23 Merwins 'Til Christmas

Pillow Series #2.

Catching Up On 24 Merwins 'Til Christmas

I was so proud of myself before heading out for vacation Thanksgiving Day. Amidst the packing and planning whirl, I had successfully scheduled Merwin Christmas Countdown posts for every day we'd be away! Alas, I returned from our Argentinian adventure to find that none of them actually posted. So now I will frantically try to get us up to speed with counting down this glorious holiday season. I believe this is the seventh time I've created this ridiculousness. Of all things, I am most certainly a creature of habit so while it is truly an absurd way to lead in to the holiday season, at this point, it can't be changed. If only going to the gym worked like that. Anyway, happy holidays.

Here begins the pillow series.

Right Now I'm Watching

I may be slightly obsessed with all things British. Until we shifted back to Portsmouth, this obsession took the form of books. But now that I'm reunited with my TV, I've delved into the delicious world of the BBC, specifically mystery British TV series. It's best if they are period dramas, but I'm starting to work my way toward shows set in the present day.

Right now, though, I am captivated by Endeavour. Set in the 1960s, the show chronicles the early years of Inspector Morse in Oxford, England (duh). You may know that the television show Inspector Morse was a huge hit across the pond, running from 1987-2000. Endeavour is its prequel so we get a young version of the Inspector just as he is finding his way on the police force, already leaps and bounds above the others in his detecting skills.

The mysteries are always a mystery to me until the very end. Some tiny moments of romance and a slow reveal of tidbits from his past slowly gives the show (and its characters) a personality that makes you want to binge it. I'm in the midst of series three, but all four 4-episode series are available to stream for free on Amazon Prime. Give it a try!

Lives Of Purpose

I keep hearing the same advertisement on Pandora. It's a few kids talking about what private schools they will soon be attending and how well a particular private elementary school prepared them. A narrator mentions that the school grooms children to have "lives of purpose." Possibly it's the manner in which she says those words, but I find my feathers ruffled every time I hear it.

Obviously I don't have children so maybe that makes me immediately disqualified from commenting. Maybe it's obvious that every parent's main goal is to have children with "lives of purpose." I don't know about that, but I can comment on society's obsession with "purpose" and "meaning." Why has having "purpose" became an end all be all measure by which we judge success? Why can't we just be happy? Everything is go go go, achieve achieve achieve, do more more more. 

Capitalism plays a role. In our current society, having money equals power, having power equals success, having success equals everything. But to what end? And at what expense? Why do we work so hard? It seemed that there was a time when you could have a job, leave the job at 5pm, and have enough to have a home, enough to make ends meet, enough to be well-respected and appreciated. Now everyone is always "so busy," stress is more common than non-stress, and it's a constant rat race just to come out even. There has to be a backlash at some point...right?

In my time not working (at least in the traditional 9-5 sense), I've noticed a shift in myself. When people first asked what I was doing with my time, I quickly mentioned that I was working with a career counselor, doing some consulting, and learning yoga. I felt pressure to name accomplishments, ensure others that I was doing something to "stay in the game." Why? Why couldn't it be okay for me to be reading crappy books and floating on the raft in the sun? I was happy. Happier than I'd been in a  long time. Why did I feel the constant need to demonstrate "success?" I've started to admit that my summer was for me, for my relaxation and rejuvenation, and admitting that I read historical romances, colored mandalas, and enjoyed being with my dog.

There are more layers to this. For example, somehow women are supposed to have demanding, high-powered jobs and also be amazing mothers. Don't get me wrong, I am enormously grateful for the fact that being part of the workforce is even an option for women, but it sure would be nice if caregiver policies caught up, the impossibility of one-earner households would be addressed, and the continued prevailing notion that if you're not a mother, you're not a woman might be challenged.

All I'm saying is that I think it is 100% legitimate and even the best option for some people to just be. To not choose a path where long hours and stress are pushing you up the rungs of a hierarchical ladder. To not strive for some greater purpose, deep meaning, or extreme success.  

At lunch with a friend earlier this week, we chatted about this very notion. She said she thought it was time for a revolution. So take a deep breath. Drop the expectations and the pressures and the external motivations. Know that you being you is enough. Or try anyway. It's all easier said than done.

A Poem For A Thursday

Peace
C.K. Williams

We fight for hours, through dinner, through the endless evening, who
        even knows now what about,
what could be so dire to have to suffer so for, stuck in one another's craws
        like fishbones,
the cadavers of our argument dissected, flayed, but we go on with it, to
        bed, and through the night,
feigning sleep, dreaming sleep, hardly sleeping, so precisely never touch-
        ing, back to back,
the blanket bridged across us for the wintry air to tunnel down, to keep
        us lifting, turning,
through the angry dark that holds us in its cup of pain, the arching dark,
        the weary dark,
then, toward dawn, I can't help it, though justice won't I know be served,
        I pull her to me,
and with such accurate, graceful deftness she rolls to me that we arrive
        embracing our entire lengths.

