My Happy Place

“I know a place where no one ever goes. There’s peace and quiet, beauty and repose.”

This early morning found me down at the lake as usual. One might think I’d tire of this same walk and scenery day after day. But I never do. That is not to say, however, that I wouldn’t love to be walking in other places with other scenery. I would. I’ll be joining a hiking club soon, maybe next week. They hike locally every Tuesday and Thursday. Next Tuesday they are meeting in Mansfield (Storrs) just 10 minutes east of me, near the UConn campus. There are so many local trails, none of which I have walked. I am looking forward to new places and meeting these people, who I know must be my tribe.

So, I walked with Missy up to the “point.” The point, at this south end of the lake, juts out into the water, kind of like a peninsula but on a much smaller scale. There are coves on either side of the point. The town beach is on one side and the state boat launch just beyond it. On the other side, the cove extends much farther to the end of the lake. The point is wooded and fairly thick with Mountain Laurel bushes, which bloom in early June. Some pink, some white. The Mountain Laurel is Connecticut’s state flower. There are a few paths to choose from to walk up to the top. We’re only talking a hundred feet, if that; I mean it’s not a large area. It is well under an acre, I’d say. Not only is the point – an actual point – as it juts out into the lake, but there is also an incline to it. Probably only 20 to 25’ of elevation gain till you reach the top “point.” There is a concrete slab at the top on which is the engraving, “Bates’ Point.” I don’t know who Bates is. I suppose I should go to the library and study up on the local history of this town that I have lived in for 52 years.

I used to play up at this “point” as a child with my sibs and the neighbor kids, who were also like brothers and sisters to me – and still are. We’d busy our summer days catching frogs and salamanders and garter snakes. We’d walk along the shore from my house, there at the end of the lake, to the point. Walking along the rocky shore line – I’m talking little rocks in very shallow, ankle deep water – we’d pick through the rocks, turning them over looking for the crawfish hiding there. We’d always bring a pail of sorts to collect up all the creepy crawly things. It would take us forever to walk this very short distance around the perimeter of the cove to get to the point. There was so much to do and see along the way. And my Mom, looking out from the perch of our home set up a bit on the lake, could see us the whole time and we always stuck together as a group. We were carefree but we were safe. What a fantastic place to grow up! Sometimes we’d swim across the cove, diagonally, to the point, which was quite a long distance to swim. We’d use our life jackets as flotation – not wearing them but lying on top and swimming with them. Or, sometimes we’d have a tube or a raft of sorts. To swim directly across the cove, though, to the other side was not a long distance and would only take a few minutes.

From the top of the point, standing on the concrete slab, I surveyed the lake while Missy, off her leash now, sniffed around and ran in spurts here and there, excited I think at the freedom from her leash. There is no road to run into and no way to get lost up here. She is safe and stays close by. Missy finds the steep dirt path that leads sharply down to the water’s edge and looks back to me for approval. I tell her to go ahead and I follow her down to the rocky shore. The lake is lower now which makes it possible to walk along the edge of the shore around the entire perimeter of the point which I love to do. For now though, I sit for a minute on a larger rock and drink in the stillness. This place is my “happy place.” It is so easy to go here in my mind when I go here nearly every morning. And although I have many other “happy places,” I can’t actually get to them as readily. Those other places though, remain in my mind and I call them up into my thoughts from time to time. I comb through the smaller rocks now, looking for just the right one to skip and I skip it across the surface of the water. I watch it go, maybe 30 feet before it veers off to the right and sinks. I wish I could linger here a little longer, (“mmm I wanna linger, mmm a little longer”) but alas, it’s time to go.

I am at the very middle of the point – at the 12 o’clock mark. I walk counter clockwise now toward the beach and the park. Missy wades in the cold water not seeming to mind. Back near the beginning of the point now, I look over and see my sculling friend walking across the beach toward me – having walked from the boat launch, probably on his way to the point – with his little dog Bean. We chat a moment about nothing really, but it is always so uplifting to meet up with a member of my “congregation” – my “tribe,” a kindred spirit. I know I say this alot and it’s because I can finally put my finger on it. These people who I run into now and then (and so many out there that I haven’t met) – whether while kayaking, walking, running – well, we all have stuff in common and it’s nice to share these common threads and have this communion – this fellowship - when we meet, if only so briefly.

I suppose I need to get out more and meet more people from my tribe. I will be doing this on Tuesday with the hiking group. When I emailed the group leader to ask about the hike and tell her that I might be joining the group, she emailed me back and said, among other things, that in addition to hiking she was a “paddler,” which I took to mean a fellow kayaker. Yes, I have found my tribe.

