On Thanks and the Power of Music

“I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.” – G.K. Chesterton

This is a story about giving thanks and the power of music:  The last 10 years or so that I lived in Austin I attended a funky, loving little church called Journey Imperfect Faith Community.  I fondly referred to it as “Hippie Church”.  When we started out, we met in a borrowed room at the YMCA in NW Austin.  Somehow, I ended up as the “sound person” and every Sunday I would arrive at about 5:30 in the morning to drag out all of the speakers, cables, etc. to get set up for service.  We had the room until 1:00 p.m. at which time everything had to be picked up and the room cleaned for the Y to use.  I joked that we were the church that came out of the closet every Sunday morning.

From very early on there was a man named Miles who would catch a ride up to the Y and help with setup.  Miles was a quiet, unassuming sort; always ready to lend a hand but hard, at least it seemed to me, to get to know.  I knew he was homeless yet he seemed to fit right in with our misfit little community.  After quite a while we learned that he played a pretty mean bass guitar.  Eventually, he would play with the band and even sing a song for us now and then.

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As the “sound person” I had a good bit of discretion over what music got played while we were setting up.  It was typically a mix of David Wilcox, Pierce Pettis, John Gorka, Tom Kimmel, Tom Prasada-Rao and an assortment of other singer/songwriters.  Over the years, we were fortunate to have a good number of them come and play at our services with an occasional nighttime concert.

A few years later we had moved to a warehouse space a little further south.  It was a really good move and I have such wonderful memories of our time in what we dubbed “The Journey Warehouse”.  We finally had our own space and we filled it with thrift store sofa’s, over-stuffed chairs and a lot of love.  The harsh, fluorescent lights of the Y became white Christmas lights on the ceiling during services.  I was still running sound and doing setup and Miles was still catching rides every Sunday to share his gifts with us.  One Sunday after service, Miles came up to me and gave me a huge hug.  I always got at least one hug from him on Sundays but this was different.  He held on for a long time and then looked at me and said, “I want to thank you.”.  I was confused as to just what I had done to deserve his thanks so I asked.  What he said has stuck with me ever since.  “You know that music you play on Sunday morning?  That David Wilcox guy…he’s all up in my business.  It used to piss me off.  I get it now and I want to thank you.”  He left and I never saw him again.

Turns out Miles’ real name was Mike and he was from Canada.  He was with a pretty big heavy metal band in the 80’s called Helix.  I don’t know the whole story but he left the band and his family behind, assumed a new name and ended up in Austin, TX.  After he left that Sunday he went back to his family in Canada and stayed in touch with some of the church members. The fact that he found his way into my life and the lives of all of us at Journey Imperfect Faith Community is something I’ll forever be grateful for.  Music has the power to change lives and I’m grateful for that too.

It’s been a tough year; too tough for too many.  I’m holding on to hope that 2021 will be bring a kinder world for us all. I wish you all a Thanksgiving with much to be grateful for. Namaste…

Gratitude is a Verb…

grat·i·tude
[ grat-i-tood, -tyood]

NOUN
   1. the quality or feeling of being grateful or thankful

Okay, so Merriam-Webster, Oxford and Dictionary.com all say that gratitude is a noun.  Of course, they also say that about love and we all have heard the argument that love is really a verb.  I feel the same way about gratitude and although the grammar police might come after me for that, it’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.

Today, February 23rd, is Gratitude Day in my corner of the world.  No, it’s not a National Holiday, in fact there’s a day in September that is officially celebrated as World Gratitude Day, but, because of some really courageous people this day in February is a day set aside to remember that to be grateful is not a feeling but a choice.

You see, almost 10 years ago some friends lost their precious daughter Amelia and her grandmother in a tragic auto accident.  It was the kind of devastation that easily could have torn a family apart but instead, they chose gratitude; they chose it even when they didn’t feel it, even when it was hard; even when it seemed to be nearly impossible.

