On the Move Again

View from the Skyline Trail in Three Rivers, California

Packing and moving have been a regular part of my life since I moved out west over ten years ago. Every few years possessions get put into boxes and carted off to the next destination, with the excitement of new adventures usually outweighing any other concerns. This time, however, we took a leap of faith when we landed in the little town of Three Rivers almost two years ago. Though it went against my better judgement to leave my job and sell our house in New Mexico, after briefly visiting the town one weekend the decision to move ultimately felt like the right one. And since sentiment seems to regularly trump reason in my life, I jumped. Over time we’ve come to know this place and many of the people who live here, and while we see that it's perfect for some, it does not fit us. Many residents of Three Rivers like their little corner of the world to be quiet and separate. It’s a place to rest and retreat from the hectic pace of life in Southern California and to escape the often drab polluted skies of the Central Valley. Those who stay – outdoor enthusiasts, artists and craftspeople, ranchers and farmers, families and retirees – sing the praises of this community for these virtues. 

I’m certainly glad to have spent time here in this place, but I’ve been wanting something more. More of exactly what has been a little hard to define. Perhaps more opportunities – I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. More community would be nice too. Rest and retreat are fine every now and then, but a thriving downtown where people regularly go to experience a shared life is something I look forward to having again. A chance to put down roots is also welcome. Until now, our moves have served as stepping stones on an ever changing path as we, both separately and together, attempt to shape our lives. Because this job is an excellent opportunity for Peter to take his career in a new direction, and because there are a myriad of possibilities for me to explore, we’ve placed our bets and purchased a house.

Sierra live oaks

Some things with this move are going to change very little, for which I am grateful. We’ll still be in California, the complicated and beautiful state that has finally become a place I love to call home.  We’ll still be living in the lovely foothills of the Sierra Nevada, this time a little higher up in the chaparral where the graceful Sierra live oak trees grow. We’ll still be only a few hours from family and friends living elsewhere in California, which is like having them as neighbors in such a large western state (frame of reference for those living in the more densely populated eastern half of the country - people living in Hawai’i who found out we were from California called us practically neighbors).

Our house in Mariposa (P. Lindstrom)

I confess that I often have a sense for how things will work out in advance of the unfolding. I knew Peter was going to get his job in Three Rivers before he got the offer. I knew we were supposed to move here, even though it wasn’t a place we were going to stay. It took me a while to figure out why being in Three Rivers was a necessary step, and then the data manager position in Yosemite opened up – the one that Peter said he’d love to eventually have when he first learned a year ago that such a position existed. Eventually turned out to be only a few months later when a retirement made the position available for the first time in over a decade. I knew the weekend that we went up to check out the town of Mariposa after his interview that he was going to get this job. I knew the moment we walked in the door of that little white house that it was meant to be ours. And every time we’ve been back for a visit, I'm thrilled about the idea of living in Mariposa. It wouldn't surprise me if after eleven years, five moves and four different national parks, I just might finally stay put for a while. 

Beautiful Blues

I don't have a strong desire to live by the ocean, but every time I'm near it I can't help getting swept up in the glorious colors and moods it presents. Overwhelmed by the spectrum of blues on display, I could spend hours contemplating the seam where sea turns to sky.

The windward coast of the Big Island

Beach at Pololu Valley, the Big Island

The ceaseless waves interpret both the topography of seafloor below and weather conditions above. Gentle curls of foam near the shore with an unbroken gradient of azure denote the shallow slope of reef or sand, and gentle sunny breezes.

Beach at Lower Paia Park, Maui

Neighborhood beach in Kailua, Oahu

On steeply sloped windward beaches, thick white waves race across the water, buffeted by strong winds that churn the translucent blues to an opaque froth and tear apart the triangular peaks as they roll onshore.

Sandy Beach, Oahu

Churning waves, Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park

The pounding waves highlight the power of water to shape the land, and the tenacity of rock to resist such force. The water as sculptor works with the texture and orientation of the lava rock to create a myriad of forms, from scalloped slopes to thickset walls and arches. Just as the water changes the land, our sun paints the water glorious shades of blue with its light, and so when hidden by clouds a darker, more subdued sea of navy and dark gray is revealed. 

Makapu'u coast, Oahu

Holei Sea Arch, Hawai'i Volcanoes National Park

Few humans will ever intimately know this vast underwater world, yet those of us who remain on the surface still marvel at its mysteries with appreciation and some trepidation. Perhaps these sentiments stem from knowing that the ocean is as impartial as it is beautiful, and that our attempts to enter into a partnership with it require great respect. This entity that so easily supports life also just as easily takes it away, "The water was made to be a nest that gave birth and bore all things in the womb of the deep." (translated from the Kumulipo, the Hawai'ian creation chant)

Humpback whale off the Kihei coast, Maui

Droplets of oil rising to the surface, USS Arizona Memorial at Pearl Harbor