Blog Archives - A Cottage by the Sea

Restless evening~

6/29/2014

By the time I get around to writing, I notice that I’m just sitting and looking out at my world. Why not? I write sitting down, and certainly not while I’m active.

It’s early evening. A rare day in June, a June about to turn to July. A beautiful, sunny evening, but there’s a restless about it. The wind is kicking up, leaves and branches are swaying, but that’s not it. No, it’s Mother Robin flitting about, perching on a lawn chair and then flying to the nest. We thought all the chicks had fledged yesterday morning, but with my binoculars I can see feathers moving in the nest. No head peeking out, just the faintest sign of life. And now I realize that Mother Robin is bringing food to her babe. I feel apprehensive. Where are the sisters and brothers who got on their way yesterday? There’s nothing I can do but trust the mother. This is her second brood of the season; she knows the territory well. For four weeks she has been relentless in caring for her babies. She won’t stop now.
It isn’t not noisy around here but it isn’t silent in that peaceful way I long for. I’ll know more tomorrow.

P.S. Now we are hearing a lot of cheeping from the ones who have already fledged. As for the one still in the nest, hopefully he is happy with his own developmental rhythm. It is dusk. Soon all will be quiet.

Stillness of summer~

6/26/2014

There’s a stillness about a humid summer day, different from the stillness of a below zero winter one. The leaves on the tree outside my open window are moving just a tad, but I don’t feel I have to flutter about as I do in the cold of winter. This isn’t just a physical phenomenon—keeping warm versus trying to stay cool. It’s also a mental reality. The colder it is, the more my mind races; the warmer it becomes, the more my mind is able to sit and be.

Family reunions are not quiet~

6/23/2014

Finally, solitude after a three-day marvelous whirl with my siblings in Minneapolis to celebrate our niece’s marriage. These kinds of reunions are never quiet; it’s not their nature. Since I usually travel alone, I’m not used to chatter in hotel rooms, discussions about the day’s plans, or eating meal after meal with others. No complaints, just an observation.

As we were eating lunch the other day, my brother noted that this was the first time ever that just the four of us had shared a meal together. When I think of it, that is remarkable; but it’s also remarkable that our Mom died three years ago at age 101. Many of our recent gatherings had involved being with her and the extended family. And then there are all those meals together when we were kids!

So here I am at the airport waiting for my flight to Boston; my sisters are on their way to New York and Washington DC, my brother to Portland, Oregon. I’ll post this when I get home.

A random act of kindness~

6/19/2014

Random acts of kindness. But are they so random? Should we be so surprised? Are they more usual when we are open to them? Would we be more apt to offer them if we stayed alert?

     At the Dublin airport yesterday, waiting for my flight to Boston, there I was, receiving an act of kindness. I was starving, so up I went to the little snack bar and ordered a croissant and cappuccino, only to be told that they only took euro. All I had were pounds sterling, but even the U.S. dollars at the bottom of my suitcase wouldn’t have done the trick. I walked away, feeling a little sorry for myself I must confess, and sat down with an hour to go before flight time.

      “Excuse me, are you the woman who didn’t have money for a snack? I know it will be a long time before we get fed on the flight; my wife and I have some extra euro, so here, buy what you’d like.” I accepted the 6 euro, gratefully returned to the kiosk to make my purchases.

      Sounds easy, doesn’t it. And yet, my first inclination was to say, “No thank you, I’ll be fine.”

     How hard it is to accept money from a stranger. After all, I am self-sufficient, a seasoned traveler, and not poor. How hard it is to accept with a simple thank you and smile, and leave it at that. But that’s pretty much what I did, adding that I’ll return the kindness to someone sometime.

P.S. Once on the plane I realized that I could have paid with a credit card. But then, there would have been no opportunity for that random, or maybe not so random, act of kindness, no opportunity to pass it forward.

Public transportation and solitary travel~

6/17/2014

Here I am, happy as can be, sitting in the Glasgow airport waiting for my flight, via Dublin, to Boston. Happy because I’m heading home, and happy because, as I’ve mentioned before, I love airports. If homeless, this is where I’d live.