In my friend’s words from two years ago:

“Gratitude Day was born out of the desire and need to focus on the good. My family was devastated by the loss of our daughter (and sister), Amelia in a car accident. My husband also lost his mother in that accident. His mom was 69, and Amelia was seven. They both left this earth before we were ready.

It has almost been eight years, and I have become a willing counselor to other families who have lost their children. When something tragic like this happens, you think, “that happens on the news to other people”. Now I know, it happens to my friends, my neighbors, my community.

So Gratitude Day is for everyone, not just us. It is a day to be thankful we had our beautiful children in our lives. It is a day to also remember we have many blessings. Love, good health, friends, spiritual strength, the blessing of good memories, and the faith that there are many good days to come.”

Amelia would be 17 years old today.  I know that she is proud of the example that her family and those who love her have set.

I have so much to be grateful for.  I wouldn’t even know where to start.  Today I am grateful for these courageous people who have chosen gratitude and set an example that is an inspiration to so many.

Happy Gratitude Day!

First Steps

“Take the first step in faith. You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.” — Martin Luther King

The past month has been a whirlwind.  On January 8th I flew to North Carolina to celebrate my mom’s 92nd birthday, see my family and to look at a piece of property in Roan Mountain, Tennessee that I hoped would become my new home.  The visit was a dream come true.

My sister Peggy and my mom picked me up at the airport in Asheville and we headed to my sister Nancy’s home in Plumtree, NC.  It was so wonderful to all be together.  I had missed Peggy’s visit in April of last year as I was still recovering from shoulder surgery and was unable to make the trip.

In the morning we all loaded up and headed into Roan Mountain, a beautiful 30 minute drive through Western North Carolina and just over the border into Tennessee.  We were early so we drove up into Roan Mountain State Park.  I had loved my previous visits to my sister’s and the drives and hikes through the Blue Ridge mountains, but it was Roan Mountain that called me home.  The wild, breathtaking beauty drew me in and I knew that this was where I belonged.

Ice on the drive up Roan Mountain

On the way back down I remembered that I had seen a short cut from the house we were going to look at to the park; a short-cut that took us down Teaberry Road.  It seemed like a fun thing to do to explore the area so off we went.  It all started out well and was really a beautiful drive.  The sun had come out a bit and was filtering through the trees as we drove.  This was looking like a viable alternative route to the park for future reference until Teaberry Road turned into a dirt road and before we knew it became a one lane, somewhat bumpy drive that wound down the mountain.  To our left there was a pretty steep drop-off so we hugged the right side of the road as we crept along.  The next thing we knew we rounded a curve and here was a man coming the other direction.  Unlike us, he seemed completely unconcerned and didn’t even wait for us to get to a slightly wider part in the road before he whizzed by on our left.  Luckily, it all worked out well, although it would have been him that would have ended up off the side of the mountain had it turned out badly…it was, after all, his side of the road.  Note to self:  No trips to the park via Teaberry Road, at least not in a car.

The Perkins Hollow property, as we had begun to call it, was all that I had hoped for.  An adorable 1200 SF house on almost an acre of beautifully landscaped property with a little creek running through at the back.  I fell in love immediately.  I began to imagine my life there:  ideas for making the house a home for me, Pippin and Cowboy; turning the vegetable garden into a butterfly and bird garden; hiking trips to the state park, Smokey Mountain National Park and all of the other breathtaking destinations in the Appalachian Mountains; all of the photo ops.  The first step in seeing my dream come true.

Two days later I was headed back to Austin, ready to make an offer on the property and make the final push to get my home in Austin on the market.  Long hours were spent painting, cleaning; trips to Goodwill, and getting the yard in shape for the big day.  On Saturday, January 30th I took a break  to go with friends on a birding trip to Granger, TX.  On the way home I received the final counter offer from the sellers in Tennessee and the minute I walked in the house I printed, signed and scanned the documents to email back to my realtor.  By Sunday, I had a binding contract on the house.  Step two.

