Fresh Tracks

Snowcapades

March is typically the most beautiful time of year here is Florida, the temperature is about as perfect as it could be, the humidity is low, breezes are blowing and the surf is calm so beach days are a must. Any outdoor activity can be planned even if it's just front porch sitting since the sun is shining and it's just too pretty to not be outside enjoying it!
The northerners have been coming since January when the thrill of a "white Christmas" was well worn off, for a break from the harsh winter weather every long weekend the calendar offers and even if the calendar doesn't, they are desperate for relief. So why when everyone else is clamoring to get to the warmth and sunshine here would this crazy group of Floridians plan a trip to the cold snowy north?
As I packed my bags with thick, dark, polyester and nylon, pants, turtlenecks, socks, boots, gloves and coats, I resented a bit that I was leaving cotton, sleeveless, shorts, sundresses and flip flops behind. It didn't seem right, just when the days were extended with daylight savings time I was choosing to extend them in the cold mountains wearing bulky cumbersome layers of clothes that make crunchy scratchy noises with each step and cause static electricity shocks with every touch, combined with fly away hair, and chapped lips. Did I really want to do this? Yeah, yeah, I really did!
It was about a 20 hour drive in 2 vehicles with 19 people at the peak of the trip. We stayed in a 3 story house that had a deck with a hot tub overlooking the slopes. We could shuttle in or ski to the village where shops and restaurants offered souvenirs, hot beverages at Starbucks and a couple of outside fire places to sip by. We were at the "top of the world" where the sunrises and sunsets and everything in between was beautifully visible. My camera and I spent a lot of time together as the beauty was recorded for future pleasure.
We had rain one day which seemed odd to me since that was the day my hands were so cold, it wasn't even cold enough to snow, but it was very windy. That night the rain turned to snow, big beautiful flakes continued to come down over a couple hours time resulting in a fresh fluffy untracked layer that we found necessary to track up! Out of the hot tub and into the snow wearing nothing but swim shorts for a snow angel, out into the night under the street lights for some photos by the pine trees snow laden branches and our fresh footprints, the only ones.
One whole day we were in a cloud that looked like thick fog, it was hard to see where you were headed but it added an element of mystery that didn't keep anyone from going anyway! I had a ski lesson that day, a gift from my son, so I just followed my leader. We were advised that a lesson would be a good idea and it absolutely was. The information the instructor gave was immensely helpful, I would not have had any success at all without it, though the success I did have, barely qualifies as success!
The final day at the mountain was a sunny blue sky day with temps rising into the 50's, we played in the snow without coats and gloves, a couple guys wore only shorts and t-shirts! That was incredible to me, I was born and raised in the north, I know the treachery of winters with snow and cold that makes life unbearable, but somehow there as we played in the snow under the sunny skies and in the warm air, we were completely comfortable. Even I shed my gloves, that is remarkable, I get cold hands in the middle of a Florida summer when I'm in the air conditioning and have to go sit in the hot car to get the chill out of my bones! It was such a pleasure to enjoy a variety of winter weather conditions up there on the top of the world!
One might think that there would be some friction or personality clashes, when sharing a home with people you don't normally live with, sharing bathrooms, dining together, cozying together in bedrooms, but there was none, we all co-habitated nicely, in fact sharing the time and space together was one of the most special treats.
One of the big girls didn't really want to be out on the slopes so she invested some of her time each day to prepare meals for all the hungry skiers and snowboarders. When we all returned at the end of the day there was a hot meal ready that was thoroughly enjoyed by all.
In the evening we went to the village or played games, or just enjoyed a relax around the fireplace, or in the hot tub soothing sore muscles.
All of our injuries occurred the first day, maybe the result of overly aggressive maneuvers, but fortunately were fairly minor and could be lived with as taking to the slopes continued unhindered!
As always when I have a camera full of pictures, I'm excited to get them on my home computer screen to see them enlarged hoping that the shots are clear and have captured as best they could the beauty and good times experienced. I was mostly not disappointed though pictures don't do justice to the beauty, and they can't accurately portray the details of the good times, but looking at them now and whenever I do, they'll remind of the moments that stood out for me. When we get together with the others who were on the trip we'll talk about those moments and share what stood out for each of us individually and maybe even be a little surprised at what that was, we all enjoyed it from our own perspectives.
I'm going to print a few of my photos and frame them for the wall of my freshly painted "spare" room, where the souvenir pillow cover will adorn the rooms chair. That room is where I intend to spend time reading, writing, crafting, and thinking. It will have things in it that remind me of the fullness of life, the fun times spent together with family and friends, photos of the people and places that make me smile. It will be my new "happy place".
Why would anyone want to leave the warm sunny March days of Florida to go where everyone else is trying to get an escape from? Because my son asked, "you want to go Mom?", and before I could talk sense into myself I said yes! It was my March's 2011 out of the ordinary something to do and I had a blast doing something I'd never tried before, with a group of people who's company I enjoyed creating unforgettable experiences including 3 single and 1 married couple of my grown kids who were able to go along, I got to see the beauty in nature that I had not seen in years and I have the pictures to prove it! I'm glad I didn't give myself time to talk myself out of it, and I'm glad I thought big and positive buying lift tickets for myself for all 3 days! I'm glad I didn't miss it!
Why would anyone pass up an opportunity like that?!

