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Shifting Gears

Category Archives: travel

Talking Ibises and Art

30 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by judithar321 in art, travel, writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Anne Francey, Talking Art, Talking Writing

I am a reluctant traveler. Even as I long to break out of my routine, managing the details for leaving home is often like ripping a particularly sticky bandage from sensitive skin. But by the end of this past summer, I was ready go and that’s when a trip to Australia fell right in my lap.

The possibility of heading down under had been brewing on the back burner ever since our friends announced they would be spending their sabbatical there. The decision to go, however, wasn’t made until the last possible moment.

Yes, I have photos of kangaroos and emus and beautiful scenery, which I may eventually share here. But for now, I give you an ibis.

Ibis_Sydney

These beaky birds are as populous in Sydney’s public parks and gardens as pigeons are in New York.

And they show up in the work of artist and ceramicist Anne Francey. I have admired Francey for some time now — as much for her unshakeable grace as a person and a parent as for her art.

To learn more about her, please read my new “Talking Art” column, “A Mother’s Magic Shield.”

 

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Camping at Alice Lake

03 Monday Nov 2014

Posted by judithar321 in environment, pets, travel

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Alice Lake Provincial Park, British Columbia, Camping, Swimming

 

trailview

“Am I crazy?” I asked the approaching paddle boarder. “Not at all,” he said. “The water is the warmest it’s been all summer.” His white hair and British accent gave him an air of authority. I wanted to believe him, but my big toe told me that my concept of “warm” was a world away from his.

It was mid-September at Alice Lake Provincial Park in British Columbia. The air temperature was in the mid-sixties, and at 6 pm, the sun was on its way down. I was perched at the edge of the dock, dressed only in my Speedo. No heat to be found anywhere.

Still, I willed myself to take the plunge. I hadn’t been swimming in weeks, and I thought stretching my legs in the water would feel good after the day’s long hike. The paddle boarder disappeared and I was alone again. There was no one around to witness my bravery—or my lack of it.

I jumped in. As the icy water closed over my head, I was transported back to summer camp. Memories of night-time dips and swimming lessons in a lake rushed in as the scent of fresh water filled my nostrils. Gasping from the shock of cold water, I managed to swim out to the beaded line and then back to the dock. Not exactly the 20 laps or so I had hoped for.

Today, as I sit wrapped in wool at my desk back in Massachusetts, the memory of that aborted swim—undocumented and mine alone—and of the visceral, unexpected feelings and scenes from my youth that suddenly flooded back, fills me with joy and nostalgia over and over again.

The rest of our time at Alice Lake is a blur of blue sky, mossy woods, and the amputated stumps of mighty trees felled by loggers. In this case, however, I have documentation.

LakeTrail

stump_rusticMossy1stumpplanternotches

Mossy2

Back at the campsite, we ate salmon and vegetables grilled over an open fire with mashed potatoes. Dessert was s’mores.

Tent

After three nights in the tent, two longish hikes, and the aforementioned swim, we headed south, exhilarated and exhausted.

exhausted

The Mindless Mindfulness of Travel

28 Tuesday Oct 2014

Posted by judithar321 in friendship, health, inspiration, marriage, mid-life transition, pets, travel

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Ellen Langer, mindfulness, Portland Oregon

fishbowl

Ever since our January trip to California, we’ve been talking about returning to the west coast for a longer stay. We think we might like to live there. At first, we were talking about the Bay Area. As I’ve said, many times, I want to live in a place where there are cafes, museums, and shops all accessible by foot or on public transportation. How lovely it would be, for example, to walk home, filled with good food, after a meal at our favorite neighborhood restaurant.

But we also want nature to be within reach (I’m not giving up the car just yet) — and it has to be a place we can comfortably afford. For all of those reasons, we set our sites on a mini-sabbatical in Portland, Oregon, with possible side trips to Seattle, British Columbia, and San Francisco. And, we wanted to drive because if we were to gain any sense at all of what daily life would be like in a new place, then we couldn’t leave behind someone who is an integral part of that daily life.

traveler

Karina in travel mode: her bed was wedged on the floor behind the driver’s seat.

After months of talking and planning, things fell into place at the end of July. We had a place to stay in Portland, and after much looking and financial strategizing, we also had a van that would reliably transport us there—and back—and that could serve as Paul’s work vehicle upon our return.

And so, on August 21, we set out, stopping in Michigan that first weekend for a family wedding.

Witness

After we left Michigan, my mind, which had been focused on wedding-related logistics, suddenly sat up and took notice. The clouds overhead and endless sky when we hit Minnesota were an ongoing source of fascination.

Once we’d arrived at our first stop in Portland, just sitting on the front porch was entertaining. There were kids going by on bikes and skateboards, older people walking their dogs, and Karina found the parade of neighborhood cats, who would sun themselves under our car, especially riveting.

Keeping tabs

Our daily walk through the park at the end of the street, toward a dog park that bordered the Willamette River felt special.

Sellwood_Park

theWillamette

There were also dinners out at places right in the neighborhood, and several cups of coffee at cafes with outdoor seating where our four-footed companion was the subject of much admiration. Karina lost some of her shyness on this trip.

