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We bought a boat last year, a 21-foot Chaparral bowrider, which we love. However, from a practical standpoint, we have started to contemplate perhaps selling it and getting a travel trailer instead. There are a number of advantages to this kind of switcheroo, from my perspective, anyway, but I wanted to see if my Readers have any thoughts about us doing this, especially if anyone has done the same, or similar, kind of thing.

On the upside:

  • With a travel trailer, we would have the ability to pretty much take off and GO, regardless of the weather forecast. We’ve quickly learned that not just rain, but wind, temperature and lake conditions can limit boating opportunities in what is already a pretty narrow outdoor season for us here in the Midwest, sometimes for weeks at a time. I love the idea of us traveling all over the U.S., even in the winter, to places where warmer weather beckons and getting a travel trailer would help keep us off the couch, much as we enjoy our YouTube videos, football and basketball and other streaming entertainment!
  • If we opted for a travel trailer instead, providing our own lodging would simplify the inclusion of Coco, our much beloved furry companion. Currently, we have to search out hotels, B&B’s, and other accommodations that allow pets OR find someone to watch him. At the beginning of summer this year, we had four dog sitters on speed dial. Now, we have just one and she isn’t always available. Many ‘places to stay’ do not allow you to leave your dog in the room when you’re not there. That excludes so many travel and sight-seeing options: restaurants, museums and other indoor venues. National parks, most if not all, do not allow dogs. With a travel trailer, we could leave puppy for a brief stint whenever there’s something we want to do by ourselves. NOTE: Coco is 7 1/2 years old but, to me, he’ll always be puppy!!
  • We are already familiar with towing a boat so the learning curve for a travel trailer, it is assumed, would not be as steep.
  • Likewise, because of the boat, we already have a storage unit. That was a major headache for us at the beginning of our boat-owning journey so cross that item off a travel trailer To Do list.

With a travel trailer, there will always be finding a place to set up camp, the set-up process itself, less living space and maneuverability challenges. ALSO: We’re in our sixties and in a few years, launching and loading and getting in and out of a boat might prove more difficult as we move into our 70s and beyond. Again, it is assumed, those concerns wouldn’t be as jarring with a travel trailer.

If anyone has other insights or comments, I would LOVE to hear from you. Thank you, in advance, SO MUCH!!

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Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits. ~ Samuel Butler

We’re on the downward slope of July. August will be here before you know it. Mom always said once you hit Independence Day, summer seems to just fly by. That’s been especially true this year. And, so, every year, round about this time, I start daydreaming about fall and the cooler, drier air that comes – blissfully, beautifully, serenely – as we venture into the loveliest months of the year, back-to-school September and the crown jewel, October.

Today, our dewpoints are firmly entrenched in the mid-70s, well into the ‘miserable’ range. Outdoor tasks, I do them quickly, eager to return to the chilling balm of air conditioning. This afternoon, I turned on my TV, navigated to YouTube and enjoyed a hint of fall by way of autumn asmr ‘ambience’ videos. Soothing rain, pumpkins, haystacks, crackling fireplaces, cozy sits with a steaming mug of yummy goodness, a colorful throw and lighted candles in every corner and on every shelf.

Looking a bit further down the road, I know there will be a multitude of Halloween asmr’s to make me shiver and put a creepy, comfy smile on my face. Truly, I cannot wait!

It’s still summer though and we just have to deal with all that glorious sunshine and her attending heat and humidity. We have plenty of time for boating fun, wineries, live music, riding bikes, margaritas out on the deck and, one of my favorites, the sound of cicadas turning our Chanticleer pear tree into a living, breathing network of buzzing castanets.

There are two kinds of people here in the Midwest, those who appreciate all four seasons (some more than others, like me!) and those who grumble about autumn’s approach because of ‘what comes next’. I love the change of scenery throughout the seasons and prefer to view the cyclical changes year in, year out with a more positive frame of mind.

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Earlier this month, I participated in the River Heron Review poetry retreat at The Barn at Boyds Mills in eastern Pennsylvania. It was, in a word, amazing.

The grounds were spectacular, and I met some beautiful, wonderful and incredibly kind and talented writers and poets. In addition to those of us who were part of the River Heron Review poetry retreat, I met other writers who were staying there on individual, personal retreats, some of them having come to Boyds Mills five, six, seven times before. Such is the draw of this fabulous place!

