to Argentina and the rest of the year was made up on the fly (pun intended).

My journey was indeed different than that of Hayward's year, but I fully appreciated the late commitment to a goal, the honesty about his relationships and the pursuit of something that, to explain it aloud to another, sounds just a little bit crazy.  I was happy to know another person traveled with a book in hand, appreciated baseball and followed a passion without knowing exactly how it would turn out.  I enjoyed his anecdotes of sleeping in cars, the pleasures of coffee, and the friendships forged just because you like birds.  I even enjoyed all the descriptions about our flying friends.  As someone who has been compiling all the notes of her own adventures, I also appreciated his scientific note-taking so that he was able to share his trips with the rest of us.

For those of you who don't quit your jobs or happen to like birds, I think you'd still very much enjoy this read.  I'm sure you have at least one friend like us and perhaps it will help to understand our brains a little better, or it just might encourage you to take a little adventure on your own.  Maybe it will inspire you to linger at the window a little longer or take an old reference book off the shelves to check a few colors.  I'm glad I purchased the hard copy; I'm certain I will read it again.

Regresado

When I hit the jet bridge, I was met with the sweltering heat of summer (again).  In the peak of holiday season, I have had a month away and my skin is an alabaster sign that I'm new here.

Except I'm not, and I am.

In thirty-two hours I've been to the grocery, renewed my gym membership, picked up the gifts of onion and cheese pastries from the shop across the street, and successfully navigated our out-sourced house cleaning.  Laundry is in progress.  I've made two meals today along with my cafe con leches.  

I'm less than an hour from sunset and Spanish is retreating from the front of my head to the back, needing rest and a reprieve from conversation.  Language stamina is the part that comes back slowly and I'm reminded again that I'm new.

A Bird in View

Though I enjoy the outdoors, I've often associated bird-watching with AARP cards.  I've had a copy of Birds of North America on my bookshelves for years but I don't know if I've opened it more than once or twice.  This spring's splurge trip to the Cloud Forest in Ecuador gave me a wake up call.

My lodge had birding activities in the morning and evening and an open invitation to "Hummingbird Garden."  Ninety-six photos and three videos later, I became a fan.  The guides could quickly distinguish varietals of Tanagers and finding a Toucan to photograph through a telescope was more exciting than any of my dates in 2015.  I saw more species of Hummingbirds in three days than I have in my entire life.

Of course then the above, combined with my sabbatical-ing, drew me to Neil Hayward's Lost Among The Birds:  Accidentally Finding Myself in One Big Year.  Neil went birding for his Big Year in 2013.   We have biotechnology in common and I wonder what else I'll find as I get ready to open the pages (again on a plane).  I just might have to bring the binoculars out of storage for the next journey.

Love Under Four

Valentine's Day cards will be a little late
Turns out I had a holiday date
With a newborn and a couple of kids
Aunties do whatever they're bid.

Upstairs, downstairs, tell me a story
(Just make sure it isn't too gory)
Include Cinderella and a mean, mean ghost
And perhaps a horsey tied to a post.

Carry me, take me, that's my mat.
Keep to the routine, don't vary that.
And at the end of the day with sticky hands
They'll hug your neck and remind, "You can"

The Hardest Part

When you're waiting on a baby
Don't ask "how are you?"
You just might end up
With a head full of stew.

Don't ask "can I help"
Or "where does this go?"
"I'll do it myself"
With heavy sigh she might throw.

It's hard to find balance
Between too much and enough
When you're trying to be a helper
You need to be made of thick stuff.

Ode to Clouds

Somewhere over Argentina
October 2016

If I had a lifetime of cameras balanced with leisure, I'd take photos of clouds every day.

Where There's a Will

I have not been able to write a coherent stanza, paragraph, or thought for some time.  My notebook contains starts and stops.  To be exact, I haven't been able to write since January 20th.  The news, already at the forefront of my mornings, took an even larger role, with each new day coaxing some new emotion between outrage and sadness.  Friends and family suggested that I not read the news so much because "it was making me upset".  This advice echoed that which I'd heard given to older relatives and I found an empathy for my grandmother that I will never get to express.

Clearly I needed another outlet.

From my previous trip to Parnassus, I'd picked up a couple of books just for me to enjoy this month.  It is especially an indulgence as I'm currently sans most personal belongings and like the Camino, I'm taking my things with me wherever I go.  Books then are certainly not on the top of my packing list.

I don't know if one of you mentioned Will & I by Clay Byers or if it was just the title to read for me now but I took this little memoir from the shelves, and on a day when I decided reading the news was done, I opened the cover.

The settings were familiar:  Birmingham, Chattanooga, Sewanee.
The accident was terrible.
The recovery, Clay was told, would be limited.

Will is Clay's twin so Clay has a direct measure of current life and potential.  His memoir is matter of fact, as an observer at times rather than the participant.  I think this is the way we manage telling the difficult sometimes.  His journey is brave and throughout the read, I could feel the strength of his heart and of his will (independent of brother).  Communication was a significant hurdle during the recovery and as he fights to overcome this obstacle, Clay finds himself a writer, and dare I say, a singer.

So this was the story to break my pattern and to find words again.