I don't feel the need to go to "My Place" as often as I used to. Being the loner that I am, I used to need it fairly often. Now that my time is my own, and now that I'm pretty much quietly enjoying life, I don't need the time away so much. But every once in a while I go there just because it's a beautiful place. I love the mountains, and Warm Lake has many pleasant memories.
The family used to go there for a week or two in the summer. That's when I learned about fishing for trout in a mountain stream. I almost got the granddaddy of all trout, but he proved too wily for the neophyte fishergirl. I still remember the thrill when I thought I had him snagged. But he stole the bait and lived to tantalize another fisherperson on another day. We did go home with fresh trout for breakfast, though, thanks to Uncle and the family friend who was vacationing with us.
I remember one summer getting acquainted with a boy my age. I recall that his family lived at and administered the resort, so he took my sister and me around the place and outside the resort itself. We saw things we wouldn't have known about otherwise. He was funny, too.
Another time we went to a different place with another family. It was further back (up?) in the mountains. Johnson Creek was the name of the place. There was a lodge with rooms for visitors. But we stayed in an outlying cabin. I remember getting up one morning, some mist still on the ground, and seeing a family of deer. They were wild, and unapproachable, but didn't seem afraid of the humans around. Cautious, I think would describe their attitude.
The creek from which the lodge took its name was frigidly cold. Like ice-melt cold. One of the braver kids (a teenage boy) did get in and tried to swim, but my toes told me No Way!!
But ah! the place was beautiful. Mountains rising to ten thousand feet, all around us. Quiet, even though it was tourist season. Deer, a naturally cautious species, inhabit the same valley that strangers pay to visit, and I find that wondrous. I hope the place hasn't become commercialized, as I'm afraid Warm Lake has, because the natural beauty and peace and quiet lose out. Too many people spoil the naturalness of the place.
Several years later, I found another source of quiet and contemplation. I went on a weekend retreat at an Episcopalian convent in Santa Barbara. My personal life was in a shambles then, and I desperately needed a time away from the world. The only voice I heard during the whole weekend was the Nun's voice reading during mealtimes. Oh, yes, and the priest's voice during Sunday Mass. Mass? Yes, I think that's what the Episcopalians called their Sunday service. I went home a little more prepared to face worldly life again.
I continue to need periods of isolation to keep me able to live in this world. This very noisy, intrusive world. Would I be happy living in isolation? Absolutely not! I still need people in my life. Oh yes, I need the human contact, the touching contact, the affectionate contact and DearDiary to keep me in long-range contact, at least, with people I care about.
Bless
The family used to go there for a week or two in the summer. That's when I learned about fishing for trout in a mountain stream. I almost got the granddaddy of all trout, but he proved too wily for the neophyte fishergirl. I still remember the thrill when I thought I had him snagged. But he stole the bait and lived to tantalize another fisherperson on another day. We did go home with fresh trout for breakfast, though, thanks to Uncle and the family friend who was vacationing with us.
I remember one summer getting acquainted with a boy my age. I recall that his family lived at and administered the resort, so he took my sister and me around the place and outside the resort itself. We saw things we wouldn't have known about otherwise. He was funny, too.
Another time we went to a different place with another family. It was further back (up?) in the mountains. Johnson Creek was the name of the place. There was a lodge with rooms for visitors. But we stayed in an outlying cabin. I remember getting up one morning, some mist still on the ground, and seeing a family of deer. They were wild, and unapproachable, but didn't seem afraid of the humans around. Cautious, I think would describe their attitude.
The creek from which the lodge took its name was frigidly cold. Like ice-melt cold. One of the braver kids (a teenage boy) did get in and tried to swim, but my toes told me No Way!!
But ah! the place was beautiful. Mountains rising to ten thousand feet, all around us. Quiet, even though it was tourist season. Deer, a naturally cautious species, inhabit the same valley that strangers pay to visit, and I find that wondrous. I hope the place hasn't become commercialized, as I'm afraid Warm Lake has, because the natural beauty and peace and quiet lose out. Too many people spoil the naturalness of the place.
Several years later, I found another source of quiet and contemplation. I went on a weekend retreat at an Episcopalian convent in Santa Barbara. My personal life was in a shambles then, and I desperately needed a time away from the world. The only voice I heard during the whole weekend was the Nun's voice reading during mealtimes. Oh, yes, and the priest's voice during Sunday Mass. Mass? Yes, I think that's what the Episcopalians called their Sunday service. I went home a little more prepared to face worldly life again.
I continue to need periods of isolation to keep me able to live in this world. This very noisy, intrusive world. Would I be happy living in isolation? Absolutely not! I still need people in my life. Oh yes, I need the human contact, the touching contact, the affectionate contact and DearDiary to keep me in long-range contact, at least, with people I care about.
Bless