Remembering Gratitude

Posted by dkrashb on November 25, 2015

Once we got back home, Tisen immediately went back to sleep

Caught cat-napping on the dog bed (it was the only way to keep Tisen off the couch)

Twiggy goes all-in when she wants to cuddle

Dear friends–both human and raptor

Harvest moonrise–just a minute too late

Friends in Florida means an excuse to go visit.

Family moments I was glad I could capture.

When there is nothing else to be grateful for, there is always sunset.

G and Big G

I wasn’t going to write a gratitude list this year. I’m too busy, too many important things to do, just no time. But, I have learned and re-learned a thousand times that the things I hear myself saying I don’t have time for are sometimes the most important things I need to make time for. Sometimes I don’t have time because I am keeping myself busy so I don’t have to face the hard things.

This has been a tough year. They happen from time to time. This has not, by far, been the hardest year of my life. But it’s not been one where things to be grateful for jump immediately to mind.

The loss of my dear friend, G, tops the list of things that prevent me from wanting to think about gratitude. But, it is actually G who inspires this exercise for me this year. In fact, very shortly before she was suddenly and shockingly taken from us, she decided would create a gratitude blog. We talked many times about the importance of developing a gratitude practice. And we discussed the biggest challenge of practicing gratitude: being grateful for the things that hurt the most.

I don’t know how to be grateful for the loss of someone I love. I can’t even get close enough to the loss to really look at it. Often, in the few quiet moments that happen between sliding into bed and sleep, it occurs to me that this latest wound needs the dressing changed. When I manage to get close to attending to it, the smell turns my stomach. I cannot find the courage to rip off the tape. I turn into a simpering fool, paralyzed by the fear of gangrenous, maggot-infested flesh that surely lies beneath the neglected bandage.

I suspect this wound is really just a reopening of an age-old wound that has never formed a scar. It is the pain of loss.

The past year was what seemed like a long series of losses, some more paralyzing than others: the loss of my canine companion; the loss of belief in myself when I wasn’t able to help my husband with his business; the loss of my own identity in taking time off from my corporate career; the loss of income; the loss of financial security for me and my small family; the loss of faith in good health and self-determination when my 70 year-old yoga instructor (who also does triathlons’s and century bike rides) had hernia surgery that resulted in a near-death struggle for survival over several months; the partial and temporary loss of my own mind from a concussion from a biking accident; the loss of my amateur status in photography that brought with it business management overhead that I wasn’t fully prepared for; the loss of feeling like we lived in a safe community when a shooting that reached international news occurred just a couple miles down the road; the loss of my freedom when my leave of absence ended; the loss of my Friday morning yoga class that I’ve depended on for sanity for nearly 4 years; the loss of easy access to our first friends in Chattanooga when they decided to move to Florida; the loss of yet another pillar in my support network when another friend moved to D.C.; the list goes on. Of course, the unexpected and difficult to understand death of my closest friend was by far the most staggering loss this year. It is still not real to me even though I sit on her couch as I write this.

See how easy it is for me to feel sorry for myself? Even the decision to shoot professionally, something I’ve worked towards for many years, has become a loss. The sense of loss can be every bit as infectious as a good laugh.

This is, in a nutshell, why my gratitude list must be a priority for me. And why it needs to be a daily practice, not an annual one.

In fact, Forbes listed 7 positive benefits of gratitude different studies have demonstrated ranging from improved physical health to improved sleep in an article run last year for Thanksgiving. You can read the article here: http://www.forbes.com/sites/amymorin/2014/11/23/7-scientifically-proven-benefits-of-gratitude-that-will-motivate-you-to-give-thanks-year-round/

In the end, we develop habits. As Charles Reade is oft paraphrased (this is the version I first saw on an elementary school cafeteria wall in 2002):

Mind your thoughts for they become your words;

Mind your words for they become your actions;

Mind your actions for they become your habits;

Mind your habits for they become your character;

Mind your character for it becomes your destiny.

