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Shifting Gears

Shifting Gears

Category Archives: inspiration

stuff that inspires me

Spring into Summer

21 Saturday Jun 2014

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, aging, environment, inspiration, mid-life transition, pets, writing

≈ 5 Comments

Bowl o'Sunshine

Scented geranium, aka bowl o’ sunshine.

The summer visitors have arrived. They show up all of a sudden, in an array of styles and colors that practically scream, “summer is here!” One day the landscape comprises a crowd dressed in varying hues of green and the next — well, see for yourself.

1-columbine

Columbine

Peony

Peony

false indigo

False indigo

5-clematis

Clematis

My “Little Miss Kim” lilac shows up in a burst of grapey color and then immediately fades to white, leaving behind a trail of sweet perfume that fills the yard for days.

4-lilacs

Little Miss Kim

Here in eastern Massachusetts, the transformation from late spring to early summer is a visually joyous one. In the woods, the air feels both lighter and fresher — a soft caress has replaced the chilly slap of April. I may still need a light jacket for my morning walk, but the knitted cap and gloves remain in the closet.

Rhododendron in the woods

Rhododendron in the woods

New ferns

New ferns

Yet underneath all the outward cheer, early summer leaves me feeling a little empty. As the weather warms up an old sadness resurfaces as its mid-June anniversary approaches. And as a young, working mother, the close of the school year, with its many festivities and fond farewells, was always tinged with melancholy. One more year of their childhood torn from the calendar.

My days of year-end band concerts, sewing on name tags, and packing trunks for summer camp are long over, but for me, June will always outrank January as an important marker of passing time.

Summer breeze

Summer breeze

The great thing about getting ‘older,’ though, is that I no longer have to concern myself with summer’s superficial branding. While I do pay attention to advice about protecting my skin, I can turn the page when I see headlines like, “4 Weeks to a Bikini Body,” because, really, who cares?

Instead, I’ll look beyond the sunny façade and shake things up. That warmer air and lack of weather-related obstacles frees us all to tackle something different, something hard.

Never finished Middlemarch? Maybe this is the summer to do it. Climb a mountain, learn another language, or try a new form of writing. Test the limits of your brain and your body.

Or—as my husband and I plan to do after decades of full-time work—give yourself a sabbatical.  Taking a road trip, living someplace new, and launching a project are all on our agenda.

So yeah, the summer visitors are here, let the season begin.

***

This post also appears today on Women’s Voices for Change. 

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Rain on Stone

18 Wednesday Jun 2014

Posted by judithar321 in environment, inspiration, meditation, pets

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Emily Dickinson, nature

needles

Last night’s rain swept everything clean.  This morning, Karina and I headed to the woods. As we entered the trail we were both startled by a wild turkey that took off in a rush of feathers a few steps ahead of us.

As we walked further into the woods, my racing heart quieted. The sound of the wind running through the trees enveloped us, broken only by a single robin belting out her sunny tune.

girl in the woods

We stopped to admire how the rain had stained the stone, and then we stood there and listened for a long, long time.

water on stone

Emily_1

SOME PEOPLE KEEP THE SABBATH GOING TO CHURCH

By Emily Dickinson

Some keep the Sabbath going to Church –

I keep it, staying at Home –

With a Bobolink for a Chorister –

And an Orchard, for a Dome –

 

Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice –

I, just wear my Wings –

And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,

Our little Sexton – sings.

 

God preaches, a noted Clergyman –

And the sermon is never long,

So instead of getting to Heaven, at last –

I’m going, all along.

 

Through Words and Cake, a Writer Lives On

02 Wednesday Apr 2014

Posted by judithar321 in books, friendship, health, inspiration, writing

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

baking, chocolate cake, cooking, eating, Food & Fiction, Laurie Colwin

 

cake

My friend Jane, who blogs at Food & Fiction, is one of my most helpful kitchen advisors. Although we share meals several times a year in real life, our time together at the stove has always been virtual. Many of Jane’s recipes have become my go-to source when I want to put something delicious, healthy, and not-too-complicated on the table.

So it makes sense that Jane shared this New York Times article about Laurie Colwin on her Facebook feed, because it suggests that Laurie’s non-fussy recipes and conversational style were a precursor to food bloggers like herself.

Like Jane, Laurie’s friendly, matter-of-fact voice is also in my ear from time to time when I’m working in the kitchen. Her recipe for a simple chocolate cake (pictured above) is my hands-down favorite.

