I finally figured out something about my blog here. It is very much like hanging in my room as I did in growing years, reading, scribbling out thoughts, and dreaming.
It is not as dramatic or personal as my diary/journal, however. It is a safe vehicle to go a-visiting, and a safe harbor to return to.
In less than an hour I turn ‘sixty’. I have not always paid attention to numerical age. It really is not the time to start now.
If you have read a little of this blog, you have seen bits and and pieces of the life I take in. There are gardening moments. Musicians and artists loving doing what they do. Architecture from close and far away lands.
Life is a bit different for me lately, as I deal with degenerative physical changes from an old injury. I stretch and ice, and work with traction in an attempt to relieve spasms. I see myself as an African giraffe, working out the knot in her long neck. But, as Maya Angelou once wrote, “I have pains, but I don’t need to be one.” Unfortunately, I had to let a work position go and my whole routine has gone to hell in a hand basket. (I love that phrase, tho I am unsure as to exactly what it means.)
In recent months, I made the decision to move my gentlewoman’s farm out to Michigan, where I have family and lifelong friends. I have listed my little corner here in the woods to sell and one of these days someone is going to come along and love it as I have.
In the Capital region I have felt welcomed as a part of a small community in a blues music network, and my days have been enriched. Music and friendship are such gifts.
So, my room will be traveling, and I will be finding more music and starting up some new gardens. ‘long story, short’ can share some Chicago blues and railroad stories. I love the waters there and though I will miss the Catskill mountains, I will see some long miles with a clear horizon for sunrises and sunsets. With both sons in different directions and contacts I refuse to let go of here, I will be a frequent visitor, no doubt about it.
Was it coincidence that I was named Wanda, ‘the wanderer”?
When I think about my birthday it is just a date. But I realize this week has been just so full of life. Both sides of the coin have been so in my face. One day I am attending the funeral of a young friend involved in a tragic accident and the next I am playing with my favorite five year old, more or less having my cake, and eating it too.
And the 60 thing? I am a rich woman. There is so much to celebrate. After all, as the poet Charles Wright says, “life is not a metaphor.”