Happy Thanksgiving! I had a joyful day. This morning, I ran the Turkey Trot with my family. I was well rested and naturally woke up early, the weather was comfortably cool, and I kept a steady pace. After we got home and everyone was out of the shower and dressed, we decided to put up the Christmas tree. We usually wait until after Thanksgiving, but the coming week is forecast to be wintery, so we decided to go ahead and brighten the house with holiday lights. It looks very cheerful now, and we had a relaxing day and a good dinner. There was much to be thankful for today.

Word-art with a turkey pulling a child's wagon that says, "A Joyful Day to You."

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”

This is the 13th story in a series. Click here to read all parts from the beginning.

The morning’s hazy sunshine had given way to clouds and rain showers by midafternoon, turning to sleet soon afterward. A thick bluish glaze had built up on the cabin’s ancient windows by nightfall. Howling winds shook the walls. Ira, lighting candles that gave off the crisp scent of the forest’s conifers, observed in his usual calm tone, “There will be a blizzard tonight.”

Not looking at all bothered by that prospect, Ira sat down in one of the cabin’s two chairs, propped a giant hairy foot on a stool, and started buffing his toenails with what looked like a pumice stone. If I had really been a dragon-slaying warrior hero like some people foolishly imagined, then I’d have been doing something useful—mending armor, or whatever. Instead, not being anything of the sort, I got myself another cupful of hard cider from the old barrel in the back corner.

Photo of an old wooden barrel with red metal staves, on a wood floor.

(Creative Commons image via flickr)

I was already tipsy enough that I had to look away from Ira so I wouldn’t start giggling. Even if he might not really be a Sasquatch, the thought of Bigfoot’s nail care routine struck my semi-functioning brain as hilarious. But of course, laughing at one’s host while stranded on an alien planet during a blizzard wouldn’t have been the smartest thing to do. I glanced toward the hearth where the stewpot hung.

“Tomorrow’s dinner will be baked fish,” Ira informed me, in the tone of a waiter announcing the daily special. “There’s frozen fish in the cellar.”

Following his gaze, I noticed a trapdoor set into an open area not far from the cider barrel. Its hinged metal handle was tucked neatly inside a groove cut into the floor for that purpose.

“A creek not far from here has good fishing,” Ira went on. “Usually it runs clear and fresh, with meltwater from the mountain’s snows.”

He removed his foot from the stool, swigged some cider from his own enormous mug, and then started working on the other foot. I looked away again, trying not to think about how much this sounded like a normal conversation about fishing with my friends back home. The urge to giggle had gone away by now, and I just felt gloomy.

“Where I’m from, in northeastern Tennessee, there’s a road called Stinking Creek Road, high up in the hills. Back when I was in high school, I stole one of the road signs and used it to decorate the inside of my locker. I told my classmates that I grew up in a cabin in the backwoods, along Stinking Creek, eating roadkill for dinner. I wanted to build up some hillbilly cred. None of it was true, of course. I grew up in an ordinary trailer park like any other ordinary kid, and I only ate roadkill once, when my brother hit a deer with his truck and we brought it home to butcher it.”

Ira listened quietly, nodding once, though—even with a magical translation—he couldn’t have understood much of what I was saying. A half-burned log fell to the bottom of the fireplace with a thud, sending up a shower of sparks.

“The creek here doesn’t stink, but it can be dangerous,” he finally said. “Ice serpents lurk beneath the surface. When they haven’t eaten in a while, they become nearly transparent, with only the faintest outline over the mud and pebbles. One of them almost got me last year.”

I added that unwelcome bit of information to my mental file on this planet’s bestiary, which already had gotten too long. Just then, a ferocious gust shook the cabin and dislodged one of the small creatures squeaking in the rafters. It tumbled almost to the floor before spreading its leathery wings enough to stabilize itself. Evidently a juvenile, it wasn’t much larger than my hand, with a sharp beak above a long, wrinkled neck like a turkey’s; it had fur rather than feathers. Cawing triumphantly, it managed to beat its wings enough to lift itself toward the ceiling.

