The Not So Secret Garden

Tonight I sat behind my house in the twilight and sipped a drink while I watched the fireflies blinking and the bat swooping. This is one of my favorite ways to spend a summer evening. If I were a poet, I´d write a sonnet about my garden, which is pretty much the best part of my house. And when I say garden, I mean that in both the American sense (flowers and vegetables) but also the English sense (green space surrounding the house).

I wanted to sell my house in the fall specifically so that I could enjoy the garden for another season. I am even trying to space out my trips so that I can weed and plant and water in between being gone each month. It took me almost a week after my Galapagos trip to get everything back under control after being away for nine days.

Already, I am harvesting zucchini and peas and lots of flowers. And I keep encouraging the little tomatoes to grow, grow, grow.  Since I am not  freezing anything for later, I have also had lots to share, and fresh grown produce makes a lot of people happy, it turns out. 

I know I won´t have any place to grow anything at all in Madrid, at least at the beginning. But if I find I really need to be able to play around in the dirt, I comfort myself that I can move. It may take some time to decide where I want to settle down.

Animals, Up Close: The Galapagos

The big trip for June, and really for all of 2022, was the Galapagos. My parents and I took a tour, really a small cruise, this past week. This destination must be on everyone's bucket list, because whenever I mentioned it, people would get far more excited than when I framed it as a trip to Ecuador. 

I could summarize the trip in a few words: amazing animals, continuous lack of sleep, and then massive illness. So probably not a trip I'll be recommending for others, although I don't regret going.

What's this? It's a blue footed boobie. All the birds, sea lions, and iguanas were completely unfazed by humans. Because there are no mammal predators on the islands, they pretty much ignore people. Birds build nests in the middle of the path, and it's your job to make sure you don't step on then or their eggs. That's also why your small group is always carefully shepherded by a park ranger every minute of the day.

A demonstration of how close you can get.

My father, happy before the dreadful illness began. (That's called foreshadowing.)

Albatrosses, the largest birds on the islands. They court by closing y beaks together, like fencers.

Marine iguanas exist only on the Galapagos. They lie in great heaps that look like there has been a momentous reptile battle.

I refused to buy special trekking clothes so I wore my vintage clothes.

Halfway through the trip we realized there was something going around the ship. Over half of the passengers and crew got sick with what was probably a Norovirus. It was pretty unpleasant, and my mother ended up going to the hospital to get fluids. (Both my parents are on the road to recovery, thank you for asking.) I have not gotten sick yet, but I won't really feel safe until I've been home for a few days.

Separate from illness, it just wasn't really clear to us why so many people dream of this trip. It was cool to see animals up close, but to do so you travel in small, uncomfortable boats for a week or two. I have also realized that I value travel more when I accomplish something- learning about Stoicism and practicing my Spanish recently felt really good. For this cruise, you just spend a great deal of money for people to shepherd you around and show you where to point your cameras. 

So, if this is your dream, don't let me stop you. But I'm really looking forward to being back in my own bed in a couple of days, and I don't see any guided tours or cruises in my near future.

Hablo español, un poco

I'm in Quito, Ecuador! It's my first time outside the country since 2020 and it's delightful. I scheduled my first day for just walking around and soaking up the scenery. Which primarily seems to be baroque churches, quite frankly. I didn't include any photos with this post, but if you can just imagine every wall, ceiling, and column covered with gold gilt intricate carving, you'll be reliving my day.

The best thing happened at the Quito Astronomical Observatory. It's pretty old as these things go in the New World (founded 1873) and still seems to be quite active in public engagement in the community.

When I walked up to pay the entrance fee, one of the attendants heard my accented Spanish and told me he had a proposal. I was momentarily apprehensive, as proposals to single clueless women tourists have the potential to be a problem. But he wanted to offer me free entrance in return for proofreading their short brochure about the observatory for English speaking visitors. I mean, I'm a physicist and a former writing tutor, I was not going to say no. I got the chance to be useful and then geeked out on nineteenth century sextants and meteorological equipment for a few hours.

This evening my brain hurts from talking, reading, and thinking in Spanish so much. Several people have complimented my Spanish, but I think they says more about the kindness of Ecuadorians than my skills. I mean, sure, if you are willing to talk to me slowly and stick to the present tense, I can usually follow and respond. But throw in a jest or am unexpected conversational direction and I'm lost. So I am simultaneously encouraged and discouraged with my language skills today. But I know I'll get it eventually.

Stoic Camp

The Stoic philosophers were so named because the founder, Zeno of Citium, taught his students on a porch, or stoa. And I had an awesome time learning about Stoicism on a porch (and in a lodge and on hikes) last week in Wyoming. I've been interested in Stoicism for a year or two, but that has been limited to reading a few books and participating in a one week online event called Stoic Week. I also read a few blogs, and one of them posted an advertisement for Stoic Camp earlier this year. This seemed like exactly the kind of thing retirement was supposed to provide time for, so I signed up.

Each morning and afternoon we read and discussed the writing of Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius in groups, and in the evenings we had guest lecturers who helped connect Stoicism to other schools of western philosophy. Shared cabin lodging and meals were provided by the camp, and every day with good weather, we had time to hike. But mainly, I got to learn about a really interesting topic with people who were really passionate about it.

