Sunday, September 02, 2012


Most anyone would pick a yoga class by the instructor. Of course. A teacher may really depress your interest in going forth. When Ed and I went to classes some years back, we felt it was like medicine: terrible tasting but good for you. You can’t continue for long on that premise.

But there are many instructors that would work for me. And I need something else: I need proximity and an enjoyable trek over. And so when I search for a yoga lesson, I start close to home. In Fitchburg.  A hop and a skip from the farmhouse.

But first, breakfast. Even as I'm hurrying to get going.

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...while Ed takes his time. 

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And now it's 10:30 and I'm in a class with a group of very adept women. 

The class is a tad fast paced. I’m not so quick that I can slide from down dog to up dog to roll over dog (as you can tell, I’m not that familiar with the terminology). I can’t become a warrior and open my heart and feel the vertebrae sink into the mat all in one fell swoop. And still, I like the poses, I like the language (I had no idea we carry most of our stresses in our hip! Why not – I’ll go along. Out it goes! Good bye stress!), I like the fact that there is plenty of space and the big windows look out on the prairie.

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But what I like best – and this is why I will return, for sure – is that when I get back on Rosie to head home, I am like a different being -- so relaxed that it's as if I can melt right into her in the most comfortable way. We surge forward, with the wind in our faces, the prairie fields flowing to the right, to the left, not much in the way of cars, just Rosie and me, flying home. I do not remember ever enjoying a motorbike ride as much as I enjoyed the one after the yoga class.

Feeling terribly noble (house cleaning before yoga, then the stretches and the movement and the ommmmmm), I retire to the porch and watch the chipmunks play and the humming birds chase each other before me.

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Days like this are heaven sent. Ed and I talk more about building out a front ‘winter deck,’ we read, work, talk some more...

 ...and now it's evening and the grill is heating pieces of charcoal and the mustard, sauerkraut, tomatoes (yes, lots of tomatoes!) are out. My girl and her fiance arrive and we sit out on the porch and eat  chicken brats and local corn and watch the sun go down.

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