Our brains are relatively easy to train into patterns of thought. If we take in our experiences and make them losses, they are losses. But we can just as easily learn to take in these same experiences as reasons for gratitude. The point is to choose to create a destiny that is not full of regret and and an overwhelming sense of loss.

And so, in honor of G, I make my list this evening. I am grateful for:

Having loved so dearly that the loss knocked me down, stopped my heart, filled me with endless longing and yet having found the courage to love so dearly again.
Having learned (and continuing to learn) from wise friends who come with many points of view and experiences.
Having had a glimpse of what dementia feels like so that I may be more compassionate, patient, and empathetic with those who suffer from any form of mental confusion.
Experiencing the strength and grace of practicing yoga and knowing that I can remain flexible and strong for decades to come.
Having met caring people who have welcomed me into their lives in both big and small ways and made me feel like I am part of a community–both locally and afar.
Having taken the risk and time to explore the possibility of what my husband and I could and could not do together rather than wondering what might have been.
The opportunity to return to a job that gives me a sense of security and provides for my (even smaller) family.
The ability to continue to pursue photography and to push my limits in a part of my brain that isn’t always exercised.
Having been published in a major magazine.
Being inspired to start the Serious Women series which has re-awakened my creative spirit as well as inspired me in new ways as I learned more about the women I was shooting.
My iPhone and Facebook, which make it possible to incorporate keeping in touch with distant friends in fractions of minutes in even the busiest of days.
For being able to see my family for important events in their lives as well as ordinary visits even though we are geographically dispersed.
For Euchre.
And, for my friends in Chattanooga who haven’t abandoned me even though I have sorely neglected them.
I am grateful for having had 3 years with my boy, Tisen. 3 years during which I was the star of every day for him and that reminded me to try to be the person my dog believed me to be (as the bumper sticker goes).
I am grateful for having been able to ease Tisen out of the world gently. And for a vet who was willing to come in for this somber purpose on the Sunday after Thanksgiving. For a husband who is the kind of man who cried shamelessly over the loss of a dog who loved me like no one else and who often guarded me jealously—even from the same husband who was there for him to the very end.
I am grateful that G remained a central part of my life even after we moved to Chattanooga. I am grateful that we were both able to use technology to keep in touch, often in random and hilarious ways—that we were able to bridge space and time.
I am grateful that G inspired me to write this list (and the many, many other ways in which she continues to inspire me) and that I took the time to write it. I am grateful that my life is so full of lessons, opportunities, love, and surprises. I am grateful that I continue to muddle my way through the curve balls.
I am grateful for maggots—they can cleanse wounds thoroughly and without disgust.

“If you want to be happy, notice that you are.” -Georgia Crosby, 1957-2015

Returning Home

Posted by dkrashb on June 15, 2014

Trips to Columbus, Ohio are always confusing to me. I never know which direction should be referred to as “going home.” I once wrote that home is where your bed is. By that criteria, I guess Chattanooga is our home destination. However, having spent nearly 40 years living in Columbus, the paltry 3 we’ve lived in Chattanooga have not been enough to erase the feeling of returning home when we head North on 75.

This last trip North ended the longest stretch I’ve gone to date between trips to Columbus. It’s been long enough that I can’t actually remember when my last trip up was, but I know it wasn’t in this calendar year. With my remaining family all living elsewhere these days and many of my friends having moved away as well, it sometimes catches me off guard how much Columbus still feels like home. When I think about what makes it feel homey, here’s what I’ve come up with:

I know how to get to every place I want to go without using GPS. If one route has traffic, I know another route, also without GPS.
I can come up with restaurants I want to eat at based on style of food, quality of adult beverages, particular favorite dishes, or outdoor ambience. (I confess, I did have to check with several restaurants on whether they allow dogs on their patio or not–Tisen came along on this trip.)
I know where the “bad” parts of town are.
I know where the best camera shops in town are and which ones carry Canon gear.
I have a doctor and a dentist there.
I know where to go for a safe pedicure without an appointment.
Graeter’s Ice Cream is available just about everywhere–even Costco.
The biggest problem is trying to fit everyone we want to see into a few days and realizing we’re not going to be able to get to see many of the people we’d love to catch up with.
We have a place to stay where there is a room just for us and our dog is welcome (and offers from several other friends to stay with them)–I guess we do have a bed in Columbus.

