One of my absolute favorite things to do is traipsing around the natural world—away from man-made scenery and noise. It’s right up there at the top of my list. With that freshly oxygenated air, which the surrounding greenery has just converted from carbon dioxide, I can fill my thirsty lungs. My dog and other friends also enjoy it—that’s probably partly why they are my friends.

            As we can all feel stressed and overwhelmed during the frantic holiday season, it can be especially important to take time away from the usual traditions (family, shopping, parties…) and immerse ourselves in nature—both alone and with supportive friends. Sometimes we don’t even realize we need it until we are “out there”. And when I do this, my legs will often just stop, as if rooted in place. It’s like a signal to slow down, take a breath, and relax my focus.

            Our community is lucky to have such a multitude of hiking trails right here in the greater Ramona valley and beyond. And plenty of wineries where we can linger on their patios and gaze out at the vineyards and surrounding mountains, while listening to local musicians sing their unique homegrown songs. What a blessing to live here.

            Sometimes it’s all I can do to wait for enough daylight to fill the sky before heading out for a run with my dog. Here in the canyon she can tag along and race through the bushes to her heart’s content. The rabbits, squirrels, and sometimes deer, give her a run for the money, but soon enough she’s after the next little adventure. It must be wonderful to live in the moment. I could use some lessons from her in that regard. Once a week I choose to run solo—out the dirt road and up the mountain.

            Several of my friends like to hike. It almost doesn’t matter where we walk, as long as we walk: the Grasslands, Barnett Ranch, lower Mussey Grade, the meadow on top of our mountain… Being together fuels each one of us. Sometimes it’s just a few, but occasionally we’re a bigger group (never that large).

            It’s hard to know if my love for the outdoors stems from being raised in a rural environment or if it’s genetically embedded in my DNA, or something else entirely. But whatever—I’m grateful for it. I can’t imagine anything better. That’s why when my sister proposed a hiking tour of the Amalfi coast while staying at an agriturismo, we were tempted— and then glad we joined in. It was much more to our liking than a cruise or a guided city tour could ever be.

            But I think a balance is important. Yes, we sometimes had to go through big, busy cities in order to go from an airport or train station to our destination. And when we reached the countryside I’d feel myself unclench, then appreciate it all the more. It can be the same with the holidays. I’m more apt to enjoy both the festive busyness as well as my time alone, as long as I keep a realistic balance.

            Being a volunteer County Parks ranger for the last few decades has been a good fit for me to give back to the community. Whether leading hikes or just being an extra set of eyes on the amazing swaths of public land set aside for us to enjoy in sustainable and responsible ways, it allows me to stay in touch with the bigger picture. There is no more important work than for us to help keep our mother earth healthy and thriving, since we all depend on her for our very lives.

            We clear trails on our own property so that we and our guests can enjoy wandering around in this natural environment. For many years I’ve invited friends to come gather in the yard or down in the creekbed area, in the shade or sunshine—wherever the season dictates, providing a space for conversations of anything that comes to mind. This seems to serve varying purposes for us, such as being a social circle or talk therapy group or simply a place to catch up with each other. Or learn new things.

            I hope to keep learning new things as I get older. One workshop I attended with other rangers was “Tracking”. We learned how to use a flashlight in the daylight to highlight a bobcat footprint. You shine it low and at an angle to create shadows. A friend and I joined an acorn flour-making seminar up at Volcan Mountain Wilderness Preserve where we picked, ground, leached, and baked acorns into cookies. This year, the grandkids helped us pick some here in the canyon. We found ourselves leisurely taking the time to find the most suitable trees. The girls, of course, turned it into a contest of who picked the most, but other than that… We’re now drying them in baskets so they’ll be easier to crack and grind into a highly nutritious flour that we can add to some of our own recipes. The long, slow process is not only difficult for the kids to understand, it can be hard for us too. Other natural foods we’ve made use of here are elderberries (for tinctures and drying), olives (brining), miner’s lettuce, curly dock, mustard… So much bounty… So little time.

            Now, coming up on our calendar is a hike to Eagle Rock. I used to ride my horse out there, but it will be a new hike for me. It’s a good feeling to have fun things like this to look forward to. Maybe I’ll see you out there. Or—where’s your next adventure?

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com. 

           To go is to come back and coming back means that we’ve gone. It’s simply a matter of relativity. Our latest comings and goings involved Italy—a land we’ve ventured to before, but never as far south.

            Once out of the crushing crowds of Florence, I found Tuscany to be quite similar to what is depicted in films and pictures. Beautiful evergreen landscapes of grapevines, olive trees, and vegetable gardens. Kent and I enjoyed long walks through the countryside, passing through vineyards and olive groves. This aspect was very peaceful.

           However, driving a rental car in this foreign place was not serene at all. The Italians have an entirely different approach to the roadway than I have. Sorry, but quick acceleration, hard braking, honking, and swerving around other parked or moving cars are not my idea of fun. It was stressful to say the least.

            Unlike here in our country, there were not the throngs of unhomed people occupying public spaces. I’m thinking that they must do a much better job of taking care of them than we do. And the terrible trash and litter issues that we have here were not visible anywhere we were. Recycling bins were commonplace in all the villages. They also have a well developed mass transit system which we would be wise to emulate. Just the facts.

