Oops. Still Here

Bald eagles power glide 'oer the Skagit River. They seek the winter salmon, intent to fill their gullets on sandbars newly sculpted from recent floods. Their chirps and cries have burrowed into my soul. On these pewter days in the pacific northwest, they are the brightest sensory occurrence around. Their flash of ebony and brilliant white a saving grace.  

I have been lived in the fertile Skagit Valley for a year now. When I arrived, I figured to be here three months, to finish the sequel to Drive Me Wild. Twelve months later there's no sequel. Three books have released with my essays (planned); I completed a 2014 edition of New Mexico's Sanctuaries, Retreats and Sacred Places (not even on the radar), and two interviews aired with travel guru Rick Steves (out-of-the-wild-blue). Exhausted and rubbing up against May, I stayed the summer to rest, explore, kayak and hike. On the August day I began the sequel, I slipped while bouldering and broke my elbow. (Christina, you're not on sandstone anymore.) My fingers fell short of paper and keyboard. Forget about lifting the hitch. mmm-hmmm. I was staying, no choice, as I followed suit with the locals and danced the gray away. New friends, live music, historic bar, laughs aloud ... complete with a purple cast.

October. The cast came off, but there was no cast-off. As much as I longed to lay down in a Rocky Mountain neon-yellow aspen forest, as much as I missed the contrast of night and day and sunlight's sting upon my flesh, I was here. Still am. 

There will be no solstice fire because of rain. I have become a candlemaniac. Gray days demand new rituals, yet twenty-four hours from winter solstice, I don't know what those rituals are. My water-born neighbor says I otter not fret. To trust the unfolding. So it is I find solace in the snow geese that lift off regularly across the valley. Soaring, agitated, and instinctually certain their wingbeats will not collide with purpose. 

As my elbow healed, the end of the sequel gelled. The book is underway, buoyed by a fresh overlay of patience upon the soul. Meanwhile, yikes! Moss grows on La Perla's white frame. Will I wash it off, or hook her up and drive to arid climes? Tomorrow is the shortest day. Sol (sun) stice (to stand still). The ebony night may guillotine the sun, but as sure as evergreen is ever green, light returns to spark the sleeping seeds; to gently nudge our spirits toward the spring. A soggy reminder on the Skagit River that a rolling home gathers no moss.

La Perla on the Skagit River

Solstice Blessings to You ...

may our energies merge on behalf of this miraculous planet home

A recent Article I think you'll enjoy: 
TEN YEARS OF A FREE AND RESTLESS SPIRIT
http://www.goskagit.com/news/skagit_living/ten-years-of-a-free-and-restless-spirit/article_65a733d1-6f96-59a0-afc8-dc819ca52993.html


INDIE TIME? I now offer Independent Publication consultations by phone. In one hour's time you'll be on your way with the pieces you need to make informed decisions, get your manuscript (intellectual property) formatted (you need three) and published. I've walked both worlds: published and self-published. My first self-published was a CO Book Award Finalist. Save precious time and resources. $60/hr. A meaningful gift as well. With thanks, Christina (email through my website, christinanealson.com)