For almost a week, we enjoyed my mother's company and that of her dog as well.  We ate too much, and talked a lot. I had planned on going to the Lights of Christmas because in the 18 years we've lived here (gsp it's been that long) we've never seen that. Well it didn't open until she had already left and so we will go another year. Our kids were their usual busy selves with work, some school, lots of friends and sleeping in. When we have company is when I really want a kid cabana in the backyard to kick them to but we don't have the space or the allowances for that. But we all survived and Cocoa was great about greeting the late nighters back to the house. A week ago, John and I went to the Improv Theater for a "James Bond" play. We laughed so hard and immediately knew we wanted to bring the whole family. So we took everyone who could go, unfortunately Lona had to work.  It was the same play but totally different. Some of the actors were the same, the basic plot: James Bond takes on a villian bent on some kind of world domination was the same, like all good Bond stories go and that was all that was the same.  Oh yes, the stage and props where the same which meant you needed a great imagination and it was wonderful again.  We all agreed that it was well done.  It wasn't crass or vulgar.  The humor was witty, off the cuff and it made it that more enjoyable.  Sometimes it's hard to find humor that isn't tied to swear words, like saying the f-bomb is funny.  Maybe when you're 12, but after that it ceases to be funny and it boringly overdone.  For Thanksgiving day, we of course ate our turkey and sides that Job's work so graciously provided and then we played a game called "Whose most likely?" There are no winners.  Each person chooses a card reads it and the rest name a person the card should go to.  I've pulled a card or too that just does not need to be in the deck.  One card read, "over reacts"  So then the question is, "Whose most likely to over react?"  And we all yell out a name.  Later after the game is done and we again are doing our own things, someone will jump up shouting are you kidding me, and the rest will say "Most likely to over react."  It may come back to bite us in the butt, though it sure was funny and accurate. It was good to have my mom here.

Sometimes I need a quiet moment just to be, to sit, reflect and to quiet my soul.

I need time to see around me and the beauty that is there, even in the brown dormant leafless trees.

The quiet moments allows me to be grateful and notice the blessings that in the loud are hidden by urgency.

It's in these moments that my breath comes deep, my shoulders relax, and I start to hear the enchanting sounds of here and now.

A quieting of the soul rejuvenates me and steadies me for the hustle, bustle and the immediate.

I feel grounded in this moment.

One of my absolute favorite things about the Christmas season is putting up the lights, whether it is on the house, or inside around the house. My husband humors me every year and pulls the three, yes three large tubs out of the garage attic, sets up his large extending ladder and climbs it so that he can string those soft white lights just for me. I know that he loves me because he does NOT love hanging lights but does it for me each year.  We are not the first to hang our lights but we are the first to turn them on and the last to store them away for the year.  There is just something about the soft glow of twinkling lights during the dark days of winter.  I have my patio lights up all year, turning them on each night just to have that warm feeling during the dark.  I'm positive I would survive in the dark north only if I could have my Christmas and patio lights up all the time.  One of my favorite things is to turn on the tree, the outside lights, open the curtains and curl up on the couch with a cup of coffee and a book and just soak the light up. I miss the days when the kids were excited about it and at first I thought that was why I put up the Christmas lights, however as I get older, I realize that it's because of my need for light during the dark.  I've been thinking about this a lot.  John needs it to be pitch black in the room in order to sleep.  The clock faces the wall so that the little bit of light doesn't wake him up and the curtains need to be flush against the wall to keep the light out.
 I remember once as a child, it was dark in my room. We had wooden shutters that blocked all light from coming in. I woke up and tried to find my way out of the room but the door wasn't were I thought it was and I couldn't find the handle.  I kept trying to locate it on the wall and panicked. I started to cry and then scream, I couldn't get out.  It turned out that I was disoriented, I was looking for the door on the wrong wall.  Even now, I like that little bit of light peaking in the room, just enough for me to make out where I am.  When John goes out of town, I usually sleep with the curtains open a bit, just for that tiny bit of light. 

Silently I walk down the path from parking spot to river access. The dog racing ahead and back again with his bird, stopping to sniff, forgetting his toy only to look at me with a questioning look as if to say, "what did you do with my bird?"  We go through the same routine every. single. time.  "Get your bird," "Find your bird." "Bring your bird." He just can't seem to remember but that's ok.  It's just us out here alone soaking up the sun.  The fog is just lifting revealing the pond that is frequented by red wing black birds and occasionally heron if they aren't at the river.  Just a little further I reach the fastest way down the sandy bank to the river's edge.  Wind in the Willows frequently comes to mind but on this beautiful glowing fall day, I catch the dog's excitement.  He plunges into the water, turning around looking at me, begging with his eyes, quivering, finally letting out a high pitched pathetic whine letting me know he is ready for me to throw his bird. His porpoise jumps turn into a swim as soon as it gets too deep and he torpedos out to the bird.  Turning up river he looks as if he's gliding but under the water I know it's a hard paddle.  He reaches the banks and races past me until he reaches the bushes, where he drops his prize, and flops into the leaves rolling back and forth in pure joy.  He leaps to his feet and gallops towards me looking to see if I will throw his bird again. Not seeing it in my hand he plunges back into the river, looking for it.  He turns towards me and looks confused.  Meanwhile I've make my way to where he dropped his bird, kicking over the leaves until I can find it. We play this game over and over again.  If I just toss it so he's only wading, he looks at me like I have betrayed him.  He picks up his bird, lays down in the water and proceeds to push the bird down with his mouth letting it go underwater so it will pop up. He wants to swiI spend 20 minutes wandering up and down the bank. laughing and taking photos, enjoying the autumn air in my lungs. Looking for pockets of light, being in the moment, learning that from my dog, and enjoying to place I've been so often yet feeling like I'm seeing it for the first time. In a way I am, because this moment will pass and I will have to see in the light of the next visit, all new again.

It seems like we bike or run this trail often enough that I would get tired of photographing it but I never do.  I think it's because each time I notice something new. I wonder if it is because I am starting to wake up to the surrounding beauty of each season. We started off at Boulevard on our bikes and made our way into Bellingham via the bike path overlooking the sound.  Once we had crossed Wharf Street we continued on until E Laurel Street where we doubled back through the woods. Neither of us had gone this way before. Greeted by a herd of deer who swiftly moved on, we continued just below the original trail. The graffiti on long unused blocks of cement rising out of leaf carpet forest floor made me feel as though I was in a post apocalyptic movie set.  I am sure there could be some great styled photo shoot here.  I'm always on the look out for interesting places for senior photoshoots and this could be one.  I'm thinking gothic but could be anything really.  For there we came upon the bottom of Wharf Street that connects to Cornwall Avenue.  There is a newish park that has been created, Waypoint Park.  We biked around the Grainery which is being renovated for upcoming posh type businesses and cafes.  I think it would be a great spot especially overlooking an inlet.  We biked around the small park, took photos and then watched a family of seals playing in the water.  They just pop up and disappear underwater blowing bubbles  until they pop up farther along the inlet.  I could have watched them longer but it was chilly and I was hungry.   We  decided to bike through the saturday farmer's market which was eye opening with all the vendors and performers in the little area.  We each had a small snack, mine being from the Bread Farm.  I was not disappointed by my selection.  Finally it was time to call it a morning and return back to reality of home, kids and chores.  It is a little bit of a dry run for being empty nesters, since we no longer run the kids around which frees up our time, but it also means we spend more time without them. Parks Family Adventures more often consists of just John and I and less of the rest of the family.  It is a strange thing to get used to.