One Bold Crone

Ever since I found out about Tornado Alley and tornado season, a part of me was worried about this day. “This” being the day I had to drive through tornado country. (Frankly, I’d worried about yesterday, too.) But worry or not, I had to drive through it. So I kept my eye on the weather, and kept my worry under wraps. Thought creates energy, and you reap what you sow. So stay out of worry if you can. Positive energy may bring us better outcomes than negative energy, and it feels better, too.

That said, I would have stayed an extra night somewhere if the outlook was poor. But my weather yesterday, when I drove through Texas into Oklahoma, was full sun all the way. Today started off cloudy, but the On The Way app forecast looked promising: a chance of showers, a section of wet road, but no thunderstorms, with the best departure time being 8:30 AM. So that’s what we did. (I know the clock below says 7:25, but that’s just because we changed time zones for a second time on Day 3. That was fast!)

By the way, this sign was posted outside both the front and side entrances to my hotel in Oklahoma City (La Quinta — North Quail Springs.) Can’t say I’ve seen one of these before, have you? I appreciate the consideration, but…

Back to our Day 4 adventures. The fastest route from OK City to Rolla, Missouri involves a toll highway through Tulsa. These tolls took me by surprise last November, and left me scrounging under the seat for change because they were the real, old fashioned toll baskets! Many of them! Hence this time, I was prepared. (Note: If you ever need quarters, the front desk sells rolls.)

But guess what? In the six months since I last passed through, the Highway Department did away with those archaic baskets. Now they just have an admittedly still somewhat old-fashioned toll booth at either end, with a real live person in it who collects your $5. Leaving me with plenty of quarters for laundry when we go back to California. (Rumor has it an additional Pay by Plate bill may be arriving later in the mail, but that remains to be seen.)

At any rate, despite dark skies for the first two hours of today’s journey, no rain developed. By the time the OBC caravan reached Missouri, it was a beautiful day. We pulled off at the State Welcome Center and found a nice oak tree to sit under. I did some yoga, Timi checked out other dogs, and I think Clyde enjoyed feeling his paws on the earth.

I’ve only been through Missouri twice, but both times I’ve been struck by the quiet, lush beauty of this state. I feel very peaceful here. And how wonderful that our hotel turned out to be situated at the edge of a little lake!

There is a walking path encircling the lake which takes ten minutes to complete, so after unpacking the car, Timi and I did three rounds. Exercise: yes!

We went back after dinner for another round, and saw a Great Blue Heron in the water. It flew away as we approached, but just a little bit away. When we got close again, it took off again. And then a third time! Thrice blessed to see those wide wings open, and hear the sound of long gray feathers rustle as the giant bird took flight. What a gorgeous way to end the day. 🦉OBC🌵

First off, here’s the big news: The earplugs worked! Got a good night’s sleep and woke up refreshed for today’s drive through Eastern New Mexico, all the way across the Texas panhandle, and on into Oklahoma.

Timi and I had a lovely walk in the early morning sunshine down Cedarwood Lane, a little side street near the hotel. The first house had a very creative display in the backyard.

I was prepared to go further, but just then, a large man in a big pickup truck pulled over and warned me that we were about to run into a big pack of dogs. Yikes! I thanked him and turned around. Big pack of dogs, not on my bucket list.

We left the hotel at 9:00 sharp and got back onto I-40 for the first leg of Day 3, which coincidentally covered three states. After Santa Rosa, I passed Fort Sumner and Tucumcari, where I automatically started singing Willin’ for several miles before crossing the border into Texas.

The I-40 crosses through the Texas panhandle over a distance of 177 miles. Until you hit Amarillo, just west of the midpoint, the area is very sparsely populated, but it’s a high windy plain. For that reason, it has become home to hundreds of majestically towering windmills. So impressive to drive through. Way to go, alternative energy Texas!

After two hours of driving, our first stop was the Loves fuel station in West Amarillo, Texas. There I filled up the tank for $3.04/gallon—so much cheaper than the $4.69 I was paying in California! Why is that?

Also bought two bottles of water, and a cap for my head. I love Loves.

Two hours later it was time for our second stop. We had just entered Oklahoma, and pulled off at the Visitor Center in Erick for a little break. There were a ton of birds at this stop, all singing their hearts out. I counted ten nests in the tree we parked under, seeking shade.

By this point it was 90 degrees outside, so even though I parked in the shade, I couldn’t leave the pets in the car.

Despite the heat, I was really grateful for the sunny weather. The state of Oklahoma, I have learned, marks the gateway to Tornado Alley. And this is tornado season. I am keeping my eye on the forecast. The next two days may be touchy.