I wrote about Laurie and her chocolate cake a few years ago on my blog at Open Salon. My literary tastes have changed over time, and her novels may no longer hold my interest the way they did when I read them 20 years ago under extreme circumstances, but I’ve never lost my taste for that cake. The recipe is included in my original post, reprinted below.

Through Words and Cake, a Writer Lives On

 October 23, 2010

“You don’t feed me enough,” I joked to my husband last night as my stomach loudly and persistently announced itself. Apparently, the dinner of homemade soup and bread I’d made wasn’t enough. We needed dessert.

“Karen Edwards’s Version of Buttermilk Cocoa Cake” from, More Home Cooking: A Writer Returns to the Kitchen by Laurie Colwin is my go-to recipe when I want something quick and chocolatey.

According to Colwin,

“It is hard to encapsulate the virtuosities of this cake. It is fast, easy, and scrumptious. It has a velvety, powdery feel – the result of all that cocoa. It is not so horribly bad for you, because you use buttermilk, which is relatively low in fat, and cocoa powder is defatted anyway. Furthermore, it keeps like a dream and tastes even better after a few days.”

I became a Laurie Colwin fan almost 20 years ago while undergoing chemotherapy. My hair was falling out and I was nauseous and exhausted. For the first time ever, it was difficult to find solace in reading — I couldn’t focus.

Then my friend Julia gave me one of Colwin’s books. Her books held my attention. I cared deeply about her characters, and her tales about family life, which I, too, was engaged in, were happy ones. I needed upbeat stories — sadness and angst were for real life.

When I reported all of this to Julia, she responded, “Unfortunately, Laurie’s life wasn’t so happy. She died suddenly at a young age.” Not only that, she had left a young daughter behind.

All these years later, my story is the happy one. My children, who were aged eight and ten when I was diagnosed, are now adults living on their own.  My husband and I are both active and healthy, and we still share a special spark.

So now when I bite into that buttermilk cocoa cake, I silently raise a glass to Laurie Colwin. Her life wasn’t nearly long enough, but I am grateful for the gifts she left behind.

Here is the recipe as it appears in More Home Cooking.

Karen Edwards’s Version of Buttermilk Cocoa Cake
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. and butter and flour a 9- by 2-inch round cake pan.

2. Mix together 1 3/4 cups flour, 3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder, 1 cup sugar, 1 teaspoon baking soda, and 1/4 teaspoon salt.

3. To these ingredients add 1 cup buttermilk, 1/2 cup vegetable oil or melted butter, and 2 teaspoons vanilla. Mix.

4. Turn the batter into the pan, bake the cake in the middle of the oven for 30 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean, and let it cool for 5 minutes before turning it out of the pan.

 

Winter Nap

29 Saturday Mar 2014

Posted by judithar321 in environment, friendship, inspiration, politics, travel

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

anti-Semitism, Four and Twenty Blackbirds, French municipal elections, Groovy Green Livin, Lost in Arles

Winter Nap

Last weekend we came out of hibernation long enough to drive down to New York City. Our efforts were rewarded by some actual, real-live spring weather. The sun was warm, and there was no snow or ice.

Spring!Bike

As I soaked my sore feet after a day of tramping around on the dry sidewalks, I realized this was the first time in months I’d worn a pair of real shoes. 

We ate pie for breakfast two mornings in a row in an old building in Brooklyn, where the walls were lined with tin.

Patina

Across the bridge, in Manhattan, I sat outside on a bench drinking a fancy tea latte, admiring the symmetry and color of a building across the street, while a woman paced back and forth during what turned into a very long phone call.

Guerin Bronze

A few blocks away, we peered into a cemetery hidden away behind stone walls and a locked gate.

Spanish Cemetary

 

Cemetary1

I was reminded of this cemetery a few days later, when my friend Heather Robinson wrote a post about the results of municipal elections in France, where the Front National—an extreme right party, founded by known anti-Semitic and Holocaust denier, Jean-Marie LePen—is gaining ground.

That what happens in France matters to us all was brought home today, when I saw this post by another friend, Lori Alper. Lori, who lives one town away from me, writes about anti-Semitic incidents involving some of the youngest students at her son’s elementary school.

While hibernation is a fine strategy for staying warm during an endlessly frigid winter, it is not a good way to live. We may wish that prejudice and hate are hidden and locked away like the dead in that cemetery, but in truth they are more like tenacious weeds growing under those dry, New York City sidewalks. They claw their way into the light through the tiniest of cracks.

