Experiencing cold and wet exuberantly

The story, as I remember a friend telling it, is that many winters ago, his wife was driving somewhere with their toddler on a snowy day. At some point, she discovered the toddler had completely undressed himself, despite being snugly strapped into his carseat. Friend said that spouse said that toddler said he had stripped down in order to "experience cold."

That wording, obviously, has stuck with me. I like the idea that one does not have to be something unpleasant (or pleasant, if coldness is your thing), but instead one can experience something--and the difference is a choice.

As part of my recent effort to age exuberantly to make my life worth living, I have decided to experience more and be less. One outcome is that I now walk long distances in the rain on chilly days. Rather than being cold and soggy, I get to experience cold and soggy! 

Thus I met friends for lunch a six-mile roundtrip chilly rainy walk from home, and I did not melt! 

Thus I headed ten miles down the greenway to the mega-mall in a breezy drizzle, and then (because it was during my second annual "car-free February") hopped onto a bus to get home. 

Thus last Saturday, I walked 15.5 miles from Durham to Chapel Hill in the rain, to meet up with friends for dinner and an opera. Because wet shoes and socks generate more friction against toes than dry ones, I had the added bonus, just before reaching the restaurant, of mindfully experiencing the exact moment when a blister that had been simmering for days finally gave up the ghost. (Because I am also attempting to age with a smidge of style, at least in public, I had an opera-worthy pair of flats, dry socks, and a dry shirt in my backpack; I changed in the restaurant restroom and left my sneakers behind in the trash can. Thanks for the 500+ miles, shoes!)

Of course, exuberance does not require rain. Posts on sunshine-filled walks coming soon.

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Photos from a Saturday walk to Chapel Hill. I planned my route to go through Duke Gardens...

...where spring flowers were already abundant.

The rain began in earnest as I left the gardens, so I walked most of the way to Chapel Hill under an umbrella.

I've been meaning to post a photograph of this bridge for a while. This is on Academy, where it crosses I-40, and it's the scariest bridge-over-freeway that I've traversed so far. The concrete barrier comes up as high as my kneecap. Fear of tripping and plunging onto a car going 70 mph outweighs fear of getting hit by a car going 45 mph, so I walk in the street instead of on the narrow sidewalk. 

Durham is full of subdivisons that have half a block of sidewalk on either side of the main entrance. This spot was notable for having an entire block of sidewalk. Most of the walk to Chapel Hill looked like this--just without the sidewalk--so this was the last photo I took.

 

Third time's the charm

In 2009, we returned from a sabbatical semester in Germany to find that almost all of our houseplants had perished. I put out a plea for cuttings on our neighborhood email list, and a neighbor responded. Among her gifts was an epiphyllum leaf. 

Over the next several years, the single leaf grew into an enormous scraggly plant. During the winter, it perches like a vulture atop a wardrobe in our living room. In the summer, it hangs out outside on the porch.

Two summers ago, I finally learned it likes half shade/half sun. It rewarded me by producing a single flower. Unfortunately, I didn't notice the flower until the morning after it had bloomed. Epiphyllum--also known as night-blooming cereus--blooms at night, and the flowers wilt at dawn. I vowed to pay more attention the next summer.

This summer, it rewarded me again by producing a single flower, and dagnabbit if I didn't notice the flower until the morning after it had bloomed. I vowed to pay more attention next summer.

And then, a few weeks after the second annual miss, we had a hit. The plant put out a second bud. I checked it every few days, then daily, then twice daily, and then it bloomed. We now understand why people host bloom-watching parties.

August 31

September 6

September 8

September 9

September 11

September 11

E made a time-lapse video

E's video captures ~8:30pm - midnight in 9 seconds:

 

The morning after

Duke Gardens in the time of Covid 19

Two days ago, Duke announced that Duke Gardens would be closing to the public until further notice, starting at dusk that evening, so E, S, and I skedaddled over there to see what we could see. I'm pretty sure that counted as attending a gathering of over 100 people, because many other people had the same idea.

En route; this gorgeous blooming tree was near W. Trinity & Washington.

En route: the Duke expression wall. Peace be with us all!

E's garden goal was to catch a falling cherry petal mid-air.

 

Mission accomplished.

Castle Peak

Today, we hiked up Castle Peak. Steep trail, abundant wildflowers, beautiful views, and friendly hikers en route made for a rewarding morning. We've been largely horizontal this afternoon.

Proof we were there:

Photos didn't do the wildflowers justice:

Most of the way up, we chatted with a doctor who had lent us essential bug spray in the parking lot. She and her husband had had fellowships at Duke Hospital, and noticed E's NCSU T-shirt. Husband did a 16-mile trail run while wife and energetic dog hiked.

A view from the top:

Heading back down. I am very very very very very slow going downhill on steep trails, particularly when I can see opportunities to fall off the trail. I'm pretty sure this is related to my acrophobia, since I had no trouble going downhill on an equally steep trail a week ago in the Blue Ridge mountains, with overgrown wild blueberry bushes providing mental support by pressing in on all sides. No blueberries on Castle Peak, just dry scree and steeper drop-offs. In any case, my slowness meant I could take photos of E and S zipping down far ahead of me.

(Here's a photo of those Blue Ridge blueberries, to make my point. Can you see the trail? No? Neither could I. Overgrown blueberries are to the acrophobe what a thundershirt is to an anxious dog.)

Back to Castle Peak...

Looking back up at where we had been:

Finally, an artsy collaborative photo courtesy of E and S, who had to find something to do while they waited for me to catch up to them.