Wednesday was the big day that my little house on Campden Drive went on the market.  As my realtor, Kellye Hancock (Hindsite 20/20 Realty) put it, her phone exploded.  Texts were coming in every few minutes from realtors wanting to show the property.  By the end of the day we’d lost track of how many people had seen the house and we had three offers, two of which were well above the asking price.  Kellye put a deadline of 5:00 p.m. the next day for any other interested parties to submit an offer and Thursday started with another wave of prospective buyers.  By the end day there were three more solid offers.  Potential buyers were sending me letters along with their offers that included heartwarming stories and promises to take care of the native plants and the birds; one girl sent a picture of her dog.  I melted into tears of gratitude.  This was beyond my wildest imaginings.  By Friday morning, just 48 hours after the listing went live, I had a contract on the house.  Step three.

This has been, and I’m sure will continue to be, a magical journey; one that I never expected.  I just keep putting one foot in front of the other and doors keep opening.  I still need a job  and there are inspections and closings and moving to be done, but I have faith that all those doors will open as well.

I subscribe to this thing called “Notes from the Universe” (www.tut.com).  Each morning, Monday through Friday I get an email from “The Universe”.  This is what was in my inbox this morning:

“If you can see it in your mind, Judi, it’s real.

All that remains is merging the present you know and the world you’ve imagined, which is my part. And you can best help me align circumstances, coincidences, and chance encounters by getting busy, going out into the world, and moving in the general direction of your dreams, even if only to do what your peers might do, who know not of life’s magic.

But you know the truth, Judi.  You know how life works.  Do not waiver in your march.  No matter how humble your steps, this is how I will reach you.  And as you witness one dream come true after another – first the small ones, then the big ones, then the huge ones – you’ll remember why you were first drawn to the jungles of time and space, if you haven’t already figured it out.

Crazy kid,
   The Universe

P.S. — And when you know, Judi, would you please clue us in so that we can finish the documentary?”

Thanks Universe, I’m grateful.

 

On Safety, Comfort and Choosing Change…

“Why are you moving?”  This was the Facebook message I received a couple of weeks ago.  I confess I had to bite back the urge to say, “Why do you care?”.  Instead my response was, “Well, because I want to live in the mountains.  And there’s really nothing stopping me.”  I’m glad that I didn’t go with my first response because what ensued was a wonderful philosophical discussion about taking chances and creativity and the gift of allowing life to not be too comfortable.

“It’s always a good thing to seek change”, he said.  “Safety is not always the best choice.”  I’m finally learning that this is true.  Learning to embrace change; learning to take that leap of faith when it feels right…and maybe even when it feels a little uncomfortable.

Tomorrow morning I’ll get on a plane and fly to North Carolina.  Saturday afternoon I have an appointment to go look at what very well could be my new home, just across the North Carolina border in Roan Mountain, TN.  A small house on almost an acre of beautiful land just 6 or so miles from Roan Mountain State Park.  All of this is starting to get real.

I’ve been amazed at the number of people that have been put in my path to affirm the choices that I’m making.  The choice to take a chance on a dream; to get out of my comfort zone and go for what I want, even when it might seem impractical.  For all these people, I am so very grateful.  To the friends, the acquaintances and the strangers who have come along in the past couple of months to encourage, inspire and challenge me, I say thank you.

Stay tuned…

Going Home…

From the Appalachian Trail on the top of Roan Mountain

It’s completely unlike me to quit my job and choose to move 1200 miles away on, what might seem to some, a whim.  I mean, we’re talking about the person who has lived in the same house for the past 24 years and has worked at the same job for 22 years.  It’s comfortable; safe; secure; familiar.  Why would I want to change that?

I came home from a visit to the Appalachian Mountains around my sister’s home in North Carolina last July and started looking for property around Roan Mountain, TN; about 20 miles across the North Carolina/Tennessee border from where my sister, her husband and my mother live.  We had taken a visit to Roan Mountain State Park and I was totally smitten by the park and the breathtaking landscape that surrounded it.  I lost count of the number of times I said, “I could live in a little cabin in these mountains.”