 

“Full of Winter”

18 Tuesday Feb 2014

Posted by judithar321 in environment, friendship, inspiration, meditation, pets

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Heather Robinson, Lost in Arles

“Full of Winter.” My friend Heather used that sentence in her post today about her lunch in a village that was quiet, empty, yet “Full of Winter.”

We are full of winter here, too. Full up, filled up, fed up.

yogi

Our walks have been white and cold — frigid, in fact. Too frosty to expose already numb fingers to the icy air and snap a photo.

And yet, on a snowy day like today, when the dog has been walked and I have nowhere to go, I have the luxury to sit quietly on my indoor perch and watch the flakes slip from the sky.

I am warm, safe, grateful: “Full of Winter,” Full of Peace. 

Our California Dream

24 Friday Jan 2014

Posted by judithar321 in aging, environment, inspiration, mid-life transition, travel

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

California, elephant seals, Tomales Bay, Tule elk

Tomales Bay

Tomales Bay © Judith A. Ross

Yesterday, we returned from a week in Northern California. While real life continued all around us, we were wrapped in a drought-spun cocoon of warm, sunny weather as we traveled through a green, blue and often sere landscape populated by amazing creatures.

Birches ©Judith A. Ross

Birches ©Judith A. Ross

Camel Rock

Don’t know if this has a name, I call it “Camel Rock.” ©Judith A. Ross

coastline

California coastline ©Judith A. Ross

cyprus

Cyprus trees ©Judith A. Ross

Knots ©Judith A. Ross

Knots ©Judith A. Ross

We observed these elephant seals from a distance. They moaned and squealed and flipped sand on their backs to stay cool. You could tell who had been sunning the longest by the pile of sand on their back.

Elephant seals

We got a bit closer to the Tule elk.. . 

Menfolk ©Judith A. Ross

Menfolk ©Judith A. Ross

Mama's got her eye on you

Mama’s got her eye on you! ©Judith A. Ross

… and I was lucky to catch a shot of two youngsters at play.

Sibling rivalry ©Judith A. Ross

Sibling rivalry ©Judith A. Ross

There were wildflowers and mysteries.

Wildflowers ©Judith A. Ross

Wildflowers ©Judith A. Ross

Remains ©Judith A. Ross

Remains ©Judith A. Ross

***

Now that we have returned to the reality of the Massachusetts winter, our trip already feels like a long ago dream. But it is also our future dream. Will we live there some day? Only time will tell.

Footprints ©Judith A. Ross

Footprints ©Judith A. Ross

Grounded Clouds

06 Monday Jan 2014

Posted by judithar321 in aging, environment, friendship, inspiration, marriage, pets, travel

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Dominique Browning, Morocco, Slow Love Life, weather

Foggy field

When the weather goes from cold and snowy to warm and rainy, the air becomes thick with moisture as though the clouds have dropped to the ground.

Walking through the mysterious murk, we heard voices before we could see their source. Dogs popped in and out of the grounded clouds.

cloudy walk 1

cloudy walk 2

Last January, I claimed the word “focus” as my New Year’s vow, and some things are sharper today than they were back then. Yet I’m viewing the year ahead through a soft-focus lens. The changes and events to come are as foggy as these woods. I’m okay with that uncertainty.

Broken Branch

Red Berries

If I learned anything from my year of increased focus, it was that the best, most memorable experiences came when I just let them, when I stayed in the moment and swayed with the wind of life rather than fighting it. My trip to Morocco is but one example.

Of all the New Year posts and articles I’ve read these past weeks, it is Dominique Browning’s words that I keep repeating over and over in my mind. She was recounting her year, “It was a big year. But every year is a big year,” she wrote. And then she said,

 Every day is a big day. That is what we realize when we are older. That we are lucky enough—and that is all it is, plain dumb luck—to be here makes it a big day, a big year.

So maybe my “resolution” this year—if you want to call it that—is to celebrate my life and luck every day. I’m going to burnish my love for my family and friends until it is a beacon they will return to over and over again. I’ll make every day a big day.

Cozy

26 Tuesday Nov 2013

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, books, health, inspiration, mid-life transition, travel

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Thanksgiving

Anniversary Tulips

Sunday’s wind was ferocious, especially with temperatures well below freezing. It was a good day to stay home, drink tea, read books, and just be quiet.

With daylight so fleeting, it can be a melancholy time of year. In fact, that sad, wistful feeling seems to be making the rounds. All we can do is force ourselves out into the air and remember to take time to savor the small joys of life.

