unplugged above the clouds

unplugged in this sweet spot 

Our annual unplugged weekend. We adopted this habit last year. It’s a great concept, sometimes easier to strive towards than actually accomplish. It takes discipline to say “no” to the pull of technology and entertainment; saying “yes” to the simple pleasures of writing, reading, napping and having deep and superfluous conversations, just because we can.

I’m usually pretty good about letting down when we get a chance to run away for the weekend. This time was more difficult. I don’t know if it had something to do with having been sick and stuck at home with no people contact for several days or what. No matter, I did manage to set my pacing self aside.

bottles of red and books and glimmering candles

The couple hour drive went smoothly and we arrived mostly on time for our massages – a great way to begin. A stop by the market for simple meals and “thank-you” bottles of wine for our hosts. They joined us at the cabin - a loosely used term for an eclectic, creative, beautiful spot of heaven set way up in the hills, with the most incredible views of the valley below. We got the scoop, shared a bottle of wine, bid them farewell and started to settle in.

It’s cozy in the cabin with rustic beams, windows on all sides and gray concrete floors. The bed is tucked into an alcove painted the color of tree bark with windows that skim the floor. It’s a perfect mix of cabin, industrial with a touch of Boho cool.

up above the clouds

It’s a bright morning, up above the clouds, the valley below shrouded by cotton puffs

But not here, from a tree level vantage

The just-rising sun tinging the clouds a warm pink

It’s not warm, though, in fact there’s a dust of icy snow

It will melt and dissipate to green

This, too, will be lovely perched in a glass bowl on top of the world

Soon the fog and mist began to move and rise higher and higher, swirling upward on the gentle morning currents, enveloping my glass bowl. Now, all was sweetly camouflaged in billowed obscurity; a new blurred beauty.

the clouds were lifting and funneled through the twisted oak

So we walked. We walked into the cloud, discovering iced grass blades and water trickling a water song. It changes, you know. It’s music as varied as any playlist. There were paths kissed by glimpses of sun thru moss covered twisted oaks and glints of snow melting. We were walking in a world that is lost on a bright day. And it was quiet. The only sound being the song of water and our footsteps.

Solitude in the mist, dissipating again to resting above the clouds.

perched in a bowl above the clouds

Saturday we woke to sunshine, while the valley below was obscured with clouds. They looked like a snow field that you could walk through. The mist rose to engulf our perch, swirling and finally breaking apart again. We walked. We read. I wrote. We flew a drone. (I got to land it!) We took a bath in an outdoor claw foot tub and my baby read to me while I continued to enjoy outdoor soaking.

an outdoor bath is even better when someone is reading to you

Sunday morning was a portrait in contrasts, with the wind howling, blowing snow and again we were encapsulated in an inside-out snow-globe. It was actually the best that way. There’s something about storms that calm the soul. It’s easier to be quiet inside when it’s loud outside.

During a break in the weather, we walked. We walk regularly, but on an away time, the walk is more contemplative, more intimate. The fire blazed all day. Bella slept, chewed on her bone and ran in the snow. My man and I read. We talked. We napped and we loved. Music played. We danced and … snow fell.

Savoring unplugged days away –

Missy

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