I could present one of two debates we had this morning: the first -- did we get one eighth of an inch of rain (Ed's position) or one quarter inch (my position)? But the fact is, neither amount takes us out of the drought category, so why get stuck on such irrelevancies. Let's move on to the second one that also made the rounds at our breakfast table. After my morning walk, of course.
(Wait, a deer? In the morning? Very unusual...)
And I should note that I finally decided to cut some of the sweet pea blooms and lavender stalks and bring them to the breakfast table. Yes, they look good out in the field, but I love them too much to let them remain in some distant space. So, breakfast on the porch, with lavender and sweet peas.
(also on the porch: two cats, taking full advantage of my Adirondack.)
Now, back to the discussion.
It's about travel. I suggested Ed read this article in The New Yorker (titled "The Case Against Travel"). I myself had liked it, and not only because I had a good chuckle as the author described visiting a falconry hospital. I had had a similar reaction to visiting a falconry demonstration in the French Dordogne region while Ed was on a kayak navigating rapids. I had never heard much about falconry before that and can't say that I gained much by seeing the exhibition. It was a rare time where I caved to the pressure of seeing "the most important sight" of the region.
But what I really liked about the article was the fact that the author tried to knock down some of the truisms of travel: that it broadens your perspective by being among people who live with different habits and eat different foods and move about in different ways than you do back home, for example.
I agree with the author that actually, we rarely grow just by inserting ourselves into a new place. We don't really get to know the people who live there and our brief encounters with falcons or, say, the MonaLisa are neither transformative not life changing. And still, I think this needs to be qualified with a huge "unless." Perhaps in the course of your journey you will see something or do something that makes you truly happy. Something that surprises you and brings you a sense of peace, something that quiets your soul (or turns your world upside down, but I dont like that kind of experience! I like my world and dont want it to be upturned!). Staring at the MonaLisa could then be transformative. (It wouldn't be for me, which is why I dont bother going to the Louvre.) You could return and immerse yourself in the study of art from that period, for example. I know this to be true because seeing Impressionists does that for me (and that's why I do bother with exhibits where their art is presented). It makes me happy and I do occasionally think about it when I get back home. And what's more, for me, they offer an insight into taking in the landscape or scenes around me, so that suddenly a walk by a lake, or by a picnic gathering becomes like a painting -- it sings to me.
But it's true that being in places that are culturally very remote (I'm thinking of my trips to Thailand, Japan, Ghana) makes me feel like a spectator in a movie scene rather than a participant. One reason that I go back to Europe so often is because part of me feels a connection to my continent of birth. I go back to places I know and love. Switzerland may be as beautiful, but I know and love France and Italy so much more and so I travel there, bypassing that equally beautiful Switzerland. Returning to beloved places figures prominently in my itineraries. And when I do go to a new city or village or mountain or lake, I am always asking myself at the end of the trip there -- did I connect with something here that would make me want to return? Most often the answer is no. Sometimes it is yes, and then the joy of returning is just exquisite!
Basically, I see the arguments in the article as giving reason to travel more, not less, with the caveat that it's good to be honest with yourself about what you liked and what was boring and made you feel empty. If sitting at a cafe or eating a good dinner is your thing -- that's reason enough to go to a place that lets you do just that. To expand on your world of cafe pleasures. Taking that what you love at home and finding that same thing elsewhere, only with a twist, is reason enough to get in a car or on a plane or train. At least it is for me.
Ed I think would agree. He does travel to sail and he would travel to camp. All the other delights (or at least what is delightful for me) are, for him, not worth the hassle.
We go out for a walk around lunch time. No, we did not get much rain, but there has been a significant cooling off. The breeze is grand, the air feels deliciously fresh.
And in the evening the young family is here for dinner. The kids have been under the care of dad as their mom was checking in with family in Chicago and they had that joy and spark (and matching outfits!) that comes with reuniting with her and having everyone under the same roof again, even if it is the farmhouse roof.
(Wait, where's Sandpiper? Here he is!)
But we ate dinner inside.
It's cool out there. No, no rain at all today, but there is still hope. Too, we know that some areas are getting showers so we are happy for the farmers who did benefit from the passing rain clouds.
And here's one not so small benefit from so much dry air: we have had no mosquitoes! An entire season of spring with not a single bite! Remarkable and amazingly wonderful.
But we continue to hope for rain. For the plants that give us so much joy, especially at this time of the year.
With love...
