Tag: CO

Local Fires & Patio Solitude

On By Margie.MercIn Retirement7 Comments

Sitting on my patio in the early morning cool, immersed in the smell of smoke from wildfires located nearby, I am enjoying the quiet. Sad to say, the smoke from that fire and another that popped up last week have become part of the fabric of the city. This photo (below) was taken at 10 am on September 4.

Smoke filled sky from Cameron Peak wildfires, Sept 2020 Fort Collins, CO

The intensity of the smoke sometimes makes me want to seek out and wear a mask which reminds me of the other issues in our world right now. With orange-tinted skies, ash falling to the ground and the feeling of early evening when it is only 10am is not the world I want to live in. Of course, 2020 has handed me several items that were never on my agenda before.

This photo (below) was taken at 5:15 pm September 5, 2020. It looks like dusk but the smoke has obscured any light from the sun.

Smoke filled sky from Cameron Peak wildfires, Sept 2020 Fort Collins, CO

I’ve connected with my outdoor patio more this summer than any other before. Maybe because I am home more. Maybe because I want to avoid being around others. Maybe because I have an excuse to pull away and isolate. Maybe because I’ve turned it into a green sanctuary where black-capped chickadees feel welcome. Where hibiscus, spider, ivy and rubber tree plants create a green haven for them and a focal point for me.

This place is inviting, welcoming and in the mornings and late evenings, its’ my sweet spot. In the middle of the day, as temps rise to the high nineties, I stay inside. In the days before Covid-19, I’d visit the library to stay cool and stay engaged. Or maybe I’d volunteer at a local school, go see a movie or meet friends for lunch. Not so much now.

Now it’s me and my yard. Except with all the ash in the air, it’s me and my house.

This photo (below) probably explains itself. Ash-filled skies covered the landscape.

Ash on FedEx box from Cameron Peak wildfires, Sept 2020 Fort Collins, CO

Over the Labor Day weekend, I visited a friend in my old neighborhood. Every time I visit that area, I drive very slowly by my old house. This time, I got out and walked up and down the nearby green belt and looked into my yard. My rose-of-Sharon bush was healthy and happy. The tiny Christmas tree was growing taller. The lilac bush, aspen trees and perennials were all intact. As I was checking out my hard work, one of the homeowners came to the door and we chatted. I told her who I was and was delighted when she gave me a tour of my house and all the changes that were made.

I walked away with the biggest smile that my sweet little house was loved and in good hands. When I travel back to my childhood home, I do the same thing. I slowly drive by and take mental inventory of what still exists. The pump my dad put in the front yard. The rock wall loaded with rose moss and other perennial flowers. The elm tree is long gone due to a blight that wiped out all the trees on the street. The neighborhood is old, ignored and tired. It’s not the neighborhood of my youth.

Home is such an integral part of my health and wellness. Having a clean space that includes some of my identity – color, flowers, plants, smells and artifacts keeps me sane in a world where sanity is in question. Having a small patio and yard gives me a place to go, to tend, to improve and enjoy and I treasure this space in a way that never mattered before.

I am blessed. I know that beyond reason. I can list a million things that I don’t have and don’t want but I can tell you that the things that really matter can’t be purchased – a  positive attitude, friends, good health, laughter, love and a sense of purpose.

Now, let’s put these wildfires out, get some clean air and blue skies again real soon.

Smoke filled sky from Cameron Peak wildfires, Sept 2020 Fort Collins, CO

Here’s to a feeling of happiness and well-being wherever you may be!

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Handwriting on the wall

On By Margie.MercIn Education, Retirement6 Comments

Are you happy with your handwriting?

My mom had pretty ugly handwriting (sorry Mom) but my dear friend Joan has beautiful writing. Her written words are like pieces of art.

Writing is something we learn early on or we don’t. My sons print. Cursive was not something they were taught. It was one of the teaching initiatives that came and went back in the day. Another fad the schools went through were ‘open classrooms’ as in classrooms with no walls. Just one big open family. That one was also left in the dust. And another initiative was ‘inventive spelling.’ Sometimes these pedagogical fads are introduced and fade away without making any kind of difference… except what was not taught, for example – cursive.

So, now I wonder how many of you actually use cursive when you write? So many people I know leave notes by printing (or texting  ☹) but rarely correspond using cursive.

Do you like your handwriting?

Write to me - displays my handwriting - retired in Fort Collins, CO
My handwriting – what does it say about my personality?

My handwriting seems to go back and forth between printing and writing. It’s as if I speak a foreign language but keep adding English words as well. When I am focused on writing and take my time, my handwriting is ok. Unlike Joan and Loretta and Barbara and Johnny. Their writing is beautiful. When I am writing a card, I want to get it pretty the first time so I have to slow down and pay attention. Using ‘white-out’ to remove my mistakes on a sympathy card is sort of tacky.

What really amazes me is that my handwriting from high school is the same I have now. Almost everything about me has changed over time and yet, my handwriting is almost the same.