Before I went, I predicted that I'd either love or hate Stoicism by the end. And I'm definitely leaning in the love direction. It's a philosophy that resonates with me, but of course the real test will be putting it into practice over the coming months and years. 

Near the end of the week, we all got up before 5am and hiked up a ridge to watch the sun rise and ponder.

The last day, the weather turned. The roads were closed and I wasn't sure I'd be able to get back to the airport in time for my flight. But thanks to a lift from fellow campers in an unreliable pickup and a lot of good fortune, I made it. If I needed to, I could have stayed an extra day or two. I continue to be grateful that I have the funds to pay for unexpected situations like surprise hotels or speeding tickets or dental bills. I will never forget the year in Albuquerque in my twenties when things like that weren't possible, and which now provides a foil for my current life. 

If you want to learn more about Stoicism, you can read more at Stoicism Today, some of the podcasts from Philosophy as a Way of Life (co-hosted by the leader of the camp), or just read the Wikipedia page.

And so it begins!

As a reminder, I've been doing some consulting for my old company. They hired my replacement, and the last two weeks I worked daily, onboarding her. In fact, I really like her and am a bit sorry I won't actually get to work with her. But not enough to keep working, of course.

So my contract has ended, and that means I am officially, absolutely not working any more. That very afternoon, I deleted my work email and Slack from all devices (Yay!) and aimed myself in new directions. I've got two trips planned for May, assuming I manage to continue avoiding COVID.

Yesterday I arrived in Denver. I got to play tourist for the weekend, then I'm off to Wyoming. I'm always surprised by how expensive, dry and White it is. There's a very progressive/hippy/alternative vibe that it is much harder to find in DC. 

I went to the city botanical gardens. They did a very good job with plants from arid places. My friend M said I looked like I was on safari in this picture. Good thing the photo didn't show my saddle shoes; that would have ruined the vibe.

Every Japanese garden I have every visited had been lovely.

There were also many cottonwood trees, but I couldn't manage a good picture of them with the seeds blowing on the wind. Cottonwoods release seeds in the spring attached to white, cottony fluff. We had a few on our property when I was growing up, and my parents grew up in a county named for them (shout out to Cottonwood County!).  My father said he remembered small drifts of the cotton fluff at the right time of the year.

And not in the garden, but downtown, I saw this pioneer monument. Its depiction of maternal protection and gun violence really struck me.

And so my really, truly, not working life begins. I have one or two trips planned every month until I leave DC, so stay tuned for lots more.

Annapolis in Style

I recently stayed in Annapolis, which is so close (a 45-minute drive) that the only reason we could call it a vacation is that we brought suitcases. We were there to celebrate L's 40th birthday, and we were able to do it in style because my friend CA knew someone who loaned us their vacation house. 

Located on the Chesapeake Bay, Annapolis is the capital of Maryland and known mainly for seafood, the US Naval Academy, and it's brief stint as the capital of the US in the 1780's. We spent most of our time strolling the narrow streets and visiting antique shops. We also splurged on a seafood meal, confirming my finding that seafood restaurants are even worse that steakhouses at providing vegetarian options. 

The view from the back patio was stunning. Honestly, though, I was most wowed by the fox that trotted through the back yard in the evening. I have never seen one up close before.  

We tried our best to look glamorous.

The town has a tradition of flower baskets and arrangements displayed on May Day. I thought the Blood Mary-inspired arrangement was particularly clever.

Unfortunately, we all returned to our homes infected. Both of my friends were had COVID, and I was hit with something that knocked me out for a week, but was not COVID. We are all recovering well, but it was not quite the final flourish we were hoping for. Luckily for me, I'm completely well and will be able to continue with some previously-planned travel.

Time

I have often heard that people should retire to something, rather than from something. The idea seems to be that you will be bored, or at least unfulfilled, without a job. This wasn't terribly worrying to me, as I come from a family of "doers." On vacation we visit museums and take hikes, on visits we repair each other's houses or help them shop for sofas. No one sits around and lounges at the beach in my family. 

I noticed that when I told people I was retiring so that I could move to Spain, this gave them a satisfying narrative. I wasn't retiring to just sit around, I was going to live in a new country! (No one ever seemed to consider that if I was inclined to veg and watch TV all day on the couch, I could do that just as easily in Spain is in the US.) And I do actually intend to go to Spain. But I'm not in a rush, and I have ended up retiring from something. My job was stressful for me. I was good at it, most of the time, but it required me to be on, constantly strategizing, and always interacting with people. I am utterly relieved to be done. I already feel much healthier: I'm sleeping more, I'm exercising more, and I am rarely part of personal interactions that I have challenging. My friends tell me I appear happier. (And I really am! I can't shut up about it!) 

Now I can slow down. It doesn't matter if there are eight people ahead of my in the grocery line, I have time to wait. I can sit on the couch and read a book or surf the internet every day for an hour or two and still have plenty of time to get things done. The most wonderful part of retirement has been opening up time. My friend N sometimes texts me on as he's leaving the house, and I join him for a bike ride to his office. He's commuting, and I get some exercise and friend time. I can wake up and decide whether I want to weed the garden or clean the house or work on a sewing project or go to a concert. 

I feel so lucky to have time.