The space in between

I've been thinking about the spaces in between, the silent pauses. The space in between where there can be hesitation, uncertainty, hope, procrastination, or maybe things we just can't know.

The space between jubilation on New Year's Day, celebration of a long-awaited football bowl game win. And a handful of moments later, a call from a telephone number that you know will bring news from afar, from hospice, that the end has come.

The space in between for a friend, finding a lump, and then tests and waiting and fear, and then knowing. What happens in the space between all that and the deciding to share that knowledge and fear?

We return back to wonder about these spaces, causing yet another pause. This moment of wonder becomes its own space in between. What happened in the universe and in us? How can we share our support for a person's journey, when we realize how far they've traveled without sharing it with us? Could we have been there? Could we have known? Could we have made a difference? How can we live differently? 

Should we? 

The spaces in between seem empty because we don't know what happened, and yet we what we do realize is that they're full, very full, of life, of impulses, struggles, sometimes just full of raw, adrenalized instinct. 

That pause, as someone tries to find the words to continue their half of the conversation. We ourselves clear our throats and search for words. That's a little space in between. And how much happens in that instant that we cannot even know, as we do it ourselves? 

So, too, yes, there has been a long space in between, here, filled with life, deep thoughtfulness and split instinct, struggle and celebration; plenty of adventures. In the space in between, I've thought of the stories that could evolve from these spaces -- my spaces -- how the words and ideas floated in my head, stories and threads. “What a great story this will make!”, I'd think, and I'd play with words for a little bit. Maybe the ideas and threads will come to together eventually with a definite structure, with words, pixels, text and images. 

Or, maybe not.

The space in between has been long. I have enjoyed just being in that space, to be truthful, living my life and not spending the energy to organize them in pixels and bits, letters and spaces. And at the same time, I've also missed sharing the stories and taking my place in this wide circle, part of a larger storytelling group.

And here, one more pause. Just after pressing the period key, a slight space in between that and reaching over my mouse, to click the “Publish” button. 

Then, *click*.

- - -  

On January 1, 2013, my Northwestern Wildcats won their first post-season bowl game in over 60 years. You know how much I love my Wildcats! Woohoo!
Moments later, we learned that J's mom had slipped away ... Peace.

Sending love to my blog buddy, Karen.

Eating ice cream

Thank you for the post, Joanna.

Make visible what, without you, might perhaps have never been seen.  
- Robert Bresson, Notes on the Cinematographer

~ ~ ~ ~

In my (blogging) absence, I've been

up and around. 

Doing the summer things that I/we normally do (and then some).

.

All the while battling oldandslow computeritis, which is my excuse for not having cleaned up and loaded pictures to Flickr in quite a long time (sigh). 

It's not like I've just been sitting around, 

 eating ice cream.

Although that's a mighty tempting thought ...

Enunciate

Okay! I'm back!

I know that I said not to expect that we'd go off on any big adventure. We sure weren't expecting to, but as it turns out, we did get away for some camping and scrambling. After talking about it for years, we finally visited Joshua Tree National Park. Since the park is easily the closest to us (2 hours), you'd think we'd have gone eons ago. The best J had been able to describe it is that there are 'piles of rocks that you can climb'. I don't know what exactly I was imagining, but by 'climbing', I was expecting, you know, technical climbing. There was this place, he says, called Jumble Rocks, and even that, in my very visual imagination, did not sound all so impressive. It might as well be MishMash Rocks, jagged rocks strewn randomly here and there. Never mind that I never did research on the internet to get a better description. Silly me.

Still, we had a few days off at the same time, so we figured, what the heck.

Hey! There are Joshua Tree forests! Hence the name of the park! (y'think?) After seeing so many scrawny joshua trees all across the U.S. Southwest, how amazing is it to see them, all so healthy; trees in fields all the way to the mountains? Joshua Tree forests! Don't they look happy?!



We got into the park and got our map and guide. I searched the map for the campground we were headed to and discovered that the name is JUMBO Rocks, not Jumble.

Oooooooh. JUMBO.



That's where we want to be, J says. Yes, I can see why. The rock formations are much more orderly than 'jumbled'. And there's lots of scrambling to be done. And look at how round they all are!