This was the first time I’d allowed myself the luxury of flying halfway across the country simply to explore and invest in solitude, camaraderie, and the pursuit of craft. I’d read about retreats such as this before and now I understand why they are so popular and, dare I say, necessary for the development, expansion, and exploration of one’s literary pursuits.

Although I did not “poetize”, as my husband calls it, as much as I’d hoped I would – I did write but, on those days, when the weather was glorious, my other love, photography, drew me outdoors, imprinting ideas of passion and nature, quiet, peace and serenity deep inside my brain and within my soul – I was truly inspired during my stay.

Robbin and Dawn, our intrepid hosts and poetry gurus, provided us with a variety of tools, readings, activities – and encouragement! – which will continue to serve this writer well. A terrific balance of “structured” events and personal “down time” was both welcome and effective. I am grateful.

Next year’s retreat is scheduled, again, for mid-October 2024. I’m hoping to return for another relaxing, exhilarating poetry getaway with these same new friends – and others I’m sure to meet along the way – kindred spirits, all, who enjoy reading and writing, people who ‘get’ me and share in my love of poetry. Until this retreat, I hadn’t realized how much this poetic body of mine craved, how much it needed, to be enveloped in the embrace of others who understand and respect the balm writing affords those of us driven to express ourselves in not just language but via the power of images as well. I cannot explain it any other way.

I’m so grateful to have had this opportunity. One of the things I loved about The Barn at Boyds Mills was the availability of so many little nooks and crannies, places to write in quiet and solitude as well as the soul-nourishing sights and sounds of Mother Nature, all around us.

This poetry retreat was such a fantastic experience. Once more, with gusto!, I am so very, very grateful!

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There’s a glossiness to it.  A remembered sensate perception of calm, joy, light and warmth.  It’s a glimpse of well-being I used to equate with a certainty of the existence of God.  Often, I experience it in nature, walking through sun-dappled trees, green in all her varied shades, punctuated with dabs of purple, red, and yellow.  Birds chirping and flying, squirrels and other unseen critters scampering among scattered leaves, birch trees and mighty oaks and gnarly walnuts, their trunks peeling or textured or wrapped in vines.  It would not matter if I walked alone—often, it was my preference—or accompanied by another human presence.  Satisfaction enveloped me, cocooned my body in its goodness. 

Always, this is what I hunger for.  It sustains me, even just the memory of those moments.  And often, it alone is enough, just enough.  More than enough! 

One cannot seek it out or endeavor to manufacture these moments.  But to place myself within the bounty of nature and beauty, the silence of the earth, what I hunger for does not disappoint.  The need will be fed.  A desire for comfort can be found within the depths of a quiet wood, under benevolent skies, with an eager eye and an open heart.

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Steve placed the King James, opened face-down, on a three-legged stool, not far from the searing heat of the roaring fire. Revelations had nothing to reveal to him. It made no sense, no matter which way he sliced and diced the thing. He felt as if he’d lost his way over the years, finally unshackled from the orthodoxy of indoctrination that had gripped him at an early, impressionable age and that was, he thought, fine by him.

Religion had lost its luster. The hold it had on him had become looser and flimsier in this, his eighth decade on the planet. Nature was his god now. His mind was sound, his 75-year-old body still fit and trim. Daily walks on the beach, gathering driftwood, sifting through tidal wrack to unearth man’s middle finger of careless disregard for the beauty and awe of the world, had taught him many things, not the least of which was the propensity of humans to look outside themselves for solace, for answers, for comfort. All that was required was within. Steve understood this now.

Majestic nature, the silence of being, the grandeur of it all inspired his devotion: oceans, mountains, streams and fields and hills, lakes, creeks, ponds and marshes. The diversity of plants and animals, the glorious and changing seasons, the powerfully awesome forces of the skies – these were no trifles. They were his all. These spiritual elements comprised the core of who he was and what he believed in. More importantly, they inspired him to live in the moment and to be grateful for every morsel of this beautiful cocoon that enveloped him in its tender, ferocious arms.

At one time, he felt torn about his evolving views. No more. This was Life and he would cherish and nurture and enjoy it for as long as he was fortunate enough to do so.

Daily Prompt: Torn

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Assimilation
Mightily so with a good stiff breeze
Or gradually over time
Thanks to gentle stirrings, peppered with patience.

New growths occur
Some perhaps at great distances.
Nature has her ways
And always provides – well, when she’s not feeling feisty.

Randomness
In the world
Accounts for much of the way of things.
Fairness – not so much…