But what I love most about traveling—and what I miss now that we have returned—was that I took the time to notice my surroundings and activities. The small, daily routines, like making my morning tea in an unfamiliar kitchen, were more satisfying because of that.

I gave things my full attention in a way I do not when I’m at home. In fact, just the other morning, I found myself dashing from the kitchen to my computer, and then back, first when my tea water boiled, and then again when a timer went off. Now that I am ensconced in familiar surroundings, I seem to have switched over to autopilot as automatically as I switched to full awareness while traveling.

Then last week I heard part of an interview with Ellen Langer, a professor of psychology at Harvard. The topic was mindfulness, which the announcer defined as “the simple act of noticing new things.” And, according to Langer,

 When you notice new things, you come to notice that you didn’t know what you thought you did, as well as you did. Everything is always changing. By noticing new things about the familiar, it becomes interesting again.

This mind-set, she went on to say, was good for fighting more than just boredom, it can also impact our health** and enable us to view in a new way someone whose behavior troubles us.

In fact, a few years ago, an advisor gave me similar advice, suggesting that I just sit back and “observe” someone who had become a source of distress. As Langer notes in this interview, when I adopted the observer’s mind-set, I realized what was really driving this person, and soon exchanged my upset for empathy.

Learning to “observe” so that you can respond, rather than react, to other people is another whole conversation. To learn more about that, you can listen to the entire interview here.

Right now, I want to tackle the bit about noticing. Before we left for the trip in late August, boredom with our local scenery had taken root. I felt as though I was seeing the same old things over and over again. When we returned in early October, many things did seem new. New England was in the middle of a gorgeous autumn, which no matter how jaded you are, is pretty hard to overlook.

For example, I noticed these coppery leaves while with a friend who was gathering leaves for her son’s after-school project. Adopting a child’s point of view definitely helps adults view their surroundings with fresh eyes.

copperIt’s also hard not to notice the fall colors reflected on a pond we pass on one of our regular morning walks.

water colors

Water-colors.

last swim

Now that it’s getting colder and darker, I will have to work especially hard to cloak myself in the observer’s mind-set I wore so mindlessly during our travels. So far, the extra effort seems to be working.

While the clouds here don’t hang suspended mid-sky as they do out west, they have their own beauty when hovering over a local farmer’s fields.

green fields

And this circle of farm machinery provides a whimsical contrast to the straight-edged fields beyond.

farm equipment

There were many things I sensed and felt during our six weeks away that can’t and won’t be contained in my snapshots. There’s that light-as-air feeling I got when the daily cares and worries of home faded from my consciousness as we racked up the miles; the friendly, welcoming attitude of the people we met in Portland; the rush of memories I felt when I dove into the frigid waters of a lake in British Columbia; and the satisfaction of an intense hunger quenched by a warming bowl of Pho eaten in a Vietnamese restaurant off the beaten track in Iowa on a dreary, windswept day.

These experiences are worth noticing. They are worth holding on to. And they are worth adding to. On a chilly afternoon a few days after we’d returned home, I sat in my kitchen and watched my two fellow travelers carefully take note of our back yard under a darkening sky. There was love in their looking and noticing, just as there was in mine.

backyard1backyard2backyard 2abackyard 3backyard 4

****

**Coincidentally, (or perhaps not) Langer was the focus of an article in this past Sunday’s New York Times Magazine about using a mindful mind-set to offset aging and possibly illness. To read an interesting analysis of that piece, read D.A. Wolf’s take on it in Daily Plate of Crazy.

 

 

 

 

 

“Prickly” about Climate Change

22 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by judithar321 in environment, politics, travel

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

climate change, Moms Clean Air Force

 

Dry as dust-2

I was working on a post this week about unsolicited advice that was based on an incident at my gym. I was trying to be light and funny about something that many of us don’t appreciate (according to an online poll, 62 percent of us don’t like receiving such advice). I shared it with an editor who usually loves my work. She was happy to hear from me, and even offered to publish the piece, but she ended her email this way,

“p.s. but…it does seem to me (speaking as your editor) that you do come across in this post as a bit too prickly over such a trivial offense.”

Given that I’d rather not appear prickly when it comes to something trivial, we agreed to deep-six the post.

I am, however, proud to be prickly about preserving the environment. The scenery I saw as I traveled from coast to coast and back brought to mind the words from “America the Beautiful,” while it also made me more passionate about halting climate change.

My post today on Mom’s Clean Air Force shares one of the lessons I learned while on the road.

I am also prickly about boycotts. I don’t participate in random ones espoused by individuals. I want my actions to have real meaning and to carry real weight—which they only can when my voice is part of a larger group.

But I wholeheartedly support organized boycotts and petitions for causes I believe in — especially ones that put corporate polluters in their place. For that reason, I signed this petition asking EBay to withdraw its support of ALEC, a group that has pledged to launch “a political tsunami against EPA.”  I hope you will too. You can read about why we are boycotting EBay here. 