Yesterday, was another stellar day as I made my way from Iona to the airport. Why? Along with airports, I love public transportation. Ferry, bus, ferry, bus, bus, every leg of the journey was on time.

My love of solitary travel includes a delight in public transportation. In Scotland the services are excellent, citizens count on them, and use them. My days of renting a car, now behind me, removed me from being part of humanity going from place to place. My face has now become one with many.

Dun I, Iona

6/16/2014

I climbed Iona's highest point yesterday. Dùn Ì, (pronounced Dun E and means 'hill of Iona') is 101 metres (331 ft) above sea level.

Daily gratitude~

6/15/2014

Today I’m thinking about gratitude. How could I not, on this pristine day of sun and cool breeze on Iona?

This morning at breakfast I initiated a little practice that I’d like to continue each day. I stopped by the table of a group of women I had met yesterday and asked them what they were grateful for. Easy—the weather and being on Iona. My plan is every day to ask someone that question. Perhaps I’ll share my own gratitude. Perhaps I’ll encourage them to start each day voicing their own gratitude. Whether My hope is that I will plant a little seed of gratitude to be expressed and nurtured daily. Just saying the word may be enough.

At the moment I’m sitting on a bench overlooking the Sound of Iona and the Isle of Mull. People walk by and we nod. A woman just stopped to acknowledge the day. “The beautiful colors, the color of the water,” was her response to my question. Another woman, without a prompt from me, offered that those of us here, indeed, have much to be grateful for.

Walking south on Iona~

6/14/2014

My walk today to the north of the island: it’s all in the pictures.

Silence: soft breeze, song birds, crows.

Solitude: just me and the horse.

Simplicity: no thoughts.

Iona Gallery and Pottery~

6/13/2014

The fog is rolling in and rolling out; my umbrella goes up and down. I’m grateful that it isn’t windy or cold; I’m grateful that I’m here, at the moment enjoying a soup and sandwich.

    Inclement weather drew me into Iona Gallery and Pottery selling local paintings and pottery. Different artists’ renditions of Iona. The woman tending the shop was crocheting. “No, I don’t paint; my passion is weaving.” She went on to tell me that after coming to Iona on and off for thirty years, she moved to the island five years ago. Her small house has a tiny bedroom and kitchen and a living room for her loom. She hopes to buy a bigger home where she can weave and have her own shop.

     I figure Maura to be in her early sixties. She admitted that her finances are limited, always have been, so when she started dreaming of moving to Iona she focused on the all financial obstacles. Added to that, her friends thought her dream was impossible/crazy. “Then, when I started thinking of possibilities instead of obstacles, things fell into place and here I am.” She doesn’t know how it will all work out, but she believes that if she keeps her dreams, whatever happens will be just right for the moment.

      We agreed how essential it is not to create our own ageism by limiting our dreams. “I may pop tomorrow, but I’m living today.”

      We talked about craft, about the need to do something with our hands. Women’s work through the ages. I told her that as a writer, I sometimes feel out of balance—too much in my head. I’m now inspired me to pick up the simple knitting that that I brought from home.

     And then there was the topic of solitude, which permeated the entire conversation. I told her about my need for solitude and about my solitary travel. She told me that when friends come to visit, she makes certain that she has time alone. She loves working in the shop because of the conversations with strangers. We agreed that our encounter was a perfect combination of community and solitude for us both. Then off I went.

Solitude among Iona animals~

6/12/2014

Do animals live a life of solitude on Iona? Or anywhere? From my two day study, I don’t have a clue, nor will I every be able to figure it out. Really, Bobs, animals don’t think conceptually. That being acknowledged, here are a few observations from the island. Sheep to stay together but with plenty of space between them. Lambs stick with their moms but other than that, they seem to lead an independent life. Cows graze in small groups, but I doubt they make any choices about who they will hang out with. It just happens. Chickens are clueless, alone but with others. The lone cat, on the other hand, knows how to get the most out of humans. I guess I would conclude that the Iona animals live in an unintentional community. One thing for sure. don’t’ bother this solitary human being.