Your thoughts and prayers are ever so welcome. 🦉OBC🌵

Day 2 was all about the views on Interstate 40… from Flagstaff, Arizona through Navajo country, past Albuquerque, and all the way to Santa Rosa, New Mexico.

When I drove out to California last November, speed and efficiency were my goals. I planned to drive 8 hours a day but, as some of you may recall, the Clyde/Houdini fiasco set me back three hours on Day One, which I boldly made up for by driving eleven hours on Day Two. Well, I might have made up the lost hours that day, but I also fried my nerves. So this time, I’m doing things a little differently.

A couple months ago I met an experienced snowbird, who is also a #vanlife road tripper, at a Jimmy Dore comedy show in Palm Springs. Pat told me she does the trip every year at a leisurely pace: six hours a day, stopping every two. Her hours are 9-3, boom. Then she stops and sets up for the night.

I don’t need to set up camp for the night, but Pat’s schedule made sense to me. It will help avoid the dreaded “highway hypnosis.” It will work for the animals, who may need a drink of water, a little stretch, or a pee. It also makes sense for my crony eyes, which perform best during daylight hours. Furthermore, I want to avoid driving into the rising sun when I’m Eastbound (not to mention the setting sun, when heading west.) Finally, a daily routine of three little, two-hour chunks feels really doable. Piece of cake, I say!

Hence our first stop on Day Two, about 1.5 hours after leaving Flagstaff, was the Petrified Forest National Park visitor center and rest area. We didn’t enter the park itself, but they had a nice fenced area for dogs, which Timi appreciated. I even let Clyde out of his crate—on his harness and leash—for a little romp, although I can’t say for sure he enjoyed it. Perhaps the fresh air was good for him, but he’s a cat, and this was NOT his territory. Not even close.

I am his territory. And Timi. Clyde feels safe with us.

The Petrified Forest is located about 40 miles west of the New Mexico border. This sign says it all: no right turns. You are heading East, young lady.

Our second stop was a quickie fuel stop in Grants, NM. It was so windy there, I didn’t even walk Timi around the parking lot. Earlier on the road, I had seen a curious, diamond shaped, yellow sign: GUSTY WINDS MAY EXIST. Well, they certainly did in Grants.

We kept driving until I spied a nice rest area between Moriarty and Wagon Wheel. It was still windy out, but not as gusty as Grants.

Today’s travels took us through a time zone change, which added an hour to the clock. We got to La Quinta Santa Rosa around 5:45 local time, not bad. Around sunset, I walked over to a nearby service station and bought some earplugs. These are hopefully going to to help me sleep through Timi’s someone-is-outside-the-room Alert! ALERT! regular reporting. Clyde sleeps calmly on my bed and never makes a peep, but Timi is on the job all night, sounding the alarm. However, I need to do my job, too! Which includes being well rested for a full day of driving. Fingers crossed, the earplugs will help. 🦉OBC🌵

P.S. If you enjoyed this post, please hit the *Like* button so I’ll know you stopped by. And thanks for sharing the journey with me! 🙏🏼✨

It’s always interesting, the experience of anticipating a big event for several weeks, and it keeps getting closer and closer, and then it’s just a few days away, then tomorrow, and finally you wake up that morning, and the first thing you think is today’s the day. It’s here.

That’s what happened to me today. Which is, of course the day we left the California desert and began our journey of 3,000 miles, back across the country…all the way to Western Massachusetts.

I got up, did some last minute packing, went for a last dip in the pool, finished loading the car, put the pets in last, and set the GPS for our Day One Destination: Flagstaff AZ.

As expected, Clyde complained loudly for about an hour and a half, then settled. Timi (as always) was great in the car, as fine a canine traveler as any. We stopped twice, for about 15 minutes each time, to break up the 6.5 hours drive. I listened to the classic rock station out of Quartzite (All Right Now was a highlight), and inspirational podcasts on Spotify—Joe Dispenza, and Marianne Williamson. Mind over matter, Oneness, love, and forgiveness were the themes. 🙏🏼✨

Traffic was light and the weather perfect all the way to Flagstaff, where we pulled off I-40 for the night. Got to spend a few hours with a dear friend who lives here; she treated me to a delicious Vietnamese dinner, and Timi treated her to kisses when it was time to say goodbye. Feeling blessed…my heart is full.

We are off to a good start. ♥️

It might have made sense to adjust my circadian rhythm to West Coast time when I moved to California for the winter, but that’s not what happened.

To be fair, I still am working full time for an East Coast company, so as far as my workday is concerned, 6 to 2 is the new 9 to 5.