            Visiting other cultures can help give us a larger, more inclusive perspective which often promotes a more open mind. For instance, their method of labeling streets (or no signage at all) was foreign to us. Go figure. It forced us to concentrate more on where we were. While the simple act of everyone saying, “Bonjourno” or Ciao” whenever we passed others, lead to genuine friendliness with strangers.

            Later, we stayed at an agriturismo, a working farm that puts you up—kind of like a hostel, but with private rooms. We were there for a week and hiked daily, traipsing the rugged cliff-edged trails along the Amalfi Coast. Miles and miles and hours and hours. And yes, we definitely had tired legs by the end of each long day. The scenery was absolutely fantastic: garden terraces; thousand-foot drops to the sea; herds of goats being shepherded along steep mountain trails while announcing their whereabouts with tinkling bells hung around their necks; donkeys hauling heavy loads of sand, rock, and wood as the only available transport along the rugged paths… Here, dwellings still have to be built slowly by hand, utilizing only this ancient mode of portage. No roads or big trucks. So much for building a house within a scheduled timeframe. Quality takes time.

            There is a saying: Americans think one hundred years is a long time, but Europeans think one hundred miles is a long way.

            On that cliff-sided terrain the people who live there make use of every square inch of space to grow their produce. The rich volcanic soil overlying the limestone has been fertile for centuries. And even in the more metropolitan areas they have far less wasted spaces than we do. Smaller roads, far less paved parking places, and tiny cars and delivery trucks allow for more economical use of space.   

            One time, while Kent and I were walking ahead of the group, I pointed out a conglomeration of buildings nestled above the glittering bay below.

            “These villages sure blend in nicely, don’t they?”

            He agreed.

            They don’t stand out like gleaming eyesores that seem to propagate and take over our American landscapes. They’ve been built to last, with natural materials that both meld into the environment as well as survive throughout the centuries. We were awestruck again and again with the prominence of beauty and simple utilitarianism, alive and flourishing in this age-old culture. Why couldn’t we try to emulate at least some of these concepts so as not to lose so much artistry simply for the sake of speedy profits or convenience?

          If nothing else, this kind of adventure into less familiar territory has helped me to see how insignificant we really are. No one way is the only right way. Forcing myself out of my comfort zone, at least once in a while, can offer far-reaching benefits. Expanded appreciation and understanding is often a natural byproduct of such experiences. Try it! You may or may not like it, but it helps us grow in ways we might never have expected.

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com. 

           These long dog days of summer are a wonder to behold. They’re not at all about dogs, actually. Instead, the phrase refers to the hottest days of the year, the last months of summer here in the Northern Hemisphere. In reality, it’s a reference to Sirius (the dog star) which is part of the constellation Canis Major (the Greater Dog). It’s the brightest star in the night sky and its literal meaning is “scorching”.

            Anyway, despite the negative connotations throughout the ages, I’ve always thought of it fondly. As a kid, thrilled to finally be on summer vacation, those long dog days of summer stretched out gloriously before me—no school, no regular routine, no worries. It had arrived and life was good.

            I still feel the same way. But now, they’re not nearly long enough. I can’t believe we’re already barreling toward the end of August. It feels like summer has barely begun. And I am so NOT ready for it to be over. It’s going WAY too fast.

            It’s why I’ve made it a priority to go to the beach almost every week, reminding friends and family, whoever might go with me, that summer will be gone before we know it—and then it will be too late! It used to be our very important job, as mothers, to do this for our kids, but now I feel it’s just as important for ourselves. You know, carpe diem, even if we do have to plan it ahead of time.

            As a teenager, I’d ride my bike the eight miles to town to work all morning, training horses and mucking corrals. Then I’d ride back home in the heat of the day, stopping at Palma Farms for a couple of delicious fresh peaches to eat under their shaded overhang. And finally, after making it back home, I’d grab my surf board and dog and we’d head to the neighboring pond down the dirt road where the two of us would take turns swimming and laying out on my long board. I called it the whale. By evening it usually cooled off enough to work my own horse. I remember those days appreciatively, while right now I sit on an old couch on the front porch, writing out this essay by hand—the way it comes best for me.

            Another bonus of these hot days is that my three-year-old Australian shepherd is much calmer than when it’s cooler. I can’t say exactly calm, but certainly slightly more subdued and less hyper. When the temperature gets too much to bear, she splashes around in her little kiddie pool and I dunk my head under an outside faucet and wet my entire head and shirt. Then do it again in another thirty minutes or so. And then again and again… It works, you really ought to try it. We don’t have air conditioning and this is a cheap and healthy alternative for me.

Lately, I’ve been itching for another camping trip—you know, before it gets too cold. I don’t know if I’ll make it or not, but the Eastern Sierras are calling me. Those beautiful jagged peaks, the great Owen’s Valley, crystal-clear lakes and streams, and pine-scented air in the higher elevations. I’m listening, but we’ll see.

And once I finish with this evening’s chores, I think I’ll head down to the creekbed and retire in the hammock to gaze up at those majestic oak branches and contemplate the long dog days of summer while I still can.

Chi Varnado has published six books including fiction, nonfiction and children’s books. They are available on www.amazon.com. Her collection of essays, Quail Mutterings, can be found on www.chivarnado.com or www.dancecentrepresents.com.