They say you can't go back; back to where, I wonder? Last week when I was shelving books, and other things at the library, I came across an old Linda Ronstadt CD - "Cry Like the Rain, Howl Like the Wind." I checked it out and started listening to it on the 5-minute drive between the library and my house.
The opening bars of the first song - you guessed it - took me right back. Back to our house at Rissington, on one of the farms we managed in New Zealand. I had the album on cassette tape (probably recorded from a CD I'd checked out of the Napier library.) We didn't have any close neighbors, so I could put the stereo speakers in the window and let Linda belt out her tunes while I gardened or if we had a barbeque. Or I'd put it into the kitchen boom-box and dance around while dinner was cooking.
I had no idea that any one else in the family remembered that album. Ty, I'm sure, would roll his eyes and sigh that I'm reliving his childhood and I should just embrace my middle age. Logan would probably just grunt. Evan immediately started warbling one of the songs. But then, he and I spent a few years stealing Garth Brooks CDs from each other and listened to Celine Dion on our trip across America, so it figures he'd remember Linda Ronstadt and Aaron Neville singing "Don't Know Much."
There is some truth to not going back. Now when I hear those songs that sent me pirouetting around the kitchen I hum along. I seem to be saving my dancing for when Rowan and Katie visit and we boogie after bath time.
But a little trip down memory lane is sweet all the same.
Monday, October 17, 2011
I enjoyed a birthday last week, and requested a day of hiking with my good friend, Becky. We've tromped around in a few places together, here and in New Zealand. We can never seem to get out there often enough to suit either of us, so it wasn't too difficult to make it happen for the birthday girl!
Becky came up with a few suggestions and I chose to explore the waterfalls along Wychus Creek, just out of Sisters. I keep hearing about all these amazing places just out our back door and am embarrassed to admit to not venturing to many of them, yet.
|The lower falls. Worth the scramble down to get this view!|
|Becky and the dogs. I think Ben will be sporting packs soon. Might slow him down some.|
We took our faithful hounds, Ben and Sadie, a lunch and our cameras. I took my field notebook too, since I learned at my writers retreat that carrying a notebook and pen is a much better bet than depending on a memory when it comes to creating a literary moment.
It was a hike to remember, full of good fellowship, deep thoughts, long silences and gob-smacking scenery. Becky kept the view of the upper falls a secret and I'm not going to forget the feeling of coming around a corner and looking up, and up some more, to the top of the cascade. A wall of shale rock blended into a hillside of the same. We climbed partway up to see if the view was any better from there - it wasn't - and realized that there's something to be said for looking up rather than across.
|Not quite Rin Tin Tin...|
|Hard to imagine the force of water that makes a scene like this.|
I'd wondered about these waterfalls for many years and now that my curiosity is satisfied I want to become better acquainted with them. Lets hope its more than a once-a-year occurrence!
Thank you, Becky, for a great day out.