grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Traveling the Pacific Northwest-What I Did On My Summer Vacation…

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Traveling from Portland to Seattle by way of the San Juan Islands, my husband and I logged nearly six hundred miles weaving along coastal highways and through national forests canopied by hemlocks.
This was our first visit to the Pacific Northwest. Along with a change of scenery, we experienced several firsts.
1. Our hotel in Astoria, Oregon (The Hotel Elliott) had heated floors. Living in Dallas where everything is naturally heated by the relentless sun, I’ve never considered such a luxury. What a welcomed surprise after sleeping with the windows open and waking to chilly fifty degree mornings. 
2. We visited an alpaca farm. These creatures, a cross between a llama and an Ewok, were mild-mannered, curious and hypoallergenic. After watching the owner spin buttery-soft wool, I almost wanted to take up knitting.
Oregon Alpaca Farm
3. We lulled away time at a lavender farm. The aroma floated over rolling hills making the entire afternoon dream-like. 
Lavender Farm, Mt. Hood River Valley, Oregon
4. We hiked through a rainforest. Walls of spruce soared two hundred feet, a reminder of our country’s majesty.
5. We wandered around Powell’s, the world’s largest independent bookstore. It’s a super-sized miracle I’m not still there.
6. I ate pan-fried oysters for breakfast. I’ve never been much of an oyster fan, but plucked fresh from the sea, these were deeeelicious.
7. Much of our route was marked by Tsunami Evacuation Route signs—another first and a bit unnerving. In Dallas we worry about tornadoes and drive-by shootings and heat stroke—all impossible to warn via highway department signage.
New surroundings summon new thoughts and ideas, a different way of looking at life.
What new things have you experienced lately?
talya
This was written for Day Seven of the Write Tribe Festival of Words. Prompt: the number Seven. 

Seven Shades of Yoga

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morgueFile Kakisky
Within seven seconds, I chose yoga over Facebook. I hadn’t been to yoga in weeks and was spending way too much time with the other. But I’d been busy. Writing, I’m alway writing. And last month I had strep throat that lingered. Plus we just returned from vacation. 
Yada, yada. 
Excuses, excuses. 
Seven minutes later, I was out the door and into the humid morning wearing my favorite yoga pants that somehow seemed smaller.
After a seven minute drive, I signed my name on the clipboard. “Don’t worry if I spend the whole class in child’s pose—just ignore me, I’m rusty.” I explained to Michelle who teaches Explore the Body. I needed to explore my body. We had become strangers as of late.
Michelle laughed and promised to call an ambulance if I stopped breathing altogether. She’s nice that way.
I sorted through at least seven yoga mats to uncover mine, dusty and abandoned, propped in the corner where I left it in July.  
Seven minutes into shoulder stretches, I felt the squeeze of a Charley Horse building through my arm. I adjusted. Charley eventually released his vise-grip hold on my invisible bicep, but not until I reverted to steady pre-labor breathing exercises. 
Seven minutes later, I floundered into and out of Thread the Needle Zen Pose. But I did it. Sort of.
Seven more poses, and my shoulders loosened, my mind cleared, the nerve endings in my body tingled. 
Seven cleansing breaths into Uttanasana, I could bend near enough to the ground to notice my shabby toe polish. 
Seven shades into final Shivasana, I remembered why I love yoga. 
Namaste.
talya
This was written for the Write Tribe Festival of Words. Prompt: the number Seven.

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

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