The River of Life

Today I felt much better; the shift in hormones made a radical difference and I felt my normal self. Thought I was physically not in the greatest of shape, mentally I felt lighter and cheerful; what a relief! At times when I am not dealing with hormones or life's stresses, I am a pretty upbeat woman. I have my times, but I see joy and good in everything. I am in love with life and live it to its fullest each and every day. But when I feel badly, I should be shut away to make art as that is all I am good for.

I drove down to the Hudson, but this time with camera in hand. I stopped the car along the wall that is almost level with the river, and took a number of shots. It was cold and quiet save for the grunting and creaking of the ice on the river. It is not a heavily traveled road, and I was able to take in the sights and smells of the landscape in solitude.

I am so in love with the Hudson; the bridges, lighthouses, boats, ice, fish, the wind. I have sailed it a number of times, and swam in it despite its PCPs.

One of my funnier boating moments in history was the time I was navigating my friends old wooden boat. It was a warm spring day, and I spotted a familiar sail on the river. It was the sail of a guy I had started seeing, who had taken me out the day before in a nasty cold mist. As I neared the boat, I noticed that there was another woman on board. My scorpio nastiness took hold, and I gunned the engine and moved full steam ahead. I circled the little tiny sunfish several times and created a "slight" wake and waved, yelling to my friend. Ed, who owned the boat I was driving, was like "holy shit, what are you doing?"(remember that Ed?) I just grinned, then sped away. Weeks later when I approached the supposed "new man" he mumbled how the woman on board said "oh how friendly the people are on the Hudson" while he struggled not to capsize the sailboat. I grinned. HIS LOSS I thought.

After spending some time on the river, I was even more inspired to explore it this summer in photography and painting. Maybe I will even get as far north as Lake Tear of the Clouds, the Hudson's humble origins (and a very good desert wine...but I am not sure it is made anymore...) and travel as far south as NYC.

I am excited about being a wanderer on the Hudson, and can't wait for summer to pack up my car and head to where the waters lap the shore, where sturgeon roil in its waters. I will get lost in its solitude and the lull of the water in its constant movement anywhere nowhere somewhere...much like my life.

To the river of life, Patti