When it comes to important stuff like climate change, I’m prickly — and proud of it.

 

 

Why I Didn’t Write

15 Wednesday Oct 2014

Posted by judithar321 in environment, mid-life transition, pets, travel, writing

≈ 4 Comments

I thought I was so clever back in July when I wrote “Postcards from Home.” I knew that at some point in the near future, my husband and I would embark on a cross-country road trip, and I thought that post would be the perfect segue for sharing photos from our journey.

I envisioned myself pulling out my computer after a day of driving and pouring my experiences into the blog. That didn’t happen — though I did post photos to my Instagram account.

I’m not sure exactly why not, other than fatigue, hunger, and bad Wifi connections made sitting down and writing unappealing. Plus, there was so much input, both when we were traveling and when we were staying put. I enjoyed living in the moment, and allowing myself to be swallowed by landscapes like this one.

Big Sky, Minnesota

Big sky in Minnesota.

But I’m sticking with my postcard analogy: This post and the ones that follow are postcards that don’t arrive until the traveler has already returned home. Sometimes the mail is slow or sometimes the cards aren’t mailed until the journey is over.

After driving from Concord to Detroit to attend a family wedding, we headed west, toward Portland, Oregon. In Minnesota we took a hike.

Great River Bluffs

The trail overlooked the Mississippi River.

Overlooking the Mississippi River

I should note that while the above scene was captured with an actual camera, I took most of the photos on the trip with my phone camera. As my friend in San Francisco likes to say, “The best camera is the one you have with you.”

From Minnesota, we pushed west through South Dakota toward Montana, hitting a corner of Wyoming along the way.

pushing westward

Not exactly sure where this is….

Little Big Horn

Little Big Horn.

Little Big Horn gave me chills, made me angry too.

in order to heal

Driving into Montana, there were purple mountains.

purple mountains

In Bozeman, there was a walk through town.

Oops! (ha ha)

Oops! (ha ha)

And a hike at Peets Hill.

View from the top

Peet's Hill, Bozeman, Montana

And have I mentioned who was traveling with us? She made herself right at home and cooled off in a little stream at the end of the hike.

Did I mention....From Montana, we skimmed the northern point of Idaho and drove through a corner of Washington State.

Idaho?

View from the car.

View from the car.

Philippi Canyon

As we got into Oregon, it started to rain.

zeroing in on PortlandWhy did we leave home in the first place and why did we drive? I’ll share more about that in a future post.

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.

 

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.

 

Field Trip to Brooklyn

14 Monday Oct 2013

Posted by judithar321 in adult children, environment, music, travel

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

"66 Square Feet", 66 Square Feet: a delicious life, Brooklyn, Marie Viljoen, Prospect Park, Raya Brass Band, wild food foraging

 NYC PumpkinsIt is October in New York and these residents, at least, aren’t happy to see this Red Sox fan. I’m a little slaphappy after our whirlwind, less than 48-hour trip to the big city and back.

Saturday night we were up until past 2 am partying with Raya Brass Band.

After a rowdy night and a little sleep (my ears barely had enough time to stop ringing), Older Son made us his usual 4-star breakfast and then we raced over to Prospect Park for a foraging walk. (I’m working hard to feel guilty about the pile of dirty dishes we left him with, but so far that’s not happening.)

As a result, many of my photographs look like I took them after being up all night. I actually considered going out and reshooting these plants in my yard: Ironically, I went all the way to Brooklyn to learn about wild plants that have been growing under my nose for at least 20 years.

The walk was with Marie Viljoen, author of 66 Square Feet: a delicious life. If you haven’t yet visited her blog, I suggest you put on some sturdy walking shoes and head over.

After a night that was months in the planning, and then giving his all while on stage, our musician still had enough game to start the walk by picking some salad.

dandelion greens october

Dandelion greens. Photo by Marie Viljoen. Used with permission. 

It turns out that a lot of plants that have been encroaching on my garden and annoying the heck out of me are actually wild edibles.

For example,

violets

Young violet leaves (not older ones like these), which grow freely all over our yard and have a tendency to take over one of my gardens, combined with lamb’s quarters (below)  will make a lovely salad.

Lamb's Quarters

These pretty little pink plants, called smartweed, that also run rampant around our grounds, are a Thai coriander — just the thing to zip up a meal.

Smartweed

Blue flowers on long stems began popping up among the vinca and other ground cover in my back garden. I was on the fence about them: liked the blue, didn’t like how pushy they are. Marie set me straight. They are called commelina and their shoots, flowers, and seeds are all edible (again, apologies for the tired, unfocused photo).

Commelina

These gallant soldiers have young leaves that taste like sugar snap peas, and can be cooked like spinach. Exactly the kind of motivation I need to do a bit of “weeding.”

Gallant Soldiers

Then there’s goutweed, its leaves add a delicious, herbal taste to salads. Here it is back home mixing it up with my european ginger. I tried pulling the stuff up, but it’s nearly impossible to uproot. In addition, Marie says that breaking off the roots will encourage it to send out more.

Goutweed

I guess we’ll just have to eat it.

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