Seated by the window in Green Getaway cabin, the thunder
rolls around me like marbles in bag, just loud enough to announce its
presence; a portend of what’s coming or
going. Lightening flickers,
half-heartedly, overhead. Rain chatters
on the tin roof. This small cabin has
become a nest in the woods, a peaceful place to concentrate on MY ART. The cabin is appropriately named as it sits
just off the driveway in the woods. The
sweet, spicy smell of Lilies of the Valley and rain-washed dirt drift through
the open window while a single Red-Winged Blackbird complaint breaches the wall
of quiet which envelopes me.
I am 3 days into a weeklong women’s writing retreat, gifted
by generous women in memory of one talented female who thought that her gifts
to the world weren’t particularly art.
Because of her outstanding and unrecognized talent (largely only by her,
others recognized her gifts) which left this world when she did, this weeklong
getaway, WIDIA, What I Do is Art, was born.
I am not completely sure what lucky happenstance put me in a place where
I am able to afford a week to come to this but here I am. Many thanks to Gloria for pushing me to do
this, Sue & Marcia for accepting me into the program and Jim, for his
constant support of me even when he doesn’t understand. Viva la difference!
Last summer which was spent in Montana demonstrated to me
the benefits of living off the grid. The
immersion in nature, the lack of outside electronic stimulus, the simplicity of
life when lived in the now allowed a freedom to think and be myself mostly
without the intrusion of outside influences.
It was important to be involved in the lives of those around me and to
be kind to them for I knew the next day there was no way to avoid seeing and
working with them. Small indiscretions
became big walls of dissension if not dealt with in a timely manner. Cliques developed and loneliness floated
about formless and ghostlike unable to be ignored. The community mattered so when something happened
30 miles away either to the east or west it took only a little while for the
news to arrive at our doorstep. How I am
still not sure.
In order to entertain ourselves, we ate together, laughed
and shared our memories, our hurts, and our joys. Our differing cultures were
evident. We shared meals which, bathed
in potatoes and homemade cake, completely different than any cake I’d eaten
before topped with a beautiful strawberry cut in the shape of a flower, brought
us together and made it seem a little more like home. We toured Glacier, packed in small cars or on
the Park buses, jumping out whenever possible to view glorious vistas of
mountains, rivers, glaciers, snow, flowers and mountain goats, which
appropriately took our collective breath away.
At night, we’d share where we’d gone and what we’d seen ohhing and
ahhing over photos and the recollections of moose and bear encounters. Even now these thoughts bring a tear to my
eye as I reminisce and miss my friends who are far away.
Those of us who were older shared craft beers and whiskey
around stoves and campfires, the light from which softened the wrinkles and
graying hair. In July, the berries
arrived making the steep climbs, up mountains a feast and well worth the effort. I thanked the woodland creatures for sharing
their bounty with us believing that the Mother of all would provide enough for
all who were in need. Still, I tried not
to gorge myself on the red, blue and purple berries.
Tiny alpine strawberries the size of an eraser packed a
surprising burst of intense flavor…these were my favorite. Huckleberries followed creating a fervor
amongst us all as we rushed to the mountains sides to collect and hoard as many
of these small blue beauties as we could.
We went on Huckleberry Pie tours discovering which vendor in the park
made the best pie. Luckily, we walked
off the calories every day either out on a trail or running up and down the 3
flights of stairs.
And so, I learned the rewards of a summer spent doing what I
wanted, a summer spent living in the moment without too many outside
influences. I learned that nature is
both wonderful and terrible, it’s transforming energy life-giving no matter how
intense the storms, snow or wind. I
experienced becoming even a small part of the larger cycle as the modern world
slipped away and I became part of the food chain. This escape defined for me what is real. The fertile ground running through my fingers
when I plant is real and full of life.
The wind which bends the trees and the breezes which touches my cheek
lightly is real, the touch of a friend and their cheery hello is real, the
brilliant sapphire sky and sun are real and living as one with earth’s
creatures both wild and human is real.
The cyber world…..not so much.
Now, as I miss me some Montana, I am grateful for this break
from the modern world full of bustle, turmoil and imagined important to-do
lists. I am grateful for the lack of
media, stoplights and gas stations. I am
grateful for my two feet which propel me down the trail, however short. I am grateful that the hum of the distant
interstate reminds me simply of a field full of bees making happy working
sounds. I am grateful that my path led
me to Green Getaway Cabin and if ever I am able to return
it will be with fond memories and feelings of joy and reunion like coming home
to an old friend.
