Monday, February 26, 2007

Stebbin's Gulch

I took a hike to Stebbin's Gulch Saturday. Strapped on snowshoes, hiked across a field, then down a ravine into the gulch.

It was spectacular.

Stebbin's Gulch is part of Holden Arboretum in northeast Ohio. It's a national Natural History Landmark and is protected. There are some unique native plants -- can't wait to visit in the spring and summer to get a better look at the plant communities.

Because the stream was only partly frozen over there are places where I had to slog through ice. Literally through ice. Since I took my snowshoes off when I got to rugged terrain, my foot often plunged through the ice into the running water. But my Extreme Squall boots are as advertised -- waterproof -- and they kept my feet toasty and dry. And anyway, no amount of icy water would be a deterrent. I love to hike, I love to be outdoors, I love to explore new-to-me areas, I love nature. And this place is unique.

Just as a point of reference, the icicles are a good twelve feet high and in some places were up to 20 feet long...









Thursday, February 15, 2007

whoda thunk

Huh. OK, so here I sit, facing a blank screen, my cat purring from her warm spot on the desk between my laptop and the radiator, and I'm wondering: just what am I doing with my own blog? Which is the same question I'm wondering about my life: just what is it I'm doing with my life?

How did a barefoot country girl, a Hoosier by birth, end up with no home, no job, no immediate prospects for either... and what am I going to do about it?

All good questions with not that many answers, at least not yet. OK, I guess I know how I got here -- quit my job, sold my old Indiana farmhouse, packed up my things, threw my laptop and my cat into my car and moved 2200 miles to Washington state -- only to find out two years later that "commitment" didn't mean the same to the ex as it did to me -- so a year ago I popped my things into storage, threw my laptop and my cat into my car, and began a new journey.

I can say that, thanks to the generous support of family and friends, I'm not only OK, I'm better off than I've ever been in my life.

And now, here I am, living in Cleveland. Well, east of Cleveland, in the hills of northeast Ohio, on the eastern side of Lake Erie. Yeah, I know what you're thinking: ew. The armpit of the Midwest. The hairy armpit of the Midwest. Burning rivers and all that. Well, surprise: it's not all that, at least not any more. It's actually a pretty cool city located in a very cool part of the country. Lots of hills and hemlocks, rivers and beaches, and let's not forget the lake. And Cleveland is home to a lot of rather progressive people, has a strong healing community. Decent restaurants... not quite enough bookstores but there are some good coffeeshops. Lots of great places to hike.

But, shhhhh... please don't tell. It's crowded enough. We don't need all those Californians moving here.

So here I sit, enjoying the winter and the woods and the snow (which surprises no one more than it surprises me, a few years ago I hated snow and was delighted to get away from it and move to the Pacific Northwest, and now I love the snow, so go figure). And I decided to start a blog for no particular reason except it presented itself to me one day. "Start your own blog! It's easy! It's fun! It's the perfect pass time for someone with no job!"

Winter's officially not over for some time yet (although I'll share my late winter refrain: February is a short month, and then it's March, and in March the buds start to swell and the grass starts to turn green and spring is just around the corner!) but I can hear the cardinals singing their spring songs; the finches (gold and house) have started to brighten up with mating season colors; and the quality of the light has shifted. Have you ever noticed that? Sometime in February, the light becomes warmer, literally, yes, but also in a less definable way, something in the feel and glow of it. Change is underway although most of it is still hidden. Today the sun was out, snow started melting, icicles fell off the eaves. The cold will be back, but spring will get here. There's a lot to come. Not all of it has been revealed yet, but it will unfold as it's supposed to... just like my life will continue to unfold as it should. I don't know where my path leads, but I'm not afraid of a few jalapeƱos, and I intend to enjoy the ride!