REFLECTIONS

Turning right from Casa Cuervo, Mo and I walk up the road to Beaver Pond. It's quiet. Not one neighbor is outside. The throaty cry of a crow--alright--but it is distant. A red dragonfly tipping the rushes. Cool breeze from the Bay. I'm thinking how plans change. Sometimes all the planning seems to have been a waste of time.

John and I planned to put the cottage on the market, sell furniture of mine and of his, rent a U-Haul, and combine all that remained of our "stuff" at Sunshine Hill. In fact, I'd already begun clearing space. I liked it. The house was less cluttered. But even with the space, we wondered how long it would take us to sort our things out once we unloaded the moving van. We'd keep them in the garage and do it bit by bit. "I'm excited about this," I grinned.

The first day here I put a bunch of John's things on Craig's list. Late that afternoon I remembered the feel of being here last winter, the stark little upstairs room where I could write, the simplicity of upkeep in a smaller house. We went for a walk along the bay where Mt. Baker seemed to float in the sky over the blue water. "We could keep it," I ventured. "We could use it as a writing retreat…say, two weeks every two or three months we could make the trip."

Back at the cottage I checked my email. Already we had four inquiries about our ads. We deleted our postings.

Beaver Pond shimmers in the late afternoon light. Calm waters reflect the trees and grasses along the bank. Mo and I sit on a stone bench while I attempt to connect my own reflections with the realities they represent. All of this has something to do with plans we create and the amazing transformations that come about when we act to make those plans real.