It’s been a while since I had the time or patience to sit down and write my blog. We drove for three days (1800 miles) from Naples to Wheeling, Il. where our daughter, Michelle, her husband , Steve,and our two grand-daughters (Jordyn and Alexa) reside.  There was nothing earthshaking about the drive; it’s just a matter of seeing how many miles we can do in a day without my back giving way, and attempting to find places to eat where we could get something fairly healthy; i.e., this is not easy as we passed more fast-food restaurants and greasy spoons and gas stations claiming they served “food.”  I must say, however, Starbucks was readily available wherever we stopped.  They serve salads and interesting sandwiches as well as smoothies to which I could add protein powder.

We stayed with the kids for one night and the next morning stopped to see my fabulous Chiropractic Physician ( Dr. Daniel Valeria) at Compass Chiropractic & Wellness in Algonquin, Il.  Then onto the final five hours of our journey back to Door County.

Since then, it seems I have done nothing but unpack, do laundry and make piles of clothing and assorted stuff to give to “Feed My People.”  Then  there’s the organization of everything we needed to put back such as all the computers, my easel and art supplies, electronic gear of all kinds and — lots of shoes (my weakness).  After that, to-do’s that went from the sublime to the ridiculous — answer mail, make phone calls, follow-up with appointments, etc., etc., etc……

My frustration got  the best of me a few times when it  it just didn’t seem I was making any progress; I still had piles of papers, books, CD’s and clothing all over.  My energy was flagging and my patience wearing thin.  I talked to myself about being positive and in the moment and I meditated twice a day.

The whole situation seemed familiar in many ways — everytime I went through a transition, I felt this same impatience, this same sense of petty annoyance, this same sense of wanting to speed up time  — like swimming to a shore that I can see, but can’t quite figure out the distance and how long it would take to get on land again.

In many ways, working on a painting or writing a story or even knitting a sweater, all involve transitions from one space to another.  Sometimes I call it the “journey” but I think they are really two different things.  The journey evolves (if we don’t “push the river”) but the transition has a beginning and an ending.

Coming home to a long-lasting winter after three months of sunny, warm days is definitely a transition; one, that for me, was (and is still) uncomfortable, unwelcome and tedious.  Spring is just beginning and the termperatures have gone into the upper 50’s and 60’s.  The cherry trees are just showing their white blossoms, the grass is turning green and there are buds on all the trees and bushes.  We have loads of Trillium in the wild part of our lot.  This all helps; but my transition isn’t complete.  My friend, Karen, who has been a “snow-bird” for years, tells me it takes her four to five weeks to acclimate.  Maybe that’s just the way it is.

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