This trip was timed around the Columbus Guitar Show. It was my first time working a show (although I’ve attended a couple before). Manning the booth and giving away T-shirts to people who participated in my marketing campaign turned out to be both fun and exhausting.

One of the best things about our timing was that we were in Chattanooga for the beginning and end of the Riverbend Festival, but missed the middle of the 9-day event. This means we didn’t get tired of the extra people and traffic in the downtown area. And, we were home in time for the fireworks–out of all the fireworks in Chattanooga, the Riverbend fireworks are by far the best and longest display.

Taking Stock

Posted by dkrashb on June 8, 2014

Cliffside outcroppings at Stone Door

The boys and the dogs

My bestie looking mighty brave on a rock ledge

Looking down the stone door

View from an overlook at Stone Door on a hike

My friends in a crevice at Rock City

Taking time off with friends over Memorial Day weekend at Lovers Leap-Rock City

It’s officially been 2 months since my leave of absence began. I thought it would be a good time to enumerate both the new lessons I’ve learned and the old lessons that have resurfaced as particularly relevant to this major shift in my life.

Your time will fill. No matter how much you have to do or how long you think you have to do it, time will pass more quickly than you expected and you will get less done than you planned.
It doesn’t matter how much of an out-of-the-box thinker you are; if there is no box, you can’t think outside of it.
When you have a mile-long list of things to do and believe you have only a fraction of the time you need to get them done, you manage your time far more judiciously than when you have a short list of things to do and believe you have all day. (See #1.)
There is always more opportunity than capacity.
When one thing has been your biggest time investment for a long time, when you pull it out of your schedule, everything that surrounded it collapses on top of each other and you have to scratch and claw your way through the crap to shove in something new and get all the little stuff safely held at bay.
Staying busy is not the hard part. It’s staying busy doing the important things instead of the distracting things that’s hard. (See #1.)
Just because something must be done urgently doesn’t mean it should be done at all.
I really mind a dirty house less than I mind cleaning it.
We treat people we have an intimate personal relationship with like someone we have an intimate personal relationship with even when the topics are professional–it takes effort not to hear “I don’t love you” when you disagree.
Working with your spouse is an opportunity to better your overall relationship. Creating artificial lines between your personal and professional relationship is only lying to yourself. The two roles are inseparable and must feed one another, driving both a closer, more intimate relationship and more creative energy from the feeling of being on the same team working towards the same goals.
Sleep helps. This is theoretical. I used reverse logic: lack of sleep makes everything harder. Therefore, I believe that if I someday get enough sleep, it will make everything easier.
Every day we have the opportunity to be more focused, more productive, more playful, more creative, more effective, more attuned to our health, and to get more sleep. We probably won’t do all of these things in the same day, however.
At the end of the day, it’s you. There is only you and what you did and didn’t get done, whether what you did made a difference, and whether that difference is the difference you intended. Ultimately, there is not, and really never has been, anyone else to blame.

A New Year

Posted by dkrashb on January 6, 2014

Here we are. A new year. Another marker of the passage of time. So, taking stock of some of my 2013 high/low lights:

I experienced complete and utter presence in the moment repeatedly while learning how to handle birds of prey. I also began to understand how much more I have to learn.

I sat silently with my husband on a cliff in South Cumberland State Park and listened to the wind blowing through the pine trees, experiencing the simple joy of knowing that the wind, the trees, the rocks, my husband, and I were all connected in that moment.

I listened to a troubled friend with an open heart and felt their pain with empathy and without judgment. More frequently, I fell back to my old habit of listening, judging, and trying to fix.