“They’re harmless,” Ira said, looking over at me as he set down the pumice stone. “And beneficial. They keep the cabin free of venomous pests.”

Of course, I started to ask about those pests; but, on second thought, I just drank more cider and kept quiet. I really didn’t want to know.

After many unseasonably warm autumn days, it finally turned cold last night. Seeing that snow was in the forecast, my husband dutifully put the snowblower attachment on the multi-purpose lawn mower yesterday. There wasn’t actually a need for it, given that we both work from home and had no errands to run. But, after so many years when snow was a chore to be dealt with before going to the office, getting the snowblower ready before the white stuff first made its appearance was his usual routine.

It melted quickly, of course, because the ground was still warm. This wasn’t a day for snow angels, snow sculptures, or other winter fun. Everything was just damp and gray. Still, I opened the blinds to let in what sunlight there was, reminding myself that winter is part of nature and there is joy to be found in any weather.

Word-art that says, "If you choose not to find joy in the snow, you will have less joy in your life but still the same amount of snow."

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”

Following up on last month’s post about sweaty hands while rowing, which stressed me out when I couldn’t hold the oars properly in a 5K race in early October, I had the same problem rowing at the Head of the Charles two weeks later. I drank plenty of electrolyte mix before racing, but I wasn’t as well rested as I should have been, and I drank too much coffee that morning. That got me wondering if I might do better if I abstained from coffee for a while.

So, I gave up caffeinated coffee and tea for three weeks, drinking only decaf until the end of the fall rowing season. That didn’t make the problem go away, either. It just made me feel cranky. I had been cheerful and optimistic when the season started, but by November I felt lost without a clue, wandering aimlessly.

Last week, after my final race of the year, I went back to drinking coffee—just one cup—each morning. As far as I can tell, a small amount of coffee doesn’t make me sweat more on the rowing machine. Even if it did, that wouldn’t matter anyway because holding the machine’s handle is a much simpler motion than sculling. My hands won’t be a concern in the spring either; for Masters rowers, the spring races are 1K sprints, which take about four minutes, so they’re already over before I’ve had time to build up much of a sweat.

Hopefully, by next fall the problem will have gone away. Until then, I am just going to enjoy my coffee and not worry about what might—or might not—happen many months in the future.

Word-art that says, "Not all who wander are lost. Most of them are just looking for coffee."

Sometimes, thinking of all that needs to be done to change the world can feel overwhelming. When that happens, I find it helpful to sit in silence, feeling the peaceful rhythms of my breathing and of my heartbeat. Not everything can be done in this moment, I remind myself—but, with kindness, much can be done.

Word-art that says, 'Hearts that beat to the tune of kindness can change the rhythm of the world."

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”

All parts of this story are consolidated on one page here.

Ina, wearing a faded but clean dress that fit reasonably well, sat in an oversized chair on Nellie’s front porch, piled high with embroidered cushions. Her bandaged feet rested comfortably on a feather pillow on a low stool. A table held a teacup and a large plate overflowing with apricot scones. Beyond the porch, in the hazy afternoon sunlight, bees buzzed serenely in a flower garden along a white picket fence.

Summer flowers, a bee, and a white picket fence.

Nellie hovered like a hummingbird, full of nervous energy, pouring more tea into Ina’s cup and pacing from one end of the porch to the other. Inside the cabin, Mabel and her little brother Godfrey were napping. Mabel had woken briefly, murmuring “Mama,” when Nellie stripped off her wet clothing and put a clean gown on her, but then she had fallen back to sleep.

Hammering and clattering could be heard from across the yard, where Nellie’s husband, John, was busy repairing a shed. Ina suspected he was working nearby to keep a close watch on her, given Nellie’s evident fear of witchcraft. In truth, Ina couldn’t have posed much of a threat to anyone at present. She felt weak as a kitten, and just reaching for a scone made her shoulder start to ache.

“Are you quite comfortable, Ina? Do you need anything more?”

A gray cat ran across the porch and leaped into the grass. Nellie’s gaze followed it for just a moment before darting back to the doorway. The children still slept quietly.