This isn't generally the kind of poem I'm drawn to, but there was something about it that I really liked. It made me recall one of my own poems about an argument and how the tension played out in a sleeping couple. For some reason, I had used music and sound images - staccatos, crescendos, violin strings, and the rattling annoyance of a radiator. This poet did a better job winding together these images to portray that jumbled, icky, roiling gut feeling of fighting then living with someone we love.

I initially found a lot of war-like language and imagery in "Peace," but on later readings, I saw references back to their dinner with words like fishbones, cadavers, dissected, and flayed. Also interesting how these words could describe dinner or the battlefield, which in this case, may be one and the same. 

The repetition of "sleeping" helps the reader feel that endless pain of not being able to rest amidst the context of disagreement. He does that again by repeating the images of the darkness. How amazing is "the angry dark that holds us in its cup of pain?" Love it. Then it's done, as these things often are, and they embrace. This is something I imagine we've all experienced and like artists do, the poet is able to capture it so accurately and beautifully, forcing us right back to those moments and those feelings.

Book Report - Lady Darby Series

I just started the fourth book in the Lady Darby historical mystery series, A Study In Death. I'm reading this on my Kindle instead of listening to the audiobook as I did for the first three installments. I miss the charming British accent of the narrator though caught myself trying to sound British in my head as I clicked through the pages. Ha!

This series includes many of the desirable traits I'm clamoring to find in reading material lately. As usual, I've dug my claws into a rather specific genre and don't appear to be giving up anytime soon. Not just historical fiction. Not just historical mystery. Not just historical mysteries set in England anywhere from 1800-1950. Not just British mysteries depicting this time period that are series. They also need to include a thread of romance between main characters that continues from book to book. 

Which brings us back to Lady Darby. We meet Kiera after her miserable marriage to Sir Anthony ends as a result of his death. He was an anatomist who married her for her artistic ability then forced her to draw his dissections. As a result, she's shunned from society (didn't take much to get the cut direct back then!). In the first installment, she's working alongside handsome investigator Lord Sebastian Gage to prove her own innocence in a murder. They continue to dig around darker and darker cases side by side in each subsequent book. 

With the exception of #2, Mortal Arts, I've been in the dark about the culprit until the bitter end. These are well-written and seemingly historically accurate novels that provide a glimpse of life in Edinburgh in the mid 19th century as well as intriguing cases and nice character development of Kiera, Sebastian, and other minor players.

All in all, there are 5 published novels in the series (and a novella) with a sixth due out in early 2018. If you like murder, history, and all things British-y, I highly recommend you dive in!

Notes From The Travel Journal - Bar Harbor, Maine

We found ourselves the lucky recipients of an all-expenses paid weekend in Bar Harbor so took full advantage and hightailed it up there Friday afternoon. Our complimentary stay at the Bar Harbor Inn and Spa included two nights, a dinner in their famed Reading Room Restaurant, breakfasts, and two massages. Whoop! 

The hotel was one of those classic Maine resorts perched on the water's edge in downtown Bar Harbor. Stunning views of the harbor and surrounding islands which we experienced first hand Saturday morning when my eyes snapped open at 6:30am to a jaw-dropping sunrise (and a huge cruise ship right outside our window). It was a great start to our time in such a beautiful little slice of America.

We knew we wanted to hike in Acadia National Park on Saturday but weren't sure which of the dozens of trails to pick, especially considering I wasn't certain how my knee would hold up. Google to the rescue where I happened upon Joe's Guide to Acadia National Park, a handy outline of available treks, their difficulty, and some creative ways to connect trails for longer day trips. We hemmed and hawed (and gobbled down delicious poached eggs and blueberry stuffed French toast) before deciding on North Bubble and Conners Nubble. 

The adventure did not disappoint. Two and a half hours of vista bliss. The climbing wasn't difficult and the hike took us through pine and fir forest, lakeside bogs, bare granite mountainside, and stunning views of the changing leaves. It was heavenly. 

At the risk of sounding utterly ridiculous, I highly recommend ending a long day of hiking with a massage followed by a yummy dinner overlooking the harbor glittering under a starry sky. Right. Anyway. We were addicted to Acadia and headed back into the park on Sunday for a quick drive up Cadillac Mountain (don't judge) and a much shorter but pleasant on-foot trek up Flying Mountain over on the "quiet side" of Mount Dessert Island. It was great to get another walk in before stopping off at the Bass Harbor Lighthouse then making the drive home. We detoured to Foulmouthed Brewery in Portland for a celebratory beer flight (Vanilla Stout - yum) before reuniting with a squealy Merwin back home.