I spent an afternoon visiting with my bestie that was so relaxing, we both fell asleep and napped. There was a time in my life when I would have thought that was a bad thing, but sleep is the ultimate vulnerability. To be with someone and feel so calm and so at ease that I can sleep in her presence now seems like an amazing gift.

I stopped in places I had never seen while on a road trip with Tisen. I paused in my constant push to get somewhere faster to stop and see what was a few miles from the highway, discovering bison, quiet fishing lakes, and a historical village.

I took a walk through a historic plaza in the middle of Madrid on a sunny day in February and feasted on local fare at a tiny restaurant with 6 tables, served with the warmth of family by the couple who owned the place. I experienced food made with love and hospitality.

I deepened my knowledge and appreciation of photography, pushing myself to a place where I feel comfortable that I know what I don’t know and I know what I want to work on next. What I appreciate the most is that it truly is all about the journey–there’s a new discovery every time I look through the lens.

I lost sight of some of the things that are of the greatest importance to my health and well-being. I injured my back in the spring and stopped rowing and riding, only to re-injure my back when I started again weeks later. I haven’t been on my bike in months. Eating has become something that happens when someone hands me food or I’m so hungry I feel nauseous. I not eating well and I am not eating enough. I also stopped finding time to meditate. All of this has added up to sleepless nights, frenetic energy, anxiety, and physical discomfort.

So, I guess I know what my goals for 2014 are: more moments fully experienced. Less time trying to do more. More time recharging myself. I guess that means it’s time to stop writing and go to bed.

Talking ’bout Generations

Posted by dkrashb on July 22, 2013

Generation 1 grinning from ear-to-ear while hugging generation 3--I love grandma's smile

Generation 1 grinning from ear-to-ear while hugging generation 3–I love the smile

Upon reflecting on spending Saturday morning with Great-grandparents, Grandparents, Parents, and child, the continuum struck me as profound. I now have five close friends who are grandparents. Everyone of them says being a grandparent is the best experience in the world–they don’t actually have to say that, the look on their faces says it all.

Perhaps it brings a sigh of relief knowing that you can pass the baton and let your child be the one who does all the hard stuff while you sweep in to blow raspberries on baby’s belly or to spoil a toddler with cookies at breakfast or let a ‘tween do something they’re not allowed to do with a wink and a shared secret never to be told to your children?

Sleepy face on Generation 4

I am reminded of my own grandparents. My father’s parents were born before the turn of the century–the 20th, that is. My father was a late comer in their lives, born when they were in their 40’s. By the time I arrived on the scene, they were nearly 70.

They were still fun people, albeit moving slowly, until I was about 12 or so. We saw them twice a year, living about a 10-hour drive away. Grandma always baked for us. She made fancy homemade cakes for my brother’s birthday at Christmas. But what really got us excited wasn’t the cake. It was her marshmallow treats. We had never had them before my grandmother made them for us the first time. She set the standard.

My grandmother also made the best strawberry preserves I ever ate in my life. Grandma’s strawberry preserves were so darn good, I still drool whenever I think about them. I used to regret not learning from her how to make them, but now I think the memory of those preserves is sacred. Grandma’s secret ingredient in all her recipes was an infusion of love. Eating her goodies was like a sacrament–the embodiment of all that she hoped to pass down to us.

Generation 3 holding generation 4 and looking like only a proud papa madly in love with his baby girl can look

My grandfather did not bake. Rather, he was just downright silly. He was world-class when it came to horse play. Whether it was chasing us around the house (irritating Grandma with our shrieks of joy), bouncing us on his knee, or pretending to steal our noses, Grandpa’s genuine goofiness was a crowd pleaser.

The most poignant moment of visiting Grandma and Grandpa always came when we waved goodbye. Armed with a bag of candies to get us safely home again, we waved out the back window of the station wagon and watched Grandma bury her tear-streaked face in Grandpa’s shoulder as we disappeared from view. I asked my mom once why Grandma always cried when we left. Mom said something about Grandma missing us when we’re gone. I didn’t figure out until many years later that it was because every time she said goodbye, she thought it would be the last.