We later overheard that that weekend was the busiest for the park, but we managed to secure a campsite. We survived the crazy strong gusts that threatened to blown down our canopy and buffeted our tent all the first night, survived the hot days (90F), and cold high-desert mornings (down to about 34F). We were there for the full moon. We'd hoped to hear coyotes, but as it turned out, not even the neighbors were howling at the moon. We drove through 29 Palms, Morongo and Yucca Valleys and scrambled across lots and lots of rock formations.

Lots of fun. What an important reminder to always get an accurate understanding of a destination you've been avoiding. Or to take better care to enunciate. Or to do your own research.
Sometimes you really should just go.

 
Can't see the slide show? Click here to see it over at Flickr.

Remembering Norm

It's hard to imagine it's been two years since we lost Norm.
The evidence of the passage of time is plain enough though; the card from his memorial lies under layers of 5K training plans, postcards and daily quotes.

I've found that, much like what you experience when running, and we've all found, through just living and putting one foot in front of the other, that the tears and the sweat are all still salty, all still stinging and fresh.
But our hearts beat stronger and even more true.

Gone Running

I'm going to take a break from posting.
I don't have secret plans that I'm working on (I know how you think), exotic travels (you would have reason to think that, okay, yes), not even an intent for my non-blogging break, or anything like that.
It's not even a break, really.
It's not that I don't want to write.
I just don't want you to be holding your breath, waiting and waiting.

The end of our spring term is the middle of April. I'll check back in towards the end of April.
If you don't already, you might want to subscribe via a RSS feed reader, so you don't have to keep stopping by to see if there's anything new .. 

I *have* been running, and will continue to post ~weekly mileages and running-related thoughts over at Run Wendee Run.

See you in a few.

More of the orchids

The orchids, hanging out with the other plants.

Which looks like this:



from the inside. A rest (no running or walking) day.

And speaking of running, I'm posting weekly running updates at RunWendeeRun. I'm up to 40.9 miles for the year. 600 in 2012!

Orchids!

Remember the plants I got from one of my students? The money tree which met such a terrible end? (I'll give you some time to click back to the links and get in a good guffaw).

Did I really only mention just the money tree? I guess so. I mean, heck, it was quite the story, huh? Well, I received two other plants at the same time, and they're still doing well.

Knock on wood.

One of the plants had long arching leaves and I picked it because it seemed like it would fit in well with other plants. David said it was an orchid, that was blooming when they bought it, but it hadn't blossomed since. We've watered it and weeded, fussed over it, wondering if it was happy, and if it was, in fact, an orchid. The plant sent up buds for blooms in December (or maybe November). The flower buds survived the windstorm that hit but stayed tight for such a long time that I'd worried that maybe the flowers wrapped inside had died and just wouldn't show.

When we got home from Hawaii, we discovered, just in time for the new year, these pretty blooms just starting to open:





Worth the wait! :)

Who doesn't love a good parade?!

Every year, after the end of The Rose Parade, the floats are parked on Sierra Madre and Washington Blvds at the end of the route for viewing for another day or two. This is something we do, every year, if we can (if we're in town). What I love about this is that you can get up close to the floats to see the details –  what flowers the builders selected and all the intricate work involved. You can meander past the floats at a much slower pace as well, compared to the floats driving by you if you were there, live, at the parade. What I always forget about the float viewing is that you can actually smell all the flowers, as well –  –  always a lovely surprise for me.

Here are some photos from this year:




Not a cloud in the sky on January 3rd, sunny and almost 90 degrees F. This is exactly why I love living in Southern California. Tank top, shorts and plenty of sunscreen lotion.


Aren't all the flowers just gorgeous?

 
More detail of the ladybug, below. What care the float-builders took in laying out patterns of seeds, like in the ladybug's spots. Whew!



The pink line = the Rose Parade float driver navigation line.


The drivers hidden deep inside the finished floats can't really look out to navigate their way. This pink line is painted along the parade route (yes, down the middle of the road), as I understand, so the drivers and their floats will stay on course.

This is part of the line at the end of the route, where the floats are parked for public viewing.

