Dalriada at Kilmartin Glen

While peeling apples for applesauce this morning I had an unbidden random question about whether there are apple groves on the Isle of Skye in Scotland. Travel's been on my mind a lot lately as for decades spring and summer heralded annual university teaching trips to northern France, with short hops to other European spots for the few days my budget would allow. Gorgeous Scotland was one of those. As I near retirement years and attendant curtailed funds, and reflect on the massive footprint of Covid that pushed me indoors at home for three years, I'm especially grateful for all I've been able to see around the world. Where would I chose to head for another?

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Ah, the Big Island

I lived on Oahu for a few years and attended high school there, and while I've been to Hawaii nearly every year since, I've only been to the Big Island a few times. I was here for a few days in January to visit family and fell in love with a spot off the beaten path. While others went to snorkel I sat under a palm tree, breathed in the clear air that day, and counted all my blessings. Peace is only a quiet intentional breath away.

Connecting to home with applesauce

As kid and adult I’ve lived and travelled near and far, and what’s always grounded me is family. Both first family and ohana chosen family, they continue to connect me to who I really am at heart. Holidays put a point on it whether I’m in the middle of 40 extended family members or alone. For much of my adult life, folks have come to my family home to gather in love and companionship, through celebrations and losses, over an array of good food and surrounded by laughs and music. Today we are scattered across a continent and ocean, and still ducking viruses to keep healthy, I’ll likely eat alone on Easter (thanks for the invites local family and friends!). And as I have for every holiday I’ve hosted for nearly 50 years I’m making applesauce as a touchstone just like Nana. Today it’s Pink Lady apples as Macintoshes are scarce in the spring, a little added sugar, a kiss of lemon, and clear Oregon water. I’m home.

Traveling Solo as a Black Woman

In the last 30 years the majority of my international trips have been ones in which the majority of the time I was traveling alone. This began in my early 40s. I love the freedom to consult only myself about what I want to do on a particular trip or travel day, without worrying about the impact on someone else, even though I love traveling with others too. I can honestly say I haven't yet encountered a situation in which I didn't feel physically safe, though there were a few times I saw pickpockets working crowds of oblivious people like the ones pictured here in Marseilles, and similar situations in Spain. It's so easy to be distracted when there's something interesting happening, and most of us don't move through crowds thinking about whether and how we might make an easy target through inattention or carelessness in how we carry wallets, purses, and carryall bags. Several of my friends like carrying large full handbags filled with all manner of things “just in c...

Home and Away Heart

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