The entire weekend was magical. When I'm lacing up the hiking boots, I'm always a little hesitant but as soon as I take the first steps into the woods or onto the mountain, it feels amazing. The air, the quietness, the views. It's like I forget how invigorating and refreshing it feels to move and to move in such beautiful places. I love it. I can't wait for more!

Mount Roberts And The Cotton Valley Rail Trail

We journeyed over to the Ossipee Mountains on Saturday for a hike up Mount Roberts (elevation 2582), the western most peak in the range. More gorgeous views of Lake Winnipesaukee and the surrounding areas and a great workout. The colors were out and so were the people - we encountered two different large groups of hikers, seemingly part of the "52 With A View" club. I guess "Over the Hill" hikers came up with this list of 52 mountains as a way to draw attention to New Hampshire's great peaks that are between 2,500 and 4,000 feet in elevation. When you complete them all you get a patch. Man, that's a lot of work just for a patch.

Anyway, we did our best to avoid the groups and had a really amazing time. It was tiring and tough on my legs, but the old knee held up and the views were well worth the effort.

Though it started gloomy, by late morning Sunday was sunny and warm so we explored the Cotton Valley Rail Trail, a walking path set alongside old railroad tracks from Wakefield to Wolfeboro. Completely flat, no big deal right? Wrong. Might have been the shoes or just the body, but the knee pain struck at about mile 5 and the last 3 miles were tough. Climbing a mountain. No problem. Walking in a straight line. No good. Go figure.

Aside from that, it was a great discovery. Wonderfully maintained trail through woods, bogs, and meadows (we saw moose tracks!), all especially beautiful this time of year. Definitely want to give it another go...definitely in a different pair of shoes.

October Mist

It has been interesting to be here so regularly this time of year when we were so infrequently present for this seasonal shift in the past. I remember the slow reduction of humans around the lake, the larger presence of other animals, and the emergence of golden leaves, but what I don't recall is the morning mist rising up from the water. The last few mornings have provided a real visual treat with the cool pre-sunrise air pulling the heat of the lake into the atmosphere. It has also been fascinating to watch it slowly burn off as the sun hits the water. 

These moments are the ones that, when I look back on this time, I want to remember. The little delights I get to experience, the quiet solitude of savoring something I'd otherwise miss out on. I'm so fortunate. I am grateful. 

Notes From The Travel Journal - Oh Canada

My mom recently celebrated a birthday and given that I have so much free time lately, I suggested we take a little trip in honor of the big day. When thoughts of the Grand Canyon got a little too overwhelming, we settled on a road trip to Nova Scotia. She had heard great things about that part of Canada and I was eager to see Cape Breton Island myself. Off we went on our five day adventure!

After a six hour drive through Maine and an uneventful border crossing, we arrived at our first stop - Saint John, New Brunswick. We strolled around the small downtown and took a quick trip over to the "Reversing Falls," a pretty unimpressive tourist feature of "rushing" water where the river and ocean meet. It didn't rush and a huge paper mill provided the scenic backdrop. We weren't impressed but then enjoyed some beers at a local pub and retired for the night before heading to Cape Breton, Nova Scotia the next day.

Wowza! Cape Breton is so beautiful. We found a cute little oceanside cottage for our two-night stay which ended up being in a great spot for exploring Cape Breton National Park. Similar to the North Coast 500 in Scotland, The Cabot Trail winds its way from shore to shore of the island hugging the border of the national park and providing amazing views of the sea. Despite the rain and chill, we drove along the windy (and windy!) roads, stopping often for views, some brief little hikes, and a random cliffside porta potties. Stunning (the views not the potty).

We were sad to leave, but jaunted down the east coast of Nova Scotia to Halifax, a bustling small city that seemed full of young energy and happening spots. Reminding me a lot of Scotland, we enjoyed a delicious dinner of savory pie followed by sticky toffee pudding at a recommended pub before turning in for the night to rest up for another day of driving. The morning brought rain rain rain but we made the trip to Peggy's Cove before learning that the ferry intending to take us from Yarmouth, NS to Portland, ME was canceled the following day due to Hurricane Jose. From our oceanside perch next to Peggy's Cove Lighthouse, we were thankful to the ferry captain because the waves were enormous and the ocean was churning! 

However, it did require some logistical finagling. We consulted our remote travel agent, Simon, who hooked us up with an amazing resort in St. Andrews by the Sea, one of our favorite stops! The quaint seaside town provided a fantastic dinner, gorgeous sunset, and a Farmer's Market for some Canadian Maple Syrup. On the way home, we managed a brief sojourn in Bar Harbor for pizza and a look at Acadia National Park's "Thunderhole" before arriving in Portsmouth tuckered but pleased as punch with our Canadian trek!