Falling in Love all Over Again…
Turns out you can always goes home. My flight back to Colorado was fast and not too bumpy, except for the landing. I always love when I’m on the side of the plane that I can see the mountains as we land. That view warms my heart every single time. The dramatic storm building over the peaks is home.
Joel and I pick up right where we left off. That was the longest we had been apart and it was starting to get to me. Not because we were apart, but more because we are both extremely busy right now. He swamped with summer work hours and climbing; me with studio work, moving and prepping for workshops and visiting artist gig. Busy schedules make for little phone time to reconnect.
I always forget his smell when I’m far away. That’s a powerful sense most of us possess, though most of us do not know how to use it. It has been sent into dormancy and dominated by sight and touch. I challenge each of you to reinvigorate your sense of smell! It’s a beautiful thing.
We were like teenagers. Ate a late lunch at the Pump House in Longmont, checked into the eclectic Armstrong Hotel in Fort Collins, took a wonderful nap, drank champagne and ate delicious rhubarb crostada and then went to a movie. Next morning we ate at Lucille’s Creole Café. Yum! With the champagne we were asked, “Celebrating anything special?” Yes, It’s Sunday!… and we are together again.
On the way home I tried to identify wild flowers zooming by out the window. I can’t believe how green the prairie is in mid July. It’s beautiful in this place. Those colors and changing topography as we drive north is home.
I wanted to walk on the prairie and Joel needed some new pants so we decided to drive to Cheyenne via Roger’s Canyon—a drive that neither Joel nor I had taken. The changing light as it creates shadows on the basin, the short cliff bands up the canyon bring back memories of old friends and past experience for me. We drove upon two bands of sheep and I told Joel about this book I just read about a young woman who tackled the challenge of being a female sheepherder in the 1970s—Claiming Ground by Wyoming writer Laura Bell (highly recommend this memoir!).
Back to senses—driving with the windows down wafts of white sage and my favorite the intoxicatingly sweet and Ceylon smell of fields upon fields of yellow clover washed over us. Grasses crunch as we walk and you forget the small life that hangs low to the prairie. Meadowlarks call. The wind is strong and cathartic. This is love and this is home. I challenge myself – do I remember names of wildflowers? Most of them. We joke about toadflax, a.k.a. Butter and Eggs, a.k.a. my personal favorite nickname Eggs and Bacon!
So even though my time at home is not a vacation my sense of place and home is stronger and my soul is more content. Grounded and centered I welcome the next few weeks with open arms and hope time doesn’t rush by too quickly. But I know if these weeks are fast, I’m ready to take them in fully because this is home!