Hawaii, up and around

You know how they call them 'red-eye' flights? Yeah, well, so much for just the 'red-eye' part. It took us a good 36 hours to recover from the sleep-deprived fog that followed our red-eye flight from Honolulu to LAX.


Kicking back, waiting for our 11pm flight.

We've finished doing laundry, restocked our fridge, reacquainting ourselves with English/European soccer (football) standings, are getting in a huge fix of football (U.S. variety) bowl games, and are checking, editing and uploading photos. Here are some of the 'up and around' snapshots:

Lots of opportunities for great photos at my parents' place.



And orchids, from my aunt/uncle's place, next door.





I joined the 'From Where I Stand' group on Flickr a few months back, in case you're wondering about all the photos with me and my hiking sandals/feet.


At the North Shore, checking out what I think are really small opihi

and cooling off our toes. Like my hiking tan lines?



After driving further north around the island, chips and margaritas at Cholos in Haleiwa, Oahu. Nom!


During our stay, I managed to get in a couple good runs, plus a few walks, for about 17 miles total. Since we normally walk – but NEVER run – I consider this to be quite the accomplishment. I went for runs right out the front door, which pretty much left my parents speechless. Seriously. They were thinking, “Who knew?!”.

Kahalu'u fishpond, from my last run there.

 

Merry merry!

(I'm testing posting by email). We're on vacation, enjoying the holidays with family. Wishing you all a joyous Christmas! Mele Kalikimaka!

Ketchup = Catch up

The problem with trying to write about a long trip, I find myself thinking, is you (I) have to be sure you (I) don't run out of steam before you (I) actually finish writing about the whole trip. So far, I think I've gotten just half way through our trip up the Coast.

I need to regroup a little, get back to editing and posting the photos from the trip and checking my notes to finish sharing the stories.

In the meantime, October was really long. LOOOOooooOOOng. And, wow, where did November go? Maybe finishing writing about the trip will be a Start-of-2012 project. [Ahem]

October:

Mini pumpkins -

Finished crocheting a scarf -
(taking a nice photo of it is on my to-do list)

Got sick -
(I'm sure you can imagine it without the visuals)

November:

Rain -
(See? It does rain in Southern California)

Turkey, with all the trimmings, twice -



Got to 500 miles Run/Walking for the year-
(photo already posted, below)

December:

So far, Big Wind (Pasadena was called the epicenter of the windstorm).

[sigh]

500 miles

500 miles for the year, today. Bring on the pumpkin pie! Woot! Happy Thanksgiving!

Drive up the Coast, Part 5: Moseying along

In addition to the redwoods, there was, of course, more to see.


We moseyed over to Humboldt Lagoons State Park, just west of Redwood National Park. Driving the precariously narrow and steep road, having seen lots of large trucks blasting up or down, we were leery. We got halfway down, peered out and went, “Oooooh”. The lagoons are shallow bays between rocky headlands* where coastal wave action has formed a sandy bar separating each lagoon from the Pacific Ocean. The lagoons are resting areas for migratory waterfowl.

From where we parked, you could gaze out one direction and see only the lagoon:


then turning to look the other way, beyond the wide golden beach, the Pacific Ocean:

From the Humboldt Lagoons State Park, California State Parks website and Wikipedia:

Gold-seekers swarmed into the area in 1849 when discoveries were made along the Klamath and Trinity rivers. Prospectors attempted to mine the sandspits along Big and Stone lagoons, but managed to extract very little gold despite considerable effort. In the early 1900's Dry Lagoon was drained by early farmers and several types of crops were attempted but none proved economical.  Several dairy ranches were established along the shores of Stone Lagoon. Today the marshland habitat has returned and supports a rich variety of marsh plants, birds and other animals.

We stayed for a while; there was plenty to take in.





We also stopped at Trinidad Head Lighthouse.

The low, square, brick tower was built in 1871. The light is only 20 feet above ground, but the headland on which it stands gives it an elevation of 196 feet above the sea. From the road, indeed, the tower doesn't seem very tall, but its location affords great photos, looking down at the ocean below.


