The Travel Part of R & R

I seem to have rediscovered my love of traveling by car. My journey to visit friends for some R & R took me over roads I haven't been on for probably 20 years. I was hustling to beat the onslaught of winter as my route included one major pass. I'd forgotten this spectacular mountain range along the way - first snows firmly in place.

Another leg of the trip took me into high dessert. I've always been in awe of this bridge with its lovely arches. To understand just how large it is, look closely at the size of the cars crossing it.

This view took my breath away, the valley spread out before me, windmills in the distance, so ethereal.

This one equally awe-inspiring, the mighty Columbia River at Vantage.

And above this viewpoint, Wild Horses Monument, caught with plane flying over it, as if the horses were chasing it.

Windmills everywhere these days, looming large.

And then I was traversing the great expanse between mountain ranges, prairie and desert that make up eastern Washington. It occurred to me that I don't dread this particular bit of flatness like I did crossing South Dakota. Similar landscapes but for some reason, I find this stretch full of interest. I'd stopped to see if I could capture the streaky blues of the sky and found myself zeroing in on a lone farm off in the distance.

I also wanted to capture some of the spectacular cloud formations - one of the things I do love about these wide-open spaces.

Rays filtering through clouds have special meaning for me. I captured several different displays of that.

Off to the east, a row of white fluffy clouds crowded the horizon - that was where I was headed.

I chased these all the way to Spokane, just far enough behind to avoid getting caught in their drenching...

..just near enough to catch their rainbow.

A Little R & R

Thanks for all the encouraging comments concerning my recent move. One of the reasons I'm not as far along on the unpacking and settling in to the new place is because, once totally out of the old, I took off for 5 days to visit some friends. The drive home from Minnesota was a good start to shaking off the responsibilities and intensity of my experience there, but I also just needed to talk, relax and have some fun before settling back into a daily routine. Besides, my longer than expected stay in Rochester spoiled my plans to visit one friend back in August.  She graciously made time for me in October instead. That's her on the left...;-)

I should have visited before I moved, when the weather was still unusually warm and dry. We had plans for ferry rides and walking treks around cities, but ditched those when faced with rain and mists and more rain. We did venture out one wet afternoon, bundled in rain coats, to visit a couple of museums.

It was so grey and dismal, no color to make the lines of this bridge stand out, to make the waterfront inviting.

Monochromatic seemed the order of the day. My friend struggles with these gloomy days and I struggle to help her see something positive in them. This day I admitted defeat, unable to make lemonade out of this lemon weather.

So we headed to the art museum only to be greeted by an exhibit of black and white photography - oh, the irony! There was an impulse to turn away, not subject ourselves inside to what was in abundance outside. But we wandered into the gallery anyway and soon found ourselves mesmerized by the photographs of Michael Kenna.

Hillside Fence, Study 2 by Michael Kenna

Seven Posts in Snow by Michael Kenna

Matin Blanc by Michael Kenna

I was particularly drawn to his most minimalist photos - proving once again simple does not mean simplistic, that more is sometimes just more. He also had a series of tree photos - oddly enough, I didn't take my own photos of those, but they were particularly interesting to me because of the way he appeared to break the rule of composition by placing the horizon directly at center, and centering his trees as well. My friend noted that the positioning was very traditional quilt-like and that if you know the rules and the reason for them, you can break them successfully if you desire.

All was not all dismal in the museum though. We found some Chihuly glass, always bright and colorful. These modish vases filled with fanciful flowers were huge, towering over us and reminding me of plants gone rogue in some 1950's or 60's sci-fi movie.

And along a walkway near the museum, some leaves provided a dash of color to the grey cityscape, echoing the orange in my friend's handbag.

Here's the News

For those of you speculating that my big change might be a move, you would be correct. The old house by the lake that I've been renting had finally become too much for me to deal with, and I suspect some of my health problems of the last couple of years can be traced to its dampness. Being shut up for 3 months while I was away in Rochester intensified its "old house smell" - overpoweringly musty when I arrived. I'd been considering getting out even before leaving for Rochester. Now my nose told me it was definitely time to go.

My faithful Subaru Outback made many trips to the new (and newer) rental on the other side of town, packed to the gills with things I could handle myself.

I'd given myself a short timeline to get everything packed that I needed the movers to handle. My last three moves I'd had the movers box up everything but my studio. This time, I boxed it all myself. Did I say a few posts back that I thought it time to clear the decks for a fresh start? I bet you never dreamed I meant this! But I did, and it feels right. I got rid of bags and bags of stuff, from clothing to books to furniture to polyester and blend fabric leftovers from my clothing construction days. I probably should have jettisoned even more, but this particular round of parting with things kept for all the wrong reasons was a big step.

Moving day was not without its drama. I'd had weeks of moderate dry weather for packing and trips back and forth to the new place. But THE day my furniture and boxes and boxes of stuff would be loaded into the moving van, mother nature gave me a send-off of rain/sleet and 50 mph wind gusts! We judiciously paused inside as multiple storm waves blew through.

So within a month of returning from Rochester, I was sleeping in my new place, although not totally out of the old; still things at the old house to be packed up and a lot of cleaning to do, another week's worth of work. It was starting to feel like Rochester all over again - the daily drive between rentals, the schedule requiring long days with nary a day off.

But at last I wrapped up that part of my life and am now focused on settling into my new digs. A lot of time has been spent washing most everything textile as towels, sheets and clothing had all absorbed the awful smell in the old house. (Thankfully, the studio was the one room that didn't smell so fabric stashes ok!) Boxes await emptying, the dining room table substitutes as temporary home to things that will eventually find their way onto kitchen shelves and a few new pieces of furniture require assembling. Every space has its own rhythm and I am still learning this one's. Bit by bit, all things will find their proper place.

