Port Townsend

On my retreat, I am walking wooden piers and watching the seagulls glide. I am easing into talks with a friend that dip smoothly from tangential to deep. I am surrounded by a world of water that is cool, rhythmic, deep. 

Grey mist lifts to reveal a sun-kissed landscape around me. Snowy mountains encircle us but remain enshrouded in cloud – silent and invisible guardians of our space.

On my retreat, I am at home in rooms painted warm hues of yellow and orange. The walls are splashed with family photos that recall memories of laughter and joy. The world is brought near by homegrown artwork that evokes journeys we have shared. 

On my retreat, I eat. 

The garden is alive, even if in a wintry “in between.” It gives me my first taste of mustard greens, and it enthralls me with the life that always beats beneath the surface. I am fed – Moroccan delights, spiced eggs, fresh salmon - and my own scraps feed the chickens, who then feed the earth. 

Twinkle lights, laughter. Freshly baked cookies. Painting at the kitchen table. Endless cubbies of tea. The hot water kettle delivers in an instant. We enjoy cozy couch sites. Together.

Here to greet me and care for me, on my retreat: a doctor, caregiver, storyteller, friend, a bank of knowledge and humor - many people wrapped up in two kind hosts.

My retreat- a gift given and gladly received.