I just turned 55, an Aries baby, near the equinox. I was born in the heart of Texas, in a region flat and dry and sky-wide but it wasn’t until I found myself in the woods that I understood myself. I grew up in northern Georgia, within the Appalachian mountain range. These are old, old mountains, some of the oldest in the world. Billions of years old those hills, and many believe they are the same hills as in Scotland. Northern Georgia is very hilly and green and forested. My own back yard was shadowed with trees and divided by a creek which I spent hours and hours playing in and following as far as I could to its source. Impossible task, but that is what I did in my tweens and early teens. My friends and I were enamored with Greek myths and Tolkien tales and Wardrobes that make take us to natural lands filled with talking animals and so where I felt the most at home, were in places were those portals felt possible.
After college in Georgia I moved to Seattle, which was a glinting emerald urban forest nestled between the Cascades and the Olympics, mountains not quite as old as those I grew up with, but majestic and born of sea and fire. Huge forests, wet and wet and wet. Beautiful. River and lake and sound and sea and forest and mountain all in one place. Ideal.
We moved to Texas in 1998. (back to Texas as my husband was also born there, in the same city and hospital as myself). There was much to love about Texas, and much to criticize but my main critique for this particular post is that it was flat where we lived and it was dry (unless is was flooding) and it was hot, and the trees were short. Not quite desert, but also not really forest, at least around Austin. There were breakfast tacos, though, and a deeply vibrant creative community and that made up for any geographical woes I had at the time.
After spending 18 years back in Texas, we moved back westward. Now we live in Southern Oregon, in a hilly forested nook of the Rogue Valley.
The Rogue Valley encompasses Jackson and Josephine counties and the cities of Grants Pass, Central Point, Eagle Point, Medford, Phoenix, Talent, Rogue River, Gold Hill, Ashland and Jacksonville (among others) for a combined population of around 200,000. Ashland has about 20k and Medford about 70K. You enter the region in the north where the interstate roils tightly through several passes and the region opens up wide into a valley surrounded by mountains to east and west. You exit the region at the border of California over another pass where those mountains, the Siskiyous and Cascades wave at each other. Most of the town sits in the foothills of the Siskiyou range. This range is old, but still quite young compared to the mountains of my youth. Old country though, wild in the way that Pacific Northwest country is wild. Bigfoot Country. Cult Country. Spirit Country. Salmon and blackberry and snow. Things in the mountains feel lively and alive.
The Rogue River runs through the valley and is a gorgeous rough water destination that people raft down, paddle in, and generally freeze their ass in because it's goddamn cold. Nearby-ish is the profoundly beautiful Crater Lake, and Mount McLoughlin for hiking, as well as numerous mountain lakes and reservoirs near the Pacific Crest Trail.
Ashland is home to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival and Southern Oregon University. There are expats from everywhere here. Seekers. It's also a town made up of 60's age hippies and 70's age wanderers, and 90’s age remote workers who like Kombucha, hot yoga, art, and seasonal weather. Our region has 4 distinct seasons. Springs are floral and sweet and thundery perfect for hiking, summers are hot but dry with sun well into the night and wonderful for river-play, falls are crisp and clear with glorious colorful leaves (hiking times two). Winter? Cold. It snows occasionally in the winter, though it’s usually the late winter. Skiing, snowshoeing, sledding? You bet.
Medford is the largest city, and is known for agriculture and lovely pears. There is a spring pear festival which is grand fun. Jacksonville is home to the Britt festival and is the gateway to the Applegate, a wild region filled with wineries and cannabis farms and theater groups and artists, and mystery. I feel like there is a lot of mystery over there in the shadow of the mountains.
Small town life is quieter than my years in cities like Austin or Seattle, and there is little to no traffic.
There are however, spiders. Lots of them. Every morning in the spring there are silvery frothy webs in all the bushes and plant life even though I rarely see the spiders themselves. The spiders I do see are black widows and they live under rocks and on the back sides of houses and generally have ugly nests that scream DON'T COME OVER HERE. I don't. I’m sure there are a million in our woodpile and good for them.
As we are in the foothills of the Siskiyous, we have (occasionally) bears in the park, and (perhaps more often) in backyards up higher in the hills, as well as cougars, foxes, owls, deer, deer, and deer.
There are deer. There may be more deer than people as there are very few natural predators. They just amble about having lunch on various plants. They walk down the street. They hang out in the front yard. Sometimes they stomp their hooves at me when I’m trying to get out of the car. I just wait until they are finished with the apples from the tree in the front yard.
It's beautiful here, achingly so.
I went walking today in Lithia Park, our local city park. Lithia is named after the natural lithium-oxide laced springs found here, which were sought after for healing. There is still an old fountain in our town plaza where you can sip a bit of the healing waters, and they taste just terrible. Lithia Park is 93 acres, and runs along Ashland Creek, past duck ponds and a bandshell (used for the high school graduation each year), and is very popular for walking and reflecting. All of the photos today were taken in and around Lithia as I walked and reflected, an appropriate birthday thing to do, I think.
Many of the trees spotted in these hills are Madrones. Many are Manzanitas. They are both just the most beautiful trees, with smooth skin and peeling bark. They often grow in clusters, like a family, and soar high. Which is a great metaphor and process for life.
I’ve been thinking much about the next 20 years, should I be granted them. The work I want to keep doing, new things I’m hoping for. According to all my Astrology friends, Aries people are gonna have some transformational stuff happen? Potentially good stuff? And the Greek-myth-Narnia-portal-loving kid in me wants to go with it! Who do I want to be? What do I want to keep?
I’ve long worked with arts and culture organizations. I am and have been a creative, artistic consultant, coach and facilitator who has helped people and organizations to do their best work. I hold space for truth-telling, casting light into dark corners, holding space for difficult conversations, and supporting people through them. I still plan on doing that. More of that. More development, more guiding, and more adventures in the mountainous forest.
More forest. I feel compelled by the forest these days. I never thought, ages ago living in such huge cities like Seattle and Austin, that I’d want to live farther and farther out, but I’ve got a real desire for that right now, and if I could run away into the Applegate, or perhaps Appalachia, I think I would. I want my cluster of trees to come with me, my family, but I’ve been forest bound for weeks and weeks now.
I’m giving myself a couple of birthday presents this year.
For one, I’m going to integrate all that I do into my writing. Morning Meeting cannot be about one thing, for I am not about one thing. All that I do is about the development of people, of organizations, of myself. Of the cats and dog, of writing and photography, my life here, and of aging gracefully but rowdily into a coach/guide/wise-ish/forest witch artist, and if the nonprofit management winds up in the posts? All the more to the good. Seems obvious, but it’s been weird for me recently, I’ve never done well trying to narrow-niche, you know?
The second is that I’m going to take horseback riding classes. This seems random, but I feel called to horses and so why not?
Finally, I’m gonna give in to the forest. To writing about the old wildness of it, to listening to it, and the being in it.
As always, thanks for reading and subscribing and sharing and etc. Let me know who you are and where you are from and if you love mountains, high desert, plains or seaside environs.
Happy birthday Julie. For the next year you will always be driving 55 ; ) It's a fun year.