The Fog - The Sun - The Moon - The Lake

“The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.” ~ Carl Sandburg

Today was the 4th day since setting the clocks back and I am just loving getting out an hour or so earlier for my morning walk. Monday I was out the door by 5:45, although I was aiming for 5:30, and 6:00 on Tuesday and today. It starts to get light about 30 minutes before sunrise and gets light fairly fast. Sunrise is about 6:20 now, but of course that changes by a few minutes every day. I can’t quite explain why I like being out early, but there’s just something about being up and awake and outside – getting a jump on my day I guess? No, that’s not it. It’s as if I have the whole world to myself. I love the quietness and stillness and peacefulness. This “me” time sustains me throughout my day and if I don’t have any other quiet times or solitude that day, that’s ok, because at least I had this early morning. It’s almost like I’m carrying a special secret with me all day which comes to the foreground of my thoughts now and then, whispering to me, “remember this?” as those visions from my morning walk appear as a slide show in my mind. This always makes me smile.

I know that there are a lot of people who are up early, getting ready for work and I know I am fortunate to be able to work from my home. And although 5:45 seems early now, it really is not all that unusual for anyone to be up at that point. Being up and out at 4:45 in July and August is a different story all together, I think. Nice. I felt as if I had more hours in my day than other people.

On Monday, I sat on the stonewall at the top of my driveway near the mailboxes to finish my coffee. Just as I started out from there, my neighbor appeared and so I had the pleasure of walking with my him the 7/10’s of a mile or so to the end of our street where we parted ways; he, going left up the street on his usual route and I, going into the park and continuing down to the lake there. As we approached the end of our road, you could see the moon, looking absolutely huge, as it was setting into the lake straight ahead of us. How nice to see the sun rising behind me in the east, while watching the moon setting in the west. Just stunning. And this full moon – going to bed now in the morning - was rising last night. I watched it through my kitchen sliders – stepping out momentarily onto the deck to get a clearer view. Spectacular! Big and orange on the rise, bright and white on setting. Grand entrance – big finish – a great show all around, and no charge! I wonder how many people looked at the same thing but didn’t actually see it. Too busy with the stuff of their lives, too stressed out to care, perhaps. And then I wonder how many people saw it as I did and were gazing up at it at the same time as I with a feeling of deep appreciation and awe. Those people, for whom something like this really speaks, well – those people are my tribe. And although I don’t know any of them, I know they are out there. The thought of this makes me smile.

Tuesday morning dawned clear with blue skies turning a deeper blue as the sun rose. Up top, on the road now walking northwest, more or less, I look back to the east and I see the glow of the sun’s rays – not the actual sun yet - through the trees as it nears the horizon, almost official now. Drum roll please. There it is, rising fast and washing out the orange blaze to a bright yellow. The show put on just prior to sunrise sometimes upstages the actual main event, which is the case this morning. With the leaves gone from the trees now, the contrast between the dark silhouetted trees in the foreground, with the sky on fire behind them, is quite a sight. I stand and watch for a minute.

Continuing on down the road, I am approaching the spot with the view, to the right, of the valley and hills where often times the fog lays low, thick and heavy. When I’m just about there I notice what appears to be smoke straight ahead about 3/10’s of a mile up the road. Although the road is straight and level, for all intent and purposes, there is an ever so slight incline from my mail box to the midway point down the road, about 4/10’s of a mile. Then a very slight downgrade from there to the end. You can’t notice it at all when walking it. There is no extra effort required when walking. It is only noticeable from a visual standpoint. When walking it you can see the “high” point from way back as the road dips so slightly beyond it so that anything standing at that very point – like a dog crossing the street right there – appears to be on a horizon. You can’t see the actual road beyond that point although you can still see the homes on either side. I only mention this, and try ever so inadequately to describe it, because it was a tenth of a mile or so beyond this horizon high point in the road that appeared to be where there was a heavy smoke in the road. And although I could see it some 3-4/10ths a mile ahead, I couldn’t quite make out totally what or where it was from. Could it be a downdraft from someone’s chimney? Is someone burning something in a barrel in their backyard? Is a house on fire? I can’t tell. Guess I’ll just have to wait a few minutes until I am there.