“I’m fine, Nellie. Sit down and have some tea yourself, why don’t you?”

Taking much slower steps, Nellie got herself a cup and sat directly across the table from Ina, with her chair pushed back so far that she could barely reach the table. Not meeting Ina’s eyes, she looked down at the cup but did not make any move to lift it.

Ina gentled her voice. “I won’t harm you, Nellie. I am a healer, taught to serve always with love.”

She turned the word over in her thoughts, seeking certainty. Healer. Yes, she could claim that status now. It seemed as if ages had passed since she had tried—and failed—to summon healing energy in the infirmary where Phoenix was recovering from a broken leg. It had only been this morning, though.

“Why do you fear the witches of the Wild Forest?” Ina took another sip of her tea, which tasted of lemon and soothing herbs. “Have any of us ever done you any harm?”

Finally glancing up, Nellie opened her mouth as if about to speak, but then closed it again. Her hands clenched around the edge of the table.

Ina took another scone and bit into it, waiting patiently.

“Six years ago, on Midsummer’s Eve—the witches killed my sister.”

This week, I couldn’t summon enough energy for writing. The world feels as if it is rushing over a waterfall. Although many things are out of my control, I can choose to take enough time to rest. I am not obligated to push myself to do better, work harder, or impress anyone with my diligence. I can consciously decide to slow down enough to create a safe space in which to heal.

Word-art that says, "When it all feels too much. When I can't stop scrolling, numbing, eating, distracting. When I can't get out of bed or get dressed after my shower. I will know this is a part of me with a clear message. I will meet this part of me with a compassionate nod of my head, and with my hand on my heart I will understand that I have been holding far too much for far too long. I will let myself slow down. I will create safety for my pain to be heard and my body to rest." -Rebekah Ballagh

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”

Although I won’t be doing anything for Halloween this year because my husband and I are traveling, Halloween does fall on a Thursday this year, so a greeting to suit the occasion seems right for today’s Nurturing Thursday post. Boo!

Word-art that says, "Hallowe'en Greeting."

(Image credit: The Graphics Fairy)

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”

My husband recently had a birthday, and I gave him a card wishing him “many more adventures” as we were leaving for the Head of the Charles regatta. We were given a great parking space for the boat trailer when we arrived in Boston. It was right next to a dock, and the weather was sunny and comfortable. We rigged our double and went for a practice row.

Photo of a small boat trailer in Boston next to the Charles River.

Then we visited the Hydrow office, which was lots of fun. We’ve been using our Hydrow rowing machine regularly since we bought it almost five years ago in a Black Friday sale; it’s connected to an online library of workout videos featuring athlete instructors rowing on rivers across the world. Also, there are “journey” rows without an instructor where you can just watch the scenery go by, and other options that include yoga, Pilates, and stretching and mobility exercises. Hydrow always has something new and interesting to find.

The company invited us to take part in a panel discussion with other customers and with some of the athletes, and they also filmed my husband, who is very active in the Hydrow users’ Facebook groups, for a commercial. That was all very cool! On race day, the weather stayed good, and the river was calm. The Head of the Charles is the largest rowing regatta in the world, with many high-level competitors, so my husband and I were just in it for fun. That was all right; just being there is exciting.

Last week, after returning home, we did a 5K Halloween running race, and now we’re off again for another rowing regatta in Chattanooga. So much traveling and racing takes a lot of energy, and I’ll be ready to wind down and take it easier when the winter comes; but it’s good to have future adventures to imagine.

After coming home on Monday night from a long road trip to Boston, I haven’t felt quite settled in yet. It’s an odd feeling, almost like a dream—as if I need to be somewhere, but I’m not sure where it is. I’ve been reminding myself that I simply need to be all there, wherever it may be; and the rest can take care of itself.

Word-art that says, "Wherever you are, be all there." -Jim Elliot

Nurturing Thursday was started by Becca Givens and seeks to encourage self-nurturing and to “give the planet a much needed shot of fun, support and positive energy.”