Go ahead, live dangerously, put a little whole milk or even cream in that tea! The extra calories will keep you warm during this dark time.

I wish all of my readers and friends a cozy Thanksgiving. Give your beloveds extra hugs if they are with you.

And to those of you in far-flung places, know that you are missed, and that your place at the table is open and set for your return.

 

In October, Red Is the Color of Home

24 Thursday Oct 2013

Posted by judithar321 in books, environment, inspiration, politics

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Bill McKibben, home, Oil and Honey, red, seasonal cycles, seasons

maple-closeup

What is home? It is the place where waking up to the sound of pots clanging in the kitchen, means that Dad is making his special Sunday pancakes. It is the rattle of the dog’s tags as she trots from room to room. Home is the velvety report of a son’s deep laugh seeping through the floorboards as he watches late night TV.

Home is warm, comfortable, familiar.

Home is also found outdoors in the honking of geese as they fly over the house during their spring and fall migrations. In June, it is where the hummingbirds return year after year to drink the nectar my husband prepares for them.

Home is predictable, reliable. It is found in the cycles of this gorgeous, irreplaceable planet — in its winter whites, spring greens, summer yellows, and autumn reds.

berries

field berries

In his book, Oil and Honey: The Education of an Unlikely Activist, writer and environmental activist Bill McKibben shares his “…two lives lived in response to a crazy time.” One life is that of McKibben the activist who travels around the world, fighting against the fossil fuel industry. That public, hectic life is punctuated by a calmer, more soothing one spent in the beeyards of his home state of Vermont, where he watches “… a very different, very beautiful way of dealing with a malfunctioning modernity.”

In describing the lessons he learns about environmental activism and beekeeping, and the facts and data that make halting climate change an urgent matter, McKibben is also composing an ode to home.

rake

No matter where he is or what he is doing, McKibben’s fight to save our planet is driven by an intense longing for home —both the planet that he and his fellow boomers grew up on, and his actual domicile. That desire weaves in and out of the narrative like a red thread through a complicated tapestry.

libraryshrub

“The old cycle we’ve always known is very nearly gone, but not quite,” he concludes. “It lingers yet, and while it does the fight is worth the cost.”

geraniumLonggeranium close

Nature Girl

21 Saturday Sep 2013

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, aging, environment, inspiration, politics, writing

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

350.org, Bill McKibben, environmental activism, great horned owl, nature, Oil and Honey

Birches

Never mind what the dream was about. It could have been about so many things: my mother-in-law’s passing last month; my kids being far away; my own mortality, my husband’s, the dog’s… But in the moment of the dream I felt as deep and raw a sense of loss as I’ve ever experienced in waking life.

But then I woke up, and poof, the feeling evaporated. Soon after that, I realized that I haven’t heard the owl this summer. Usually I’ll hear him in the wee hours through the bathroom window, a muffled hoo, hoo, hoo, hoooo floating softly over the grass between our house and the woods.

His (her? their?) call has been a comfort these past 20 years. I first heard the owl a year after we’d moved in while I was in the midst of cancer treatments. That summer and fall, I found the nature here—the owl hooting from the woods, while I lay awake, feeling my poisoned blood pulsing in my abdomen, or a pheasant strolling across the lawn on a sunny afternoon when I was waiting for test results— to be comforting omens.

Being in nature grounds us. And, in fact, it’s good for writers. “Nothing coaxes jumbled thoughts into coherent sentences like sitting under a shade tree on a pleasant day,” writes Carol Kaufmann in last week’s New York Times, “With a slight breeze blowing, birds chirping melodies, wee bugs scurrying around me and a fully charged laptop or yellow legal pad at hand, I know I’ll produce my best work.”

I also heard writer and environmental activist Bill McKibben speak this week about why we must fight to prevent approval to complete the Keystone XL pipeline as one step in solving our climate crisis. He is so smart, so sensible, so inspiring, I hope everyone will join me in reading his new book, Oil and Honey: The education of an unlikely activist.

Nature is one of the things that truly matters to all of us, whether we know it or not. It is what binds us to this earth. We can’t live without it.

Now when I think back to that dream, I don’t worry about my mortality or my family’s — or even the owl’s, who if it was the same one, lived a good, long life.

No, I worry about the end of nature as we know it, and how little time we have to halt its decline. Not succeeding would be the greatest loss of all.

naturegirl

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