Fairness aside, it is somewhat strange to wake every morning, even on weekends, in deep darkness. And of course, my animals’ daily rhythms mimic my own. Not necessarily in terms of sleep — let’s face it, they sleep all day, no matter what! But in terms of feeding, and toileting, which in Timi’s case requires walking, which brings me to this morning.

Around 4:30 AM as I was stretching and yawning in bed, Timi made it clear he needed to go out. Still in my PJs, I bundled up California desert style (down vest, scarf and hat, UGG boots) and out we ventured, into the 48° darkness.

Having seen it rise the previous night, I knew the moon would be full, so naturally I looked for it. (One of the greatest advantages to waking up extra early is the opportunity for pre-dawn sky viewing.)

Sure enough, there she was, saucer-round and spotlight-bright, going down behind the San Jacinto Mountains which flank this valley and are thrillingly located right across the street, on the other side of Highway 111.

I did not have my camera with me, or I would have snapped a photo for you. Instead, I allowed myself to be present in the fleeting moment of moonset, bathed in silver light. Then I came home and found, lying on the plush grass under our lemon tree in the darkness, what appeared to be an orange. But it was not an orange. It was a giant lemon! A lemon so ripe, fat and juicy it had grown nearly as round as the full moon.

This reminded me of an old story. I was a little girl, only four or five. My dad and I were driving into New York City in our 1956 Ford Thunderbird—gunmetal gray, with white and red interior—having one of our deep conversations. Apparently, I’d been noticing how the sun moves across the sky and I was curious about day and night, so Dad was explaining how it all worked.

“Imagine the sun is a lemon,” he began, “floating in the sky.” He held up his hand as if to place a lemon in the air, and I imagined it suspended there. “No—imagine the sun is an orange,” he re-suggested, thinking it a better solar representative. “The sun is an orange, burning bright and round.” Following along intently, I now imagined the orange.

Dad then went on to choose an apple for the earth, hung it in the imaginary sky near to the orange, and explained how the orange never moved, but the apple was spinning. It spun around once a day on its “axis”, and depending which side of the apple was facing the orange, that side would be in daylight. The other side would be in night. As the apple (Earth) continued to spin, its dark side would eventually turn to face the orange (Sun). That is why to the teeny tiny people living on the apple, the orange appeared to be “coming up,” even though it truly wasn’t moving at all!

I paid really, really close attention to this entire lesson, and when it was complete, I understood! The sun stayed in place, the earth turned, and as a result night and day occurred! However, one question remained.

“But, Daddy—What about the lemon?”

What about the lemon, indeed! My father burst out laughing. He loved this story so much that upon our arrival, he told it to the friend we’d been on our way to visit in New York. This friend loved the story so much, too, he soon sent me an unexpected gift: a realistic cardboard solar system mobile from the Museum of Natural History. This extraordinary present was assembled and hung from the canopy foot of my fourposter bed, accompanying me through childhood. I have not seen it in many decades, but I remember it well.

Meanwhile, I have a new idea. Tell me, what do you think? The lemon can be… the moon. 🌵OBC🦉

P.S. Tonight, the full moon will pass in front of and “occult” (block out) Mars for about an hour and a half. Watch this celestial dance live and close up on the Rancho Mirage Library and Observatory YouTube channel, beginning at 6:15 PM Pacific time (9:15 PM Eastern)!!

Two weeks ago today—practically to the minute (!)—on Saturday November 12, 2022, the OBC Caravan arrived in Rancho Mirage.

Since that date, Timi Hendrix and I have taken many walks in the immediate area of our new home and around the perimeter of our new gated community, always staying within the walls. The idea has been for him to learn the scent and extent of his new territory.

Today, after 14 days of this intensive “territory training”, we ventured beyond.

Just behind our complex is a lovely trail called the Butler-Abrams. It runs alongside a sandy culvert known as The Wash. In the event of flash flooding, this is where water will rush down from the mountains like a river. It hardly ever rains in the desert, but I guess when it rains, it pours.

Timi and I walked beside the wash all the way to Wolfson Park, then looped back on Frank Sinatra. Many streets here are named for 20th century performers and politicians who lived and golfed in Palm Springs—Dinah Shore, Bob Hope, Gerald Ford, etc.

Near the end of the walk, I noticed some dates on the ground, freshly fallen from date palms lining the sidewalk. I collected a handful to bring home and enjoy (after washing them and checking for bugs, of course.) Delicious!

I wrote about dates and how nutritious they are here, in one of my previous blogs from another lifetime.

Altogether it took about an hour to walk the Butler-Abrams loop—a perfect length of time. Timi was very well behaved on his leash all the way, and friendly to every dog we met on his exciting first foray outside the complex.

Happy 2-week Anniversary to us! 🌵OBC🦉