I can’t believe how behind in writing I am. Read a post yesterday that exemplified my own philosophy on thinking about  vs. doing and feeling even worse for knowing how to get work done, knowing how to accomplish my goals and nonetheless failing in the making time/following through regarding.

Anyway, vacation. It included five days at Sandy Bar Ranch, half with a girlfriend and half with the family (sans Chelsea, who had to work). It also included mascarpone cheese, farm fresh tomatoes, several bottles of white wine and strawberries.

Also, a waterfall.

The view at Sandy Bar.

And birds and teensy frogs.

Thousands of these frogs leapt around the river bank.

And reading.

The Fiddler in the Subway by Gene Weingarten

And rivering.

Salmon River

What it didn’t include: Things to be done.

From my journal, 8-17-10:

Woke up with nothing “needing” to be done – and several pleasing options before me. Stay in bed and read? Walk around the ranch, buy some sun-juicy tomatoes for dinner tonight? Stroll up to the office and sign up for an in-cabin massage? Head straight off to the river?

No laptop, no cell coverage; checking email, making calls, writing up a “to-do” list for the day were options I’d made sure I could let go for the duration of our stay. I began our day of sun and river, food, restoration and decadence with a mug of Earl Grey tea.

(Later that day)

I have no idea what time it is. Don’t know when I woke up, what time we ate that breakfast of mascarpone cheese smeared on a Brio baguette, topped with strawberries and maple syrup. Don’t know what time we left for this glorious spot on the Salmon. I do know driving from Sandy Bar to here took longer than the first six songs on Absynth Quintet’s Indigo Shoes CD, but less time than seven. The river plays music over the rocks before deepening into a swimming hole, then bending further downstream. Another creek pours in at the bend – when I swam to it, the water sharpened from cool to icy in a stroke. The air smells of heat or perhaps that’s just my flesh burning, too caught up in writing and reading to pause for more sunscreen. I read till the sun’s intensity is unbearable. My brain thickens. I’m dizzy. Staggering to the edge of the river in the glare, I kick off my shoes, stumble over the rocks, wade in, dive under.

All at once the river’s chill returns me to my body, every cell reawakened into this this moment, this here, this now, this place, this peace. I emerged restored, again.