I moved to Seattle eight months ago, and fully intended to begin my blogging back then. I wanted to be able to share my new life with friends and family far away. I don't know if it was the dreariness of January (and February... and March and April..) or the sudden isolation of moving across the country to a foreign city where I knew not a soul, but I couldn't bring myself to embark on this internet adventure during those lonely days of winter. I had nothing to say.
Come spring, the mood had lightened: clouds parted, rain ceased, the sun shone... occasionally. I had gotten my seattle legs and felt a growing comfort in the jostling city. I felt happy walking the streets of my new neighborhood, finding the local farmers markets and attending the monthly square dances. Each day I strolled along the garden-lined streets to work, searching for the latest green shoots and emerging blossoms. And even when the gray clouds inevitably returned to cover the sky, I felt the aching gratitude of the infant plants as if it were my own. These experiences in my new environment help assuage my loneliness and bring hope for the coming season. But the bloggersphere still loomed like a mountain... a giant, glacier-topped mountain. I still could not bring myself to start typing.
Late April saw the first of many visitors to my urban dwelling. Old friends brought warmth back into creaky limbs and together we dug up my backyard and planted my first garden. Through the clear summer days, I've watched my garden grow taller and bushier: peas, lettuce, tomatoes, beets, and dozens of flowers. The beautiful northwest summer was filled with new friends, visiting with old ones, Olympic expeditions, trips up north (some disastrous), Harry Potter, and at long last, the arrival of the bike brigade. We spent the summer cooking good food, eating good food, and dancing to good music whenever possible. With a little nudge from a friend, I finally bought property out in inter-space and got my very own blog address.
I just returned from my first visit to Massachusetts since January. I spent almost two weeks at home with family. I witnessed the marriage of my youngest brother to his high-school sweetheart, and there was much celebration. I felt the comfort of familiar people and places; feeling at once at home again in the soft mountains and deciduous forests of New England. I visited with my boyfriend's family in Vermont and canoed the Ompompanoosuc in early morning fog. But now I am back again. Waiting. Waiting for my partner to come join me; waiting for someone to hire me; waiting for my oven to be fixed so that I can begin baking scones like it's my job (if only...). But at least I've started my blog. (I'll try to keep the entries shorter next time. Thanks for reading!)