A little knowledge goes a long way
as my ski lesson proved today,
by the end of it I skied like a pro,
who'da thunk?! who'da known?!

I zig zagged, swerved and got some air,
felt winter wind in my hair,
my mad skills amazed the crowd, who exclaimed
"look at her go, for cryin' out loud"!

My hands and feet never even got cold,
even my temperature was under control.
I got the last lift ride to the top
for double black diamonds treacherous drops

which led me right to my front door,
it had to end, though I wanted more.
Wouldn't it be cool, wouldn't it be fun
if every first timer could "get her done"?!

But most of 'em can't, it's too hard you see,
turns out it's too hard even for me,
I made all this up just to look cool,
the only true part is I went to ski school.

But I did manage to stay up on my feet,
except for the times I wound up on my seat.
Still, thanks to Jams and my teacher Steve,
I like skiing, I'll do it again I believe!

Big Black Bug

Little did I know what lurked amongst the stacks of racks that hold our hundreds of glass votive candle holders.
There I was just going about my usual business, checking off the needed items listed on pull sheets in preparation for another party at work. This one was for 140 shot glasses, we have clear shots, roly poly’s, ambers, reds, green mosaic, crackle, etched, squares, mirrored squares, frosted squares, 3, 6,and 9 inch cylinders, bubbles, beaded, and mercury glass shots. There are more, but these we have in large quantities so they are stored in bus tubs or racks that are stacked on shelves or rolling bases. The shots I needed are kept in racks on bases that make towers of glassware stored in a corner out of the line of foot and cart traffic.
I got what I needed to fill my count and as I pulled my arm out from between the rack towers I felt something on my arm…and screamed!
Many sounds are heard on a daily basis in the design studio, running water, the flower cutter, tools laid down hastily on a stainless steel work table, the clanking water pipes of old plumbing, and the constant annoyingly loud motor that runs the air conditioner for the hotel presidents office. Breaking glass is usually the only thing that makes everyone stop, look, and with concern ask “are you okay?”. Broken glass is not an uncommon sound, a scream is a bit unnerving, especially considering that broken glass is not uncommon!
Well, whilst I flailed my arm flinging the critter off of it I looked up at the questioning co-workers to see all their startled faces looking back at me, and then looked down having seen peripherally what I perceived to be the flung multi legged creature.
In 3 seconds time I went from a scream, nothing hysterical, just a short high pitched chirp, maybe a yelp, to laughing, as the bewildered onlookers awaited an explanation which was quite simply, a big wad of black tape, originally adhered to the side of a rack, preferring instead to stick to my arm as I brushed against it.
We have big bugs in Florida. They’re scary. I am unable to co-exist with them. If they are anywhere near me or what I consider to be my space they will be hunted down, no effort will be withheld to effect their annihilation, simple as that!
If by chance, the big black bug is merely a big black wad of tape, apparently the emergency self preservation procedure will be initiated until or unless the mistaken identity is proven!
Oy vey!