I don't know when I'll get to setting up the studio again, but I feel an excitement about working in the new space that is encouraging. It is the same width as my previous studio, but several feet longer, plus it has that wonderful closet spanning the width of one end of the room and has its own bathroom - ooohh the possibilities. The ping pong table I've been using for years as a work table couldn't be enticed up the stairway and I am not particularly sad about that. I'd already researched a plan b, and have since come up with a plan c. Rather than feeling my usual urge to resist change, I am welcoming it. The fact that I could orchestrate this move in so short a time proved to me how ready I was for change. Not much pondering nor foot dragging, just acceptance and action.

The only thing sad to leave is the view I had of the lake. But seriously, I had 6 years of that view, taken so many pictures of it in all kinds of weather and seasons and am still just a few minutes' drive to city beach where I'd begun spending lots of time with another favorite lake view. I can go back to the bike trail and see the old view from their as well. It's not like I left the area. And what I traded it for is not so bad. This is the view from my new studio - I had the choice of three townhouses along this street - that birch tree sealed the deal for the one I chose!

And looking the other direction, from the office/guest room and my bedroom, over the tops of other townhouses along my street, I can still see mountains and watch the wispy clouds play amongst their peaks and folds, and watch stands of trees turn color, and enjoy beautiful sunsets.

Esthetically, it may not be as pleasing an area as the one I just moved from, but it has its own possibilities, and the townhouse itself makes me feel safe and comfortable in a way I have not for too long.     

Big Changes Acomin'...

...which accounts for my lack of posts. Bear with me; all will be revealed soon. It's pretty exciting, at least for me.

And now what?

So now I am home after 3 months away, away from everything really that comprised normal life. As I lay in bed that first night, I did indeed ask, "And now what?" Do I pick up where I left off, difficult as that is for me to remember? Or do I start fresh?  We're thinking perhaps a bit of freshness. I feel subtly changed by my experience in Rochester and less attached to the way things were, and physical things in general since the lengthy break from them. But mostly, "and now what?" is geez, it's October already. My kitchen calendar gave me a lovely way of announcing that.

I appreciated the summer-like weather I returned to, a week or so of shorts weather before things got nippy.  Ample time for lunch on the deck, long walks at city beach, thorough airing out of the house. A few leaves were turning, but very palely so. I understand it was a very dry summer here and that may account for the paleness of the turning leaves.

I entered my studio with some trepidation. Really couldn't remember how I'd left it. Oh my - not good, very overwhelming. I think I need to stick with the fresh start idea and clear the decks of the clutter and unfinished projects. I gave it a few days and then remembered that I'd been on the road when my nephew's birthday came around in September. I make a block each year for him and this one would be late. But better late than never. He is very involved with his school music program so I pulled the school logo off the web and set to work. All fused applique with the exception of the background which is free-hand curve cutting followed by machine piecing. The hum of the machine was nearly as good for my well-being as the sound of that creek in Missoula and the lake lapping at city beach. Yeah, I think I'm ready to start creating again.

The Trip Home - Last Leg

Before I headed down the road for my last day of travel, I spent some time with the creek behind my motel. You can just see it past the jacuzzi.

Step back behind the motel and it is as if you've stepped into the woods. I spent a lot of time on that bench.

It's not as if this motel is located in some rural setting. It is located along a main arterial into town with many other  motels, restaurants and casinos. Yet on the back sides of these businesses runs this creek and some undeveloped land. These shots look both up and down the creek from Ruby's Inn.

It was quite shady along here in the morning. The creek veered slightly to create a calm pool before continuing on.

For the most part, Northwest creeks run clear. I have always been fascinated by the rocks lining these creeks, how they look as water rushes over them.

But even more than the look of the creek, the sound of the creek is what made me linger so long. How long had it been since I'd heard the sound of water running that was not man-made? I spent a lot of time sitting near fountains in Rochester seeking escape and solace, but this sound was different, more soothing, assuring me I was pretty much home.

Also out back were some dancing trees.

And the obligatory squirrel.

Along the front of the building were some brilliant flowers.

Bushes loaded with berries, another reminder that summer had passed.

And the sign to the bead show...Turns out that this was not so much a show as a single vendor, Bend Beads, showing his wares, but what beautiful wares he had. I bought a strand of smokey quartz beads and one of paper jasper. I have a chance to spend more with him this month as he will be in Sandpoint.

At this point I was only 3 hours from home, but I was in no hurry to get there. This whole day would be one scenic sidetrip. While finally seeing the name of an Idaho town on a highway sign made me smile, I would not be continuing down the interstate to Coeur d'Alene; I'd be angling up highway 200 instead, through a part of Montana our family spent many weekends exploring on fishing trips.

As you can see, I am destined for another day of driving through wildfire smoke. I wondered if this would follow me all the way home...it did. What you see in this picture is a wildlife overpass. You can view a video report about this overpass here.

It wasn't long before I was traveling beside the beautiful Clark Fork River, surrounded by the familiar mountains of Western Washington. This is looking east.

These are the vistas I grew up with. Now after not seeing them for 3 months, I found they were feeding my soul. So happy to be back in the Pacific Northwest.

Montana and Idaho share similar geology; along Hwy 200 you pass seamlessly from one state to the other without notice. The Clark Fork River empties into Pend Oreille Lake and there you are - back in Idaho again. I drove out into Hope Peninsula to better get my first view of the lake before proceeding to Sandpoint.

When I left back in June, the boating season had barely begun. Upon my return, I can see I missed it altogether.

Even so, there's always ways to enjoy the lake, even if it's just sitting on a dock in the late afternoon sun. City Beach beckoned, so I got back on the highway and completed the last of my journey - more than 3000 miles round trip - ending along the lake with a stroll and a sit in the sun.