gratitude

Every day I am grateful for:

My weird house

Elvis…

My weird dog

My boys. Their partners. Their happiness. Their resiliency. Their pursuit of their dreams. My heart nearly explodes with joy and love

Jay. Jay. Jay…

and all that he brings. All that he is. All the love that he showers on me.

Friendships. You know how every break-up or rough time, has, in hindsight, a theme; the lessons that you learn from that particular crisis tend to all be in the same general arena? This last go-’round was all about friendships – I learned a shit-ton the really hard way. I lost so many, gained some incredible new ones, and re-connected with some of the best people I have ever known. Then the pandemic moved in, I stopped working in public, I moved way out of town, and we weren’t allowed to see each other…

That seriously weeded out any of the fringe elements. I got weeded out of some too. It’s okay. But, those who remain have made this past year manageable. The humor and love and support have been sanity-sustaining.

I am over-the-top grateful for my sexy new firepan. Valentine’s Day gift. New boating gear is always fun but even more spectacular when it can be used at home for a backyard fire around which you can safely sit with a couple of those incredible friends.

And IT’S SO NICE!

Thank the heavens above for rivers.

For landscapes of stone.

For hot springs at 9000 ft after skiing in the mountains.

I’m super appreciative that my truck is still running with 230,000 miles on it. Well, kind of running. My friend’s Toyota has 340,000 miles on it, so, fingers crossed.

My new skis bring me all sorts of joy.

He’s a really good gift-giver.

The blue of the sky over the cliffs of red rock that I see out my window fills my soul.

I have the freedom to walk into that blue any time I want.

That is sanity-saving.

I love my mommy. Y’all know that. She and I have spoken nearly every day of this Pandemic. She’s a keeper.

I love my birds.

Jay’s home has big birds. Raptors. Big birds. I love his birds too.

That sounds kind of dirty doesn’t it?

I have songbirds: Juncos and Finches, and Chickadees, and Towhees, and Titmouse(s?) (Titmice?). I have Quail. Quail. They are the best. I could watch them all day with their little head accessories bobbing in synch with their scampering feet. They bring me so much joy.

A male Meadowlark just arrived this week. In the snow. He’s gorgeous. I think he’s looking for a place to put down roots; he’s got marriage and children on his mind. I hope he moves into the neighborhood. I’ve been feeding my birds special treats like kibble and brown rice to entice them to settle in.

Yesterday a juvenile Northern Harrier flew around my tree. I don’t have birds of prey here. I barely even have Ravens. Yet here he is.

There is magic in this canyon.

My life is just grand.

blackbirds singing

Whatever my plans, my best intentions, my responsibilities were for this weekend; they’ve all gone right out the window because the red-winged blackbirds are singing.

This means only one thing…

Desert time.

I worked well into the night last night to free up time today. I swear that I will come home and work all day Sunday, and vacuum my house, and do the dishes, and my laundry, and maybe take a shower and water the plants, and pay the bills, and respond to emails, and write the piece that’s due in 3 days.

I will do these things, but there is no way that I can focus while those conk-la-rees! are all around – coming out of the trees, the willows, the tamarisk.

The siren’s call beckons me to come west. It’s not enough to listen to them here at my house. I have to be there.

My excuse is that the dogs need some exercise. And that there is no place here that they can get enough running around and therefore they need the wide-open spaces, the miles of slickrock, the immense blue sky, the river, the silence.

Can’t possibly get their yaya’s out any other place.

And, obviously, they need to stay at The Lodge, take a hot tub under the stars, and eat food from the convenience store next door because there are no other eating establishments open at this time of year.

Yay gas station hot dogs!

And they will sit outside in the morning, with the sun shining on their faces, listening to birds, chatting with the neighbors, drinking coffee, maybe even getting in a little writing.

My dog has learned (and is teaching his buddy) that “we’re going to U-Tah!” means joy all around.

It means freedom and fresh air and sunshine and maybe even rain. It means lizards and unrecognizable rodents and long stretches of uninterrupted space in which to leap and bound and laze in the warmth of the sun on rock.

Maybe there will be swimming – who cares if it’s cold.

Maybe there will be soft-serve ice cream.

Definitely, there will be peace and calm and joy.

And, there will be the song of the birds of spring; the red-winged blackbirds.