Truth be told my love affair with the mountains of Eastern Tennessee began shortly after I graduated from high school and took a trip with friends to Gatlinburg and the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.   Ten glorious days in early October hiking around in the mountains and touring the surrounding countryside captured my heart and my imagination way back then.  Life and work brought me to Texas a few years later but there was a love for those mountains that  resurfaced the moment I returned.  It felt like coming home.

So, despite the fact that, as of yet I have no place to live and no job, I’ll be moving to the area around Roan Mountain shortly after leaving my job on April 15, 2016.  The person who, at one point in her life, would have been panic-stricken at the idea of not having a well laid-out plan and a giant safety net is taking a leap and is trusting that this is meant to happen; trusting that there is a plan for me in those mountains and that I’ll figure it out as I go along.  Have there been moments when the fear has set in?  Absolutely.  There is also a sense of peace about it all and a sense of trust that it’s all going to work out.   I want to hike in those mountains with my dog and my camera, doing my best to capture the essence of what drew me to them all those years ago.  When it comes right down to it the only thing that could stop me is fear and I won’t let that happen.

This past January I participated in a creativity retreat with dear, dear friends that was called “The Choice of Art.”  During that weekend we were asked to write our future biography and we read it aloud to the group.  Mine started out like this:  “Judi is a nature photographer who lives with her Border Collie Pippin in a log cabin in the mountains of North Carolina.”  I guess I called it in.

I am so excited about the life that lies before me.  Is there fear as well?  Yes, but it’s not the overwhelming fear that I would have felt 5, 10, 15 or 20 years ago.  It’s not the paralyzing fear that would have kept me from making this choice to begin with.  This feels right and the one thing that I am struck by is that there is not a single friend, family member or acquaintance that has asked me if I’ve lost my mind or cautioned me against making this change.  It’s friends and family like that that have brought me to this point; people that have modeled courage and inspired me.  People who have offered encouragement and support and have cheered me on.  To say I’m grateful doesn’t begin to cover it.

Namaste…

Gratitude in the storm…

“Now we step into today – open armed and open hearted. Every morning is something new, something unbroken, something curious and full of the rare and radiant. This is not a cliché; it is just simply true. Courage is not about being fearless, it is about loving so much you’ll brave what is hard or scary. Have courage, love this life and this morning. Your heart was broken open not apart.” — Carrie Newcomer

These words have been my daily meditation of late; something to hold on to.  A reminder to look for gratitude — to seek out the rare and radiant.

I had plans to spend the day with Pippin and my camera–I needed a day of quiet reflection…a day of peace. The skies were cloudy when I awoke and as I began to gather my hiking gear it became clear that the odds of getting stuck out in a thunderstorm were high.  In the end I scrapped those plans and headed out to the Town Lake Hike and Bike trail to get Pippin and I some exercise and some time with nature.  The sky was threatening so the camera would have to stay behind.  Undaunted, as Austinites can be, the parking lot under Mopac was jammed–everyone had the same idea.   Quiet reflection…not likely.  There were people everywhere, runners with their dogs; some pushing baby strollers; bikes rolling by.

Nevertheless, I found a sense of peace in the boats gliding quietly by on the lake; the steady rhythm of the kayakers and stand up paddlers on the water.  The sky was dark; the air thick with a cool wind — a rumble of thunder in the distance.  We walked some; ran some; listening to the birds in the trees around us.

At my faith community we have been doing a series on the power that God gives to us.  Truth be told, I haven’t been feeling very powerful lately.  And yet, being out in nature–seeing the power of nature as a storm brews gave me hope that I can find that power in myself.

As we ran the last half-mile stretch to the truck the wind was whipping the trees in earnest; giant raindrops splashing on my face.  We made it to the truck and I put Pippin in, grabbed my phone and ran out onto the bridge to snap a couple of shots of the storm coming in.  As I got back in the skies opened; bringing healing rain to this land that has been dry for so long.

