A lot of times I set about writing these and there is only a tiny germ of a thought or maybe even a word that sparks the whole shebang. In the way-back times, when I got serious about writing these once a week, I would try to concretize the idea before starting to tap-tap away. But over time, I’ve been letting myself come to the page with just the vague idea of something that’s popped into my brain over the week since the last time we chatted, which reminds me how lucky I feel to have you join me here. Thank you.

This is one of those let-er-rip moments when I had a thought and who knows where it will lead. Last week I found myself heading out for a stroll in the afternoon rather than the morning and I’m not exaggerating when I say things appeared to me in a completely different light. Obviously, yes, the light was different but it was more than that. A wooded stretch I’d walked by over a dozen times since moving here, one I thought was merely that: wooded. But a house had sprouted, complete with a detached barn. A fully formed structure that had clearly been sitting there for a long stretch before I moved up here. It was(is) nestled behind a stand of trees with the afternoon sun shining full on it looking all proud and substantial. And while all along my walk the shadows were different from my a.m. views, along with the population of gnats (they apparently enjoy afternoons more than mornings), the appearance of that house was what stayed with me.

A difference of some amount of hours and I was able to see something that had been there all along. Naturally that made me think about how many times a some-such-thing has existed where I saw nothing, or felt nothing if I’m going into the inner landscape. Times where despair or frustration have roiled me into feeling alone or panicked because I was sure the picture I was seeing(feeling, etc.) was the only view available. And then I’ve acted accordingly, which more than not meant hunkering down and rolling through a dark tunnel of my own making, usually with my eyes closed just to get through it. I’m not a very patient person, so the thought of pausing, perhaps taking a beat until the light changes or the moment shifts is not my go-to move. Why? Mostly because I think I need to deal with whatever-it-is now. Get it over&done with so I can move along. It’s almost excruciating to me to think about lingering around something that either a) causes me discomfort or b) is a thing I don’t ever want to think about/deal with again. An alternative view? Insert scoff face here. Even the good&happy moments I tend to high-dive into quickly in case they may dry up so I better splash around now, then get out and move on.

And the things I find confounding? Well those are situations you’ll find me channeling a sea otter with a shell smashing away trying to crack the thing wide open for the great reveal. Usually I’m using more force than I need to channeling a streak of impatience I recognize as a family trait. When one of my dad’s neighbors told me he’d been spotted out in the carport trying to open a can of tuna with a hammer I wasn’t surprised—alarmed, yes, but not surprised. Because, of course. When the can opener is misplaced and you want a tuna sandwich, then, well, where’s the hammer? This didn’t work, BTW. So I , like him, often use unnecessary means to wrestle the thought, situation, life experience to the ground, hold it in place, and stare into it’s abyss in order to understand what to do next while I look for the proverbial hammer. The thought of stepping away to check it from a distance where perchance I can take in all the angles does not immediately occur. The idea of maybe waiting until later/tomorrow/next week in order to take another look is not a thought. If I manage to count to a number above three while breathing, then I realize how some things may not need figuring out, not immediately anyway. In fact some things may never be solved. (Just writing that makes me squirm.) Perhaps these things just are as you find them. For now. Forever. Or perchance in some unseen future, an idea around it will reveal itself.

On my afternoon walk a couple of days ago, the sun was shifting out of some clouds and I wanted to take a picture to send to a dear friend who I’m having fun sharing my NY call-of-the-wild moments with. I tapped open the camera on my phone and when I paused to take the shot, a green dot came into view, spun around, then disappeared. I’d hit the shutter, so I got a one-second video (see above) but then when I took the next shot, it was just of the long and winding road. No green swirly buzzy thing. I sent it. She thought maybe a firefly, although I’ve never seen one in the daylight. Maybe a tiny alien, I thought (whimsically). Maybe refracting light off the camera lens. For sure nothing I’ll ever know (unless it shows up again and starts speaking to me). This is probably a thing that’s just an unknown. A view of something without an explanation. A trick of the light. A moment in time. Another perspective. Which, I think, counts for a lot.