Wednesday, March 21, 2012

"I have an immense appetite for solitude. . .like an infant for sleep, and if I don't get enough for this year, I shall cry all the next."  -Henry David Thoreau
My sister posted this on her blog and it spoke to me, as I feel this way daily.  
As much as I love people, kids, party rockin',
I'm drawn much more often to the extreme opposite.
I LOVE solitude.  PEACE and QUIET.
Even more so as a mom since quiet is hard to come by.
But when I get it, I take it.  And run fast.
And I recently ran in to my soul mate on one of my recent runs.
An 80-year-old man.  I fell in love.:)
I told Brian.  He's cool with it.
Maybe "kindred spirit" is a better word.
My husband, who over recent years has taken a lot of trips without me,
(and due to much eye rolling and foot stomping by me,)
finally said, "Go somewhere!!!  Take a trip!"
A hubby all for an escape from this life for his martyr-ing wife,
well, my mind imagined amazing places.  
"Oh!"  I exclaimed, my hands clapping together like a kid on Christmas,
beaming at the unopened, beautifully gift-wrapped packages before them.
"How 'bout a quiet and calm yoga retreat in the Redwood forests of CA?  Maybe a trip with the girls somewhere warm, sunny, filled with mixed drinks and cabana boys?  Oh!  Oh!  Maybe a trip to New York to shop, spa and see a show!"
I could've easily done (and will do,) all those things.
but being the puss and terrible decision maker I am, 
I devised a get-a-way close to home.
I took a much needed (eagerly anticipated) weekend away, 
just further down the river.
And it was heavenly.
If you've been reading along, 
you know I'm a mom who's a HUGE advocate of taking time for yourself.
We give so much of ourselves selflessly each day, so I'm totally okay taking some back.
For the greater good.:)
A good book, a computer for writing, a pair of running shoes, and of course,
my right hand man, my camera.
I packed up the car and tore down the street the minute Brian's feet crossed the threshold 
into chaos.
Stopping along the way, to photograph whatever caught my eye.
 Not the most vibrant time of year.  Beautiful, nonetheless.
I've learned, you don't have to go far to find beauty.  Peace.  Gratitude.
Just look up, every once in awhile.
That those things aren't always found in crystal clear waters or high mountain peaks,
but on the trunks of pines, between grasses and buds on the cusp of spring.
Respite can simply come from slowing down.  Pulling over.
Just BREATHing for a minute.
I nestled in at an AMAZING B&B (I know, how romantic,)
I like to be alone.  Hard to do when you're a mom.
But it was amazing.
I was left to my own space, all the while, treated like a queen.
After a quiet nights' sleep,
a night without bad dreams, stalling drinks of water or staring at Jack's 'seizure cam' at every sniffle,
I awoke to a tray of coffee, a homemade fresh-from-the-oven pastry,
followed by platter after platter of goodies brought to my door as I lounged in my robe and watched Bethenny Ever After.
I took my time.  I relished.  Most importantly, I relaxed.
I headed further down stream to see a little more.
Sweet little pie shoppe's tucked in to hillsides.
 Driving side by side with the never-ending trains that run through these Wisconsin towns.
Sight-seeing grand landscapes that didn't include canyons or stunning ocean views,

"Such scenes have power to quiet the restless pulse of care."  This quote printed on a stone at the top of the bluff.
For a weekend, I didn't have to care about anything, except what was in front of me. 
To experience without guilt, to SEE and ENJOY.
 {This little pond that looked like a pool, sea green from. . .something.  SO cool.}
This time away, to actually SIT and WATCH a sunset, 
rather than glimpse it through drawn curtains as I wrestle little toes and feet in to bed each night.
Shuffle from one activity to the next.
Now, to only have to get up to watch it rise again.  In peace.
Although it's not always easy to escape,
and sometimes you have to ASK for a break,
there's something to be said for disconnecting from THIS life for a bit,
 THIS life.  The dirt.  The mud.  The filth that comes with raising children.
 The chaos and haphazard way of living, no matter how organized you try to be.

Although every bit as beautiful, 
ridiculously exhausting, overwhelming and life-altering.
So, when we CAN, we take up space in another life.  If only for a weekend.
To possibly find a new perspective.  A new friend.  A kindred spirit, in an 80-year-old man.
{This is Leland.  Owner of the 2nd Bed and Breakfast I stayed at with one of my most beloved treasures, Kate, who I don't get to see enough.  LOVE her (and him.)  Turned out Leland and I had a lot in common.  Grew up in the same neighborhood, visit(ed) the same place every summer in Ely, on the same road, appreciate the magic in that sacred place, like the same kinds of art, the same style of decorating, love Garrison Keillor and love to get to know, entertain, take care of and make comfortable other people.  Hear their stories.}
My usual quickened pulse of living, slowed. 
Just a few towns over, finding solitude, peace and tranquility.
The exceptional in the ordinary. . .until next time.


gabbygrace said...

Awesome pics, especially like the last one :)

BEES'NETTA said...


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