Generation 4 rebooting

Borrowing Babies

Posted by dkrashb on July 21, 2013

Mom and baby just chillin’

I don’t really think of myself as a baby person. Babies are cute and cuddly and fun for a short period of time and then they start to need things. And you have to guess at what they need because they’re not particularly articulate. This is about the time I like to have someone handy to hand them back to.

But meeting the new daughter of one of the two women in the world who refer to me as their “second mom” felt different. I’m not saying I wanted to whisk this tiny baby off and be responsible for her. But, her crying wasn’t annoying. Her smile seemed brighter. Her expressions were cuter. And her laughter was more addictive than the babies of people I didn’t watch grow up.

Grandma grabbing a kiss

I was still happy Mom and Dad were quick to jump in when she started fussing. Fortunately, they speak baby and were were able to interpret exactly what little Ireland needed quickly. But it occurred to me why so many parents are excited about becoming grandparents.

In the decision not to have children, we didn’t really think about the inevitable outcome of not having grandchildren either. I think I’m OK with borrowing other people’s grandchildren. I suppose it’s not really fair–after all, we didn’t go through the sleepless nights or the difficult adolescence or the expense of raising the next generation. But, sometimes it’s best to leave these things to more qualified people.

Just watchin’

I enjoyed watching Chris and Karen with their daughter. They have a sense of calm rarely seen in new parents. Or maybe it was just exhaustion? Whatever the case, they exuded confidence and seemed unflustered, knowing what was needed when and dealt with hunger, fatigue, and projectile spit-up like pros.

I’m sure it helps that Ireland is a happy baby without colic. There are many parents who would probably be calm and collected if their babies weren’t keeping them up all night. In any case, we apparently kept Ireland up past her nap time. After enjoying playing for a while and then having her own breakfast, she started nodding off like some of my sleep-apnea-suffering co-workers during a long, boring meeting.

I actually remembered my DSLR is also capable of shooting video just in time to catch Ireland nodding off one more time before she was put down to sleep in her car seat. Isn’t it amazing how a baby can sleep soundly in the middle of a restaurant patio in a car seat? She slept through conversation and commotion and even while she was carried across the shopping center and set back down time and time again.

Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad–someone to cart you around while you nap.

Mom’s beautiful smile

Meet Up

Posted by dkrashb on July 20, 2013

Surely this is Olympus?

Today was full of nostalgia. It started off with a visit with friends. One of those friends is a young woman I’ve known for 23 years now–since she was 7. I didn’t realize I’d known her for 23 years until we sat down and figured it out over breakfast. But there I was, flipping back and forth in my mind between the 7 year-old Karen the day I met her and the 30 year old wife and mother sharing breakfast with me.

Karen and Chris

It was the first time I met her new daughter, just born in March. She’s a happy baby. Smiling and cooing and doing cute baby things. I will have photos from today eventually, but I need to get them downloaded and post-processed first and I forgot my card reader–I’ll have to find one tomorrow.

Since I don’t have new photos to post, I thought I would take a trip down memory lane from the last time I saw my friend and her husband. It’s hard to believe it’s been 3 years since I last saw them. We went hiking with them in Montana when Pat and I were out for a visit.

One of the things Pat and I did while we were in Montana was take a helicopter ride over Glacier National Park with some other dear friends who accompanied us on part of the trip. We flew over the mountains, above the clouds that surrounded the peaks. I think of these photos whenever my young friend talks about her job. She’s a paramedic and flies on life flights over the same mountains I paid to see.

I sometimes visualize her in an emergency medical chopper over these same mountains. I am part jealous and part afraid. Such beautiful sights so often, and to get paid to see it to boot! On the other hand, it seems like such a dangerous thing to do, rushing out into this unforgiving landscape in a tiny helicopter to try to save someone. I am impressed all over again every time I think about it.

Reconnecting with this friend and her extended family (4 generations were at breakfast together) reminded me how wonderful family is. I found myself missing my own family as well as this adoptive family I was able to spend the morning with immediately upon leaving.