It was just at that point when I got to my view of the valley heavy with fog. I looked behind me down the road from where I walked, still clear as a bell and blue sky. There was a slight breeze and the smoke ahead seemed to be moving down the road toward me. The fog in the valley seemed to be lifting a bit and actually moving also in my direction. As I approached the halfway horizon mark I realize that the smoke ahead of me is not smoke at all. It is fog. And as I turn again to look behind me, the clear sky is fading and I am almost totally engulfed by fog that is all around me now. I have never seen the fog appear so quickly, indeed “on little cat feet,” so quiet, quick and stealth. If I were in a ship, I’d be lost at sea at this point. I look straight up and I can see the blue sky, just barely, through the fog. I know it will lift and burn away, but how strange this is. If the people in the homes ahead of me wake and look out their window through sleepy eyes, they will be deceived into thinking it is a gray overcast day. But it is not!

Well I continue on, enjoying the fog which has a beauty all its own. Down on the shore of the lake now I’m held captive by the sight. The fog is patchy and although it is thick in places it is also wispy. Houses across the shore appear and disappear in the fog. The near full moon suddenly appears through the fog, low on the lake getting ready to set. Oh, how magnificent and almost mystical, really. And, although I can't see them, I hear the voices of the Uconn Crew team that practices on the lake nearly every morning. For college students (and by that I really mean, young people, because I know it’s extra hard for them to do this early rising thing) to be up before 6AM to catch their shuttle and to be out on the lake by 6 – well you gotta know how dedicated they are. I so admire that! Here they come out of the fog, what a sight. There are three or four, 8-man scuttles out there with 2 small motor boats with their coaches, which scoot along with them calling out instructions through a bull horn. I often see them out there but it is a special treat today due to the effect the fog plays on all of this. Surreal.

As I walk back through the park toward the road I wave to the man in the Uconn shuttle bus. He is the driver who sits and reads a book, glancing up now and then at the lake, as he waits for the team to finish. It is only a 10 minute drive to the Uconn campus in Storrs. He is the same driver as last year and the year before. He is probably thinking, “Oh my god, that lady is still walking her dog down here to the lake!” He waves back and smiles.

As I continue east toward the road, I look back for one more view of the lake, the moon and the fog. The sun is bright now. I think the fog is ready to move on.

My Mother Rode Her Bike

“Adventure is worthwhile in itself.” ~ Amelia Earhart

My mother rode her bike. No not recently, but some 60 years ago when she was 16 (though, later on too.) Now, to be clear, she wasn’t my mother or anyone’s mother at age 16, although marriage and motherhood would only be a few years away for her at that point and it would be another 8 years from then until I would be born, in 1957. There were 3 sibs ahead of me and 1 after, in 1960. (Hi Holly!) My parents met at an airport of all things!

Now, some kids are given exclusive use of a car when they are 16 or even given a car, period. But, my mother rode her bike. A lot of kids had jobs after school to which they walked, took the bus or drove their car. My mother rode her bike. Now, granted, some kids had to walk everywhere and didn’t even have a bike, let alone a car. My mother lived in a large metropolitan suburb of a major city and as such, the town she grew up in itself was highly populated, probably around 40,000 people back then. It had a hospital, public transportation and was easy to get around. And, as established, my mother rode her bike.

When I was 16, I had a bike too. My first 10 speed. I remember it now as clear as if it were just yesterday, riding my bike everywhere that first summer I had it. I got it for my 16th birthday. I paid for half of it with the money I saved from babysitting and my Dad paid for the balance. It was $120.00 which was a lot of money back then. I still have the odometer which, I believe, shows 1600 miles. (I’ll have to dig it up and check it out now to be sure.) Of course, years later, my two boys had bikes too and also rode everywhere on them. There were a few times when we’d all be camping together – my husband and our boys in our RV and my Mom and Dad in their Bus – we all would bring our bikes and would ride around the campground together. I rode, the boys rode and, as already stated - my mother rode her bike.

“Oh my gosh,” I bet you are saying, “enough already about the bikes! What is the point of your blog?” Well, you’ll just have to trust me and keep reading!

My mother was sort of spoiled when she was a little, I think. She had lessons of all sorts (and a bike at age 2) and nothing was too good for my grandparents’ “little girl.” Among other things, my Mom had piano lessons. When she was 5 she could play the Star Spangled Banner – with both hands! She could read the sheet music! How do you read 2 different lines (staffs) of music at the same time and move your fingers to the right keys, period, let alone when you are 5?! I could never figure this out. Your right hand plays one thing – reading the music in treble clef – and your left hand plays something different, at the same time – reading, at the same time something different in bass clef. Maybe I don’t have that quite right. I’m not sure. But I have tried to play the piano and I just don’t see it working for me. I guess that’s why I played the trumpet in school. 3 keys – 3 fingers. It couldn’t get any easier than that. Now, my sons played instruments with both hands too – taking after their Grammy I guess! My oldest played the clarinet in school (like his Auntie – Hi Teri) and my younger son played the sax! 2 hands – 10 fingers moving differently – amazing! I am in awe of this talent. My younger son is still serious about his music and plays the guitar (2 hands - 10 fingers, doing different things at the same time!) It is really amazing to me and I really love to hear my son play his guitar. He is truly talented and I couldn’t possibly be more proud of him and in awe of his talent.