I am grateful for this day; grateful to live in this beautiful city where the chance to be in nature is all around me.  The blessed rain is still coming down as I type this and I am thankful.

Namaste…

Finding gratitude…

Ever have one of those weeks that calls into question things that you once believed were fundamentally true?  Of course you have…silly question.  We all have if we’ve been around very long at all.  We are all broken people and we let each other down.  But how many times do you choose to trust again before you finally say enough is enough?  Forgiveness and trust are often hard to reconcile.  Forgiveness can come; I believe that it must, but trust?  I just don’t know right now.

It’s long past time for me to fill the pages of this blog again.  I confess that I’ve been struggling with gratitude lately.  Gratitude needs to be an intentional thing.  A spiritual discipline.  It is a gift I can give to myself as well as others and it’s high time that I begin to focus on it again.

As rough as the past few weeks have been I have much to be grateful for.  If I pay attention as I should there are things big and small everywhere in which to find gratitude; the friend who listens without judgment when I need a caring ear; my dear, funny Pippin who gives me a reason to smile and to laugh every day; a job with people of integrity who understand when I’m having a rough day…so many things…

I loaned my truck to a friend this week and he brought it back with an assortment of things repaired; things I had been living with for quite awhile, such as the broken driver’s side door handle and the missing knobs on the handles that roll the windows down; now replaced.   Heck, I drive a 20 year old truck–a few idiosyncrasies come with the territory.  The gesture was totally unexpected and unnecessary but he did it anyway and I am grateful.

I stopped to visit with my friend Mark early this morning on my way out for a power walk with Pippin at Town Lake.  Some of you will remember Mark from a blog I wrote last August.  Mark is homeless.  Visiting with Mark always brings to mind a laundry list of things I have to be grateful for if I’ll just get out of my own head long enough to notice.  Mark’s life is harder than I can possibly imagine and yet he always seems grateful for the chance to have a short conversation; perhaps a Clif Bar and a bottle of cold water; a simple acknowledgment of his humanness.

One of the ways that I decompress during stressful times is to spend time with my camera.  I have found my muse in the birds and squirrels in my backyard and on my hikes with Pippin.  It’s a chance to be quiet and still — birds don’t stick around long if you make a bunch of noise or move too fast.  It’s a chance to be in nature and a chance to use the creative gifts that God has given me–a form of meditation I believe.  I’ve had some time to do just that this past week and I am grateful for it.  I’ve been rewarded with some decent photos, some new birds to add to my life list and the gift of encouragement from friends who share my passion.

My plan is to be more faithful to this practice of gratitude and to recording it in this blog.  Perhaps in doing this I can find my way back to forgiveness and trust.  I am grateful for your time and attention in reading and my wish for you is that, through all of life’s ups and downs you find a reason to be grateful.

Namaste…

The gift of paying attention…

“The quality of life is
in proportion, always,
to the capacity for
delight.

The capacity
for delight is the
gift of paying
attention”

–Julia Cameron, “The Artist’s Way”

I took the photo shown above yesterday morning as I was leaving the house to go help set up for church.  I generally leave the house a little before 7:00 a.m. and as I got in my truck to leave I noticed a hint of orange from the sun just beginning to peek up from behind the roof tops of my neighbor’s houses.  The way that the winter bare trees looked against the crystal clear early morning sky was breathtaking to me.  I had to stop to get out and take a photo.  The entire drive in I kept looking for a place to pull over to catch the perfect sunrise.  Driving across the Mopac bridge near downtown I was completely astounded by the dazzling, orange ball coming up behind the skyscrapers.  If I would not have been risking life and limb to pull over on the freeway and get that shot I would have stopped in a heartbeat.