I started winding through history, remembering cute things Karen and her twin sister and younger brother did when I spent 2 summers babysitting them. I also remembered all the hard times having this group of people in my life helped me through.

I managed to slip back into the present moment enough to enjoy one of the nicest parts about meeting the whole family: getting to watch Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, Great-grandma and Great-grand dad all making faces at the newest addition to the family. They were all adorable in their face making approaches.

To Spring or Not to Spring

Posted by dkrashb on May 1, 2013

Flowering trees in the neighborhood next to the restaurant

Returning to my home town for the first time in quite a few months, I was disappointed to discover it was still winter there when I arrived. The temperatures dropped to the upper 30’s and the rain seemed never-ending. I was regretting having left spring behind in Chattanooga.

Fortunately, the expression “if you don’t like the weather, wait 10 minutes,” is as applicable in Columbus as it is anywhere else I’ve heard it uttered. While it took more than 10 minutes to make a significant shift, the sun appeared, the rain dried, and the temperature started to rise.

I went from wishing I’d brought a winter coat to worrying about not having a raincoat or umbrella to wondering if I even needed a light sweater in just a few days. I suppose it’s typical for spring–it comes in fits and starts. One day it feels like August, the next we’re back to January and gradually the ratio changes and the high and low temperatures keep staying higher until most of the days feel like August. Sometimes it’s hard to remember it’s a process.

Our friend on the patio while we wait for food

By the time we met friends for dinner on Monday night, the weather was cooperative. This was especially good because the restaurant we ate at had about 5 tables inside and 10 out. Had it been bad weather, we would have been waiting for a table for a long time. As it was, we were able to sit outside without a wait because the sky was gray enough to elicit looks of suspicion from patrons hovering around the bar with their food. The weather may have been cooperative, but just barely. By the time we finished eating, we were wrapping our jackets around us tight trying to stay warm.

Our other friend cooling off after walking to meet us and his wife

One of the great things about eating in a new restaurant in our old neighborhood was that we actually ran into other friends while we were sitting there. Friends we hadn’t seen in a really long, long time. It made me think maybe we should try the approach one of my friends who moved to Seattle uses when she comes into town for a visit. She schedules dinner at a place where people can easily come and go without throwing the staff for a loop. Then, she invites all her friends to meet her there. She gets to see many friends in a 2-3 hour window this way. It does sound much easier to coordinate than trying to schedule 3 meals a day with different people. However, I’m not sure I would get to actually talk with everyone that way.

In any case, it was cool to get to catch up with 4 friends at one meal. Unfortunately, our surprise friends arrived after it was too dark to take photos with my iPhone. I did manage to catch some blooming trees and the friends we’d scheduled our dinner with via Hipstamatic. I should probably start experimenting with something other than tintype soon.

Tisen refusing to hold still after we returned to our host’s house

Tisen and Twiggy

Posted by dkrashb on January 10, 2013

Tisen and Twiggy decide to raise their heads long enough for a photo op

Over the holidays we had one of our favorite guests–Twiggy. Twiggy is also a favorite of Tisen’s.

Some say that dogs have the intelligence of about a 2 year old human. But if flirting techniques are any indicator, I’d say Tisen performs at the level of a 7 or 8 year old. His favorite way to get Twiggy to pay attention to him is to stick a toy in her face and then make growly noises at her. It’s like the little boy who keeps pulling a little girl’s hair.

Twiggy is the master of hard-to-get. She ignores Tisen unless she feels like demonstrating that females are not the weaker sex. She nips at Tisen’s legs when she wants to engage. He invariably turns and mouths her neck. She body-blocks him, using her height to her advantage, and then reaches around to grab hold of him with her mouth and knock him to the ground. She often flips him completely onto his back.

Tisen, like the 7-year old human, is grateful for any attention Twiggy gives him. He’s happy to wrestle with her even if he loses. I sometimes imagine he loses on purpose so Twiggy will like him more. But, in reality, Twiggy is better at wrestling.

