The Riddle of Home

"When I finish my travels I will solve the riddle of home.

When I finish my travels, I will know the answer."

A Year In The World, Frances Mayes

I love Frances Mayes' writing. I just closed the cover on her latest, A Year In The World, and I feel as if I've traveled along with her from Istanbul to Lochleaven and everywhere in between.

It isn't just the picturesque travelogue she brings us in her books, it's her evocative writing style, rife with homey personal details about each day on the road, what she and her traveling companions eat and do, the history of the places they visit, and what it all means to her. I copied huge chunks of her writing into my own notebook, just for the pleasure of having her words flow vicariously from my own pen.

In this book, Mayes often alludes to her relationship with "home." She writes that her "profound desire for home, for the profoundly beautiful nest, the kitchen garden, the friends gathered at my table, for the candlelit baths, and the objects arranged and the books in order, and most of all the sense of this is my place - all that has been at the mercy of an equal force, the desire to shut the door, turn the key, and go. Go."

I have been wrestling with the idea of "home" for the past few days myself, as I am extremely drawn to "GO" - to France, to Florida, to England, to California, to all the places that I already know I love as well as those that are enticing me because they hold the promise of new vistas and exciting adventures. But, in equal measure, I am held back by the safety and familiarity of my own "beautiful nest," and the sense that "this is my place." It is, as Mayes puts it, an "oxymoronic desire, for the domestic and the opposite."

For me, my struggle with leaving home is deeply rooted in my upbringing, which Mayes also acknowledges is true for all of us. "The first events in your life slap you into the shape you take," she writes. When I was a child, my family never traveled- there was something mysteriously fearful about leaving home, some bad thing that would or could happen, and it just wasn't worth taking the chance. I think I still harbor the fear that, if I leave home, something "bad" will happen not to me, but to the ones I leave behind, almost as "punishment" for my wanderlust.

In spite of the fears, the wanderlust is still there. So I devour books like Mayes', filled with the images and impressions of a life so different from my own. I eagerly gobble up friends descriptions of their trips, and gaze hungrily at the photos they post on the internet. I think there is magic in traveling, in the wisdom you gain from it, the sense of personal satisfaction, the possibilities it opens in your mind. Mayes concludes her narrative by saying that her travels are like the gift of a "transforming angel: you go out, far out, and when you return, you have the power to transform your life." As much as I love my backyard these days, I also have a huge appetite for life transformation. I just need the courage to get up from the table and partake of the feast.

A Day of Emminent Beauty

This morning's view from my back porch

There was really nothing special about today - it was just an ordinary Wednesday (which actually felt like a Monday because of the extra long holiday weekend). But there was something so perfectly summerlike about it - the sky a glorious azure, nicely dotted with puffy white clouds, the breeze soft and refreshingly cool, the steam from the coffee cup I took onto the porch swirling exotically in front of my nose- that it seemed to have a mystical aura. As soon as I got to the office, I opened the window nearest my desk, and was treated to a riotous concert of birds all a-twitter, drowning out the monotonous sound of my tap-tapping fingers on the keyboard. We've had just enough rain this summer that our little avian friends can enjoy puddle baths on a daily basis, and their musical abilities have improved greatly because of it!

Over the past few years, there has been some discussion in our house about moving to Florida full time. After all, our only child has made his life there, and we already have a lovely, brand new home waiting for us. I admit that the winters here in the midwest can be brutally cold, gray, and interminaby long. I'm all for Florida in the winter, where most of the days feel a lot like today. But Florida in the summer - oh, it's really unpleasant. Hot heavy air, deluges of rain when you least expect it, and of course, the ever present threat of devastion from hurricanes.

So, sitting on my back porch enjoying the sunset on the waning hours of this astoundingly beautiful day in Michigan, I had a bit of an epiphany. I don't want to give up summers like these. I guess part of me will always be a "Michigander"- it's more home to me than I thought.

One Deep Breath-Journey

'Cross the pond

verdant hills, ancient stones

remarkable experience

In May 2005, I traveled to England for the first time. I fell in love with the green hills and valleys, and was moved by the ancient villages, churches, and stone circles. Although we celebrate America's 230th birthday today, this journey reminded me that, historically speaking, our country is still just a toddler!

To France or Not to France

That doesn't really sound like an existential question, does it? However, for us, this decision involves thought about some of our basic life values and goals. Here's the story: Two of our very best friends are inveterate travelers. They've been on annual European and Asian treks since 1969, some lasting as long as eight weeks. Of course, they've traversed the US many times over. In other words, they have the traveling thing down pat.

We, on the other hand, are fairly new at the travel game, at least the international part. In May 2005, we traveled with them to the UK, where we spent two weeks doing what I call "England 101." It was your basic survey course of the country, that took us through six cities from Brighton to York. We drove 2000 miles (most of it much too fast, since my husband was at the wheel of our nice Saab Turbo), and I sat in the back seat soaking up the most beautiful green vistas I have ever seen. It was a dream come true for me, and I look back on it now with great longing to be meandering through those valleys and strolling through those little villages once again.

Well, this year our friends took two (yes, two!) trips to France, each one for about 16 days. They invited us along, but we reluctantly declined, since we hadn't yet paid off all the bills from our last sojurn abroad! Last weekend, we had dinner with them and they announced they had booked tickets in May 2007 for a two week trip to Provence, and wouldn't we like to join them.

Of course we want to join them - the prospect of spending two weeks in Provence (with a side trip to Paris) makes my heart beat faster and itch with longing. But here is the dilemma - do we want to incur another round of debt for this trip, or shouldn't we be really serious about saving for that mid-life career and lifestyle change that we hope to embark on in another three or four years? And, should we plan a trip that far in advance, considering the health conditions of both our mother's?

Part of me (the part that has hungrily devoured every Peter Mayle and Frances Mayes book)says, you should just GO - who knows if you'll have another opportunity like this, and why put off dreams in the hope of an uncertain tomorrow, yada yada. The other part (the part who never left home until she was 21, and who was trained to be practical and responsible) says, you have no business spending all that money or leaving your mother to fend for herself for two weeks.

So, what do you think? To France or not to France? That is the question....

Sunday Scribblings-Two Peas In A Pod

Molly and Magic-Two Peas In A Pod

If you've read my last two posts, you'll know I've been in a bit of a black funk. But there's nothing that can cheer me up like these two peas in a pod.

Magic is the quintessential older brother - he's sometims bossy and mean, but hugely protective. If he hears Molly barking, he drops everything and takes off in a flash in full outraged mode, ready to fight to the death to save her if need be. Molly, well, she's the epitome of the pesky little sister. She begs mercilessly for whatever toy he's playing with, rolling over on her back right in front of his face and whimpering piteously until he drops it and walks away defeatedly. They are usually never farther than a stone's throw from each other, and often sleep curled up side by side-Molly likes to use Magic's back as a pillow.

For this pair, every day is a happy new adventure. They wake up bright eyed and beautifully bushy tailed, urging us out of bed with the promise of a walk or a game with their favorite squeaky ball. They're perfectly happy with a couple of meals, a bedtime biscuit, and every once in a while a mini scoop of vanilla from the Dairy Queen. They have the best attitude of anyone I know, and luckily for me, it's infectious. A healthy dose of fun with these two peas in a pod has quite completely banished my doldrums!

To read more Sunday Scribblings, go here.