Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.—Albert Einstein
Saturday afternoon we packed up the pups and our vintage camper to head into the mountains for the weekend. It was the two-year anniversary of losing our beloved pug Louis and being in nature is therapeutic.
As you’ll see from the photo above, I packed all the “essentials:” washi tape, books, magazines, Moleskine, journal, water bottle, flowers, and lavender oil. In between an evening campfire, afternoon nap, and a morning walk, I did peruse most of that stack. These tools serve as a baby bottle of sorts—always nearby for comfort.
On the anniversary we headed off for a hike around the campground in search of a spot to honor Louis. We made our way to the Appalachian Trailhead as a warm afternoon rain began to fall. Tim wanted to head back to camp so the pups wouldn’t get wet, but I wanted to leave a bit of Louis at that trailhead.
During one of our last outings with Louis, we hiked a small part of the Appalachian Trail so returning felt apropos. We sprinkled a tiny bit of the ashes, expressed gratitude, and shared how much we missed him before heading back in silence.
Grief serves as a continual wake-up call to focus on what’s important.
While going deeper into the woods, we lost cell service and for nearly 24 hours we were disconnected. Disconnected not only from social media, the studio, or friends, but disconnected from the constant buzz of life. I look forward to returning to that spot.
Over the next two weeks I’m traveling—out West for a wedding and to the Southwest for a writing conference. My plan is to take time to disconnect, so my next Love Note will be mid-May and blog posts will be sparse. I’ll be posting images of my adventures on Instagram in case you’d like to follow along. Otherwise, look for a reemergence in a month.
Of course I’ll be packing up all my travel comforts with an intention of listening within. I look forward to the space and scenic settings to explore.
Wishing you a glorious month with time in nature (even lunch in the park counts) and moments of disconnection. Bisous. x