The two of them bound toward one another like a reuniting Heathcliff and Katherine after a separation. But, more like one of those funny commercials, Twiggy invariably switches direction at the last second and runs to me instead of Tisen. This makes Tisen doubly jealous–both his favorite canine and his favorite human paying attention to someone else. But, he can’t be too jealous–he loves us both.

Every time Twiggy comes to stay, she and Tisen seem to get a little cozier. They went from taking turns sleeping on the sofa while the other slept on the floor, to each choosing an opposite end of the sofa, to now curling up together in the same spot. Sometimes, the spot is me. I wish I’d figured out how to take pictures of this–they piled up on top of me like I was part of the furniture. At one point, Tisen was literally straddling Twiggy while she was laying in my lap.

Tisen lifts his head from Twiggy’s back when he sees my camera

Making a puppy pile seems to be quite comfortable for them. As for me, I seem to end up with bruises from foot steps, sharp elbows, and hard heads. But, I have to admit, it’s so cute that I don’t discourage this behavior.

Another change has been the stealing of beds. Each dog wants to be in the other dog’s bed. But, as soon as the other dog is in a bed, that’s the one the other dog wants. This time around, they eventually shared a bed.

I’m not sure I was supposed to let them sleep together, but I figured they were old enough to make up their own minds. Besides, they’re old enough that all they wanted to do was sleep.

Tisen and Twiggy stopped fighting over the bed and decided to share it

Otters and Smiles

Posted by dkrashb on January 4, 2013

This playful otter had quite a routine established–he used every inch of his tank that simulated a rushing river

There are certain things in life that make it impossible not to smile. A toddler laughing. A dog wagging like mad. An amazing sunset. And otters.

Who can possibly watch otters at play without smiling?

The Tennessee Aquarium has otters in their River Journey display. I have been to the aquarium at least a dozen times in the past year and a half. The otters have always been sleeping. Otters sleeping are cute, but not quite so provocative of a smile as when they’re playing. Discovering they were wide awake and having a ball on our recent visit with friends was quite a joy for me.

One might think the otter needed a rest, but he really was looking for a diving board

The Otter takes a spinning leap as he makes a dramatic dive back into the water

This might have been a great time to switch over to the video mode on my camera. But, alas, I keep forgetting it will shoot video. So, I have created a video from a series of rapid fire stills instead. I didn’t actually shoot with the intention of making a video, so there are gaps. The biggest gap is that I missed when they were swimming upside down. How is it that otters can swim upside down as easily as right side up? According to the National Geographic website, they can close their ears and noses. I imagine that would be a big advantage during graceful rolls and swirls through the water.

The first time I thought I saw a river otter in the wild was in Colorado. As it turned out, it was a beaver. When it smacked its flat tail against the water at us, I realized my mistake. In retrospect, a sea otter would be closer to the size of a beaver than a river otter, so I really should have known it was a beaver. Seeing a beaver was pretty exciting, but I’ve always wanted to see wild otters at play. So far, the closest I’ve come is when we saw river otters in a mountain lake near Mt. Hood in Oregon last fall. They were fun to watch, but we were a bit far away to get to see much besides their heads when they would pop back to the surface after diving for fish.

The only pair of wild river otters I’ve ever seen taking a break from fishing in Oregon

River Otters are one of the many creatures I envy. They are perfectly equipped for their lifestyle. They have all the special features they need to not just survive through cold winters and hot summers, but to thrive in them. They embrace their lifestyle with verve and frolic through life.

Of course, there are downsides. For one, they are apparently very vulnerable to environmental pollutants. For another, that warm, waterproof coat is something humans want to have. They had disappeared from much of the country as a result. Fortunately, through reintroduction and habitat management, they’ve made quite the comeback and are even considered a nuisance in some localized areas. However, there are still many parts of the country that have very few river otters. These must be the parts of the country I usually go hiking in. I keep hoping, though.

nomadicmainstream

Combining living on the road with a mainstream lifestyle

Category Archives: Friends