OK, back to the various lessons and talents my mother had (in addition to her bike riding talents, for which she needed no lessons and was riding at age 2, when she got her first bike – as mentioned!) When my mother was 15 – at a time when most kids are taking driving lessons - she was taking flying lessons! You know, as in a plane in the sky! Flying lessons! I mean, how cool is that?! And when my mother was 16 – when most kids get their drivers license – Mom got her pilot’s license! Her pilot’s license! Now wait, it gets better. For her sweet sixteen, my grandparents bought their little girl a plane! A freakin’ plane! (I know, I keep repeating myself. I can’t help it.) “My mother had her own plane!” (I’m shouting this now.) She must have promised to get straight A’s, I bet. My mother’s name is Alice and she named her plane, appropriately, Wonderland. She had it painted on the side. I guess I don’t need to state the obvious – you know, what people would say when they looked up in the sky and saw my mother in her plane! Isn’t that just too cool?

Now, as it turns out, there was a handsome fly-boy at the airport where my mother kept her plane. He owned his own plane too. It didn’t take long at all for him to notice her. I mean, how many young women have their pilot’s license, let alone their own plane!!? She was probably the only gal there. And, as mentioned earlier, it was at the airport where my mother-to-be met my father-to-be, (lucky for me) who was 4 years older than she. They would fly together, quite literally, off into the sunset! How storybook is that?! And the rest, as they say, is history. Oh, there’s just one last thing. The small airport where my mother kept her plane was 2 towns away from where she lived. Now, I don’t know how many miles that was, but it was a lot. She didn’t have use of a car or even have her driver’s license for that matter. So, with no other means to get to her plane – and in order to be able to fly - my mother rode her bike.

“I’d Rather Be Flying.” ~ Alice - in Wonderland

Author's Note: OK, I'm sure you're wondering where did this all come from and why have I wandered from my "backyard" theme. Well firstly, I guess since this is my blog I'll write what I feel and I will stray off topic from time to time. Secondly, we took Mom to see the movie "Amelia" last week. Great movie - good visual - stunning really (oh, I know I use that word too much!) Anyway - I really could go on and on about the movie and the woman, but I'll just leave it at that.

We've Got Turtles - Snapping Turtle: Part 2

“And God said, ‘Let there be turtles,’ and there were turtles. And God saw that the turtles were good.”

The Jeopardy Category: Turtles & Things – for $200. The answer: 105. You are quick at the buzzer because you know the question – You know this one: How many days did it taken for the “High Street Turtles” to make their entrance into the world? Yes! September 30th was the magic date. And, although a picture is worth a thousand words (well, in my case 1500 words – I’m really trying to shorten these posts!) here is an accounting of that day and this extraordinary event, which, were it not for a series of coincidences, might easily have gone unnoticed!

September 30th was a gorgeous Wednesday and although the day dawned with a bit of leftover sprinkles, these quickly eased up and stopped completely by 9:00. Plenty of sun and blue skies followed. Now, I love the rain and have all the proper rain gear. I will not let a little rain keep me inside or more amply put – keep me from my great outdoors. (Nor will the “cold” keep me in – it’s just a matter of proper layering. It’s amazing, all the lightweight cold weather stuff they have – not like when we were kids – but all that is for another post!) However, my little dog (well, she’s more like a small pony) does not like the rain and she’ll cower and tremble uncontrollably, because she associates it with thunder. During thunderstorms she has been found hiding in the bathtub. So, because we are up way earlier than 9:00 – and so it was still raining - we had to skip our morning walk and opted to just go around the yard. Missy, cowering, quickly did her thing (after some convincing from me that she had to do it and couldn’t just run back into the house like she wanted!) and inside we went. Sigh! So, coincidence #1 was that it was raining, thus causing us to skip our morning walk.