All of this just simply would not have happened six months ago.  I would have been rushing along, intent on getting from point A to point B and I would have missed all of the beauty happening around me.  This is the gift that I have been given since I have begun to nurture the creative child that I never even knew existed within me.  A change has come over me.  I notice things that I would not have noticed before.  A beautiful sunrise; the color of fall leaves; a poem or a song that touches me…

I’m just starting out on this journey and I’m so looking forward to where it will take me.  I have a lot to learn about photography and writing and the creative life in general.  This Wednesday I’ll take a step forward in my education by starting a photography class.  I’m excited; a little nervous, but mostly I’m grateful for the gifts that this creative journey has given me.   It is an awakening whose time has come…

Namaste…

2014: moving towards the light…

“We always do the best we can
by the light we have to see by”

–From The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron

I’ve never been much of one for New Year’s Resolutions.  It just seems to me that if a change needs to happen, why wait?  But the New Year can be a good time to reflect; to look back with gratitude for the blessings in life–the people and experiences that have made life richer.  It’s also a good time to look back at the things that could have gone differently and maybe cut yourself and others some slack for those all too human moments.

I have been blessed to come to know many wonderful people this year.  They are misfits, like myself…an eclectic bunch that inspire me, challenge me, encourage me and, in the words of one of those misfits, crack me open.  It’s a good thing to be cracked open.  Not an easy thing; a sometimes painful thing, but a necessary part of living life fully.  I remember a quote — I think it is credited to singer/songwriter David Wilcox:

Love is not to fill our hearts
after all
It is to
open them.

And if
in opening them
we find that they are
empty;

That’s homework

Yes…to be cracked open is to learn to live life fully…

I spent three days in the Texas Hill Country over Christmas.  It was a time of reflection and a time to look forward to what I want to do differently next year.  A time to look at what I need to let go of and what I need to move towards. 

I didn’t find all of the answers — that would be too easy, but I did find some clarity about some things.

–I want to live a creative life.  I never thought I would ever hear myself say that, but this nurturing of the creative child in me that I didn’t even know existed until recently has been an incredible gift.  I want to; no, I plan to do more of that in 2014 and beyond.

–I have always been a forgiving person; I don’t get my feelings hurt easily.  As a whole, I am a person who is inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt.  That’s problematic at times but given the alternative I choose to live my life that way.  That said, there are people in my life; people that I care for deeply, towards whom I have been carrying hurt and resentment without intending to or even really being aware of it.  Oh, there are legitimate reasons for that hurt but I realize that it is beyond time to let them go…to learn to trust again.  I realize that I have been waiting for them to fail so that I could be right.  That is neither fair nor loving nor the right thing to do.  So, I will let go of those hurts, one day at a time and move forward.  They are doing no one any good.

–There are many resentments that I hold on to that are really against myself.  As I forgive others it is time to forgive me…to cut myself some slack for being human just like everyone else.

I realize that I will do all of this imperfectly; that I will stumble and fall, pick myself up, take steps forward and steps backward.  I will cut myself slack about this too and trust that I am doing the best I can.  I will focus on the journey; the twists and turns; the overcast, cloudy days and the clear, sunlit days.  I will keep moving towards the light.

I am grateful for many things over this past year; for the people in my life who have helped to crack me open — I thank you.

Namaste…

Gratitude and plans gone awry..

The View of “The Pond” from the Summit of the East Trail at Lost Maples State Natural Area.

My much anticipated trip to Lost Maples State Natural in Vanderpool, TX was this past week.  I wrote a blog last August about the healing that the solitude of this park in winter brings to me.  I headed out on Christmas Eve with plans to spend 5 glorious days and nights at this park that has come to be such a special place to me.  Pippin and I arrived about 2:00 p.m., set up camp and immediately went for a hike.  The sky was blue, the air was crisp and clean and the park had obviously benefited from the rains we have had over recent months.  While the vibrant color of fall had faded there was still the occasional burst of reds and oranges just beginning to turn to rust.  The rains had brought more green to the area than I had seen in many years.  Armed with my camera I planned to capture these images to take home with me when the trip was over.