Graphology is the study of handwriting. This science is a way to learn about the personality, character and abilities of the writer. So, that journal writing I did in high school (which is pretty much the same as today) can offer insights into my personality. The way I add spacing to words, whether I add loops to letters, and even how I cross my ‘’T’s’ speaks volumes about me according to graphology.

So, what about the population of people who never learned to write? Can studies be done on them as well? (Please let me know if you have this answer…)

I have a guest book filled with messages from people from across the globe who wrote notes after staying in my Airbnb. They are all unique, expressive and special. What makes me want to go back and explore their notes is the idea that within their words are clues to their hidden selves.

What impresses me is that I can detect whose handwriting is in front of me. I can pick out documents written by my sons, siblings, friends and relatives and get them right almost every time. Looking at a letter written my mom or dad makes me nostalgic for them. The written word it truly a link to our past – for better or worse.Just me... blogging away (example of my handwriting) Retired in Fort Collins, CO

I know this is silly, but during the holidays when cards arrive in the mail for me, I turn them over without looking at the writing or return address. I want to be surprised when I open it. Sort of like opening an unexpected gift for my birthday… I want to be surprised. Yes, I know – goofy, right?

So, now put your fingers to work and WRITE ON below in the comment section and leave some words behind!

What Does Your Handwriting Say About You?

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Horsetooth Reservoir, Fort Collins, CO

The Delight of Being Retired

On By Margie.MercIn Baby boomer, Retirement4 Comments

I recently read a book titled The Delight of Being Ordinary by Roland Merullo. It was a story about the Pope and the Dali Lama hiding out for a few days in the garb of ordinary people. They wanted to be unseen by others so they could see the world again.

I love the title and when I took a kayak ride (yes, it was glorious) I kept repeating the words over and over. The Delight of Kayaking. The Delight of Hiking. But when I said “The Delight of Being Retired” in my mind, I giggled out loud.

Enjoying my green kayak on Horsetooth Reservoir, Fort Collins, CO

It is a delight to be retired. And to be able to get up and out of the house because you want to, not because you have to be at a job. It’s a delight to make plans and change them at will … just because.

The Delight of Being a Blogger.
The Delight of Being a Writer.
The Delight of Being in my Sixties.
The Delight of Having a June Birthday.
The Delight of Making Pancakes.
The Delight of Growing Tomatoes.
The Delight of Growing Older

As you can only imagine, I’m having a great time with these words.

Horsetooth Reservoir, Fort Collins, CO

This past week I went camping with friends. It was the 5th year in a row that we made the effort, reserved the sites (the previous February), decided on the menu and made it happen. We’ve had rainy afternoons, super-hot days, windy nights and cloudy mornings over the years and they have rolled into a sweet and treasured tradition.

Horsetooth Reservoir, Fort Collins, CO

I moved to this area only six years ago so I feel so lucky to have made friends and created traditions and found a sense of belonging.

The Delight of Camping.
The Delight of Star-Gazing.
The Delight of Morning Walks.
The Delight of Engagement.

Retirement is what you make it. You can overload and over schedule your world or you can enjoy the people and events that make you smile. Now is the time to pick and choose where to go and with whom. I keep asking you to join me and maybe someday you will. In the meantime, I’ll keep sharing my sunrises and moon rises with you. And you will be sharing with me in your own delightful way. Of that I have no doubt!

Your thoughts are always welcome here!

SENDING FATHER’S DAY WISHES TO YOU TODAY!

Resources:

The Delight of Being Ordinary by Roland Merullo
Breathe in the Stars 
Something Wonderful
Day 13 – Out Hiking
Sunset at Low Tide

Day 24 – Random walk

On By Margie.MercIn Write 31 Days ChallengeLeave a comment

Today’s long walk was lovely. Cool morning air, golden sun and not too many others cathy fromm trailon the path. AT one point I got off the path to check out a new coffee shop. I like to visits coffee shops even though I don’t drink coffee. I love to see the different personality in each one. The big chains have a common thread – but the neighborhood shops are fun and loaded with art, color, music and other appointments that shout – Come Visit Me!

So, I plan to visit next week.

I’ll let you know how it is.

Good night for now!

Related Information:

Blackbird Coffee Shop

Day 13 – The Wonder of Autumn!

On By Margie.MercIn Write 31 Days ChallengeLeave a comment

Today was another great day in Paradise (aka Colorado.)

Remember the other day when I tried to ride my bike and hit a detour, today was estes park1sort of similar. Today was going to be a kayak day with my friend. We headed to Horsetooth Reservoir and during the 10 minute drive from my house to the boat ramp we were amazed at how low the water level was from 2 weeks before. After we headed down the ramp we noticed how windy it was! Like… really windy and a leisurely kayak ride would have turned into a struggle against nature. Well, I am not going to fight with Ma Nature so we went to Plan B.

lake estesPlan B was a drive to Estes Park and a walk around Lake Estes. What a great walk that turned out to be – the temperature was in the mid 70’s, blue skies, mountain views and elk resting on the golf course. The wind was refreshing and the walk was energizing. What a delightful treat to be able to hop in the car and drive 40 miles and end up in Estes Park, CO. Pretty darn amazing.

