Monday, July 15, 2019

Us, the gypsies, head out again—up up into the tallest mountains we went; to a place where eagles fly above rivers and hot springs run through the earth. 



When we got to our camp; however, we discovered that our campsite was already being occupied by some other gypsies… why, what was going on!  We had made our reservation long ago, but now we didn’t have a space to park our gypsy trailer…

It was the Fisherman’s fault… indeed, it was!  You see, somehow, he mixed up the days by a day and it happened that were supposed arrived not until the following day!  Which meant we needed to find another spot right away!

We were lucky to find an emptied space on the other side of the camp, for everything was taken!  And at the end everything worked for the best… the new site was much nicer; double the size in space and double the privacy; with the river running right in back of our gypsy trailer.


We were situated in a bend on the road with no one else in close proximity, which is one of my requirements for comfort… thanks goodness, sometimes mishaps can work in our favor after all…

It was too hot to go to the thermal hot springs at that time, so we made lunch and went to explore the camp.  The river was just a few feet down; clear cold water run freely to some unknown places and my heart pulsed wild and free… 


While the Fisherman fished, I played with the water and chased away my shadow, I sang and prayed and then collected rocks for my garden.  I collect rocks from all the places we visit and then take them to my garden—cobalt black rocks from the Oregon seashores, ashen rocks from Yellowstone and shinny black rocks from Craters of the Moon.... rivers and mountains and from everywhere!


Mermaid hair like seaweed!


Shinning rocks


...and rocks that look like cheeses!


The trails were brimming with wildflowers… how I love stealing out of Nature’s abundance, and then decorate our home with it…  I loved it… I loved how at our little white house I used to go to my backyard and always find some type of a wildflower blooming in the woods behind our home… I always had flowers embellishing our little white cottage, through every season.  And how do trails form?  And where do they go?

 

Later, when the sun lessened in its brightness and temperatures mellowed down just a bit, we went down to the natural pool…

It was almost 10 pm when we came back to our site.  A half moon shone opaque under a murky film and it was dark with only the very top of the mountains mysteriously illuminated by a puny light.  We sat outside and watched how the night deepened in its shadowy cloak, until suddenly a mysterious cloud appeared out of nowhere in the cloudless sky.  It drifted quickly across the firmament and it situated itself right in front of the already feeble moon, obscuring it in its entirety.  From where we stood it seemed grotesque and unusual and closer to earth than normal.

I watched in awe, unable to tell now if it was really a cloud, or if perhaps this thing was something else; something more cynical like the angel of destruction that passed over Egypt the night before the Israelite left to the Red sea, killing all the first born.  The more I watched, the more I understood it was that same angel—big and menacing; dark wings flattened on each side, while the well-formed head moved forward, leading its trek across the night sky.     

I am very good at spooking myself, so at this point there was nothing else to do now but to run back into the coziness and safety of our gypsy trailer and beg the Fisherman to come in… we locked all doors and turned off all the lights and went to sleep… or at least tried to sleep.

It was so hot… so very hot and the moon outside kept spooking me for a long long time.

------------------------------

Morning came with the new bright sun; we made breakfast and cleaned our gypsy house on wheels.



While the Fisherman prepared to go down to the river to do some fishing, I put on my makeup and savored each moment of beauty all around me… 


The river was packed full with fish... the Fisherman caught a big strong trout and I was so excited for him and so sad for the fish...


The Fisherman always makes sure to throw his fishes back in the water... and they always survive!  It is a happy thing seeing how fast they recover and go back on being their happy little self!


Splash!


We rode our bicycles and read our books... I always take with me all those books I'm reading and never get to finish... for those of you who asked what I'm reading:  V. Sackville-West's Garden Book, The Dovekeepers, The Sonship of Christ, The girl who drank the moon, The Ivy Tree, Just like Jesus and At Seventy, a Journal of May Sarton... Oh, my bicycle is also the place where I dry my undies! Gypsy at heart, wild at heart for sure! Lol


On Saturday afternoon, our friends Ricardo and Florencia droved almost three hours to meet us and spend the day with us… we made a fantastic lunch, drank kombucha and ate watermelon and cherries for dessert.  A deer came by our table to say hi when we were having lunch, she got so close to us I could almost hear the panting of her heart... For just a flash of a moment she stopped, looked me in the eyes and then was gone… strange, but I already knew she was coming.  I had already seen her in my day dreams the day before, in that same spot.  I knew she was going to come by… it was just a matter of time!  How very special that was!



Then, we sat down in the shade and talked and talked and talked… we went to the hot springs later, eat ice-cream and started making dinner… they left right after dinner and we cleaned up everything and packed most everything.  Before we even noticed, another night had descended upon the mountains and upon our gypsy trailer and our little life story…  

I always feel this prang of pain and lost after my friends and dear ones depart from me… is a kind of loneliness hard to explain; like an emptiness in the heart that almost hurt.  But what a beautiful morning it was the following day... we went back to the river and the Fisherman did more fishing and caught more trout while I danced and sang and sat down to collect more moments...