We discovered a trail, hiked down (avoiding the first of several banana slugs) and found ourselves looking out at Trinidad Head* and its many sea stacks in the long shadows of late afternoon. We sighed serenely and pulled out our photo/painting gear and set about doing our thing(s).


Sometimes you have to share the scenery:



*Somewhere along the way, we had a discussion about this geographic term, “head”. J decided, from the context of a conversation he'd had, that it was another term for 'lighthouse'. And I thought it must mean something else, maybe something geographic, because otherwise it would be redundant to call it the Trinidad Head Lighthouse. That would also explain why the place we went to later that was the Something-Something Head was high up on a hill, but did not have a lighthouse. It did have a potty, which made the somewhat misguided detour very worthwhile.

Had we thought to access the internet, we would have known that:

“A headland is a point of land, usually high and often with a sheer drop, that extends out into a body of water. The word is often used as a synonym for promontory.”
(At this point, yes, I clicked to the link that defined 'promontory')
“A headland is often referred to as simply a head, either in context or in names such as Beachy Head or Koko Head.”

Wikipedia, to the rescue.

Clicking more, I've find that clumps of rocks that we were seeing are called sea stacks. Trinidad's sea stacks are part of the California Coastal National Monument, a string of more than 20,000 rocks and small islands along California's 840-mile long coastline. Created by Presidential proclamation in 2000, the National Monument designation ensures the protection of all islets, reefs and rock outcroppings from the coast of California to a distance of 12 nautical miles along the entire California coastline.

That's a lot of coastline, my friends.

The Trinidad area, it reads, “is one of the most spectacular and pristine segments of the California coast, and has been established as a California Coastal National Monument Gateway – an area that offers the best shore-based opportunities to discover and view offshore rocks and islands and their inhabitants.”  


Yes indeed.

Drive up the Coast, Part 4: Redwoods!

Finally! We were where we wanted to be and wandered among the redwoods along the Avenue of the Giants, Miranda Redwood Park, Humboldt Redwood State Park and so many other stops that I couldn't keep up taking notes. We stopped at about Fish Creek Road for lunch, photos and painting. 




The redwood branches were glowing in the early afternoon sunlight, fingers of golden rays falling on the leaves and vines in the trees.



We visited Lady Bird Johnson Grove at Redwood National Park and took even more macro photos than of the big, tall trees themselves. I wasn't expecting the vegetation to be so lush! We were charmed by all the ferns and sorrel (clover) that blanketed the forest floor, lush and thick, and the Rhododendrons.





Comparison of redwoods and sequoias, from the Redwood National and State Parks (National Park Service) and Visit Sequoia / Sequoia National Park websites:

Giant redwood trees grow naturally only along a narrow belt (a few hundred miles) on the Northern California coastline.  They thrive in a moist, humid climate, and the near-daily coastal fog provides them with exactly the kind of conditions they need to grow.  The fog adds moisture to the soil and lowers their rate of evaporation as well.

Giant sequoias live at a much higher altitude.  They grow naturally only along the western slope of California's Sierra Nevada mountain range, mostly between a 5,000 and 7,000 foot elevation level.  While the temperatures in Sequoia National Park are fairly mild year-round, sequoias need a period of dry heat for their cones to open and release their seeds.

Giant redwood trees are the tallest trees in the world, reaching heights of up to 378 feet tall.  Their base can be up to 22 feet in diameter and they can weigh up to 1.6 million pounds.  The trees can reach ages of 2,000 years and regularly reach 600 years.

Resistance to natural enemies such as insects and fire are built-in features of a coast redwood. Diseases are virtually unknown and insect damage insignificant thanks to the high tannin content of the wood. Thick bark and foliage that rests high above the ground provides protection from all but the hottest fires.

Giant sequoias, on the other hand, don't grow quite as tall but can still reach a very impressive height of up to 311 feet (that's still the size of a 31 story building!).  While not the tallest, giant sequoias are the largest trees in the world (ie –  in volume).   Their base can be up to 40 feet in diameter and a mature tree can weigh as much as 2.7 million pounds.



Finally, finally, we were able to bask in the dappled sunlight under the redwoods, the other bookend to our summer of the BIG trees.