Life is a Smorgasbord

In so many ways I am fortunate, blessed and wealthy. As years are quickly added to my age, along with experience, one thing I am especially grateful for is that I am still able to enjoy the company of both parents.
For most of my adult life we have been separated by hundreds of miles. Right after my youngest child was born, the only girl of their 10 grandkids, my parents spent 4 years hundreds of miles across an ocean away on another continent! So a couple years ago when they relocated permanently just a little more than a 2 hour drive from my house, it became much easier to get together far more frequently than we’d been able to in 25 years.
I had a free day and decided to fill it up with a drive over to their house. I love driving, especially in the country. I pass a lot of open acreage green with native growth and smooth gray skeletons of bare dead trees set against a wide blue sky. Pastures are speckled with cattle and horses that gather in social groups under a lone tree or a sparse cluster of vegetation, some find refreshment at the edge of a pond. I catch glimpses as I pass at 60 miles an hour, (the posted speed, though I may set my cruise control for an extra 5, shhhh, our secret!), of a horse rolling in the dirt creating a cloud of dust, or a calf quickening it's step to catch up to its mother, or some just laying down without a care in their world of sameness. Grazers go about the business of grass eating oblivious to the hitch-hikers that are getting a free ride on their backs, white birds that contrast boldly to the black or brown hides of their unmindful hosts. Always vultures are seen circling over what they intend to make their dinner, often what has been hit by a car, and there are eagle and osprey nests on telephone poles near enough to the road so that the inhabitants of the twiggy homes are visible. My favorite landmark though is the front pasture of the miniature horse farm when occupied by the little cuties. That particular land frequently has standing water so they are not often in the front pasture when I drive past, but when they are I have pulled off the road to watch and get pictures of them, they are just that charming!
Even though my parents house has identified with several different addresses over the years, whatever one they were in has always been "home". It is they who make it so, not the physical location but the atmosphere created by them and with their presence at that location. It silently states, "welcome", in a Norman Rockwell, Thomas Kinkade sort of way.
Upon arrival I am greeted with warm genuine hugs. We usually sit a while conversing about what has filled our days since the last visit. We, like all good conversationalists, manage to discuss and solve all of the worlds woes in just a few hours as politics and religion get sorted out, and we make solid and tentative plans for what we hope to do in upcoming days just for fun and enjoyment of family and friends.
We take walks, their small community of retired missionaries bustles this time of year with volunteers who have come from freezing northern territories to the warm south, a treat for them while investing their time, energy and skills into maintenance, building and remodeling. We always enjoy admiring their work, a treat for and mission to the residents who themselves devoted much of their lives to serving God by serving others. We admire the neighbors foliage, dodge greet and chat with golf cart drivers that come from every direction, stop into the "boutique" where one can leave unwanted but still usable items for another to take, and include a stop into the fellowship hall where there is a table of assorted breads and pastries, free for anyone who’d like some.
The property is surrounded by orange groves so for several months of harvest they also are supplied with buckets of oranges and grapefruits, Mom squeezes them by the pitcher full for the most delicious juice ever, mmmm, I wish I could have a glass right now just thinking about it! This time of year the orange trees are blossoming so the air is scented with the sweet aroma of the their fragrant blooms
I am always treated to one of their favorite dining spots as each visit culminates in a meal out, this most recent one to Homers smorgasbord. I haven't been to a smorgasbord in probably years, so it was a great treat, so many choices! A salad section, a sides section, a main course section, a desert section, a soup station and a beverage station, each with irresistable variety. I took only about 2 forkfulls of each so I could sample many, still filling a plate twice, before desert and coffee! We laughed at how my brother is the only one we know who plans his next meal before he's finished the one he's eating!
On the way back to their house we stopped into the grocery store, I chose a few things that I knew I needed at my house but my parents always insist on paying for whatever I pick out when we're shopping so I wanted to keep it minimal. I tried as usual at the register to get Dad to let me pay for mine, but as usual, he said no, still for whatever reason we do this little routine each time. I guess it’s just because I do know he doesn't have to, and he knows I know he doesn't have to, but it is his pleasure and mine, and so we need to acknowledge that we appreciate the gestures. For me its financial assistance easing the continually tight costs of living, for them it's Dad and Mom caring still, always, for their "little girl", a tangible way to show their love and best wishes for my well being.
When we got back to their house it was time for me to head back to mine, we put the groceries in my car, ALL of them, everything that Mom had chosen while at the grocery store was for me to take home, she has finely honed her prowess when it comes to giving me the stuff she wants me to have! There was also a little stack of goodies she had gathered on the counter for me, a couple little jars she thought I could use for beads or sequins with my crafting, some paper and a little book by a poet she knows I like. Once again I arrive at my parents house empty handed, but return filled. So filled with gratitude for moments well invested, filled with thoughtful goodies and items necessary for comfortable everyday living, filled after a leisure meal together at the local smorgasbord, filled.
As I made my way back through all the small country towns to my own town, the sun was setting on the day. It had been another one filled with the best life has to offer, I was filled, my thoughts were filled. Life is a smorgasbord I thought. In youth it seems the whole world is laid out before you, on display, at its finest. It is all so tempting, trying a little of this and a little of that, finding what suits your taste, drinking it in. And then before you know it youth has vanished, but the effects of choices at life’s smorgasbord linger. Middle age awakens taste buds to savor the enhanced flavors that come with a life of experiences. And for my parents, retired people, there are a lot of things offered at the smorgasbord of life that will be passed over, things that by experience they’ve learned just aren’t as tasty as they look and that gluttony at the smorgasbord will ultimately only serve to make them fat, ugly, sad, miserable and broke, and give them heartburn robbing them of a good night’s sleep. Even though it’s all right there, it still requires choosing, and the choosing will affect what happens next.
My next’s have been good, and intertwined with all of my trips to the smorgasbord is my parents, holding the door, clearing the table, joining with me, and picking up the tab. All this they do so that I might more thoroughly enjoy the meal, making it a feast even, and be filled.