 “She was born to be free, let her run wild in her own way and you will never lose her.”



“Wild woman are an unexplainable spark of life. They ooze freedom and seek awareness, they belong to nobody but themselves yet give a piece of who they are to everyone they meet.  If you have met one, hold on to her, she'll allow you into her chaos but she'll also show you her magic.”
Nikki Rowe

 

“The only cure to all this madness; is too dream, far and wide, if possibility doesn't knock, create a damn door. If the shoe doesn't fit, don't make it. If the journey your travelling seems to far fetched and wild beyond your imagination; continue on it, great things come to the risk takers. And last but not least, live today; here, right now, you'll thank your future self for it later.”
Nikki Rowe  



 

What a beautiful, beautiful trip this was!
To all of you peace and blessings without stopping!!



Tuesday, July 9, 2019

The old gypsies decided it was time to go out again!  So they jumped into their gypsy wagon and drove all the way to the dessert—to the sand dunes and to the night birds and coyotes in the far distance…. 



They got to their campsite by mid-day, but first, they stopped at the little office-museum for ice-cream, then continued straight up onto the winding road to their camp.  Under a semicircle of Russian Olive trees they parked their gypsy wagon—under the trees, and under all the fuss and excitement of birds and birdsongs everywhere beneath purple blue summer skies.


They made lunch and then sat down to eat it and rest and read and listen to the sweltering voices of Nature.  It was a sizzling hot 93 degrees.  Other campers were dozing off the afternoon away, lending in their slumber, all the softness and soundlessness required to a perfect afternoon.  In the distance the mountains slept too.  Sand dunes fizzed and sparkled with sunlight in the far distance and little white butterflies hovered and sang mysterious songs above green grasses ‘round the gypsy wagon.  


How beautiful… how very beautiful it all was!  The gypsy crone, that same who not too long ago used to be called “the gypsy girl”, sat down and dreamed of a little white cottage built at the verge of this great openness of sagebrush and mountains and sand dunes and birds of prey and owl songs and soft green grasses under her feet. She dreamt she grew a set of big orange wings under her arms that took her all the way up to the very tips of mountains… over there where foothills and sky unite and form an unbreakable sisterhood of promises and hopes and dreams untold.


She thought it was real, all real indeed! But too soon was she awakened by a deep slumbering sweat that made her realized it had all been but a beautiful dream.

The old crone and her fisherman had to go inside their gypsy wagon to escape the heat.  They turned the air-conditioning on high and drank bottles and bottles of icy-cold water.  


Soon it felt wonderful again.  The air conditioning puffed and huffed and made huge noises and blew curtains away and it felt as if they were inside some humongous air balloon ready to be lift up… everything becoming smaller and smaller down on earth… the old crone looked down
upon the earth and recited:
From a blade of grass to
sand,
Moments light
Moments gone
Moments infinite time
And to grain of sands
Do all things return…

Oh my dears! Heat does tend to do strange things to your brain, doesn’t it!


Later, they decided to go down to the lake and try doing some fishing; although they already knew the outcome… no fish would had dared swim out there in boiling waters at that time of day, no sir!  But, down to the lake they went anyway…. 


To their most wonderful amazement, they were received by a totally different atmosphere—breezes coming from the water scuttled through sand dunes and mountaintops tousling the old gypsy's hair and her heart; tempering the atmosphere and making waves in the water and bending tall grasses… 


...and it felt cool… so cool and wonderful and love songs floated atop the water and atop these young couple’s head…


And maybe we should had gone back the minute we saw them… 'cause, well, they were already there before we arrived and because we were the biggest love spoilers ever!


But the Fisherman was obliged to catch some fish... or underwater weed!


And it was so beautiful and cool and so peaceful there that the old gypsy girl decided to stay around too… and continued on dreaming and taking pictures... 


They walked over to the Observatory and went to visit the Human Sundial… then stood in the right place and let the sun bewitched them...

 

That evening they sat outside again.  Temperatures in the desert can really change fast depending on the time of day, and how beautiful… how very beautiful and cool and wonderful everything looked and felt and the gypsy crone couldn’t stopped taking pictures in the hope she somehow could captured and retain the beauty all around them forever more... if only in her camera lenses…

Magic filled every space and the old gypsy crone seemed to floated above the branches; pirouetting on the tip of a birch leaf... the more magic she gathered, the more magic it spilled out... strange animals with purple fur would appear out of nowhere and birds flew so close she could even touch them…


During sunset magic was in its summit… the sky turned into a fairytale book, page after page of glory.  The old gypsy crone could see the tendrils of magic fluttering around her like ribbons…  


What a lovely magical, magical day that was!