Adaptability

Yesterday, we left our country paradise and drove to the big city to visit family. It's almost spooky that humans are so adaptable. As we lunched at a trendy restaurant and then visited a large bookstore in one of those Big Box Malls that are simultaneously dreadful and wonderful, I felt extremely comfortable despite the incredibly different environment. There were more stores in that tiny area than within a hundred miles of Riverwood, yet, I adapted instantaneously.

Despite the fact that it may not have been the milieu where we would have most preferred to have been at that time, and despite the fact that we had been somewhat saddened to leave The Cottage, there were certain compensations: a restaurant in which we were pleasantly served; a bookstore where we could browse for days if we so chose; and, even a car wash that removed a least a layer or two of grime form Harriet the Chariot — there is simply no way to wash a car in the freezing countryside.

Sometimes I ponder the possibility of relocating to the country, and I deduce that I could surely cope and even enjoy dwelling in such a rural environment. But more and more I am coming to the conclusion that living in a settlement of some size and keeping our Riverwood Retreat as just that — a retreat — has much merit. Perhaps day-to-day and season-to-season familiarity would diminish the daily joy that we presently experience when we are able to be there. Perhaps it's best to keep it special and joyfully absorb its uniqueness without dilution in the relatively short intervals that we are there.

We'll see what the future holds, but I am convinced of this: that happiness comes from within, and I am to port it with me wherever I am and wherever I go.

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Meanwhile, may I present you with yet another recent chickadee photo?