Later in the day, at around 2:00, Mike asked if I could go up and get the mail as he was expecting something. Now, usually we are in and out during the day on appointments, etc. (we work out of our home) and will pick up the mail on the way back. Or, if Mike wants the mail – and we haven’t been out and won’t be – he’ll just drive up himself and get it. He must have been in the middle of something and so he asked if I wouldn’t mind getting it. So – that is coincidence #2. I had been planning on taking Missy on her walk later on at around 5 or so, but it was totally gorgeous out so I jumped at this opportunity to grab her leash and off we went. I would come immediately back with the mail if Mike’s expected mail was there, otherwise, we’d continue on for a brief walk.

So, up at the box, Missy is drawn to something in the road and is sniffing it. I pull her away. I sort of glance at the thing and at first I think it is a mouse or frog (toad?) that unfortunately didn’t make it completely across – stopped short by a car. Oh, poor thing, I think. Suddenly, I realize it is a little bitty turtle and - just as I thought “oh, it happened – it happened,” - I see more crawling through the maze of grass and leaves near the mailbox toward the road, and I realize, “oh my gosh, it’s happening right now!” I, again, cannot believe my eyes. Oh, what to do? They actually want to cross the road. I see where there are a few already that didn’t make it. They are still coming out of this hole. Amazing, look at them go! One, two, three, ---- I count seven of them crawling around. Now, I know from my research that there are between 20 and 40! I only see 5 that didn’t make it. I pick up several of them, one by one, and move them away from the road. I run down the driveway and stop at my neighbor Terry’s house and ring the bell. Good, she’s home.

“Terry, the turtles are being born right now. I’m running home to grab my camera and a box or something.”

Terry has company so she cannot get away right now, but will be up soon. I bring Missy into the house; grab the camera and a big empty box that 2 bags of Cheerios came in (Honey Nut). I tell Mike the turtles have hatched and I’m going to go back up to help them across the street. Mike sees me running out the door with the Cheerios box and he says, in all seriousness and as if he thinks I’m a little crazy, “You’re gonna feed them?” Um, no!

This time, I take the car "up top." No more casualties. Good! Guarding over them, and protecting them from the cars whizzing by, I take some pics and some video. I take more video then still pics. Terry comes up after a few minutes because her visitors had just left. We pick up as many of the little guys that we see – 13 in all – and place them in the Cheerios box to transport them across the street. Why oh why do turtles always want to cross the street? (Well, there is a small pond and brook way down there) How will they ever make it, they can barely make it through the tall grass which is toppling some of them over. They manage to straighten out and continue on. Back at the hole they are still emerging. Some seem to be stronger than others. One guy is crawling over the back of his sibling to get out.

The turtles are only about 1 inch in diameter. They can fit in the small part of the palm of your hand. The hole they are crawling out of is not that much bigger. I have seen such a hole numerous times – here and there - and have often wondered what the heck the hole is all about. Now, I know. There is currently a hole like this down by the lake. It is probably about 50 to 60 feet from the shore. A better location than right near the road? Perhaps. However, there are 2 retaining stonewalls each with about a 3 foot drop before you get to the sandy beach. Oh dear! It is never easy for our little creatures out in “the wild” is it?

After a few minutes of collecting up these cute little, almost dinosaur looking, turtles, my son arrives home from work. Of course he stops in the driveway to see what is happening. I’m glad he got to see this too! I’m glad Terry was home to see this. I emailed the pics to Jack and printed out pics for Art. I didn’t have his email address. I put the pics in Art’s mailbox the next day. He called me when he got home to thank me and we agreed on how awesome it was and we were glad that they hatched this year. I told Art he did a good job as Keeper.

About the series of coincidences: If it had not been raining that morning, I would have gone for a long walk with Missy. If I went to the mailbox without Missy I might not have seen the turtles – as she was drawn to the ones in the road and made me take a closer look. And, usually we pick up the mail at the end of the day anyway – very rarely making a “special trip” to get it. Mike was expecting something and I was happy for the excuse to get out. In any case, I definitely now know for sure that the turtles never hatched last year, in 2008, as I never saw a hole like this one there. It wasn’t a case where they hatched and we didn’t see it as it was happening and so, never knew about it. I was always looking at the ground right near the mailboxes. Not knowing exactly what to look for, I would have noticed the hole and realized what happened. I’m positive none were born last year, poor things. And if I hadn’t have happened to have been there between 2 and 3:00 on the 30th of September this year, I still would have seen the hole that they had dug themselves out of and I would have known that they had been born - and I would have been very happy just knowing that. That would have been enough for me. But actually being there and seeing it all unfold – well, you know – it was beyond double icing on the cake for me.

Now, I’ll be keeping a close eye out as June 15th of 2010 approaches.