 

Clueless, mindless and totally freaky…

On By Margie.MercIn Psychology17 Comments

I guess I’ve always had that special touch of cluelessness. You can only hope to have it!   I just dug up this short story I wrote in 2006. Clueless, mindless and totally freaky… read on!

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September 13, 2006 – Salida , CO

Image found on Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/172825704420700521/
Image found on Pinterest

Today I arrived in this small mountain town to visit a friend. I had never been to her house but have had her address in my book for years. Jean told me where to locate the house key in case she wasn’t home.  When I got to this remote town, I called to invite her to lunch with me.  The house phone rang and rang.

As promised, she was out.  I ate lunch by myself and was at her house by 1:30 p.m. but still she wasn’t home.  There was no reason for me to locate the key, she’d be home soon.  To pass the time, I took a walk, taking in the view, talking to the cemetery caretaker and then walked back to the hwooden bearouse, through the backyard … and sat on the porch on one of the 4 wooden rocking chairs.

After 30 minutes, I decided to check the planter for the key and didn’t find it.  Then I went to the front door and looked in another planter, no luck. Then I moved the life size wooden bear ornament and sure enough – the house key was there! I entered the house and it was clean and tidy and quite beautiful.

I decided to look at photographs to make sure it was the right house – though the address was the same as the one in my address book.  Out of the house, back to my car (which was parked in the driveway) got my glasses and back inside the house again. There were some photographs here and there but was that Jean and her husband? What was I looking for?  Was this her daughter getting married in the photos? I kept looking for some sort of identification that spelled out I was in the right place.

A huge banner hung over the loft upstairs with the name Murray.  What was Jean’s maiden name anyhow?  I kept looking for more proof that this was Jean’s house – and finally in one far corner of the house was an email printed out and at the top was   To: Sue Murray.  Oh my god! I was in the wrong house!!!

I hurried out of the house, locked it, put the key back under the bear and drove to the middle of town where I was able to get phone connection and called Jean. She was home, waiting patiently for me.  My heart was still beating.  She had moved 2 years earlier. Didn’t she already give me her new address?  I could hardly hear her, my heart was still pumping blood into my ears.  Oh my god!

Feel free to tease me about this if you want.
And feel free to share this with someone that’s been having a hard day.

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Little boy uses ramp to help him bowl.

Mindless Things

On By Margie.MercIn Write 31 Days Challenge10 Comments

Sometimes I forget things.

I eat right, I exercise, I am healthy… and still I forget.

I don’t smoke, I have friends, I am active … and still I forget.

I do mindless things.  For instance, recently I took my grandson bowling. It was his first time and it was a blast. He ‘loved’ his shoes and he was able to 1) move the ramp and position it when it was his turn and 2) lift the 7lb bowling ball (the lightest weight they had). The child was glowing during the process. He just turned 5 years old and he was electric. There was no loud music, no remote controls, no tv screens and he was giddy with the newness of it all.

Little boy uses ramp to help him bowl. We bowled two games then called it quits. Off came the ‘really cool’ shoes and back on the shelves went the balls. The shoes were returned to the counter and we waved goodbye to the cashier who was setting up party tables.

Into the car seat he went — buckles, straps, chains, ropes … you know the drill. Then in my seat, buckled up and the thought popped into my mind as I was backing out of my parking space… What a fun time. What an affordable treat.  Then the big question …”Um, how much was that anyhow? “

Put on the brakes, pulled back into my parking space and did the whole routine in reverse. Opened the back door, off came the buckles, straps, chains, ropes for the grandson in the backseat and back into the bowling alley because I forgot to pay. We laughed about it as we re-entered the bowling lanes but it made me wonder where my mind was.

There is a term called ‘directed forgetting’ or DF.

It is when you hear some information and either are told to forget what you heard (a judge may say that during a trial) or decide not to remember something. When someone gives me directions I usually go into DF mode.  I tell myself I don’t have to remember because I will research it before I attempt the trip. I will use a map or GPS or both.

This event was not DF. It was just F. As in Forgetting? Or Failing to Remember? Freaking out? Who knows but it seems they happen more often and I learned that when I record them I remember them. Same things with dreams – write them down and when you read them later it’s like you’re right back there. Cool, huh?

Now, be truthful, do you ever think you are ‘losing it?’ Have you done some crazy things like I have and if so, how did you react? Did you laugh about it? Did you share what you did with someone? Did you shrug it off and forget it ever happened? Will you share it with me?

You know there will be more to come, right? It’s so nice to be back here writing to you again. Feel free to say hello!

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Metzger, M. (2011). Directed Forgetting: Differential Effects on Typical and Distinctive Faces. The Journal of General Psychology. 138(2), 155-168.

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