I usually don’t write about individuals on this blog. My rule is not to tell stories about friends and family. An exception, of course, has been my mom. And today, another exception, Ginny Perkins, whose life will be celebrated later this morning at First Parish Church in town. The place will be packed with all of Ginny’s family and friends who loved her. You see, without reservation Ginny loved everyone right back and offered her generous spirit and smile to whomever found themselves walking with her along one of the many paths she traveled. There was always room along side her.

     Ginny wasn’t a solitary type, but she knew how to find that silent place within her. Maybe it was through the yoga that she taught, which she did while sitting in a chair, right up until a month before she died. What an example of vibrant living from this women in her late 80s or early 90s!

With July 4th just a week away, I’m enjoying my last few days of silence, solitude and simplicity. Then the family comes, the parade begins and hotdogs and hamburgers sizzle away on the grill. Two days later we are taking our kids and grandkids on a rafting adventure on the Kennebec River in Maine to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary. The actually date isn’t until December, but rafting in New England is a seasonal thing.

      We’ve never rafted before, but we figure that since our health is good, why not go for it; and besides it feels much more in sync with the 3S's than taking everyone to a resort.

Watch out for those lazer pointers! I’m not certain how the following story relates to silence, solitude or simplicity, but if peace of mind is any part of it, reading this warning in worth your while.  

    The other day I heard about a ten year old boy who woke up one morning almost blind. After visits to several specialists, one doctor asked him if he had been playing with a lazer pointer. Sure enough, and like any inquisitive human being, he had shined it in both eyes, and then never gave it another thought. Now he and his family are living with a ‘new normal’.

The last service I attended on Iona was about peace and justice, and the focus was on the clothing we wear and how much of it is created in appalling conditions outside of this country. However, it was this little comment that has particularly stuck with me: “Synthetic materials do not biodegrade.”   

      What a quandary for me because the prayer shawls I knit are acrylic, which is washable. My cousin, however, emailed me the following: “These days, specifically due to the biodegradable issue, wool is processed so that it goes in the washer and dryer - all natural. It's called ‘superwash’ wool and comes in all thicknesses. Not expensive either depending on how fine a wool you choose.” She also gave me a web site <http://www.yarn.com/>from which she orders her yarn. Lucky me, it’s in Northampton, MA where my son lives. I’m getting ready for a field trip.

I wonder I am the only person longing for silence, solitude and simplicity who is attracted to the idea of a cottage industry? Probably not. Undoubtedly it’s a great deal of work, creating everything for your business right in your little cottage. At its best, a romantic dream. And yet, I came across a simple cottage industry on the road out to the Machair, the common land on Iona. Iona Pebbles < www.ionapebbles.co.uk/‎ > sells lambs wool, jewelry and art prints and cards.

      The owner, Val MacCormick, raises the sheep, which you can see right outside the window of her shop that is attached to her house. When the lambs are a year-and-a half, she gathers their sheared wool and sends it to a mill in southern England that dyes and spins for small farms such as hers. “That’s why it is so soft,” she told me. She sells skeins, as well as caps and hand warmers (and instructions) that she has knit during the winter. This lovely woman also wanders the beach for stones and Iona marble that she makes into jewelry. Also for sale are cards and prints produced, as her web site tells us, “either, from Val’s own original artworks, or from her husband Gordon’s photography.”

       A cottage industry for sure, as well as the atmosphere, which comes from her generous heart. On my next visit to Iona I’m going  to pack fewer clothes so I’ll have more room in my suitcase for this delicious gift of the lambs.

Not a silent walk yesterday. Tree surgeons, or rather their equipment, were cluttering the sound waves due to a five minute ‘hurricane’ the evening before. Wild wind from the northwest and then it was gone. We had a few branches cluttering our patio, but up the street the neighbor’s driveway was blocked, and I mean blocked. Once those machines grind everything into mulch, however, their cars will drive right out onto the road. It must be the fates that decide what will be hit and what will be saved.

It’s been a week since I was living by the sea on Iona, and already I’m missing it. What is it about the sea that gives me satisfaction? Maybe it’s the travel. To get to Iona I took two ferries, which meant crossing two bodies of water, and that was after flying over the Atlantic to Scottish soil. I think I’m in control of my life, only to realize that I am at the mercy of waves and wind. And yet, the satisfaction of living by the sea.

    When I go to the cottage by the sea I drive an hour and a half on the highway. Sometimes the trip, although never as dramatic as a ferry ride, can offer its own waves and winds in the form of rain, snow and traffic. And yet, the satisfaction of living by the sea. The pounding of the sea on the rocks and sand takes away any smug feeling of control. A sunny day on Iona, or a pristine sunrise at the cottage does the same.

The sea: sunrises from the cottage!

The sea: from sunny Iona!

It is silent around here now that the rain, which must have pelted our sunroom roof for close to 18 hours, has stopped. This rain wasn’t silent, but neither was it noisy. This rain was energetic, not calm. I’m glad for the quiet now, and for the sun.

I still love public transportation! My ‘fairy feet’ kept moving all day without delay. Here are some of pictures from along the way, from the shores of Iona-- feet, ferry, feet, bus, feet, ferry, feet, train, feet, bus, feet—to the hotel at the Glasgow Airport.

     The semi-circles are the remains of one of my suitcase wheels. I hate the idea that I may have to buy a new one, but right now I’m hoping that the suitcase has enough roll left in it to make it to the check-in counter.

Does this sound simple?  Tomorrow I journey from Iona to the Holiday Inn Express at the Glasgow Airport. It’s a simple itinerary: feet, ferry, feet, bus, feet, ferry, feet, train, feet, bus, feet, and I’m there.

    Here are the details. Walk from my hotel to the ferry; ferry to the Isle of Mull; bus across Mull; ferry to Oban; train from Oban to Glasgow; bus from Glasgow to the airport. I love public transportation and besides, it sure is more simple than driving.