We hiked until nearly dark and headed back to camp just as the sun was setting.  I started a fire, cooked a steak and veggies and sat down in front of the fire to relax a bit.  The stars were shining brightly in a crystal clear sky.  It was heaven.  Then it was off to bed early with plans for a hike of the West Trail on Christmas Day. 

Despite the early bedtime I managed to sleep until after 9:30 the next morning; something that is nearly unheard of for me.  After breakfast I wrote my morning pages and it was nearly noon before Pippin and I headed out on our hike.  There were clouds coming in but it looked to be more overcast than rainy.  The hike was beautiful; the strenuous climb up to the top of the hills and then down into Mystic Canyon was worth every step and I stopped often to take pictures of plants, streams and breathtaking vistas. 

 

  

All was going as planned as we approached a benign looking creek crossing about 4 miles into our hike.  The water wasn’t more than a few inches deep and trickled off in little falls to the right of the crossing.  As I stepped out I remembered thinking how smooth the creek bed was at that section; almost as though they had poured concrete to make it easier for the park maintenance crews to drive through.  I also noticed the thin layer of moss and slime growing just beneath the surface about the time both feet flew out from under me and I landed hard on my backside and rolled over onto my right shoulder (the one that was replaced about a year ago).  The water was too cold for me to lie there feeling sorry for myself for long so I managed to scramble up and make my way carefully to the other side of the creek.  Pippin, who’s leash was fastened to a nylon belt around my waist was staring at me with a stunned look on his face and (I’m sure) wondering what the heck had just happened.  We headed on our way and I was thankful for moisture wicking clothing.  By the time we got back to camp my clothes were mostly dry with the exception of my boots and socks as well as my jacket that had been fastened to the back of my backpack.

  

So, after supper and some time by the fire it was off to bed early again.  The soreness from my fall and the cold that night made for very little sleep for me or for Pippin.  He was restless and I knew that when I could feel him shivering against me that it wasn’t just me thinking it was colder that night.   I confess that I was already rethinking my plans to stay until Sunday.

The hike up from the campground to the trailhead of the East Trail goes by the beautiful day-use campground at Lost Maples.

The next day after breakfast we headed out for a hike of the East Trail.  After the hike from the campground we set out on the Maple Trail which runs parallel to the East Trail for almost a mile.  I have only seen pictures of the park decked out in full color but this short trail holds its own special beauty even in midwinter.   There are quaint little rocky stairways along the trail that just make it all the more lovely.

The scene of mishap #2

 Everything was going swimmingly until we got half way up one of those quaint little stairways and Pippin yinged and I yanged and the next thing I knew I tripped on a rock and went flying forward.  I must have put my left arm out to catch myself and managed to twist my left shoulder in ways that I’m pretty sure it was not meant to be twisted.  As pain surged down my arm my first thought was, “Well, that’s it; it’s time to pack it up and go home.”  I got up, brushed myself off and began to check out the damage.  Poor Pippin was wondering once again what had just happened.   My shoulder was still throbbing but as I began to gingerly move it around I decided that the desire to capture this trail with my camera was greater than the now subsiding pain so off we went.

    

    

The Maple trail dumps out onto the East Trail and we enjoyed an amazing hike, taking in “Monkey Rock”, the steep and strenuous hike to the summit and the breathtaking views from the top.  We managed the somewhat treacherous hike back down without further incident and got some really fabulous photos to remember it all by.  It began to rain just as I finished packing the truck and began to drive away.  Seems like the universe was trying to tell me I had stayed long enough.

  

I know that many of my friends think I’m nuts to want to go camping in the middle of the winter, by myself at Christmas time.  It’s hard for me to explain but it is a way for me to recharge my batteries, mentally, physically (yes, I mean that) and spiritually.  Despite the mishaps I drove away with a tremendous sense of gratitude for my time spent at this captivating place on the Sabinal River in the Texas Hill Country.  It won’t be the last time I make that trip for sure. 

  

Namaste…