we have been spending a lot of time near home these days. with the uncertainty of our sweet old dogga, it is nearly impossible to make any plans to go away. we need to be here with him – through all the challenges his senior roller coaster presents.
and so, our hikes-for-miles are exchanged for walks-for-miles and are from our backdoor.
we take them at different times of day and in different weather. it is truly gobsmacking what is right nearby and, on these days close-to-home, we are taking care to notice that and appreciate it.
late on a stunning late-september afternoon – delaying dinner prep for a couple hours – we took off from home.
walking east along the marina we could see the smallest softest-pink half circle rising out of the lake. as we got closer, the pastel palette of sky continued to change hue – and the harvest moon began to make its way into the horizon.
we did absolutely nothing to help this moonrise – we simply stood in awe, staring at its stellar performance, soaking in the sheer beauty, the predictability of a moonrise, the comfort of something so normal yet so entirely gorgeous.
after a bit we noticed that many people had gathered on the rocks to watch, also obviously enchanted by it, also photographing it.
a sailboat was heading north and passed directly in front of the moon. as it continued to sail, people were comparing notes about their videos and photos of this moment in time – a moment we had all shared.
it was as if everyone was – for these minutes – on the same page. we could all agree that this soft-pink harvest moonrise was glorious.
if only all the rest of life-these-days were as aligned.
i like fine-tipped pens, both regular ink and markers, though i do love the wrinkle sound and feel of a notebook page written on all lines on both sides with a medium-tip pen…the physical-fingertip bumpy-words-on-the-page and that crunchy sound it makes when you turn it over or flip to the next. so there is definitely merit in medium-point. but fine-tip? there’s a grace and allowance of white-space that fine-tip encourages.
this tall red pole installation at the chicago botanic garden makes me think of a ball jar i have holding an assortment of wooden paintbrushes. standing and waiting. because i’m not sure if these poles are part of the lightscape show or an art piece, i am drawing my own conclusions about its presence. somehow, this striking stand of red seems to communicate an invitation to the sky and, in its simplicity, was one of my favorite pieces on our walkabout. stark color, plain. i suspect ellsworth kelly would have loved them too, regardless of their context.
there were lots of people there on sunday, a picture-perfect fall day. our drive down and our return were on the back roads, keeping the lake close, past ravines and through beautiful neighborhoods filled with sprawling yards and wise old trees touting autumn. the trip there – for us, we agreed – is just as important as the time spent at the garden. we love the-back-way and never take the interstate down if we can help it. even to visit our son, we build in the time it takes to meander to his home. we’ve encountered magical snowfly on the return home at night, flakes illuminated by our headlights and sunday didn’t disappoint, as golden and crimson leaves fell around us as we drove this windy-back-road-route.
although i prefer to walk in the woods on some trail in the quiet with hardly anyone else around, our time with our dear friends at the crowded garden was the perfect early november gift-of-a-warm-day escape. we picnicked on a blanket, chatting. we wandered, chatting. we took pictures and googled interesting plants, chatting. we admired installations and gardens with themes, chatting. there are ornate sculptures and formal walled gardens. there are fantastically groomed flowers and trees. there are preparations for an intricate holiday light celebration.
we took our time together, the four of us, promising to return again soon, and then d and i drove back on the roads through northern suburbs, wishing we had time to stop and sit at one of the tiny restaurant bistro tables we saw, spaced on sidewalks, against brick walls with the later afternoon sunlight warming the faces of many people who had chosen to dine al fresco.
when we spoke of our time at the garden, it wasn’t the intricacies i remembered, walking in beauty. it was the simplest stuff. the vertical slices of rock in a pondside rock garden. the candlepots on the rails in the lake. the lone rosebuds on a bush inviting fallow. golden grasses waving in the breeze. the evergreens up close. the past-waning bowed blooms on the hosta. the white birch calling out from the green. and the red fine-tipped pens reaching for the sky. there was definitely something about those.
though i – at first introduction – questioned his work, i guess there’s more ellsworth in me than i thought. we really never stop discovering. any.where.
today is The Girl’s birthday. kirsten turns 28 today and i can hardly believe it. where does the time go? i am wishing i could spend time with her today (well, like every day)… make her dinner or a decadent gluten-free cake, have a glass of wine with her. what i would really love to do is take a walk with her. in her world. like most moms, sharing space and time with my children is precious; taking a walk outside, breathing in air and talking together is something yearn-worthy.
the best part about visiting The Girl and The Boy is that then – and really only then – i can picture their lives…the place they live, their home, where they buy their groceries, the roads they travel, what they see when they look out their windows, the way the air feels, the angle of the sun, their favorite places to hang out or places that have been in stories they have told me or pictures they have sent. it’s all vital for me.
The Girl lives in stunning surroundings. her mountains are massive and grand and the terrain is white with snow or green green with leaves of aspens and needles of pines. she walks in beauty. she sees it. she recognizes it.
today my wish for her is to find that every day of her life. no matter where she is or what her surroundings. she doesn’t just walk in beauty. she is beauty.
