Late Fall Offers Storms, Sun, Rainbows

Last Friday I took to the road again. This time I drove my RAV4 down to California, a trip of about 600 miles, to visit my sister who was recently diagnosed with colon cancer and had abdominal surgery. The trip down was breathtaking vistas, though exhausting as it was about 11 hours of straight driving, with a brief break in Medford for gas and a quick lunch. In the Willamette Valley, ground fog crept along the fields of grass and winter wheat, covering them with a soft blanket. Farther south the fog was more insidious. I would be driving through dark dankness, mist swirling around, and then pop back out into sunshine only to drive back into fog. By the time I reached the California border, the fog was gone and Mt. Shasta was offering a sparkling show of white against the deep blue sky.

The weather in Northern California (just east of Ukiah and west of Clear Lake) was balmy and soft and sweet. It would have been perfect weather for hiking or exploring, checking out wineries, or any number of endeavors. However, my purpose for traveling was not as a tourist, not for leisure. I spent much of the days I was there just visiting with my sister, helping in whatever ways I could around the house and with companionship, listening to her, sharing thoughts and fears and ideas.

A friend of hers came by one evening and did a Tarot reading for me -- first one I've ever done. Interesting, though I'm not sure I learned very much. Still, it was a good conversation starter for Colleen and I. Perhaps these kinds of things are most helpful in encouraging us to look more closely at our lives, and those of our loved ones, looking for ways to change and improve relationships with ourselves and others.

Colleen told me she has been found to have the BRCA1 gene, a mutation that often predisposes people with it to ovarian or breast cancer. Her doctor told her colon cancer was also implicated with this gene. I had never heard that before. So I am making some inquiries into having some genetic testing done for myself.

After nearly five days of visiting, I decided it was time to head back north. I left mid-day on Wednesday. By sunset I was once again driving past Shasta country. The sky was brilliant with pink and lavender clouds. The sun kissed the top of Mt. Shasta goodnight as it slipped over the horizon. Breathtaking!

I arrived at my younger sister's home in Eagle Point, east of Medford, around 5:30. She was on her way to Portland for a meeting so I got to house- and kitty-sit for the evening. The next morning I left around 10 a.m. and headed north. Much of the way I was accompanied on either side by rainbows, as the weather had turned during the night. They felt like colorful angels, watching me as I drove. Rainbows always give me a sense of hope as well as just the sheer joy of seeing bright colors emerge magically from a confluence of clouds and rain and sun. They take me back to my childhood and a sense that all will be well.

North of Roseburg I ran into a terrible little squall that left me driving blind for a couple miles. Thankfully the rest of the trip was just mist and showers or clear patches.

It was good to be back home. Charlie was so excited and happy to see me, and I was happy to see him. He's such a goofy dog but I love him dearly. This morning we went for a walk in his favorite park, as the sun was back out. I wrote the following reflections after our walk:

A Lone Goose

A row of arbor vitae festooned with tinsel,
a gift of the spiders. The webs drape gracefully between each bush,
connecting the trees like arms extended in embrace.
The gossamer strands, sparkling in the thin sun, are beaded
with tiny seed pearls and diamonds of dew,
garlands more delicate and beautiful than human hand
or imagination could create.
Here and there intricate webs decorate the evergreen branches,
a study in patience and artistic engineering. These, too,
encrusted with sparkling miniscule gems.
A lone goose circles overhead, calling frantically
to her missing flock. Her plaintive cry echoes across the fields.
My heart goes out to this lone creature
left behind for some reason. Geese mate for life.
Perhaps she remained with a dying mate
taking time to mourn the loss of her family.
I know how she feels; I have been there myself, too many times.
Difficult times
when I have cried out in sadness, loss, with only God to hear,
wandered strange roads seeking I knew not what.
There is little I can do for the goose,
save send my thoughts and love her way.
Oblivious to me and my concerns for her, she flies
through a pale blue sky criss-crossed with vapor trails,
jets going north, going south, a journey the goose herself must make
once she finds a flock that welcomes and supports her.
It may not be the same flock, the same fit, but it is a matter of survival
for her to find such a community.
We are no different from the goose in that need: love, companionship, support.
In the hills beyond, wisps of fog slide among the trees,
specters of the clouds that gathered here earlier. They form
a haunting reminder that clear and sunny days like today
are a rare gift, to be savored and held in one’s heart
for the dark storms of tomorrow.